4つ
The mood grew lighter, and the boys soon started moving around. Raizen went to put away the dishes from the day before, while Kazumi gathered the bowls and carried them to the sink, starting to wash them.
Naoki appeared beside him shortly after, helping to dry. Until the boy, with a low, shy voice, broke the silence:
"Today… I remembered them..."
Kazumi paused, holding the sponge.
The sound of running water filled the quiet.
"But Dad's cooking was better..." he continued, a restrained smile on the lips, eyes lost in memory. "You don't even seem like his brother."
Looking up, Naoki's eyes, usually steady and confident, now glimmered. Lips trembled slightly, and one hand pressed against the counter, searching for something solid, something real.
"You know… sometimes I feel like I'm forgetting what they were like—the color of Mom's eyes, Dad's laugh. Maybe… if I stop remembering, the pain will vanish… fade completely. And then… nothing. No pain, no memories." Naoki's voice cracked, and the smile he tried to force barely held. "Isn't that right?"
"It doesn't go away," Kazumi said, lifting the chin and meeting Naoki's gaze. "Pain doesn't just disappear. It hides deep inside your soul, asleep… until something wakes it. Then it hits you like it happened yesterday… and it hurts… even more."
Eyes fixed on Naoki were an anchor in a stormy sea.
"That's exactly why you have to accept it. If you don't, anger will grow in its place. Blind anger that doesn't choose a target. It will burn everything… outside, inside. And one day..." Kazumi's voice dropped even lower. "…that anger overflows. And when it does, it destroys! It destroys what it touches, it destroys who carries it. You need to move forward. Not because you want to, but because others breathe because of you."
Kazumi turned to Raizen, who was balancing precariously in chair, immersed in the heroic task of putting away the dishes. A faint thread of affection softened the expression.
"That little kid there… needs you. You're the strength that keeps him standing. Maybe you don't even notice… 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!"
Naoki's eyes widened, shining, and a broad smile spread across the features. A joy so intense it radiated from within.
"Raizen needs me!" he murmured, but with a firmness that sounded like a silent promise.
"That's it, kid!" Kazumi said, ruffling Naoki's hair with a tired but fond gesture.
Across the kitchen, Raizen noticed something that caught attention: the edge of a partially opened map in the Sensei's bag. Curious, he grabbed it and pulled it out.
"What map is this, Kazu-Sensei?"
"Oh! A villager in Kaminari gave it to me during some missions." Kazumi dried hands on the apron and approached, holding the map carefully to show the brothers. "I've marked a few villages and towns I haven't visited yet. There are so many."
Raizen's eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Can we go with you?"
"Hiroto has to authorize any trips. And remember what he said? You still need more training!"
"I heard him, but—"
"So I can go?" Naoki interrupted confidently. "I'm way stronger than him."
"Hey!" Raizen huffed, lunging at Naoki, who dodged, arms behind the head, acting all smug, making the little one stumble. "Ah, you'll see!"
Raizen growled, ready to strike again. But before he could take a step, Kazumi grabbed him by the shirt and stood between the two.
"Alright, alright," Kazumi said, shaking his head with a sigh. "Raizen hasn't taken the exam yet. I'll talk to the old man about the training. No trips are planned yet, so maybe there's time. Once the Munchkin passes, we can give it a try."
"Yes!!!" they cheered, jumping at the same time.
"Don't celebrate so fast."
I don't know how much you've improved… I might need to push you harder.
"Now, bath and bed! I'll finish here."
They nodded and dashed upstairs, almost tripping in excitement.
From the kitchen, Kazumi stayed still, watching them disappear down the hallway. A subtle peace washed over his face.Wow… look at how much they've grown…
Night had settled, and the distant chime of the village bells reminded that it was long past bedtime. In the upstairs hallway, with a towel draped around the neck, Kazumi rubbed hair dry while walking.
Stopping in front of the door to the old room, he leaned against it. A shiver ran down the spine — the room held memories that still silently lingered in the air. An old crib rested against the wall. The walls, marked by time. Layers of peeling paint revealed colors from the past, and the floor creaked, whispering forgotten memories.
"I guess the living room will do," he murmured, grabbing a pillow and a blanket.
As Kazumi walked down the hallway, his footsteps echoed softly across the wooden floor, blending with the whispers and quiet giggles coming from the boys' room, bathed in a dim light.
"I told those brats to sleep already..."
