He stood up and left the library, the bright golden sun meeting his face as he stepped outside. In his hand were two leftover snacks he'd bought earlier. He glanced at them for a second, sighed, and tucked them back into his pocket.
The streets of the Wind Clan village were calm, the wind breeze soft against his skin. He took turn after turn, cutting through narrow paths and familiar alleys as he made his way home. But just as he passed near one of the village playground that was now covered in snow, he froze.
Laughter.
Crying.
Kaito turned his head sharply.
Children.
He stepped closer, peeking past a hedge — and his heart dropped.
There she was. Yumi, his cousin sister, sitting on the ground, face dirty, eyes filled with tears. Around her stood four children — three boys, one girl — all her age, about seven, laughing and pointing.
"Hey!" Kaito shouted, rushing over. "What are you doing to her?"
Kaito stepped forward, placing himself between Yumi and the group.
The snow crunched softly beneath his feet.
Up close, he could see their faces clearly now—smirking, amused, completely unbothered.
He straightened slightly.
"…What are you doing to her?" he asked, voice steady.
The kids didn't answer right away.
Instead, they looked at each other.
Then—snickers.
The leader, a boy with sharp eyes and a crooked grin, tilted his head, studying Kaito like he was something mildly interesting.
"…Oh," he said slowly. "Look who it is."
Another boy leaned in, squinting.
"Wait… isn't that—"
"Yeah," the girl cut in, smiling mockingly. "It's him."
The leader gave a lazy, exaggerated nod.
"Right… right…" he said, dragging it out. Then, with a dramatic bow that was just a little too deep to be sincere—
"Lord Kaito."
The others followed, poorly imitating the gesture, laughter spilling out between them.
"Your Highness," one of them added under his breath, barely holding back a laugh.
Kaito's expression didn't change.
"Get out of here," he said.
The leader straightened, brushing imaginary snow off his sleeve.
"…Or what?"
Silence.
The wind shifted slightly, brushing past them.
Kaito's eyes sharpened.
"I'm not asking again."
For a brief second—
the air grew heavier.
The leader felt it.
His smile faltered—just a little.
But then it came back, wider than before.
"…You know," he said, stepping closer, boots pressing into the snow with slow, deliberate steps, "I always wondered what made you so special."
He circled slightly, eyes never leaving Kaito.
"Was it the way people bow to you?"
"Or the way they say your name like it actually means something?"
He stopped right in front of him.
"…Or is it just your last name?"
The other kids chuckled behind him.
Kaito didn't move.
The boy's gaze hardened, something colder settling beneath the mockery.
"Because from where I'm standing…" he continued quietly, "…you're not that impressive."
He leaned in just slightly.
"Just another kid hiding behind the Kaze name."
Kaito's jaw tightened.
"Watch your mouth."
That made the boy laugh—this time, softer. Not playful.
Sharp.
"Or what?" he repeated. "You'll have your family deal with me?"
He took another step forward, now close enough that their shoulders almost brushed.
"I don't care about your family."
His voice dropped.
Not loud.
But heavy.
"People act like the Kaze are something untouchable… something chosen."
His eyes narrowed.
"…But I don't see anything special."
A pause.
The wind passed between them again, colder this time.
Kaito's gaze darkened.
"Say that again."
For a split second—
the world felt still.
The other kids stopped laughing.
The leader's smirk flickered.
He felt it again.
That pressure.
That presence.
Different from before.
But instead of backing away—
his grin slowly returned.
"…What?" he said, quieter now—but more dangerous. "You didn't hear me?"
He leaned in, just enough for only Kaito to hear clearly.
"I said… your family isn't special."
A beat.
"…And neither are you."
Silence.
Then—
He stepped back.
And suddenly—
CRACK.
His fist drove straight into Kaito's face.
Kaito stumbled back, boots dragging through the snow before he caught himself.
The group burst into laughter again—but this time, it was louder, rougher.
The leader shook his hand slightly, like he'd barely put any effort into it.
"See?" he said, spreading his arms. "Nothing special."
