1つ
The afternoon was falling over the small village of Mizunoki. Wooden houses glowed softly under the golden light of the sunset. The sound of bells spread through the air like a reminder that the day was drawing to a close. On the corner, the scent of fresh bread mixed with the steam from the ramen stall, giving the atmosphere a cozy feel.
In the middle of the busy street, surrounded by stalls, walked a young man with silent steps. A young traveler moved quietly through the crowd, the worn backpack resting on shoulders, hinting at long weeks on the road. Dark, simple clothes spoke of a life spent wandering far from home.The wind played with the loose, dark strands of his hair, forcing him to tuck them behind his ear with a distracted gesture.
"He's back…" The murmur escaped from two girls near the ramen stall.
"Kazehara Kazumi?" The other leaned forward discreetly to get a better look.
"I heard he's Hoshigane level now."
"Really? But he's so young… not even the veterans achieved that at his age."
"They say those exams change people. Just look at him… more serious. A colder look."
The voices behind him came in fragments, like leaves carried by the wind amidst the ringing of the bells. Even so, it was enough for him to understand: they were talking about him. He pretended not to hear—though his jaw tightened. His amber eyes, always alert, swept across every corner—and that was when he saw it.
The bakery where he used to peek at the golden loaves in the oven was still there.
For a moment, a wave of nostalgia nearly knocked him off his feet, a comfort he hadn't felt in a long time. In this village, he and his brother had grown up running through these very streets.
Kazumi knew every shortcut, every crooked rooftop, and the smell that escaped from the kitchens at dusk.
The ringing of the bells echoed again, don…, dissolving the memory like mist in the sun. He took a deep breath, allowing the present to reclaim its place. A faint glint on a stall's table made him stop.
"Hey, how much is this?" Kazumi asked.
"Good afternoon, sir. They're one hundred yen."
"One hundred yen?" he murmured, bringing a hand to his chin.
So tiny… Kazumi frowned, scrutinizing them.
Suddenly, as if the sun had broken through heavy clouds, all the seriousness on his face vanished. A sigh of pure delight escaped his lips, and his eyes narrowed into shining slits.
Kazumi picked up one of the little keychains—a tiny plush puppy—and turned it over in his hands, appreciating every detail.
"Ahhh… but look at this! They're so cute!" he said excitedly, holding the keychain up toward the vendor. "There's even a puppy one! Isn't it adorable?"
"Yeah… they really are adorable," the vendor said, scratching his head, trying to hide his embarrassment.
"But these ones here…" he lowered his voice to a reverent whisper, his fingers gliding over the miniature keychains. "These are perfect."
The vendor watched, fascinated. Those same calloused fingers that were meant to wield a sword were now gently caressing the tiny crafts as if they were precious relics.
"I'll take three! No, four!" Kazumi said, excited, I'll get one for the old man too!
The two girls who had been whispering about him on the corner peeked over again. They couldn't hold back their laughter, covering their mouths with their hands, their eyes sparkling with amusement.
"He hasn't changed at all!" one of the girls commented, laughing softly.
"Yeah, he's still the same Kazumi as always."
"Thank you, sir! Come back anytime!" the vendor said, handing over the bag.
Kazumi accepted the bag and bowed his head in a quick, shy gesture of thanks. Then, he continued on between the stalls, leaving the chatter behind until he reached the quieter streets of the village—familiar paths he hadn't seen in years. No matter which corner he turned, childhood memories still surfaced, even knowing that some things had changed.
Yet, one thing stubbornly refused to change: the sound that persisted like the heartbeat of the village—the rough, rhythmic, relentless clack of training swords in the Hoshizaki courtyard.
They're training…, a smile escaped his lips.
二
In the backyard, the metallic clash of swords cut through the air. Raizen pressed forward. Each strike was a whirlwind of raw, untamed energy, yet carried by fierce determination. His light-blue hair shimmered under the last light of day, messy and alive, just like his spirit.each strike blocked with calm precision, movements flowing in a choreographed rhythm
Before him, Naoki blocked the attacks with precision, each strike blocked with calm precision, movements flowing in a choreographed rhythm. His white hair fell slightly over his face, but it didn't hinder the steady focus of someone who always knew the next step.
During one of Naoki's blocks, Raizen lost his balance.
