Hidetoshi sat in his office chair, the high-backed leather seat positioned to offer views of both his desk's multiple displays and the panoramic windows overlooking Minato Ward as evening settled across Tokyo. The city's lights were beginning to assert themselves against the fading daylight, creating that particular twilight atmosphere where the urban landscape transformed from daytime functionality to nighttime spectacle.
But Hidetoshi's attention remained fixed on the documents spread across his desk rather than the view.
Financial reports, primarily. Cumulative analyses of the various businesses the Tsugikane Association maintained in mundane society—enterprises carefully structured to serve dual purposes. On the surface, they were legitimate corporations operating in sectors ranging from real estate development to technology, from import-export operations to specialized manufacturing. To mundane eyes, they were simply successful businesses contributing to Japan's economy.
But their deeper purpose was providing sustainable revenue streams for the association's operations and maintaining interfaces between awakened and mundane society that allowed the Tsugikane family to operate effectively in both worlds.
Hidetoshi reviewed the quarterly projections with practiced efficiency, his eyes scanning spreadsheets and graphs that represented millions of yen in transactions. Most awakened families maintained some level of economic engagement with mundane society. But the Tsugikune approach was notably more aggressive than many of their peers.
Some of the other families view mundanes as fundamentally insignificant, Hidetoshi reflected as he noted a particularly strong performance from one of their construction subsidiaries. They maintain the minimum economic engagement necessary and otherwise treat the mundane world as irrelevant to their concerns. Short-sighted and wasteful.
He was a pragmatist above all else. Ideology and pride were luxuries he couldn't afford when responsible for an organization as large and complex as the Tsugikune Awakened Association. And pragmatism demanded recognizing that mundanes—despite lacking awakened abilities—represented enormous economic potential.
There were billions of them. They controlled the vast majority of global wealth and productive capacity. They drove technological innovation, built infrastructure, created and consumed goods and services at scales that dwarfed anything the awakened community could match. Dismissing them as insignificant was like dismissing the ocean's power because individual water molecules were weak—a fundamental misunderstanding of how aggregate effects worked.
The Tsugikune family had built substantial business interests in mundane markets precisely because Hidetoshi understood this dynamic. And the returns validated his approach.
The current quarter's summary showed profit increases of fifteen percent across their portfolio compared to the same period last year. Fifteen percent represented substantial absolute gains given the size of their operations—tens of millions of yen in additional revenue that could be directed toward association operations, family investments, or strategic reserves.
And the projections suggested continued growth. Demographic trends, technological developments, regulatory changes—all the factors their analysis teams tracked pointed toward expanding opportunities in the coming years.
Good, Hidetoshi thought with quiet satisfaction. The association's financial foundation remains strong. Whatever challenges we face operationally, at least we won't be constrained by resource limitations.
He set aside the financial reports and reached for another folder—this one marked with security classifications and restricted circulation designations.
The experimental research project.
Hidetoshi's expression became more focused as he opened the folder and began reviewing its contents. Graphs showing test results, technical specifications for prototype equipment, progress reports from the research team, budget expenditures and projections.
The project's objective was ambitious: develop effective technology that could accelerate aether recovery from exhaustion among awakeners.
Aether exhaustion was a universal problem in awakened society. Every awakener who pushed their abilities to significant limits eventually depleted their core's reserves, leaving them weakened and vulnerable until natural recovery processes restored their capacity. The recovery rate varied by individual—some awakeners bounced back quickly, others required extended rest periods—but everyone faced the same fundamental limitation.
Combat operations were particularly affected. An awakener who exhausted themselves in a fight became effectively mundane barring its physiological advantages, until recovery, unable to defend themselves or contribute further to ongoing situations. Association agents learned to manage their reserves carefully, to avoid complete depletion except in desperate circumstances, but the constraint remained a constant tactical consideration.
If we could develop technology that significantly accelerates recovery, Hidetoshi thought as he studied the technical diagrams, the operational advantages would be substantial. Agents could sustain longer engagements, recover between combat encounters faster, maintain readiness during extended operations. The strategic implications...
Beyond combat applications, commercial potential existed as well. Every awakener would benefit from faster recovery. Training could be intensified if students could practice longer without depleting themselves. Research could progress more quickly if experimental attempts didn't require waiting hours or days between tests. The market for such technology would be enormous.