He looked at the others, smirking.
"This is your 'future head'?"
More laughter.
Then his eyes returned to Kaito—sharper now, more focused.
Not just mocking anymore.
Measuring.
"Remember this," he said, voice lower. "Titles don't mean anything when you can't back them up."
He turned slightly, beginning to walk away—then paused.
Without looking back, he added:
"…Next time, try harder."
A small smirk tugged at his lips.
"Lord Kaito, or should I say trashto"
They began chanting mockingly:
"Trashto! Dumbto! Trashto! Dumbto!"
The others followed him, their laughter trailing off into the distance—
But something lingered.
Not just humiliation.
Not just anger.
Something deeper.
Something that didn't end here.
The scene cuts to Kaito and Yumi sitting on the swings. The snow gell gently, and the sky had dimmed to a soft orange as the sun began its slow descent. Yumi wiped the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand. Her clothes were still a bit dusty from earlier.
Kaito sat beside her, watching in silence. He looked down, his heart heavy.
"Thank you, Kaito... for saving me," Yumi said quietly.
Kaito shook his head. "No need to thank me."
She didn't respond. The silence between them wasn't awkward — it was just… heavy. Honest.
After a moment, Kaito reached into his pocket and pulled out the two snacks he had saved from earlier. He offered one to her.
"You want one?" he asked.
Yumi looked at him, eyes still a little puffy. She took the snack gently and murmured, "Thanks."
Kaito smiled faintly and unwrapped the other one, taking a bite. For a brief moment, the weight of everything lifted. The two sat there, swinging slowly, sharing snacks like they used to when things were simpler.
Once they finished eating, Kaito broke the silence.
"Hey..."
"Hm?" Yumi replied softly.
"Why were those kids bullying you?"
Yumi lowered her eyes to her shoes. She didn't answer at first. Then, in a voice barely louder than the breeze, she said,
"Because I'm weak."
Kaito turned to her, confused. "Huh?"
She looked away. "All my friends… they're good at everything. Even you, Kaito. But me? I'm the opposite. I can't even control my Vital Pulse. I can't do what the others do."
He listened, eyes fixed on her, not interrupting.
"But I didn't let that stop me. I trained. I really tried. I wanted to catch up, to prove I could do it too. But no matter how hard I worked… I couldn't keep up."
She paused. Tears welled in her eyes again, and she wiped them quickly.
"I'm weak. That's why they bully me. And when I try to fight back, I just... I don't have the strength."
Kaito's hand clenched tightly into a fist. His knuckles turned white.
"Sorry," he whispered.
Yumi heard it and turned toward him. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault I'm weak."
They sat there again in silence — until Yumi broke it.
"Today… I tried to stand up for myself," she said, her voice trembling. "But that didn't go how I thought it would..."
We see Yumi standing tall, trying to appear confident. Her eyes were fiery even though her voice trembled.
"I'm from the Kaze Family," she had said. "If you mess with me, you'll get in trouble."
The arrogant boy laughed. "Trouble? Who are you gonna cry to — your dad? Oops…"
He leaned in, grinning cruelly.
"You don't have a dad."
The other kids burst out laughing.
Yumi's face fell. The fight left her eyes. Her heart shattered right then and there, and she stood frozen, unable to speak. The boy's smug smile deepened.
Back in the present, Kaito's face twisted with anger.
"Those brats..." he muttered under his breath.
Yumi's lips were tightly pressed together, like she was trying not to scream. But her trembling chin, her clenched hands, and her eyes—overflowing with silent tears—said it all.
Kaito reached into his pocket and gently handed her a folded handkerchief.
"Here."
She took it with both hands and whispered, "Thank you."
Then, quietly, she began to wipe away her tears.
A quiet stretch of time passed between them.
The swings creaked softly as they moved back and forth, slow and uneven. Snow drifted down in thin, gentle flakes, melting against their hair and sleeves. The sky above had softened into warm shades of orange and gold, the sun sinking lower with each passing second.
