Bonding with Death's Embrace
The night was quiet in the House of Shi, save for the faint whisper of wind through the ancient halls. Harry sat cross-legged in the courtyard, Shi no hōyō resting in front of him. The scythe's dark blade reflected the pale moonlight, its faint glow pulsing rhythmically, almost like a heartbeat.
Kuroshi's words from earlier echoed in Harry's mind:
"Your scythe is not merely a weapon. It is a part of you—an extension of your soul. To wield it properly, you must first understand it."
Harry let out a slow breath, closing his eyes. He had already felt the scythe's power—a connection that had surged through him during training—but he still didn't fully understand it. Why had it chosen him? What did it want from him?
He placed his hands on the scythe's handle, its surface cool to the touch. The moment his fingers curled around it, the world around him seemed to fade. The courtyard disappeared, replaced by an endless expanse of shadowy mist.
The World Within the Scythe
Harry stood in the center of the mist, his heart pounding. The air here was heavy, filled with a strange, otherworldly energy.
"Where... am I?" he murmured, his voice echoing into the void.
A deep, resonant voice answered from the darkness:
"You are within me, wielder. The world of Shi no hōyō."
Harry spun around, searching for the source of the voice. Slowly, a figure emerged from the mist—a tall, cloaked figure shrouded in shadows. Its face was obscured, but its presence was immense, radiating both power and a chilling sense of calm.
"You're... the scythe?" Harry asked, his voice uncertain.
The figure tilted its head slightly. "I am Shi no hōyō, and you are my chosen wielder. But our bond is fragile, untested. You must prove yourself worthy of me."
Harry clenched his fists. "Worthy? I didn't ask for this! I didn't choose to be here, to carry this... responsibility."
The figure's voice rumbled like distant thunder. "Do you think Death cares for what you asked for? The balance must be maintained, and you have been chosen to uphold it. Your will means little if you lack the strength to carry it out."
Harry's frustration flared. "You think I don't know what it's like to carry a burden I didn't ask for? My entire life has been about responsibilities I didn't want! But I still fought, and I'll fight now. So don't tell me I lack the strength!"
For a moment, the figure was silent. Then it stepped closer, its shadowy form towering over Harry.
"Your resolve is admirable, but words are meaningless without action. Show me your strength, Harry Potter. Prove that you are worthy to wield me."
The Test of the Scythe
The mist around Harry shifted, solidifying into a battlefield. The ground beneath him was cracked and barren, and the sky above was filled with swirling black clouds.
In the distance, a figure appeared—a Hollow, its grotesque form twisting and writhing. It roared, its glowing yellow eyes locking onto Harry as it charged toward him.
Instinctively, Harry gripped Shi no hōyō, the scythe's energy surging through him. The weapon felt lighter in his hands now, as if urging him forward.
The Hollow lunged, and Harry swung the scythe in a wide arc. A wave of silvery energy erupted from the blade, slicing through the creature and reducing it to nothingness.
Before Harry could catch his breath, two more Hollows emerged, their movements faster and more aggressive. Harry spun, dodging their attacks as he struck out with the scythe. The weapon's energy guided him, each swing feeling more precise, more natural.
As the last Hollow fell, the battlefield dissolved, and the shadowy figure of Shi no hōyō reappeared.
"You are beginning to understand," it said. "Our connection grows stronger, but there is still much for you to learn. Your strength is not in the scythe alone—it is in the balance you bring between power and restraint, between life and death."
Harry nodded, breathing heavily. "I'll keep learning. I'll get stronger."
The figure extended a shadowy hand, and as Harry reached out to take it, the mist around him began to fade.
Awakening
Harry's eyes snapped open, and he found himself back in the courtyard, still gripping Shi no hōyō. The scythe felt different now—its presence was warmer, more familiar, as if it truly recognized him as its wielder.
Kuroshi stood nearby, observing him. "You connected with it," he said simply.
Harry nodded, standing up and resting the scythe on his shoulder. "Yeah. It's... alive in a way I didn't understand before. And it's not just a weapon. It's a partner."
Kuroshi's expression softened. "Good. That is the first step toward mastering its power. But remember, the bond between you and Shi no hōyō must be nurtured. It will grow as you do, but only if you remain true to your purpose."
Harry looked down at the scythe, its blade gleaming faintly. For the first time, he felt a sense of unity with it—a shared purpose that went beyond duty.
"What's next?" he asked, determination in his voice.
Kuroshi smiled faintly. "Next, we delve into the true nature of the balance you are sworn to protect. But first, you rest. The bond you have forged today is only the beginning."
As Harry returned to his quarters, Shi no hōyō resting beside him, he couldn't help but feel a small flicker of hope. He was beginning to understand this strange new world—and his place within it.
Deep within the scythe, the voice whispered once more, its tone softer now:
"We are one, Harry Potter. Together, we will bring balance."