Traitor.
It should have been written across the forehead of the boy walking ahead of Motohama and Matsuda… or at least, that's what Motohama wanted to believe. After all, they had been brothers against the cold, cruel world of the unpopular and perverted. Always together, always ridiculous. Until that day.
Motohama remembered it clearly: just hours earlier, Issei had been beaten up — again — by the girls from the kendo club, without even managing to peek at a single square inch of their skin. And now? Now the bastard was walking ahead of them like he was floating, as if the ground were made of pink clouds.
He had received a love confession. From Amano Yuuma! While the three of them were on their way to pick up some new porn DVDs, Issei had… gotten a girlfriend.
— COME ON, admit it! — Matsuda yelled, still crying out of sheer jealousy. — What kind of pact, dark magic, or hypnosis did you use to get such a beautiful girlfriend?!
Motohama walked silently beside them, but his eyes burned with disbelief — and a bit of extra resentment.
— Hahaha! She just… fell for me, duh! She asked me out! Must've recognized my… qualities! — Issei replied, grinning from ear to ear, surrounded by such a happy aura he looked like a margarine commercial.
— Even a banana peel has more qualities than you... — Motohama growled, adjusting his glasses and sinking further into irritation. — Tell us the truth. You had to do something abnormal… don't tell me you got mixed up with the supernatural.
Issei stopped. So did Matsuda.
Motohama stared at them with a clinical gaze. That day, he had planned to change Issei's path — to make him avoid that girl, avoid the destiny of blood and black crosses. But fate, as always, seemed stubborn… and cruel. And above all, inevitable.
Besides… something felt different about them today.
He could sense it.
As someone born from a bloodline of exorcists, someone who carried the memories of past lives like scars on the soul, Motohama could feel when the supernatural brushed against his skin.
— Don't tell me… you guys got involved with some occult cults? Like those weird online articles? — he asked, almost begging for a plausible denial.
— W-What are you saying, Motohama? Of course not! Supernatural? Hahaha… just dumb luck… — Issei replied, sweat forming on his face.
— Y-Yeah… supernatural… hahaha… doesn't exist! — Matsuda echoed, laughing nervously, as if someone held a knife to his throat.
Motohama narrowed his eyes.
— I don't believe a WORD you bastards are saying! You're hiding something. Come on! What dark pact did you make, Issei?!
His fists clenched in anger.
He knew the world was far more complex than most could ever imagine.
He knew because he was born into an exorcist family.
He knew because he carried past lives in his soul.
— You… didn't make a pact with a devil, did you? Don't tell me you're one of those humans who sell their souls and become monsters?
Issei turned his face away, sweating like a pig. Matsuda was already glancing around like a cornered criminal.
— N-No… of course not… — Issei stammered.
Motohama stared hard.
— Oh, really? Haven't you seen the videos online? Werewolves fighting vampires in Germany? Merfolk massacring hunters in the Mediterranean? This world isn't as discreet anymore!
His heart raced.
He had heard stories — humans who sold themselves and became servants of demons, flesh-eating beasts.
And his friends… they were acting exactly like people hiding a pact.
But before he could press further, his "glow" — that sixth sense, the spark of his ancestral power — struck his mind like lightning.
His whole body froze.
— I-Issei… M-Matsuda… something's… wrong… — Motohama whispered, already trembling.
And then, the street shadows exploded.
Suddenly, pitch-black chains of darkness wrapped around their ankles, wrists, and throats, lifting them up and slamming them into the ground like violated puppets.
Gags of shadow formed, muffling their screams.
Motohama fought with everything he had… but the chains were cold, pulsating, alive. They wouldn't budge.
From the densest shadows, a figure emerged.
A slender silhouette, cloaked in black, with a hood hiding the face and a pale mask covering the mouth.
The very embodiment of a nightmare.
— Damn it… — Issei growled, biting into the gag, struggling desperately.
— This… won't… hold me… — grunted Matsuda, the chains creaking under his strength.
Then suddenly, as if a secret forced shut finally burst, both shouted in unison:
— SACRED GEAR!
Issei was enveloped in an intense red light; Matsuda, in a radiant golden glow.
When the light faded, Motohama stared in shock:
On Issei's arm, a red gauntlet with a green gem that pulsed like a living heart.
In Matsuda's hand… a golden hatchet, vibrant, adorned with an emerald gem.
The shadow chains shattered with a scream, releasing them.
— M-Matsuda… you…? — Issei stammered.
— You too…?! — Matsuda replied, equally stunned.
Motohama, on the ground, widened his eyes.
