The wind slowly settled.
Snow drifted gently from the sky, falling into what was once the third training ground.
Now—
it was barely recognizable.
A massive crater stretched across the land, swallowing more than half of the ten-kilometer field. The earth had been crushed, torn, and reshaped by a single motion… a single finger.
At the center of it—
Kaito sat on the ground.
"…haah… haah…"
His chest rose and fell heavily. His breath came out in visible clouds against the cold air. Strands of his white hair clung slightly to his forehead, damp with sweat.
For a moment…
he just looked around.
Silently.
His blue eyes scanned the destruction—the broken terrain, the deep fractures in the earth, the sheer scale of it all.
"…This…"
His voice was quiet. Almost disbelieving.
"…He did all this… with one finger…"
The thought didn't even feel real.
His gaze slowly dropped to his right hand.
Bruised.
Shaking.
Still trembling from the impact it had just endured.
Kaito exhaled slowly… then closed his eyes.
A faint glow began to form.
At first, it was subtle—
then it bloomed.
A deep, royal blue aura emerged from his body, rich and heavy like the depths of the ocean—but within it flowed something more.
Silver.
Not just light—
but liquid silver, moving like molten metal through the blue. It shimmered like polished steel under sunlight, flowing in smooth, wave-like currents. Thin streaks of electric azure danced through it, crackling softly like distant lightning.
Tiny silver particles drifted around him—
like stardust.
Like fragments of something divine.
Celestium Blue.
The Vital Pulse.
It wrapped around his injured hand, slow and controlled. The energy didn't burst—it flowed, smooth like liquid mercury, seeping into his skin, knitting muscle and calming the damage beneath.
Kaito focused on his breathing.
In…
Out…
The trembling began to fade.
The bruising softened.
The pain dulled.
After a few seconds—
the glow slowly disappeared.
Silence returned.
Kaito opened his eyes.
"…Alright…"
He clenched his hand once.
Then again.
Testing it.
Feeling the strength return to his fingers, the stability in his wrist.
"…Healed…"
A small smile tugged at his lips.
Then—
he looked up.
Akira stood a short distance away.
Watching him.
Quietly.
His sharp eyes didn't miss anything.
Inside his mind, a thought passed—calm, but undeniable.
He withstood it…
That force alone erased kilometers of land…
And his arm is still intact…
For the briefest moment—
there was something rare in Akira's gaze.
Interest.
"…You're tougher than you look," Akira said.
Kaito blinked—then smiled, a little tired, but proud.
"…Thanks."
There was a short pause.
Then Kaito leaned back slightly, resting his weight on his hands.
"…So…"
He glanced up at him.
"…How did I do?"
Akira didn't answer immediately.
He lifted a hand to his jaw, rubbing it thoughtfully. His eyes closed for a second—as if replaying everything that had just happened.
Then he opened them.
"…Honestly?"
Kaito straightened slightly.
"I didn't expect you to still be standing after that."
A beat.
"…And yet…"
Akira's gaze sharpened just a little.
"You didn't just survive it."
"You blocked it."
Silence.
Then—
"…You pass."
For a second—
Kaito just stared.
Processing.
Then suddenly—
"YES!!"
He jumped up instantly, fist raised into the air, face lighting up with pure excitement.
"I DID IT—!"
And then—
"…OW—!"
His entire body stiffened.
Pain shot through him like lightning.
Kaito froze mid-celebration, his expression immediately twisting.
"Ow… ow… OW…"
He hunched slightly, grabbing his side.
"…I feel like my whole body is about to explode…"
He winced, shifting awkwardly.
Akira stared at him for a moment.
Then sighed.
"…Stupid student of mine."
Kaito looked up—
and grinned.
Wide.
Bright.
Unaffected.
And somewhere in the quiet, snow-covered ruins of the training ground—
the wind moved again.
The quiet hum of the wind was suddenly pierced by two sharp, joyous screams—bright, unrestrained, full of life.
They cut through the air like a sudden gust scattering leaves.
Kaito's focus snapped.
"…What was that?"
He lowered himself slightly, brows knitting in confusion as he turned toward the sound.
Akira had already shifted his gaze.
A single glance.
A small nod.
No words were needed.
Both of them moved.
Fast.
The dashed across the training ground, snow swirling lightly in their wake. It didn't take long—the source of the noise was close, just beyond the next training ground.
And then—
they arrived.
Kaito stepped forward—
and froze.
His breath caught in his throat.
The snow-covered field stretched before him, untouched, quiet… except for the figures at its center.
His parents were there.
Kneeling.
Still.
Their usual composure—gone.
In its place—
pure astonishment.
And in front of them—
stood Hina.
Small.
Fragile.
Only three years old.
But the air around her…
was moving.
Not wildly.
Not out of control.