The Tsugikune Association could dominate that market if they achieved a working prototype first. Patent protections, manufacturing advantages, first-mover benefits—all the standard business advantages would apply, but magnified by how desperately the awakened community needed this capability.
But the research progress...
Hidetoshi sighed quietly as he reviewed the latest status report.
"Little progress" was how the lead researcher had characterized their current state. Nine months into the project, they'd confirmed several theoretical principles, eliminated some approaches that proved non-viable, and developed preliminary prototype components. But nothing approaching a functional system yet.
The graphs showed incremental advances—small improvements in energy transfer efficiency, marginally better aether detection sensitivity, slightly more stable containment fields. The kind of progress that suggested they were on the right track but still far from breakthrough.
Nine months is nothing for this kind of fundamental research, Hidetoshi reminded himself, tempering his impatience with realistic expectations. Revolutionary inventions require years of development, not months. Little progress is still significant when you're trying to accomplish something that's never been done before.
He made notes in the margin of the report—questions for the research team, suggestions for additional approaches to investigate, reminders to allocate additional budget if certain experiments showed promise. Then he closed the folder and glanced at his watch.
5:43 PM.
The day had extended longer than he'd planned, though that was typical. Chairman's responsibilities had a way of expanding to fill all available time and then demanding more. But he'd accomplished the critical tasks—reviewed the financial reports, assessed the research project status, handled the various meetings and decisions that had filled his afternoon.
"Kin," Hidetoshi called toward the outer office where his assistant maintained his workstation.
Kin appeared in the doorway almost immediately, tablet in hand, his expression carrying the attentive readiness of someone prepared to handle whatever the chairman required.
"Yes, Chairman?"
"Am I free for the rest of the evening? No outstanding meetings or urgent matters that need immediate attention?"
Kin consulted his tablet, scrolling through Hidetoshi's schedule. After a moment, he looked up with confirmation.
"You're clear, sir. No scheduled meetings, and no urgent matters requiring immediate handling. A few matters that could use your attention this week, but nothing that can't wait until tomorrow."
Hidetoshi felt tension he hadn't consciously noticed begin to ease from his shoulders. A genuine evening off—rare enough to feel almost luxurious.
"Good. We're done for the day, then." He began shutting down his desk displays and organizing documents for tomorrow's review. "I'm returning to the clan compound for dinner. Would you like to join us? I'm sure Miya would be happy to have you, and it's been a while since you've visited the family residence."
Kin's expression showed pleased surprise. "I would be honored, Chairman. Thank you for the invitation."
"No need for such formality. You've been working late hours lately—consider it partial compensation for your dedication."
Hidetoshi stood, collecting his suit jacket from its hanger and pulling his phone from his pocket. He dialed Miya's number as he and Kin left the office, the call connecting as they walked toward the elevator.
"Hello, dear," Miya's voice came through warm and familiar. "Are you still at the office?"
"Just leaving now," Hidetoshi confirmed, pressing the elevator call button. "I wanted to let you know I'll be home for dinner tonight. And I'm bringing Kin with me—I hope that's not an inconvenience."
"Of course not!" Miya's delight was audible, her voice brightening considerably. "That's wonderful. It means you're actually free from work for the evening, which hasn't happened in—what, three days? Four?"
Hidetoshi winced slightly at the accurate assessment. His schedule had been particularly demanding lately, multiple urgent matters converging to keep him at the association late into the evenings. He'd eaten dinner in his office more often than at home recently, sometimes even joining the association staff in the building's cafeteria rather than taking time for a proper meal.
The elevator arrived and they stepped inside, the doors closing smoothly as the car began its descent.
"I know it's been too long," Hidetoshi admitted. "Things should ease up somewhat over the next week. Is Kisho joining us, or is he still in Shiga?"
"He left early this morning for Otsu," Miya replied, her tone shifting to something more concerned. "More issues with the family elders there."
Hidetoshi sighed, frustration mixing with resignation. "Of course there are."
Ever since that incident two years ago—when certain family elders in Otsu had attempted to incite what amounted to a minor revolt against Tokyo's leadership, questioning decisions and demanding greater autonomy—Kisho had been traveling to Shiga with increasing frequency. The situation had been resolved without much violence, but the underlying tensions remained. Managing those relationships, maintaining family unity across geographic and generational divides, required constant attention.
"There's no one else with sufficient authority to handle the Otsu branch aside from Kisho and myself," Hidetoshi said, partly to Miya and partly thinking aloud. "And I'm occupied enough with association responsibilities. Kisho is doing essential work, even if it means he's away from Tokyo more than any of us would prefer."