Yumi held the empty wrapper in her hands, absentmindedly folding and unfolding it.
"…Hey, Kaito," she said after a while.
Her voice was small. Careful.
Kaito glanced over. "Hm?"
She didn't look at him right away.
Her feet dragged lightly against the snow beneath the swing, slowing it even more.
"…Can I ask you something?"
Kaito nodded. "Yeah. Go ahead."
Yumi hesitated.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the wrapper.
"…What's it like…" she began, then stopped.
The words didn't come out easily.
She swallowed, then tried again—quieter this time.
"…having a dad?"
The swing creaked.
Then stilled.
Kaito blinked, caught off guard.
"…Huh?"
Yumi's gaze stayed down, fixed on her shoes.
"I just…" she murmured, struggling to find the words, "I hear people talk about it sometimes. At school… or in the village…"
A small pause.
"They complain about training… or say their dad is too strict…" she let out a faint, shaky breath. "Or… sometimes they laugh about things they do together."
Her voice grew softer.
"…I don't really get it."
Kaito said nothing.
He just listened.
Yumi finally looked up—but not at him. Past him. Somewhere distant.
"…So I was wondering," she said, almost like she was afraid of the answer, "what does it feel like?"
The question hung gently in the air between them.
Kaito leaned back slightly on the swing, the chains giving a quiet rattle.
For a moment, he didn't answer.
Instead—
his eyes drifted toward the horizon.
Memories surfaced slowly.
Warm ones.
His father's voice.
The way he laughed—loud, unrestrained.
The firm but steady grip on his shoulder during training.
The quiet nights, sitting side by side, saying nothing at all.
Kaito's expression softened.
Not proud.
Not boastful.
Just… warm.
"…It's…" he started, then paused, searching for the right words.
"…It's kind of like…"
Another pause.
He let out a small breath, a faint smile forming without him realizing it.
"…no matter how bad things get… there's always someone behind you."
Yumi's fingers stilled.
Kaito continued, voice calm and honest.
"Someone who pushes you when you're slacking… but also…" he glanced down slightly, "…someone who makes things feel less heavy."
The swing moved just a little as he shifted.
"…Training with him sucks sometimes," he added with a quiet huff of amusement. "He doesn't go easy on me at all."
A small pause.
"But…"
He looked back at her now.
"…it's fun."
Simple.
But real.
Yumi finally turned her head toward him.
Her eyes searched his face—like she was trying to understand something she'd never seen before.
"…So you're never alone?" she asked softly.
Kaito blinked.
Then shook his head slightly.
"…No. Not really."
That answer lingered.
Yumi looked away again, her grip tightening just a little in her lap.
"…That sounds nice," she whispered.
There was no bitterness in her voice.
Just something quiet.
Something empty.
The swing creaked again as she pushed off lightly with her feet.
Kaito watched her for a second.
Then, without saying anything, he reached over—
and gently placed his hand on her head, ruffling her hair.
"It's alright," he said softly.
Yumi froze for a second.
Then—
just a little—
she smiled.
After a quiet pause, something crossed Kaito's mind.
"...Hey, Yumi. What's going on with your brother?"
She blinked.
"When I saw him today at the library… he felt different. Cold. Like he wasn't even the same person. Did something happen?"
Yumi froze.
Her eyes widened, and a strange silence fell over her.
She didn't blink.
She didn't breathe.
She just stared at nothing—her body trembling, her small hands clenched on her lap.
Kaito's smile faded. "Yumi?"
No response.
"Yumi?" he leaned closer, concern rising in his voice. "Are you okay?"
Still nothing.
He looked into her eyes—and what he saw made his stomach twist.
Fear.
Not just fear.
Terror.
Yumi was shaking, locked in a memory. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
Kaito called her name again, louder now. "Yumi!"
He grabbed her trembling hands.
The moment she felt his touch—warm, steady, real—her body eased just a little.
The shaking slowed.
Slowly… she turned to him.
Her eyes met his.
Pain.
Fear.
Deep, buried trauma.
"Yumi…" Kaito whispered. "Are you alright?"