"Ah!!!" he groaned, feeling the impact of the ground. "You take this way too seriously!"
Naoki let out a restrained laugh, extending a hand to his brother.
"Stop being so dramatic. It's just training!"
"I'm way younger than you, you know?" Raizen grumbled, grabbing Naoki's hand.
I need to get better… this time I won't lose so easily!
Naoki ruffled the younger boy's hair, unable to resist the urge to tease him. "It's only a three-year difference, little brother. I just happened to grow a bit more."
"Hmph! Then let's start over!" Raizen said, gripping his sword, his eyes flashing with determination. "But I'm not going easy on you this time."
"We'll see if you can beat me!"
The swords clashed once more, the metallic sound echoing through the yard like contained thunder. Their strikes reflected their personalities: Raizen's impetuous enthusiasm against Naoki's calculating calm. For the younger one, his brother was a constant challenge—someone who tested his strength, patience, and creativity with every attack. The duel advanced like a dance of opposing forces.
On the porch, Hiroto leaned against the pillar, watching his grandsons train. Long white hair was tied in a simple bun, and a time-marked beard lent weight to his face. Rigid from decades as a hunter, he kept a watchful eye—but not even years of training were enough to silence certain memories. The serious eyes carried echoes of a past that refused to leave.
Look how they've grown, Jin… You should be here…
A creak from the door pulled him from his thoughts, and a playful voice sounded, bringing back a familiarity that hadn't been heard in that house for a long time.
"Don't think so hard, old man. You'll end up with even more wrinkles!"
"You're back earlier than I expected," Hiroto said, his lips curving into a half-smile, and here I was hoping for some peace and quiet…
Kazumi lightly tapped the old man's shoulder and slung his arm around him.
"I missed you guys too, old man."
Hiroto let out an impatient sigh, pushing Kazumi's arm away.
This brat never changes.
"So, tell me, have those kids improved?" Kazumi asked.
"Naoki is disciplined. He learns fast. As for Raizen…" He let out a low snort. "Always making excuses to avoid training. Stubborn as they come."
Hiroto narrowed his eyes, fixing them on his youngest grandson. A memory struck—his body stiffened, voice growing quieter.
"But Raizen…" The words faltered mid-sentence. "Those eyes… they're just like hers."
Kazumi felt the weight of that statement.
The old man still feels it…
"But the stubbornness is all Takumi's!"
"Your brother was undisciplined. I never understood why Jin married him."
"Ah, don't say that," a light laugh escaped. "I think Takumi won your daughter over with his culinary skills." Kazumi paused briefly, caught in the memory.
"But he was really protective too, especially with me, his little brother," he continued, his voice growing softer, nostalgic. "Takumi always lost to Jin… but I had to beg him to go easy on me, just so I could land at least one hit."
The scene seemed to unfold before him. He turned to Hiroto.
The old man carried on his face the pain he tried to hide, like someone wearing a cracked mask. A buried guilt consumed him from within. He never dared to broach the subject. He feared that a simple mention would tear open that void—an abyss ready to swallow him whole.
"Have they taken the forest trial yet, old man?" Kazumi asked.
"It's still too early, it's not the right time. I can't put their lives at risk," Hiroto said, turning his back. "There are things they don't know yet."
Kazumi watched him from the corner of his eye.
"Do you know exactly when that time will come? What if it's tomorrow… or the day after?" he spoke, his tone firm. "Tell me: when that happens, will you be certain they're ready?"
Deep down, he knew Hiroto always avoided putting the boys to the test, keeping them in a safety zone that, sooner or later, could become dangerous.
"Do you want them to end up like Jin and Takumi?!" Hiroto retorted.
"They need to learn to defend themselves. You can't keep them safe forever!"
When Hiroto placed his foot on the threshold, about to step inside, he hesitated for a second.
"Don't tell me how to raise my grandsons," the old man said, crossing the door.
In silence, Kazumi turned his gaze back to the boys.
"Wow, what a stubborn old man!"
The evening light was already beginning to fade on the horizon, and a tightness in his chest reminded him of his brother's absence, This isn't what you and Jin would have wanted, is it, my brother?
Kazumi sighed, trying to push away the weight of the memory.