"I know," Miya said softly. "I just worry about him. Those elders can be... difficult."
"Kisho can handle difficult. It's one of his talents." Hidetoshi forced optimism into his tone. "I'll be home soon. Thirty minutes, maybe forty depending on traffic."
"Drive safely. I love you."
"Love you too."
The call ended as the elevator reached the ground floor. Hidetoshi pocketed his phone and stepped out into the lobby with Kin following just behind.
Association staff members working late shifts looked up as the chairman passed through, offering respectful greetings that Hidetoshi acknowledged with nods and brief words. Security personnel stationed at various checkpoints straightened subtly, their attention sharpening in automatic response to his presence.
The atmosphere was professional but relaxed—the evening shift carried a different energy than daytime operations, fewer people moving through the space, a general sense of winding down rather than ramping up.
Hidetoshi and Kin exited through the main entrance, where a black sedan already waited at the curb. The driver—one of the family's trusted security personnel who'd been assigned to Hidetoshi's protection detail for years—stood beside the vehicle and opened the rear door as they approached.
"Good evening, Hidetoshi-sama, Kin-san."
"Evening, Tanaka. We're heading to the compound."
"Of course, sir."
Hidetoshi settled into the backseat while Kin took the front passenger position. The car pulled smoothly into traffic, beginning the drive from central Minato toward the more secluded area where the Tsugikune family compound occupied its extensive grounds.
As the car navigated through Tokyo's evening traffic, Hidetoshi allowed himself to relax fractionally—sinking deeper into the leather seat, letting the tension of the workday begin to dissipate. He watched the city pass by the tinted windows, the familiar landscape of his territory rendered in twilight colors and emerging neon.
His thoughts drifted, as they often did during these transition periods between work and home, to his son.
Rei. Seven years old now.
The passage of time sometimes surprised Hidetoshi—how quickly children grew, how dramatically they changed from year to year. It seemed like yesterday that Rei had been a toddler barely able to walk, and now he was a composed, articulate child who sometimes seemed far older than his age.
Though he's only seven, he's already mature enough that you could mistake him for someone older, Hidetoshi thought with a mixture of pride and slight concern. That level of precociousness isn't entirely normal, even for awakened children who tend toward faster development than mundanes.
Physically, Rei had grown noticeably. He was tall for his age, his features losing their childhood roundness and taking on more defined characteristics. The baby fat had melted away over the past two years, replaced by the lean structure of a child who would likely grow into considerable height. His face showed hints of the man he would eventually become—strong jawline beginning to assert itself, cheekbones becoming more prominent, eyes that held unusual depth and awareness.
But it was Rei's intellectual development that truly distinguished him.
The boy was brilliant. Not just clever or precocious in the way many awakened children were, but genuinely, remarkably intelligent in ways that had become increasingly evident as he grew older.
Hidetoshi and Miya had noticed early that their son processed information with unusual sophistication. He learned to read with minimal instruction, absorbing written language as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His vocabulary expanded at rates that required them to consistently adjust their expectations upward. His questions demonstrated analytical thinking that seemed advanced for his age.
By the time Rei turned six, they'd made the decision to hire private tutors to provide education beyond what typical childhood instruction offered. Standard elementary curriculum had proven inadequate within months—Rei mastered material faster than teachers could present it, became bored with age-appropriate content, clearly needed more challenging intellectual engagement.
Now, at seven, Rei was working through high school-level education in multiple subjects.
Mathematics, sciences, literature, history—his tutors reported that he handled advanced material with remarkable competence. Not perfectly, of course—there were subjects that challenged him, concepts that required repeated explanation, skills that demanded practice to develop. But his overall performance suggested intellectual capabilities that exceeded what was typical even for gifted children.
And recently, Rei had become fascinated with global culture and history.
"He finds it fascinating how the world can be so diverse," Rei's history tutor had explained during their last progress meeting. "He's particularly interested in how different societies developed distinct approaches to similar problems—governance structures, economic systems, cultural values. He asks questions that suggest he's thinking about underlying patterns and principles rather than just memorizing facts."
Hidetoshi had smiled at that assessment, recognizing his son's analytical bent. Of course Rei would approach cultural studies systematically, looking for frameworks and patterns. That's how his mind works—always seeking to understand systems and structures.
The intellectual development was impressive and made Hidetoshi proud. But it also created certain complications.