The door was slightly open, and through the gap Kazumi saw that they'd built a little fort out of sheets. Lantern light glowed faintly over the boys' focused faces as they read and stifled their laughter. The scene pulled a quiet smile, carrying a warmth of nostalgia—memories of mischief with Takumi when they were kids.
On second thought… he mused, softly closing the door. Under the blanket, the brothers heard a sound and lifted the edge of the fabric to peek out. But the door was already closed.
"Sensei?" they whispered.
"Bo!" Raizen shouted, startling the brother.
Naoki jumped and pulled knees close, frowning.
"I told you that's not funny!"
"They're just stories."
"Not just stories! They're real!" Naoki retorted.
"Sorry..."
Raizen noticed the seriousness and approached, sitting next to his brother.
"You mean… the day Mom and Dad were gone? I… don't really remember much. Do you think it was a monster that burned our house?"
Naoki nodded, tear-filled eyes staring into the void.
"I'll never forget that feeling—it was like… something was watching us."
Silence fell between them, thick. Raizen hunched his shoulders, fear from Naoki echoing in his own chest.
Naoki noticed the dread in Raizen's eyes without a word. He took a deep breath, and a faint chuckle escaped, breaking the dark spell hanging over them.
"Bo!" Naoki exclaimed.
Raizen jumped.
"You scared me!" he said, eyes wide.
"See? You get scared too. But at least we know we're not alone!"
"That's not funny!"
"It's just a joke, shorty. Payback for scaring me earlier. Now, let's sleep!"
They settled under the sheets, their slow breathing blending with the soft hum of the night. Thoughts drifted into forgotten memories until sleep finally took them.
Downstairs, Kazumi let out a sigh of relief. Finally, they're asleep… He turned, eyes falling on the wall — on an old photograph pinned there. In it, Takumi, still a child, smiled brightly at the camera. A girl with long blue hair ran across the frame, her face hidden by strands of hair. The movement captured a fleeting, spontaneous moment — a tiny fragment of joy. It was the only photo they had managed to save, a fragile, precious memory. The only image in which Jin appeared, even if his face was obscured.
Kazumi's eyes wandered over every small detail, taking in the depth of time and the memories etched within the frame. A gentle smile curved lips. The photo didn't just show the past — it carried the echo of everything that had been lost.
"Good night, my brother," he whispered, turning off the lamp.
五
Kilometers away, Hiroto arrived at Iwakura Village. Something felt immediately off. The wind didn't blow, and even the villagers' footsteps seemed muted. Everything felt unnaturally still.
Hiroto walked through the narrow streets, and the unease only grew. Some villagers watched him from a distance, their eyes following every step. Others lowered their heads far too quickly. The hunter's instinct inside him screamed to turn back, but he pressed on—something there was pulling him forward.
He approached a two-story building with peeling blue paint and tall windows. Before he could knock, the door swung open, revealing a young woman. Her clothing was ordinary work attire, but something in her gaze was unsettling—a smile that didn't touch her eyes.
"You must be Mr. Hoshizaki. We've been expecting you. Please, go upstairs and take the first door on the right."
Hiroto stepped inside, but the stifling air pressed down, tightening his chest. The blue wooden stairs groaned beneath him, protesting each step.
At the marked door, a hand trembled on the doorknob, hesitating before turning it.
He pushed it open…
The room was too orderly, too clean, as if prepared only for this meeting. A man sat in a chair near the window, face hidden in shadow. Only the outline of lips moved as a voice emerged:
"Hoshizaki Hiroto?"
The man didn't move at first. Silence stretched, thick and unbearable, pressing down on Hiroto. Finally, he spoke, in a low, hushed voice.
"Long time no see, Hoshizaki."
Hiroto frowned. The voice wasn't familiar, yet there was something in it, something that stirred a memory buried deep.
"You called me to cover for Elder Fujisaka's absence. Is he alright?"
"Let's say he is. There were some… complications."
"You were the one who called me earlier?"
"Yes. We needed someone with experience."
Unease climbed into Hiroto. The voice carried an ancient presence, something scratching at the edges of his mind. He squinted, hand instinctively moving toward the hilt of the sword.
"From what you said… we know each other. But I can't remember you."
The man rose slowly, almost ritualistic. The chair scraped the floor, echoing through the room like distant thunder. He stepped forward, and even without revealing a face, the pressure in the room seemed to close in on Hiroto.
"The last time we met… was eleven years ago, Hoshizaki."
Hiroto's heart raced. A shiver ran down his spine, the air thick and rarefied. For a moment, he felt it—he was facing something that shouldn't exist.
That voice… it shouldn't exist.