— WHAT… THE HELL IS GOING ON?! — he screamed, his mind unraveling.
— They're just making things… more interesting… — the hooded figure murmured, forming arcane signs with his hands.
From the shadows, two monstrous hounds leapt — one bone-white like a corpse, the other pitch-black as the void.
As they darted forward in zigzags, the hooded man drew a grotesque dagger: a black blade studded with living, moving eyes, and a handle… pulsating with veiny flesh.
Chaos erupted.
Issei dodged as best he could while the hounds disappeared and reappeared from treacherous shadows.
Matsuda fought the hooded man directly, his hatchet clashing with the cursed dagger in showers of sparks and screams of steel.
Motohama, petrified, couldn't even process… until he saw Matsuda's shadow twist.
—MATSUDA! BEHIND YOU! — he screamed.
Too late.
A massive white snake shot from the shadow, sinking its fangs into Matsuda's shoulder and coiling around him, crushing until he dropped his weapon.
—M-Matsuda…! — Issei cried, still forced to dodge the relentless hounds.
—Too late… — the hooded man said, driving the dagger into Matsuda's head, making blood erupt like a macabre fountain.
— MAAAAAAATSUDA! — Issei and Motohama screamed in unison, their souls torn apart by despair.
The hooded figure ripped the golden hatchet from the light that poured from Matsuda's corpse like a stolen trophy.
Consumed by rage, Issei charged.
— YOU SON OF A BITCH!
Motohama, grabbing a piece of trash wood, ran too, screaming in fury.
— I'LL KILL YOU!
— Fools… — the hooded man muttered, spinning and unleashing the hounds again.
Issei was tackled brutally, the hounds tearing into his arms.
Motohama was struck by the snake's tail, his ribs cracking like dry branches as he was slammed into a wall.
Still resisting, Issei tried to scream, but the hooded man appeared in front of him and, without hesitation… drove the dagger into his back.
Motohama, coughing blood, watched the light fade from Issei's eyes.
Issei's gauntlet vanished — and reappeared on the assassin's wrist, replacing the hatchet.
Motohama tried to rise, staggering, but the hooded figure grabbed him by the neck, choking him with a cold hand.
— You… have an interesting scent… — he whispered, sniffing his neck like a hungry beast. — What a shame… I planned to spare you.
And he drove the dagger into Motohama's chest.
The pain was abyssal, like something sucking not just his life… but his very soul.
On the brink of unconsciousness, with the world fading around him, Motohama used the last of his strength to pull off the hood and mask of the assassin.
And he saw.
The face of… Kurogane Sato.
The transfer student.
A handsome face. A classmate.
The one who should've been flirting with girls… not murdering his friends.
Motohama felt pure, raw hatred.
His best friends… dead.
Him… powerless.
Just like before… when bullies beat him up until Issei and Matsuda stepped in to defend him.
The rage built.
And with it… something else.
As the dagger sucked, something backfired. The assassin realized… too late.
The energy he tried to absorb… began flowing back into Motohama.
A snap.
Kurogane's wrist shattered — crushed by Motohama's hand, now glowing with vibrant blue light.
His glasses fell, revealing eyes that blazed like twin blue suns.
Motohama yanked the dagger from his own chest with his other hand, now also glowing with that ancient power.
Kurogane tried to flee — but was trapped.
Motohama's glow erupted, channeling the strength of all his past lives.
And all of them wanted one thing: revenge.
He crushed the dagger with supernatural force, the living eyes on the blade screaming before they shattered.
— I-Impossible… — Kurogane gasped, coughing blood.
Motohama extended his hand, and an invisible force launched Kurogane against a wall, breaking it like cardboard.
But from the shadows… the snake returned.
It leapt — and Motohama crushed its skull without even blinking.
The hounds charged together.
One bit his arm, the other… his neck.
Motohama snapped the neck of the one on his arm and tore the other by the jaw, but… he lost flesh. Lost blood.
Lost strength.
Growing weaker, he fell to his knees. Motohama could barely keep his eyes open. The blue glow in his gaze faded, and he collapsed beside the lifeless bodies of Issei and Matsuda.
Despair consumed him. He, who in a past life trained under a master like Abra Stone, who once used the "glow" to heal, to protect, to fight… now lay broken, powerless, watching his two best friends die. Unable to stop it.
As the darkness closed in and death's cold embrace approached, he thought:
— "I… don't want to die… I still have so many dreams…"
But reality was merciless.
And the "glow" that once lit his soul like a blazing fire… now felt like a faint thread, nearly extinguished.