Rei didn't fit easily with children his own age. His interests, his manner of speaking, his whole approach to interaction operated at a level that made typical childhood friendships difficult. He could engage politely with other children when necessary but genuine connection seemed elusive.
He's isolated in some ways, Hidetoshi acknowledged. Surrounded by family who care for him, provided with excellent education and resources, but without peers who can truly relate to him. I hope that doesn't cause problems as he grows older.
But beyond intellectual development, there was another dimension to Rei's growth that commanded Hidetoshi's attention.
His core was forming.
Hidetoshi had sensed it perhaps six months ago—the first faint indications that Rei's body was beginning the process of crystallizing a core within his heart. The signs were subtle, barely perceptible even to someone of Hidetoshi's considerable sensitivity. But they were present and growing steadily stronger over time.
Environmental aether was being drawn toward Rei with increasing consistency. The convergence was still minimal—nothing like the obvious energy signature of a fully awakened individual—but it was there. Measurable. Progressing.
He'll awaken, Hidetoshi thought with certainty. The only question is when.
Standard awakening age was nine to fourteen, with most occurrences clustering around ten to twelve. Awakening younger than nine indicated exceptional talent—the kind of prodigious potential that appeared rarely even in powerful awakened lineages.
Based on the rate of core formation Hidetoshi could detect, Rei seemed likely to awaken somewhere on the early side of the standard range. Perhaps nine years old, possibly even eight. That would mark him as talented but not extraordinarily so—a strong awakener from a powerful family, which was exactly what everyone expected.
But sensing a developing core accurately using only personal perception was difficult. The energy patterns were too subtle, too variable, too easily affected by countless factors that made precise assessment challenging without technological assistance.
I should have him properly evaluated, Hidetoshi decided. We have equipment at the association specifically designed to measure core development with precision. Better to have accurate data than rely on my limited ability to sense something this important.
The car continued through Tokyo's streets, traffic moving with reasonable speed despite the hour. They'd left the densest commercial districts behind, entering areas where residential neighborhoods dominated and the urban landscape became slightly less vertical, slightly more green.
Hidetoshi's phone rang, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at the display—Miya calling again. Unusual for her to call back so soon after their previous conversation.
He answered immediately. "Miya? Is everything alright?"
Her voice came through with an edge of worry that made Hidetoshi's body tense instinctively.
"Hidetoshi... I think Rei might have awakened."
The words hit with immediate impact, adrenaline spiking even as Hidetoshi's mind raced through implications.
"What happened? Is he injured? Is anyone hurt?"
"No, no one's hurt," Miya said quickly, recognizing his immediate concern. "But the courtyard—Hidetoshi, the courtyard is covered in blue flames."
Blue flames.
Hidetoshi processed that information with the part of his mind trained to analyze awakened phenomena even under stress. Blue indicated extremely high temperature—significantly hotter than normal fire, requiring considerable energy output to maintain. The fact that Rei had manifested such intense flames during what was presumably an uncontrolled awakening suggested substantial power potential.
But more immediately, it meant possible danger to property and people if the flames weren't contained.
"How extensive is the coverage?" Hidetoshi asked, already leaning forward toward the driver. "Just part of the courtyard or the entire space?"
"Most of the courtyard," Miya replied, her voice tight with controlled concern. "The flames appeared suddenly about five minutes ago. They're not spreading to the buildings—the compound's barriers are containing them—but they're intense and they're not going out."
"Where is Rei now?"
"In the center of it. Standing there, not moving. I don't think he's fully conscious—his eyes are open but he's not responding to my voice."
Awakening trance, Hidetoshi identified immediately. He's probably experiencing core formation and initial ability manifestation simultaneously. His consciousness is turned inward, focused on the overwhelming sensations of suddenly possessing awakened power.
"Don't try to approach him through the flames," Hidetoshi instructed firmly. "The barriers will protect the compound, and he should regain awareness naturally within minutes. I'm ten minutes away—we'll be there soon."
"Hurry," Miya said quietly. "I know he's probably fine, but seeing him standing in those flames..."
"I know. We're coming."
Hidetoshi ended the call and immediately addressed the driver. "Tanaka, fastest route to the compound. Don't worry about speed limits."
"Yes, sir."
The car accelerated smoothly, Tanaka's expert driving navigating them through traffic with increased urgency while maintaining safety. Hidetoshi felt Kin's attention from the front seat, his assistant clearly having overheard enough of the conversation to understand the situation.