She shook her head—once, slowly.
No.
Before he could say another word—
Footsteps.
The sound pressed down against the soft snow beneath them, faint but deliberate.
Both of them turned their heads.
And standing a few feet away, his eyes unreadable, expression cold as ice—
Was Reiji.
His footsteps were quiet against the snow, but his presence was loud. His eyes were sharp, cold. Not the kind of cold from ice, but something worse. The kind that shuts down a room.
"Yumi…" he said, voice low. "It's time to go home."
Yumi's breath caught. She trembled again, her lips parting like she wanted to speak—but nothing came out.
Kaito quickly placed a hand on her hand, firm but gentle.
"You're okay," he whispered. "Yumi, you're fine."
She looked up at him. His words helped her just enough to find her voice.
"Big brother… I don't want to go home yet."
Reiji's gaze sharpened.
"…What did you say?"
She swallowed and repeated, stronger this time,
"I don't want to go home yet."
Reiji's tone dropped to something darker. "Stop this nonsense and come home. Now."
Yumi looked down. "No…"
He narrowed his eyes. "Huh?"
She raised her head. "No."
Kaito's hands curled into fists.
Now it made sense—the shaking, the fear, the silence. Reiji… he was hurting her.
Kaito stood up. "Why are you like this to her? She's terrified!"
Reiji didn't even glance at him. "Stay out of this. It's none of your business."
"It is my business," Kaito snapped. "She's my sister."
That made Reiji laugh—but there was no warmth in it.
"Then as her brother, tell your weak sister to come home."
Kaito's eyes lit with fury.
"She's not weak!"
Reiji didn't flinch. Didn't blink. He stared at Kaito like he was some clueless child.
"I'm done with this childish nonsense," he muttered.
Then—in an instant—he vanished.
To Kaito's eyes, it was as if Reiji teleported.
He blinked. Wha—?
Before he could process it, Reiji reappeared behind him, and—
THUD.
A swift kick slammed into Kaito's back—not hard enough to break anything, but sharp and precise. It sent him tumbling forward into the snow.
Reiji moved faster than the eye could follow—faster than light itself.
Kaito was stunned. His brain understood what just happened—but his body didn't respond. He tried to move, to push himself up—
Nothing.
His arms trembled uselessly.
Why… why won't my body move?
Reiji didn't even look at him as he grabbed Yumi's wrist.
"Don't make me use force."
Reiji gripped Yumi's wrist tightly.
She tried to yank it away, struggling, dragging her feet in the sand, but she couldn't break free.
"Let me go!" she cried again. "Let me go!"
But it was useless. His hand didn't budge.
Kaito, still down, gritted his teeth and tried to move—anything—but his limbs wouldn't listen. His body felt locked, like it had been disconnected from his will.
"What… what did you do to me?" he muttered through clenched teeth.
Reiji glanced over his shoulder with a calm, disinterested look.
"You need to train more."
Yumi looked back at Kaito, tears falling freely now.
"Kaito!" she called out, her voice filled with worry.
But Reiji had enough. His voice dropped low, sharp.
"If you keep misbehaving… he'll get even more hurt."
She froze.
The fight in her instantly died. Her body slumped, shoulders trembling.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered, looking down. "I'm so sorry, Kaito…"
"No," Kaito said, trying to force his fingers to move. "Yumi… this isn't your fault."
Reiji let go.
"Then get going," he ordered coldly. "Don't waste my time any longer."
"…Okay," Yumi answered in a tiny voice.
She turned slowly, walking away, step by step, toward the path that led to their home.
"Yumi!" Kaito called again.
She paused. Turned her head.
"I'm sorry, Kaito," she said, tears still falling.
Then she faced forward again… and walked.
Kaito lay there, helpless in the sand, watching her back fade into the distance.
Reiji, still standing there for a few seconds, gave him one last glance—expressionless, unreadable.
Then he turned, and walked away without a word.
Kaito lay motionless beneath the fading sun, the warmth of the day slipping away—just like Yumi.