But gently—
perfectly—
obediently.
The wind circled her in soft currents, weaving around her tiny frame like it belonged to her… like it recognized her.
Like it answered to her.
Kaito's pupils trembled.
"…No way…"
His voice barely came out.
That's…
That's natural wind…
Not forced.
Not created.
Not guided with struggle.
Controlled.
Effortlessly.
The same thing—
the very same thing—
he had only just grasped after relentless training.
After effort.
After pushing himself to the brink.
And she—
…was doing it like breathing.
Every sound around him faded.
The wind.
The snow.
Even his own thoughts.
Silence swallowed everything except that single image.
Akira stood beside him—
and for once—
he said nothing.
No commentary.
No calm observation.
Just… silence.
But his eyes—
they had changed.
For a brief moment—
the strongest man in the world looked… shaken.
Hina, unaware of the weight of what she was doing, lifted her tiny hands slightly.
The wind followed.
Soft.
Playful.
Like it was dancing with her.
Then she looked up—
and smiled.
Bright.
Proud.
Like a child showing a drawing.
"Look!"
Her voice rang out happily.
"I did it!"
Akira moved first.
Slowly.
Then he stepped forward and knelt in front of her, his expression softening—something rare, something almost gentle.
He reached out and ruffled her hair.
"That's amazing, Hina."
She giggled, clearly pleased.
Behind them—
Kaito still hadn't moved.
His eyes remained locked on her.
Not with jealousy.
Not with frustration.
But something deeper.
Something quieter.
A realization.
Heavy.
Settling into his chest.
She's… already there…
The wind shifted again—
and for the first time—
it didn't feel like something he was chasing.
It felt like something…
he was trying to understand.
Toru turned to Hana, eyes gleaming. "Honey, our daughter is a prodigy!"
Hana lifted Hina high into the air, twirling with joy. "At three! This is unbelievable!"
Everyone laughed and cheered, voices warm and bright.
Except Kaito.
He stood frozen, watching the scene unfold like a distant dream.
"What... what is happening?" he thought, his chest tightening.
"Hina is able to do that…"
The words weighed heavy in his mind.
Then Hina saw him. She ran over, the wind scattering away as she threw her arms around him.
"Big brother!" she giggled, hugging him tightly.
Kaito knelt slowly, wrapping his arms around her.
He smiled—half joy, half ache. "You're really… awesome. Even more awesome than your big brother. I'm proud of you."
He ruffled her hair, his voice steady and gentle.
But behind the smile, his heart throbbed.
" Why… why is everyone else so far ahead?"
"Even my little sister…"
a few days later.
The sun hung lazily in the afternoon sky as Kaito sat cross-legged in midair, suspended above the training ground. The wind swirled softly around him, brushing his clothes and lifting his scarf gently — but his mind was far from still.
Images kept flickering in his thoughts.
Hina, three years old, wielding a wind blade like it was second nature.
Ren, his childhood rival, becoming a Master at six.
Kaito clenched his teeth.
Why am I still so far behind?
The moment his thoughts slipped too far.
Whoosh—
He dropped from the air.
"—Ouch, ouch, ouch!" he groaned, rubbing the back of his head. He rolled onto his back, arms sprawled wide across the snow, and stared at the sky with a defeated sigh.
"What am I even doing…"
He lay there for a while, wind brushing against his face.
Finally, he sat up. "Lately… I've been losing focus. And I'm not making any real progress."
He looked around — the field was quiet.
"Master Akira's not around today… Mom and Dad are too busy training Hina. Everyone's busy."
He paused.
"…Come to think of it, Ren hasn't been here for a while either. I wonder how he's doing. What he's doing."
He lay back down again, folding his arms behind his head.
A bird call pierced the quiet. Kaito opened his eyes and watched as a flock glided across the sky, their wings carving through clouds like ink across parchment.
Then he remembered Ren's voice, clear as if he were standing beside him.
"Look at that bird, Kaito.
It flies anywhere it wants… no borders, no chains.
I wonder if we'll ever be that free."
Kaito blinked, repeating the word softly.
"…Free?"
He watched the birds disappear into the horizon, then whispered, "I wonder what he meant by that."
He closed his eyes again — but a loud growl from his stomach interrupted the moment.
"…Right. I haven't eaten since morning."
He sat up, brushing grass from his back.
"Well… I guess I'll go find something to eat. And maybe stop by the library while I'm at it — see if I can find some new things to study."
With that, he stood, dusted himself off, and began walking — the wind gently at his back.
Kaito walked slowly through the village streets, hands in his pockets, scarf fluttering gently behind him.
The Wind Clan village stretched far in every direction — wide stone paths winding through clusters of buildings, homes, stores, and open courtyards. The scent of baked goods and fresh wind herbs hung in the air. Laughter and conversation echoed from every corner, and the breeze carried the voices of merchants calling out their daily specials.
