[Point of View: Takeshi Arashi]
The phone vibrated on the mahogany desk.
Takeshi Arashi put down his pen, adjusted his glasses, and looked at the screen. The name displayed brought a smile to his face. He had known that voice on the other end of the line for forty years. Forty years, a few economic wars, two funerals, and a friendship that had survived everything.
"Maxime," he said, picking up. "You look like... how long has it been already?"
The deep voice that answered him spoke in Italian. "Seventy years, Takeshi, and I remind you that I still beat you at golf."
"You cheat."
"I don't cheat. I use my Alter to read the trajectory. It's different."
Takeshi laughed. Maximiliano Drakonis — the father of the Italian number one. They had met at a medical conference in Geneva, in 2084. Alessandro was a promising young doctor then, Takeshi an already well-established entrepreneur. They had shared a bottle of wine, a conversation on medical ethics, and a friendship that had never wavered.
"So," said Maximiliano, "this is about those grandsons you've been telling me about for ten years?"
"The very same."
"Daichi and Kenji."
Takeshi smiled. "You remember their names."
"At seventy, you remember what matters." A sound of rustling paper. "I spoke to Leone. And to Valerio. They agree to meet them."
"Unconditionally?"
"With one condition." Maximiliano's voice became more serious. "They want to see what your little Kenji is worth. Not to judge him — to understand. Valerio says his Alter... how shall I put it... resonates with something."
Takeshi frowned. "Resonates?"
"His words. He sensed something in the descriptions I sent them." A pause. "Are you sure this kid is normal?"
"He's anything but normal, Maxime. And that's why I'm calling you."
The silence on the line lasted three seconds.
"The twelfth day of their stay, then," Maximiliano finally said. "I confirm. Leone, Valerio, and my son... my son will be there too."
"Maximiliano? The number one?"
"He insists on meeting the boy. He says Alters like Kenji's are rare. That they need to be encouraged."
Takeshi felt a wave of pride warm his chest.
"Thank you, Maxime."
"Don't thank me. Thank forty years of friendship." A laugh. "And warn your grandsons that Valerio is insufferable. He asks questions. Lots of questions."
"Kenji does too."
"Then they'll get along perfectly."
The call ended. Takeshi put the phone down and looked out the window of his office. The garden of his Fukuoka house stretched before him, peaceful.
'Kenji. Daichi. You're going to meet heroes. Real heroes.'
He thought of his own travels, forty years earlier. Of the friendships he had woven, the doors he had opened, the bridges he had built between Japan and Europe.
'And now, they are the ones crossing those bridges.'
He picked up his pen and scribbled a message for Hiroshi.
Meeting confirmed. Twelfth day. Three heroes. Warn the boys. And tell them not to be too impressed — they're only human, after all.
He smiled, imagining the look on Daichi's face reading that.
[Third Person Point of View]
The twelfth day arrived faster than Kenji had imagined.
He woke up with a strange feeling in his stomach. Not fear. Not really excitement either. Something in between — a sharp curiosity, mixed with the awareness that the day was going to be different.
Daichi, in the next room, was already up. Kenji could hear him walking, opening closets, talking to himself. He must have spent an hour choosing his outfit the night before.
When Kenji came out of his room, his brother was in the hallway, dressed as if for an entrance exam to Yuei.
"Too dressed up," said Kenji.
"It's not too dressed up, it's RESPECTFUL."
"We're meeting heroes, not the Prime Minister."
"It's THE SAME."
Mom appeared behind them, an amused smile on her lips. "Daichi, you're going to sweat in that outfit. It's thirty degrees today."
"I WILL SWEAT WITH DIGNITY."
Dad, already ready ten minutes early, was checking his phone. "The car will be here in an hour. The meeting is in a small establishment near the Vatican. Discreet."
"Why discreet?" asked Kenji.
"Because the Italian number one can't show up just anywhere without causing a riot."
Kenji nodded. 'Makes sense.'
The car ride was silent.
Daichi stared out the window without seeing anything, his fingers tapping on his knees. Kenji, meanwhile, observed Rome scrolling by one last time — the alleys he was starting to know, the squares where he had sat, the fountains where he had tossed coins.
'Eleven days. And already I know these streets.'
The car stopped in front of a discreet building, an old private residence converted into a reception venue. Ocher stone walls, green shutters, an inner courtyard hidden behind a porch.
A man waited for them at the entrance. Tall, slim, perfectly styled gray hair, impeccable suit. His gaze was calm, steady, almost intimidating.
"The Tanaka family," he said, bowing slightly. His Japanese was perfect, without any accent. "I am Leone Accardi. But you may know me as Il Cavaliere."
