The wind in Minato District never stopped moving.
It swept through hanging laundry lines, rattled loose shutters, carried salt from the distant coast. The Fujinami household sat at the edge of the district modest, quiet, and watched.
Kohaku Fujinami stood in the courtyard behind his house, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
His mother watched from the doorway.
"Don't go too far," she said softly.
"I won't."
That was a lie.
He stepped into stance.
Unlike Kaida's grounded stillness or Misaki's vertical calm, Kohaku moved immediately.
Wind gathered around his ankles, faint at first, then sharper.
He burst forward.
Gravel exploded behind him.
He crossed the courtyard in a blink and leapt, twisting midair. His heel sliced downward with a thin crescent of compressed air that split the wooden training post in two.
He landed lightly.
Too lightly.
The wind continued swirling after he stopped.
Uncontrolled bleed.
He frowned.
Again.
He inhaled deeply and compressed the air tighter this time before moving. A forward dash then a sudden lateral shift. His palm struck outward, releasing a spiraled gust that carved a shallow groove across the courtyard wall.
Better.
But still wasteful.
"Too loud," a voice called.
Kohaku stiffened.
Three men stood outside the courtyard gate.
Blue-gray robes.
Veil Sect insignia.
His jaw tightened.
"We're not here to arrest you," the lead disciple said lazily. "Relax."
"I wasn't worried."
That was also a lie.
The disciple's gaze drifted across the cracked courtyard stones.
"Still training in secret, Fujinami?"
Kohaku didn't answer.
The Fujinami name carried weight once.
Wind specialists. Couriers. Scouts during the Divine War's aftermath.
Then his father was accused of diverting sect resources. Branded a traitor.
Executed publicly.
No trial.
Now the family remained tolerated but watched.
"There's been movement in the Hollowed Lands," the disciple continued. "A disturbance."
"And?"
"And boys with unstable tempers and something to prove often run toward things like that."
Kohaku's eyes sharpened.
"Then I guess you'd better move faster than me."
The disciple smiled thinly.
"Careful."
They left.
Kohaku exhaled slowly.
Hollowed Lands.
Divine disturbance.
Opportunity.
If he could bring back proof of value, relic fragments, battle data, anything, the sect would be forced to reconsider the Fujinami standing.
His mother stepped closer.
"You're thinking about going."
He didn't deny it.
"You don't have to fix what your father broke."
"He didn't break it," Kohaku said quietly. "They did."
Wind curled tighter around him.
Controlled now.
Purposeful.
"I won't kneel forever."