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Chihiro grasps a broken Enten in his hands and wonders what it means to be Kunishige Rokuhira's son.
Aka.
The red reminds Chihiro of heated iron and metal, sparks flying as the swords undergo the forging process. It's a striking color—yellow at first, before mellowing out into a nice shade of crimson as the hammer strikes on the amalgamation of metal.
It reminded him of his father's eyes—with a gaze that was filled so many things he wanted to ask. He wanted to know why he always emphasized his eyes so much; was it something he got from his mother?
Kuro.
Chihiro wishes he can cut down all of his problems. A single slash to end it all—whether it be his enemies, or sometimes, even himself. He doesn't know what that entails. It's hard to even think about in the first place.
He wants to ask his father—did he see the black goldfish and think of his son? Did he know that he'd go around and dress like he wanted to blend in to the night?
Did Kunishige know, somewhere down the line, the path forward for him in the future was an arduous, harrowing and painful one?
Nishiki.
It's the most colorful one of them all. Chihiro thinks it represents an amalgamation of everything that's been leading up to this point. The black spots are him, the red being Kunishige, and the white—
Well.
A boy's image flashes across his head, with eyes like the sky. He thinks they'll do great things together.
Chihiro thinks, with hope, that the white in the fish means he'll see a brighter future.
A future that Samura bet in with his life, and one that Kunishige would say with full confidence—something that he would be truly proud of.