Daichi opened his mouth. No sound came out.
Kenji, meanwhile, observed the man. His movements were precise, economical, almost calculated. Nothing was left to chance — every gesture, every word seemed weighed.
"Nice to meet you," said Kenji.
Leone looked at him a second longer than necessary. Then a discreet smile — tiny — crossed his lips.
"You are Kenji. Valerio wants to see you."
"Valerio?"
"Il Toro Nero. He is... how shall I say... impatient."
They crossed an inner courtyard, peaceful, with a fountain in the center and potted orange trees. At the far end, an open door revealed a bright room.
And there, two men awaited them.
The first was massive. Not fat — massive. Broad shoulders, an upright posture, a gaze that seemed to weigh tons. When he moved, you felt the contained power, ready to be unleashed. His black hair was short, his face chiseled, and he radiated something Kenji had never felt in anyone — a presence, almost physical.
The second was all contrast. Shorter, more energetic, with lively eyes and a smirk that always seemed ready to crack a joke. His brown hair was messy, his outfit casual, and in his hand he held a small blade of black energy that he danced between his fingers out of pure habit.
"So," said the second in English, with a pronounced Neapolitan accent that Kenji's necklace translated in real-time, "this is them? The little Japanese kids everyone's talking about?"
"Valerio," said Leone with a warning tone.
"What? I'm being friendly." He approached Daichi, looked him up and down. "You, you're Daichi, right? Sonic Impact."
Daichi nodded, mute.
"And you," said Valerio, turning to Kenji, "you're the little genius. The one who absorbs everything."
Kenji met his gaze. "I try."
Valerio blinked. Then he burst out laughing — a frank, loud laugh that echoed in the courtyard.
"HE TRIES! You hear that, Leonidas? He says he tries!"
The massive man — Leonidas, the number one — approached slowly. When he spoke, his voice was deep, measured, every word weighed.
"Welcome to Rome, Kenji, Daichi. I am Alessandro Drakonis — Leonidas. But you can call me Alessandro, if you prefer."
Daichi finally found his voice. "The... the number one?"
"In Italy, yes. Not in the world." A smile — rare, precious — crossed his lips. "Your grandfather has spoken a lot about you."
"Our grandfather?"
"Takeshi. Yes, a bit too much even. He has many friends, around here." He looked at Kenji. "He says you are special. I wanted to see for myself."
Kenji didn't know what to answer.
They settled in the room, around a low table laden with refreshments. Daichi sat too straight, hands on his knees, as if for an exam. Kenji, meanwhile, observed.
Valerio was the most talkative. He asked questions, rattled off remarks, danced his shadow blade between his fingers without ever cutting himself.
"So, you," he said to Kenji, "you can absorb electricity?"
"Yes."
"And heat?"
"Yes."
"And light?"
"Not yet. I'm working on it."
Valerio nodded, thoughtful. "Me, it's shadow. Black energy, I call it. I generate it, shape it, cut with it." He spun his blade. "But I can't absorb it. I can only create it. You, you're the opposite."
"Not quite," said Kenji. "I can also convert. And amplify."
The silence that followed was different. Interested.
"Convert," repeated Leonidas. "Meaning?"
Kenji thought. "If I absorb electricity, I can release it as heat, light, vibration... Or amplify it before releasing it."
"And how do you do that?"
'Good question.'
"I... focus. I think about the energy I want to obtain. And my Alter does the rest."
Leonidas exchanged a look with Leone.
"Do you have training?" asked Leone.
"Yes. For three years. With a former American hero, Lucas Bishop."
"Bishop," said Valerio, suddenly serious. "The guy who absorbed a reactor explosion?"
Kenji nodded. "You know him?"
"By reputation." Valerio whistled. "He's legendary, that guy. If you were trained by him..." He didn't finish his sentence.
Daichi, seeing that his brother was getting all the attention, cleared his throat.
"And me?" he asked.
Valerio turned to him. "You, you're the brother. Sonic Impact, right?"
"Yes. I can create shockwaves with the sounds I produce."
"Show me."
Daichi hesitated, looked at his parents. Dad nodded.
He stood up, took a breath, and clapped his palms together. CLAP. A shockwave crossed the room, making the curtains tremble.
Valerio raised an eyebrow. "Not bad. You have power and potential. But it's raw. Do you work on precision and control?"
"I'm working on it."
"Good. Because power without precision is like a sword without a blade." He danced his shadow blade. "It's impressive, but it doesn't cut anything."
Daichi nodded, serious.
Leonidas, who had observed in silence, stood up.