"Rei has awakened?" Kin asked.
"It appears so. Pyrokinesis, manifesting blue flames in the courtyard." Hidetoshi's mind was already working through what would need to happen next. "We'll need to conduct comprehensive assessment once he regains full consciousness. Medical evaluation to ensure the awakening didn't cause any physiological complications. Initial ability testing to understand what he's manifested. And we'll need to begin force control training immediately—uncontrolled pyrokinesis at that apparent temperature level is dangerous."
"Should I alert the Medical Division to prepare?" Kin asked, already reaching for his phone.
"Yes. Have them ready for a full awakening evaluation. And contact Teiji—tell him we'll need to schedule priority training sessions starting tomorrow if Rei is physically capable."
Kin began making calls, his voice professional and efficient as he coordinated the necessary responses.
Hidetoshi stared out the window, watching Tokyo blur past as they accelerated through the evening traffic.
Seven years old, he thought with a complex mixture of pride, concern, and calculation. That's exceptionally young. Two years below even the early end of standard awakening age. It marks him as genuinely prodigious, the kind of talent that appears once in a generation just like his great grandfather.
The implications cascaded through his strategic thinking.
Rei's status within the family would shift dramatically. No longer just the heir in abstract future terms, but an awakened heir with demonstrated exceptional potential. The family elders would take renewed interest, wanting to assess and influence his development. Other great families would notice and adjust their calculations about the Tsugikune family's future accordingly.
Training would become crucial and consuming. Rei would need to learn force control quickly to avoid dangerous incidents. His education would have to adapt to accommodate intensive awakened training alongside his intellectual development. The next several years of his life would be defined by learning to master abilities he'd just acquired.
And there would be pressure. Expectations from family, from the association, from awakened society more broadly. A seven-year-old awakening marked you as special—and special meant burdened with all the weight that came with being exceptional.
He would need to be careful about how much of that pressure he allowed to reach Rei. The boy was brilliant and mature for his age, but he was still seven years old. Still a child who needed protection and guidance, not just training and expectation.
But those were concerns for later. Right now, the immediate priority was getting home and ensuring Rei was safe.
The car turned onto the private road leading to the compound, the surrounding landscape becoming more secluded as they approached the family's extensive grounds. High walls came into view, then the gates—already open in anticipation of their arrival, security personnel having been alerted to the situation.
They passed through without slowing, the car accelerating up the long drive toward the main residence.
Even from a distance, Hidetoshi could see the glow.
Blue light illuminated the courtyard visible beyond the main building, bright enough to paint the surrounding architecture in azure highlights. The intensity suggested flames of remarkable heat and power—far beyond what he would have expected from a newly awakened child.
Hidetoshi wondered as the car pulled to a stop near the main entrance. Standard pyrokinesis doesn't typically produce flames that blue on initial awakening. This suggests more specialized than basic fire manipulation.
He was out of the car before Tanaka could open his door, striding toward the entrance with Kin following close behind. Staff members appeared—some looking worried, others simply alert and ready to assist.
"Where's Miya?" Hidetoshi asked the nearest attendant.
"In the courtyard, Hidetoshi-sama. Observing from the covered walkway."
Hidetoshi moved through the residence with quick, purposeful strides, navigating familiar corridors toward the central courtyard. The blue glow intensified as he approached, visible through windows and doorways, painting everything in that distinctive cold-fire light.
He stepped out onto the covered walkway that bordered the courtyard and immediately saw both Miya and the source of the flames.
Miya stood perhaps twenty feet away, her posture tense with maternal concern, her eyes fixed on the courtyard's center.
And there, surrounded by blue flames that rose perhaps six feet high in a rough circle maybe thirty feet in diameter, stood Rei.
The boy stood perfectly still in the center of the conflagration, arms at his sides, head tilted slightly back, eyes open but unfocused. The flames danced and flickered around him without touching his body, creating a barrier between him and the outside world.
The heat was palpable even from this distance—Hidetoshi could feel it radiating outward, stopped only by the compound's protective barriers from spreading to the wooden structures surrounding the courtyard. The flames' blue color confirmed their extreme temperature.
And yet Rei stood within them, apparently unaffected, his clothing not even singed.
Immunity to his own flames, Hidetoshi noted with the clinical part of his mind. Standard for pyrokinetic awakeners, but the temperature immunity would need to be this high to survive being surrounded by flames this intense.