"Lord Kaito!" a voice called.
He turned to see a pair of elderly shopkeepers waving from behind a fabric stall.
He gave a small smile and waved back. "Good afternoon."
As he continued walking, more people greeted him — some with nods, some with cheerful voices. He returned each gesture politely, but his steps remained slow.
Eventually, he came to a stop near the Wind Clan School — a massive structure carved entirely from smooth, white stone. Its tall rectangular frame stretched wide across the hillside, with symmetrical windows set in perfect lines and banners bearing the clan's crest fluttering from the upper levels.
From where he stood, he could see students scattered around the courtyard — boys and girls his age and older. Some sat in groups studying books, others sparred gently under their instructors' watchful eyes. Laughter burst from a group chasing each other across the grass.
Kaito's eyes lingered.
Then — a memory surfaced.
Flashback.
Inside their home, a younger Kaito stood before his father, Toru, who wore his formal robe and a thoughtful expression.
"Kaito," Toru said, his voice even, "as heir to the Wind Clan, you will not attend school like the other children."
Kaito blinked. "Why not?"
"Because your path is different," Toru replied. "As the heir, you must learn to carry responsibility alone. No instructors. No daily classes. Your knowledge must be earned through self-discipline."
He rested a firm hand on Kaito's shoulder.
"This is the first test. Before you lead the clan… you must prove you can lead yourself."
Back in the present, Kaito's gaze drifted across the school courtyard once more. The laughter, the chatter, the casual friendships.
He smiled faintly.
"…Seems like they're having fun."
A few of the kids spotted him from a distance. "Hey! Look It's Lord Kaito!" one shouted.
They waved enthusiastically.
Kaito raised his hand with a soft smile and waved back — then quietly turned and walked away.
After wandering a bit longer, he arrived at a small food stall nestled between two shops. The scent of grilled rice and sweet nuts filled the air, warm against the cold breeze.
It was a familiar place.
It had always been there.
Inside stood a kind-faced old man, slowly wiping down the wooden counter with a cloth worn from years of use.
Kaito stepped forward.
"Hey, Mr. Michi."
The shopkeeper looked up—and his face lit up immediately.
"Oh! Lord Kaito, it's you."
Kaito gave a small nod.
"Yeah. How have you been?"
"I've been well," Mr. Michi replied warmly. "Still standing, still cooking."
Kaito let out a quiet breath through his nose.
"Good to know."
For a moment, his eyes drifted around the stall.
Nothing had changed.
Same counter.
Same stove.
Same faint burn mark near the edge from years ago—
back when he was too small to see over the counter and had tried to peek while Mr. Michi was cooking.
He used to come here often.
Sometimes alone.
Sometimes with…
He looked away.
"…Can I get some of the honey-wind buns?" he asked.
"Ahh, good choice," Michi chuckled. "Just made a fresh batch."
He turned, moving with slow but practiced ease, and wrapped the buns in a soft cloth pouch.
"That one's easy to share," he added as he handed it over. "Three pieces in each wrap."
Kaito took it.
"…Thanks."
As he paid, Mr. Michi leaned lightly against the counter, studying him—not in a prying way, but in the quiet way of someone who had watched him grow up.
"Still training hard, I assume?"
Kaito nodded.
"Yeah… training's fine."
"I see," Michi said. "That's good."
Kaito lingered for a second, tying the pouch to his waist.
He didn't move right away.
The warmth from the stall contrasted with the cold outside.
Then—
voices drifted in from nearby.
"…Did you hear? Lady Hina was able to control the existing wind at just three."
"She's definitely a prodigy. The greatest we've had in generations."
"She might even surpass Lord Kaito."
Kaito's hands paused for the briefest moment.
Just a fraction.
Then he finished tying the knot like nothing happened.
His head lowered slightly.
Quiet.
Still.
Like he hadn't heard a thing.
Mr. Michi glanced at him.
He didn't interrupt.
Didn't call it out.
But he saw it.
He always did.
After a moment, he spoke—gently.
"Lady Hina's been the talk of the village lately."
Kaito didn't look up.
"She really is… something special."
A small smile appeared on Kaito's face.
Soft.
Controlled.
But not quite reaching his eyes.
"Yeah," he said quietly.
"…She really is."
Silence lingered between them.
Not awkward.
Just… understood.
Kaito reached for the pouch, adjusting it slightly at his waist.
Then he gave a small bow.
"Thanks, Mr. Michi."
"Anytime, Lord Kaito."
Kaito turned.
Stepped out of the stall.
The warmth faded behind him.
The cold greeted him again.
Snow drifted lightly from the sky.
His footsteps were quiet against the ground as he walked away.
And though the wind moved just as it always had—
it felt…
a little colder than before.