Outside, the boys' ruckus brought him back to the present. Raizen was thrashing on the ground in the yard while Naoki held his arms.
"Let me go! Let me go, Naoki!" Raizen shouted.
"Naoki! Raizen! Dinner's in an hour!" Kazumi called out.
"Sensei!" they shouted together.
Naoki squeezed his brother's arms tighter.
"You're only getting out of this if you can!"
"These kids… they haven't changed a bit," Kazumi whispered, shaking his head.
三つ
Later, in the kitchen, Kazumi wore an old apron with tiny flower patterns, preparing dinner. The steam rose slowly, and the smell that spread through the house soon drew the brothers in.
Naoki stopped at the kitchen door and raised an eyebrow.
"That apron looks adorable on you."
Kazumi looked down, analyzing the little flowers on the fabric, and wrinkled his nose.
"That old man…" he grumbled. "He did this on purpose."
Raizen and Naoki exchanged a glance before laughing, trying to hold it in.
"Okay, okay… you think it's funny, huh?" Kazumi said. "I bet your grandfather wanted exactly that."
"It worked," Naoki murmured, sitting at the table.
"Laugh at the apron all you want."
Kazumi placed the bowls on the table, excited.
"Now, hold onto your chopsticks! The best ramen in history has just been served!"
The brothers tasted it at the same time—their eyes widened, and the heat made their faces flush instantly.
"Well, how is it? Pretty delicious, huh? Totally killer!" Kazumi said, full of expectation.
"Sensei Kazu! This is incredible!" Raizen exclaimed, his mouth full of ramen, barely able to speak properly.
Naoki looked at his brother in disbelief. You'd eat anything. He wrinkled his nose. The smell really fooled me.
"You actually like this slop?" Naoki said.
"Slop?" Kazumi said, picking up some ramen with his chopsticks. "It can't be that bad…"
As he brought the first bite to his mouth, he froze, swallowing with difficulty. He tried to force a crooked smile, but a grimace kept threatening to appear. Raizen, either you're lying… or I've just awakened a legendary talent.
Naoki approached slowly, leaning over Kazumi.
"To die for, huh, man… more like a slow, painful death.
"Huh? What's that, kid?" Kazumi tried to hold back a rough laugh. "Who do you take after, huh?!"
"Raizen, you're going to get sick! You can't eat everything you see!" Naoki said.
"But I liked it, Naoki!"
"See, kid? You gotta respect your uncle, be nicer!" Kazumi said.
"Not a chance." Naoki retorted.
For a while, Kazumi and Naoki tried to eat—or rather, pretended to—without much success.
On the other side, Raizen devoured the ramen with enthusiasm.
"Mmph… Sensei Kazu!" Raizen called, his mouth still full. "Tell us what the other villages are like! Where did you go? Did you fight anyone strong?!"
Kazumi let out a low laugh. "You want to know everything at once, huh?"
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Raizen."
Hiroto's voice interrupted the conversation.
The atmosphere shifted instantly, and the brothers straightened up immediately. Raizen swallowed quickly. His gaze dropped, and he
nodded slightly.
"Sorry…" he murmured. He gripped his chopsticks for a second, his head bowed. But hunger won out. When he looked up again, a smile was already threatening to return.
"Aren't you going to eat dinner, Grandpa? Sensei Kazu's ramen is the best I've ever had!"
"'Best you've ever had'… I'm starting to think you're being sarcastic!"
Kazumi said, looking at the bowl with pure disdain.
This stuff really is awful.
The old man looked at the bowls, impassive.
"Not a chance," Hiroto replied, dryly.
"At least now I know who the kid takes after…" Kazumi murmured.
Kazumi noticed Hiroto's travel bag.
"Heading out, old man?" he asked.
"I'm going to Iwakura Village. They need help with administrative matters. The village leader, Fujisaka, is an old friend and is away due to health issues. I'll be taking over for him for a few days until he recovers."
Hiroto turned to leave the kitchen. But a final hesitation made him stop and cast a stern look at his grandson:
"Raizen, be more disciplined. You need to train and prepare for the exam. You don't know the outside world yet, and you have no idea what you might face. Take it seriously…" his firm voice echoed as he walked away, "…the world doesn't forgive the weak."