"Children," he said. "Do you want to see something?"
Kenji and Daichi nodded.
Leonidas closed his eyes for a second. Then — a golden aura materialized around him. Not light, not fire. Something else. A presence, a density, a power that seemed to vibrate in the air.
"My Alter," he said calmly. "Aegis Imperiale. My vital aura solidifies. It strengthens my body, it creates weapons, shields." He extended his hand, and a golden spear formed, solid, shining. "The stronger my determination, the denser the aura. The greater the pressure, the more powerful I become."
Kenji watched, fascinated. 'Energy. But different. More... personal. More linked to him.'
"Do you feel something?" asked Leonidas.
Kenji concentrated. Without his Alter, without his perception, he could only watch. But he saw — the aura, the light, the contained power.
"It's beautiful," he said simply.
Leonidas smiled — a real smile, this time. "That's the first time anyone's told me that. Usually, they say 'impressive' or 'terrifying'."
"It's impressive too," Kenji admitted. "But it's beautiful. Like a flame."
Valerio burst out laughing. "This kid's great! He tells Leonidas his aura is BEAUTIFUL."
Leone, who had barely spoken, placed a hand on the table. A micro-projection of energy — invisible, but Kenji almost felt it, a tremor in the air.
"Your Alter," he said to Kenji, "it lets you sense energies, doesn't it?"
Kenji nodded.
"Why aren't you doing it now?"
"Because..." Kenji hesitated. "Because I'm on vacation. Bishop told me to enjoy myself. So I'm trying not to use it too much."
The silence that followed was different. Respectful.
"Bishop is wise," said Leone. "Listen to him." with a slight nod of his head.
The hours passed.
Daichi asked all the questions he had prepared — about fights, villains, hero rankings. Valerio answered with humor, Leone with precision, Leonidas with gravity.
Kenji, meanwhile, observed, listened, learned.
At one point, Valerio asked him: "You, do you want to become a hero?"
Kenji thought.
"I don't know," he said. "I want to understand my Alter. Get better. After that... we'll see."
Leonidas nodded. "That's a good answer. Too many kids want to be heroes without knowing why. You, you think."
"That's what I'm told."
"Do they also tell you that you're weird?" said Valerio.
Kenji smiled. "Often."
Valerio laughed. "We're going to get along, you and me."
The afternoon was drawing to a close when they took their leave.
Leonidas shook Kenji's hand with a gentleness surprising for a man of his build.
"Keep going," he said. "Your Alter is rare. But what's even rarer is your way of thinking. Don't lose it."
Valerio patted Daichi on the back. "You've got potential, kid. Work on your precision. And next time you come to Italy, we'll train."
Leone, for his part, simply nodded. But his eyes said it all.
In the car on the way back, Daichi remained silent for a long moment. Then he said:
"We met heroes."
"Yes."
"REAL heroesREAL
"Yes."
"The Italian number one shook my hand."
"Yes."
Daichi turned to him, eyes shining. "This was the best day of my life."
Kenji thought.
'The best day. So far.'
"There's still Spain," he said. "And England."
Daichi looked at him, then smiled.
"You're right." He looked out the window. "You're always right, you know."
Kenji didn't answer. But at the corner of his lips, a smile was there.
That evening, in his room, Kenji opened his notebook.
He wrote:
Day 12 — Rome
We met heroes today. Real heroes. Il Toro Nero, Il Cavaliere, Leonidas — the Italian number one.
Valerio is funny, sarcastic, but he hides something serious beneath his jokes. Leone is cold, precise, every word weighed. Leonidas is calm, steady, but when he activates his Alter, you feel the power — a golden aura, solid, alive.
They asked questions about my Alter. About Bishop. About what I want to do. I answered honestly.
Daichi asked all his questions. He was nervous, but he did well. Valerio told him he has potential.
I don't know if I want to be a hero. But today, seeing Leonidas, feeling — seeing — his aura... I understood something.
It's not the power that matters. It's what you do with it.
Him, he protects. He's there for others. That's why he's number one.
Maybe that's what being a hero is.
He paused.
Tomorrow, we leave Rome. Heading to Spain. Fifteen days there. Then England.
Yuki: your seed is growing. I passed by the garden tonight. A small stem has emerged. I'll send you a photo.
Toru: I have so many things to tell you. I don't know where to start.
He closed the notebook.
Outside, Rome shone one last time.
Kenji looked out the window, thinking about the day, the heroes, the words exchanged.
'Tomorrow, a new country. New impressions. New things to learn.'
He closed his eyes.
And he slept, lulled by the memories of this unique day.