The night was warm, but there was something else in the air—not coolness, not anxiety. Something like expectation.
Grandpa sat on the porch, wrapped in an old cloak it seemed he hadn't parted with for ages. Before him flickered a cup with the dregs of a brew, and beside it lay a long staff, more resembling an old weapon than a support.
Sai stood by the door. His backpack—small but heavy. Inside—everything he had managed to gather over these months: some food, clean clothes, a knife, and a thin metal disc—Grandpa's artifact, which served as a compass and a training focus for the Echo.
"Well then," said Grandpa without turning his head, "all packed?"
"Yes," replied Sai. "Everything."
"Everything is a strong word," the old man snorted. "You don't have many possessions."
"The rest isn't needed," Sai said quietly. "The important thing is what you taught me."
Grandpa smirked. "Ha, a philosopher now. See, it's contagious."
Sai came closer and sat down beside him. For a few minutes, both were silent. In the distance, night insects chirped, somewhere in the forest an owl hooted.
Overhead—stars. So bright it seemed if you reached out, you could pluck one from the sky.
"You know, Grandpa…" Sai suddenly broke the silence, "I realized one thing. When I first came here, I thought you were just a crazy old hermit."
"And you were right," Grandpa laughed, coughing. "Old—that's a fact. A hermit—even more so. And as for crazy… I won't argue."
Sai smiled, but then fell silent. A few seconds stretched like an eternity.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course," said Grandpa, looking up.
"What's your name?"
Grandpa squinted slightly, as if the question surprised him. Then he leaned back, looking at the sky.
"My name, you say… You're a strange one, Sai. So much time has passed, and you only ask now."
"It's just… I suddenly realized I don't know who you are. Not your name, not your past. Only that you saved me and taught me how to live."
The old man laughed quietly. "And that's not enough?"
"No," Sai answered. "It's just… I want to know who the person was, the one who made a man out of me."
Grandpa fell silent. For a few moments, he sat motionless, then exhaled.
"My name… once, it meant something. Then it stopped. People called me different things. 'The Madman,' 'The Guide,' 'The Shadow.' But if you need the real one… call me Kaiden."
Sai repeated quietly:
"Kaiden…"
"Yes." Grandpa nodded. "And your surname…" he smiled. "You thought you didn't have one, didn't you?"
Sai nodded. "At the orphanage, they said the documents burned with the house. I was just called Sailor. No surname."
"Then let it be as it should be," said Kaiden. "Your surname is Asher."
"Asher?" Sai repeated.
"Yes." Kaiden looked at him intently. "Once, your father was a Federation warrior. He died during a Rift cleansing near the western border. He was a good man. And not just a soldier. He knew what fear was, and he knew how to overcome it. And your mother…" he paused for a second. "She was from my clan."
Sai shuddered. "What?.."
"Yes," Kaiden nodded. "Your mother and I were connected. Once, I was the instructor for her group. She was one of the few who understood that power isn't for killing. When she died, I swore that if any of her children survived—I would find them."
Sai couldn't believe it. Everything inside him was churning.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?.."
"Because you weren't ready then," Kaiden replied calmly. "He who lives in the past cannot see the future. And now you are ready."
He looked at Sai carefully, as if memorizing every feature.
"Sailor Asher. Sounds proud, doesn't it?"
Sai lowered his gaze.
"Maybe… but I still don't feel I've earned the name."
Kaiden laughed quietly.
"You don't earn a name. You fill it with meaning."
---
The night gradually gave way to dawn. The sky turned grey, a bird cried out somewhere in the distance.
Kaiden rose, leaning on his staff. It was clear how much he had weakened.
"It's time, Sai."
"Where to?"
"To the Academy." He pointed to a distant hill. "Beyond that pass is the road to the Southern Gates. It's just a stone's throw from there."
"And you?" asked Sai.
"I will go with you… part of the way."
They walked in silence. The grass rustled underfoot, the wind carried the smell of damp earth.
Sai's Echo walked beside him, like a living shadow. Sometimes its outlines quivered, as if it felt the tension.
When they reached the hill, the sun rose from behind the mountains, spilling golden light.
Kaiden stopped.
"This is it," he said quietly. "From here, you go alone."
Sai turned.
"Grandpa…"
"What?" he smirked. "Don't call me Grandpa. I have a name now, remember?"
"Okay… Kaiden."
They both smiled.
"I won't forget you," said Sai. "I promise."
Kaiden nodded, slowly removed an old pendant from his neck—a small crystal in a metal setting, inside which a faint light flickered.
"This belonged to your mother. She wore it on all her missions. She said it held a reflection of the soul inside. Take it."
Sai clenched the pendant in his palm. It was warm. As if alive.
"Thank you."
Kaiden looked at him with a soft smile.
"You became what she wanted you to be. And perhaps, even more."
"And you?" Sai asked suddenly. "You… said you didn't have much time left."
Kaiden laughed quietly.
"Yes. Old age and the curse of the Echo—not the best combination. But I'm glad I made it in time. Now I can leave in peace."
He looked at the horizon, then back at Sai.
"Go. Don't look back. Let the wind carry your name further."
Sai nodded, took a step… then another.
Each step echoed inside him, as if not only he was walking, but his shadow too.
When he reached the edge of the hill, he stopped and turned around anyway.
Kaiden stood where he had left him—against the backdrop of the rising sun, staff in hand.
The light made his silhouette almost transparent, as if the world itself was saying goodbye to him.
Sai clenched the pendant and spoke quietly:
"Thank you… Kaiden Asher."
And he walked forward.
---
On the road to the Academy, among the dusty stones and the fading wind, Sai spoke his full name aloud for the first time.
"Sailor Asher."