Kazumi's eyes shifted between his nephew and the old man. He lowered his head over the ramen, stirring it with chopsticks, thoughts drifting far away.
The old man is too hard on Raizen… it's like he's always angry. Deep down, he's stopping the boys from truly learning, from growing as strong as they should.
He's failing them…
"Yes, sir…" Raizen replied, in a thin voice, lowering his head.
The final click of the lock sounded like a blow. Raizen seemed even smaller, shoulders curling inward like a cocoon, head lowered so much that his blue hair nearly brushed the rim of the bowl. His fingers idly moved the chopsticks, pushing a forgotten noodle around in the broth.
Kazumi didn't miss a single detail, and couldn't hold back a small laugh when he noticed the little one's bowl was almost empty.
"Well, look at that, Munchkin. So you really did like it?" Kazumi said, laughing. He grinned, using the nickname that compared him to the short-legged cat breed.
Raizen slowly lifted his gaze. Now, a timid spark appeared in his eyes.
"It was really good, Sensei Kazu!"
Naoki let out a dry snort through his nose:
"Keep that up, and soon you'll be hugging the toilet. Don't come crying with a stomach ache later."
"Alright, alright, Mr. Funny Guy!" Kazumi said, pointing at Naoki. "Since you're so eager to make jokes, you're drying the dishes."
Kazumi stood up.
"Time to pay the price, you brats! The clan's first official mission: turning this war zone into a decent kitchen!"
4つ
The lighthearted atmosphere continued as the boys busied themselves in the kitchen. Raizen put away the dishes from the day before, while Kazumi carried the bowls to the sink.
Naoki appeared beside him shortly after, helping to dry.
Water ran steadily in the sink when a low, timid voice spoke up:
"Today I remembered them…" Naoki said, his voice barely a whisper.
Kazumi paused for a moment, still holding the sponge. The sound of the water filled the pause, making the moment strangely silent.
"But Dad cooked better… you don't even seem like his brother."
Naoki lifted his gaze. Eyes usually steady and sure now wavered. Lips trembled slightly, and an open hand on the counter searched for something to hold onto—anything to keep him from giving in.
"You know… sometimes I feel like I'm forgetting what they were like. The color of Mom's eyes. Dad's laugh. Maybe that's it… if I stop remembering, the pain will go away… until it disappears completely. And then… nothing. No pain."
Naoki's voice cracked, and the smile he tried to force barely held.
"Isn't that right?"
"It doesn't disappear," Kazumi said, lifting his chin, not looking away. "The pain doesn't disappear. It nests itself, burrows deep into your soul, and stays there, dormant. Until something wakes it up. And then it's like it was yesterday… and it hurts. Hurts a lot more."
His gaze, fixed on Naoki, was like an anchor in rough seas.
"That's exactly why you have to accept it. If you don't, anger will grow in its place. A blind anger, one that doesn't choose a direction. It'll burn everything… what's outside, and what's inside you. And one day…" his voice dropped even lower, "that anger will overflow. And when it overflows, it destroys. Destroys whatever it touches, destroys whoever carries it. You have to move forward. Not because you want to, but because others breathe because of you."
Kazumi turned to Raizen, who was balancing precariously on a chair, absorbed in the heroic mission of putting away the plates. A faint trace of affection softened the tension on his face as he tilted his head gently toward the younger boy.
"That little guy needs you. You're the strength that keeps him standing. Maybe you don't even realize it… but you're his hero. Don't you see, kid? He wants to be strong not just because he wants to, but because he wants to be like you!" Kazumi said, looking intently at Naoki.
Naoki's eyes widened, shining with a joy so intense it seemed impossible to contain.
"Raizen needs me!" Naoki murmured, but with such firmness it sounded like a silent promise.
"Took you long enough to figure that out, huh?" Kazumi laughed, ruffling Naoki's hair with a wet hand. "So don't ever forget that, kid!"
Naoki nodded, gripping the cloth in his hands.
"I won't forget!"
The kitchen returned to its simple rhythm—the sound of water in the sink, the clinking of dishes being put away.
On the other side, Raizen noticed the edge of a paper peeking out of his sensei's bag. Curious, he reached out and pulled it free.
"What's this, Sensei?" Raizen asked.
"Ah! I got it from a villager in Kaminari, during some missions." Kazumi dried his hands on his apron and stepped closer.
