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Prologue: The Unseen Cut
"A blade must be sharp."
"A warrior must be disciplined."
"And a man must know when to walk away from a fight."
These were the words Hiroshi Tanaka had lived by.
His father had drilled them into his mind since childhood.
A warrior was not meant to fight for pride.
A warrior was not meant to seek revenge.
A warrior was not meant to burn with anger.
But Hiroshi was never a perfect warrior.
Because his fire had always been uncontrollable.
And one day, it burned everything down.
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The Dojo of Fallen Leaves
Hiroshi was born into a family of swordsmen.
Not just any swordsmen—his ancestors had served as retainers to a hidden sect of samurai, a clan that had survived long past the days of the Edo period.
His father was the master of the Tanaka Dojo.
A school where only the strongest were allowed to train.
And Hiroshi—his only son—was meant to inherit that legacy.
But he was never good enough.
His father, Master Genji Tanaka, was known for his flawless technique.
A swordsman whose every movement was like flowing water, whose blade never wavered.
In contrast, Hiroshi's sword style was wild.
Aggressive.
It lacked restraint.
"You fight with emotion, Hiroshi. And emotion is weakness."
"Control yourself, or you will never become a true warrior."
He tried.
He trained harder than anyone in the dojo.
But every time he held a blade—every time he felt the fire in his veins ignite—
He wanted to cut down everything in front of him.
And one day, he did.
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The Duel That Changed Everything
The Tanaka Dojo had one rule.
No one fights to kill.
No matter how intense a duel became, a true swordsman never let his blade fall with lethal intent.
But when Hiroshi was seventeen—
He fought someone he wanted to kill.
His opponent was Daigo Kisaragi, the dojo's most arrogant student.
A man who used his blade to humiliate others, who treated the school's teachings like a game.
Hiroshi despised him.
And that night, Daigo crossed the line.
"Your father's a coward, Tanaka. He holds back his students. But I bet even you don't have the guts to fight without those stupid rules."
"Come on, Hiroshi. Let's see if you're a real warrior."
Hiroshi should have walked away.
But he didn't.
Instead, he drew his blade.
And for the first time, he let his emotions take control.
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The Fire and the Blade
The duel lasted only three minutes.
And in those three minutes—
Hiroshi fought like a demon.
His swordsmanship became faster, sharper, unrestrained.
Every attack was meant to kill.
He didn't stop when Daigo faltered.
He didn't stop when Daigo begged.
He didn't stop until—
His sword slashed across Daigo's face.
The cut wasn't deep enough to kill.
But it was deep enough to ruin him.
Blood splattered across the dojo floor.
Daigo collapsed, screaming.
And in the silence that followed—
Hiroshi realized what he had done.
His father stood at the entrance.
Staring at him.
Not with anger.
Not with disappointment.
But with cold, empty eyes.
"Leave."
One word.
That was all his father said.
"Leave this dojo, Hiroshi. You are no longer my son."
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Exile
Hiroshi wandered after that.
He had nowhere to go.
No master. No purpose.
His blade had been taken from him.
And without it, what was he?
For years, he lived as a drifter, taking small jobs to survive.
He fought in underground arenas, desperate to feel the thrill of battle again.
But nothing filled the void.
Nothing gave him back his purpose.
Until—
One night, in the back alleys of Osaka—
He was ambushed.
Five men. Armed. Ready to kill.
Hiroshi had no sword.
But in that moment—
Something awakened inside him.
And for the first time—
His Stand appeared.
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Blazing Ronin – The Sword That Burns
A flaming blade.
A spirit forged from his soul.
His Stand wasn't just a weapon.
It was the manifestation of his fire.
Of the rage he had buried.
Of the warrior he had tried to suppress.
That night, Hiroshi fought without a sword.
And yet, he cut down his enemies all the same.
His fists burned with the fire of Blazing Ronin.
His strikes left trails of flame in the air.
By the time the fight ended—
The alley was nothing but ash.
And Hiroshi stood, staring at his own hands.
"A blade must be sharp."
"A warrior must be disciplined."
"And a man must know when to walk away from a fight."
His father's teachings echoed in his mind.
But now—
Hiroshi had his own path to follow.
He was no longer bound by the dojo.
He was no longer fighting for approval.
From that night on—
He was a ronin.
A wandering swordsman with no master.
And this time—
He would fight on his own terms.
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The Present
As he stood beside Akira, facing Minh and Cetz in the battle to come, Hiroshi gripped the flaming hilt of his Stand.
The past didn't define him anymore.
His father's words were still there, buried deep inside.
But now, he had his own.
"A warrior must fight for something real."
"Not for pride."
"Not for revenge."
"But to protect what matters."
His blade ignited.
His fire burned brighter than ever.
And as he charged forward, Hiroshi knew—
This time, he wasn't fighting alone.
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