He moved to Miya's side, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looked at him with visible relief.
"He hasn't moved or responded at all," she said quietly. "Just standing there with those flames burning all around him."
"It's normal for awakening," Hidetoshi reassured her, even as his own concern remained elevated. "His consciousness is turned inward, experiencing core formation. He'll come back to full awareness soon."
Even as he spoke, he saw Rei's eyes begin to focus—the glazed, distant look fading to be replaced by genuine awareness. The boy blinked several times, his head lowering to a normal position, his gaze tracking around the courtyard as if seeing it for the first time.
And as his consciousness returned, the flames began to recede.
Not extinguished suddenly but fading gradually, their intensity diminishing, their height lowering, until after perhaps thirty seconds only small flickering remnants remained on the courtyard's stone surface. Then even those vanished, leaving only scorched stone and the residual heat shimmer in the air as evidence of what had occurred.
Rei stood alone in the center of the blackened circle, looking down at his hands with an expression of wonder and confusion in equal measure.
Then he looked up and saw his parents watching him.
"Father?" His voice was small, uncertain—more childlike than Hidetoshi had heard from him in months. "Mother?
Hidetoshi stepped forward, moving into the courtyard despite Miya's hand briefly tightening on his arm in automatic concern. But the flames were gone, the danger passed. He stand before his son.
"You've awakened, Rei," Hidetoshi said gently, crouching to bring himself to eye level with the boy. "What you're feeling—the awareness of energy inside you, the sense of power you can't quite understand yet—that's your core. You're an awakener now."
Rei looked at him with those disconcertingly mature eyes, processing the information with visible effort.
"The flames," Rei said slowly. "I made them. I could feel them—inside me, around me, part of me. I didn't mean to, they just... appeared."
"That's normal for initial awakening," Hidetoshi assured him. "You don't have control yet. That's what we'll teach you, starting tomorrow. But for tonight..." he placed his hands on Rei's shoulders, checking him over with both visual assessment and subtle aether sensing, "...we need to make sure you're healthy. Awakening is stressful on the body. How do you feel? Any pain, dizziness, unusual sensations?"
Rei considered the question with his characteristic thoroughness. "Tired. Very tired. And there's a... warmth? Inside my chest. Not painful, just... present. Constant."
"That's your core. You'll get used to the sensation." Hidetoshi straightened, keeping one hand on Rei's shoulder. "Come inside. We'll have the medical staff examine you, make sure everything went smoothly. Then you should rest."
Miya had approached as well, her relief at seeing Rei conscious and apparently healthy evident in her expression. She embraced their son despite his slightly scorched clothing, maternal instinct overriding any concern about residual heat.
"You scared me," she said softly. "Standing in those flames like that."
"I'm sorry, Mother. I didn't mean to frighten you." Rei returned the embrace, then pulled back with a question forming on his young face. "Father, the flames were blue. Is that... normal?"
Hidetoshi exchanged a glance with Miya before answering.
"It's rare," he said honestly. "Most pyrokinetic awakeners manifest standard orange or yellow flames initially. Blue indicates much higher temperature and usually appears only after significant training and development though only a few can manifest it. The fact that you produced them on first awakening suggests you have considerable natural aptitude for fire manipulation."
Or something more specialized than standard pyrokinesis, Hidetoshi thought, filing away the observation for later analysis. We'll need comprehensive testing to understand exactly what ability he's manifested.
He guided Rei toward the residence, Miya walking on their son's other side, Kin following at a respectful distance. Staff members who'd gathered to observe the unprecedented situation parted to let them through, their expressions mixing concern and barely concealed excitement.
The heir had awakened. At seven years old. With a display of power that would send shockwaves across the awakened community.
Word would spread through the compound tonight, through the association tomorrow, through awakened Tokyo and Japan within days, then through the awakened world.
Everything had just changed.
And as Hidetoshi looked down at his son—exhausted, confused, but already showing signs of trying to understand and analyze what had happened to him—he felt the familiar weight of responsibility settle more heavily onto his shoulders.
Protect him, the thought came with absolute clarity. Guide him. Help him develop his abilities safely. But also protect his childhood as much as possible. Don't let him be consumed by expectations and pressure the way so many prodigies are.
It would be a difficult balance to maintain.
But for his son, Hidetoshi would find a way.
"Let's get you inside," he said. "You've had quite enough excitement for one evening."