He took the paper from Raizen and spread it out on the table, revealing a map covered in small markings.
"I marked some villages and towns I haven't visited yet. Actually… there are a lot."
Raizen's eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Can we go with you?"
"Hiroto has to authorize any trip, Munchkin. And remember what he said? You need to train more."
"I heard, but…" Raizen started, hesitating.
"So I can go?" Naoki interrupted, confident. "I'm way stronger than him."
Raizen snorted, lunging at his brother. Naoki dodged easily and rested his arms behind his head, all smug, causing the younger one to stumble.
"Oh, you'll see!" Raizen snarled, ready to charge again. But before he could take a step, Kazumi grabbed him by the shirt and stepped between them.
"Alright, alright," Kazumi said, shaking his head. "Raizen hasn't taken the exam yet. I'll talk to the old man about the training. I haven't planned any trip yet, so maybe there's time."
"Really, Sensei Kazu?!" Raizen exclaimed, hopping up and down.
Kazumi raised a finger.
"We can try… but only if you pass the exam."
"That's it!!!" the brothers cheered, jumping at the same time.
"Don't celebrate too fast.",
I don't know how much you've improved… maybe I'll need to go hard on you.
"Now, shower and bed! I'll finish up here."
Raizen and Naoki nodded and dashed toward the stairs, nearly tripping over themselves in their excitement.
From the kitchen, Kazumi stood still, watching them disappear down the hallway. Without realizing it, a quiet warmth spread across his face. Wow… these kids… they've grown up. Was I really away for that long?
五
The night deepened quickly. In the distance, the village bells echoed, a quiet reminder that it was already past bedtime.
Upstairs, Kazumi walked along the hallway with a towel draped around his neck, drying his hair with one end of the fabric.
He stopped in front of the old room's door and looked inside.
A tight pressure gripped his chest, as if each memory pressed against his ribs.
The pale yellow crib, worn by time, still rested against the wall. Peeling paint revealed layers of older colors beneath, and the floor creaked softly, echoing footsteps that had left invisible traces behind.
Some memories never leave certain places.
And they don't leave us either—not even when we want them to.
"Yeah… I think the living room's better," Kazumi muttered, picking up a pillow and a blanket.
Footsteps echoed through the corridor, blending with faint whispers and quiet giggles coming from the boys' room, dimly lit by a soft glow.
"I already told those stubborn brats to go to sleep…"
The door was slightly ajar.
Through the gap, he spotted the two of them inside a makeshift blanket fort. Flashlight light cast a gentle glow over their focused faces as they read, exchanging muffled laughs.
The sight stirred memories of his own mischief with Takumi back when they were kids.
…Come to think of it, the thought lingered as he quietly closed the door.
Beneath the sheets, the brothers heard a noise and lifted the fabric slightly to peek outside.
"Sensei?" they whispered.
But the door was closed.
"Boo!" Raizen suddenly shouted, startling his brother.
Naoki jumped back, curling in on himself and hugging his knees.
"I told you—that's not funny!" Naoki grumbled.
"They're just stories…" Raizen said, trying not to laugh.
"They're not just stories! They're real!" Naoki insisted.
"…You mean the day Mom and Dad died, right? I don't really remember it…"
Naoki gave a small nod, eyes glistening as they drifted into the distance.
"Naoki… do you think a monster set our house on fire?" Raizen asked quietly.
"I don't know. But I'll never… never forget that feeling."
Naoki swallowed hard, avoiding Raizen's gaze.
"It was… like someone was watching us."
The words were nearly swallowed by fear.
The silence that followed felt heavy.
Raizen shrank slightly, feeling that same fear echo in his chest.
Without a word, Naoki immediately noticed the unease on his face. A thin whistle of wind slipped through the crack in the window, gliding across the room like a whispered secret.
"Boo!" Naoki suddenly shouted, jumping forward.
Raizen flinched hard.
"You scared me!" he snapped, eyes wide.
"See? You get scared too. But now we know we're not alone."
"That's not funny!" Raizen shot back.
A quiet chuckle escaped Naoki, breaking the dark spell hanging over them.
"Relax, . Just payback for earlier. Now go to sleep."
They settled down.
Slow, steady breathing carried their exhaustion, while thoughts drifted through fading memories—until sleep finally claimed them.
Downstairs, Kazumi let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Finally asleep…
He turned, and his gaze fell on the wall, where an old photograph remained pinned.
Takumi, still a child, smiled brightly at the camera. Beside him, a blue-haired girl was caught mid-motion—her face partially hidden, as though she had turned at the exact moment the picture was taken.
A trace of joy, light and unguarded…
A fleeting, spontaneous moment.
It was the only photo they had managed to save.
The only image where Hoshizaki Jin appeared—even if her face was never fully revealed.
Kazumi's eyes lingered on the smallest details of the photograph. The memories etched into it pressed tightly against his chest.
That picture didn't just show the past.
It carried the echo of everything that had been lost.
"Good night… my brother," he whispered, switching off the lamp.
六
Miles away, Hiroto arrived at the village of Iwakura. The wind didn't blow. Villagers' footsteps sounded dull, muffled.
Everything felt unnaturally still.
He walked through the streets, unease growing with every step. Some residents stared from a distance; others lowered their heads far too quickly.
The hunter's instinct inside him screamed to turn back.
But he kept going.
Something in that place was pulling him forward. He stopped before a two-story building, its blue wood peeling with age, tall windows looming above.
Before he could knock, the door opened, revealing a young woman. She wore simple work clothes, but something about her gaze felt off—a smile that never reached her eyes.
"You must be Mr. Hoshizaki. We've been expecting you. Please, go upstairs and take the door on the right."
Hiroto stepped inside.The sound of footsteps vanished before he even crossed the narrow hallway. The wood beneath his soles seemed to swallow every trace of noise.
Very little light came through the tall windows, and what did seep in spread across the floor in blurred, shapeless patches.
Furniture lined the walls—a low cabinet, an empty vase resting on a sideboard—all covered in a thin layer of dust.
The corridor felt… suspended.
No sound came from above.
No movement from either side.
Only the steady pounding of a heartbeat pressing against his ears, growing faster with each second.
He climbed the stairs. Blue wooden steps creaked in protest beneath the weight. At the top stood a varnished wooden door, dark grain twisting into irregular patterns beneath a finish worn by time. Fine cracks ran across it at eye level.
A shimenawa—a braided straw rope—hung above the frame.
Below it, a yellowed ofuda clung to the surface, its red kanji blurred, nearly illegible.
Fingers hovered over the handle, trembling.
Before it could turn, the door opened with a dry creak.
He stepped inside.
The room felt like another world. While dust ruled the lower floor, this space remained immaculate—not a single speck out of place. Furniture gleamed. Surfaces looked as though they had been polished just moments ago. Everything was orderly.
Too clean.
As if the room existed for this meeting alone.
A man sat near the window, face hidden in shadow. Dark clothing clung to his frame—a navy high-collared top fitted like a second skin, paired with perfectly tailored trousers. Every detail felt deliberate: the fit, the posture, the way his shoulders remained perfectly still, even while breathing.
Light from the window traced sharp edges across his silhouette. Only his lips moved when the voice emerged.
"Hoshizaki Hiroto."
He didn't move right away. Instead, he let the silence stretch—until the air itself grew unbearable.
Then, at last, he spoke again, low… almost intimate.
"It's been a long time, Hoshizaki."
Hiroto's gaze hardened.
The voice wasn't familiar. And yet… something about it stirred a buried memory.
"You called me here to cover for Elder Fujisaka's absence. Is he alright?" Hiroto asked, cautious.
"Let's say… more or less. There were some complications. We needed someone with experience."
The discomfort deepened.
That voice kept scratching at something old, something buried deep in Hiroto's mind.
"The way you speak… it sounds like we've met. But I can't remember you."
His hand moved instinctively toward the sword at his side.
The man rose slowly, almost ritualistically. The scrape of the chair across the floor echoed through the room like distant thunder.
One step forward.
Even without fully showing his face, the pressure around him seemed to close in on Hiroto.
"The last time we met… was eleven years ago, Hoshizaki."
Cold.
The voice froze the room.
Hiroto's heart slammed against his chest.
A chill ran through his entire body.
The air thinned.
And in that instant, he understood.
This was a presence that should not exist.
That voice…did not belong to this world.