Kaze Citadel.
The vast hall stood in cold silence, its polished floors reflecting the figures gathered at its center.
Kaito stood still.
Across from him—
the boy.
And his mother.
Kaito's eyes lingered on them, narrowing slightly.
…Why are they here?
The boy didn't look hurt.
No fear.
No hesitation.
Just that same irritating smirk.
Something felt off.
Then—
the woman stepped forward dramatically, grabbing her son by the shoulder and pulling him in front of her.
"Look at this!" she snapped.
She turned his face slightly, pointing.
A faint bruise marked his cheek.
"Do you see what your son did to mine?!"
Kaito blinked.
His mind went blank for a second.
…What?
His gaze sharpened.
That's… not from me.
I didn't even touch him like that.
His jaw tightened.
What is this…?
The woman's voice kept going—sharp, loud, relentless.
"He attacked my child without reason! Is this how the Kaze raise their children? To use violence whenever they please?!"
Kaito's brows furrowed.
This is… bullshit.
She's lying.
His eyes flicked to the boy—
That smirk.
It didn't leave.
…So this is what you're doing.
Before Kaito could speak—
his parents stepped forward.
"We deeply apologize," his mother said, voice calm but firm.
Kaito's eyes widened slightly.
"…What?"
His father's voice followed immediately, colder.
"Kaito's behavior was unacceptable. We will make sure this does not happen again."
Something in Kaito's chest tightened.
…They didn't even ask me.
His gaze shifted slowly toward them.
You're just… believing her?
The woman scoffed, crossing her arms.
"An apology from you is meaningless," she said. "The one who committed the act will apologize to me. Personally."
Kaito's fingers curled slightly.
Seriously…?
His father turned toward him.
"Kaito."
A warning.
"Apologize."
Silence.
Kaito didn't move.
"…No."
The word came out quiet.
But firm.
His father's eyes darkened.
"…What did you say?"
Kaito lifted his head.
"I said no."
A pause.
"I didn't do anything."
The woman gasped loudly, hand flying to her chest.
"Are you calling me a liar?!" she snapped.
Kaito's eyes flicked to her, cold.
"I didn't touch him like that," he said. "So why should I apologize?"
The woman's expression twisted instantly.
"Unbelievable," she said, voice trembling with fake offense. "Not only is he violent, now he's accusing me of lying? What kind of upbringing is this?"
Kaito's father stepped forward slightly, tone controlled.
"That's not what he meant—"
"Oh?" she cut in sharply. "Then what did he mean?"
She stepped closer, her voice rising.
"First he assaults my son, now he insults me in your own hall? And you expect me to accept this?!"
Kaito clenched his jaw.
Assault?
You're really pushing it.
The woman's eyes hardened.
"No," she said coldly. "This is not enough."
A pause.
Then—
"He will kneel."
Silence dropped across the hall.
Kaito's eyes snapped to her.
"He will kneel," she repeated, "and apologize properly."
For a moment—
no one spoke.
Then—
"…No."
Kaito's voice cut through the room—sharp, steady, and unshaking.
Not loud.
But heavy.
Every word landed.
"I'm not doing that."
A small shift—he stepped forward.
Just one step.
But it was enough to change the air.
His blue eyes locked onto hers, cold and piercing—not like a child, but like someone who had already decided where he stood.
"You want an apology?" he continued, his tone calm but edged with something dangerous. "Then maybe start by telling the truth first."
The woman's expression twitched.
Kaito didn't stop.
"Because from where I'm standing…" he tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing, "you walked into my home, pointed a finger, and built a whole story on something that never happened."
A faint, humorless smile touched his lips.
"That's not being a victim."
A pause.
Then—
"That's called lying."
The boy flinched.
The room went still.
Kaito's gaze shifted to him—slow, deliberate.
"And you…" he said, voice dropping lower, "you really stood there, let her say all that… and didn't correct her once."
He let out a quiet breath through his nose.
"…That's worse."
His eyes hardened.
"Because at least she's pretending."
Another step forward.
"You know exactly what you're doing."
The boy's smirk was gone now.
Kaito looked back at the woman.
"So no," he said firmly, "I'm not apologizing to you."
A beat.
Then the final line—clean, merciless:
"You can take your lying son…"
His voice dropped just slightly.
"…and get out."
Silence.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
The temperature in the room didn't just drop
it froze.
"Kaito!" his father's voice thundered.
"Enough!"
Kaito didn't flinch.
He turned—
and looked directly at his father.
Not like a child.
Not like someone afraid.
A stare.
Heavy.
Sharp.
"Why?" Kaito asked.
His voice wasn't loud.
But it carried.
"Why are you taking their side?"
Silence.
Kaito's eyes didn't leave his father's.
"You didn't even ask me," he continued. "Not once."
His fists tightened.
"Do you even know the kind of son I am?"
A pause.
"Or does that not matter?"
The words hung in the air.
Sharp.
Uncomfortable.
"Why would you believe them over me?"
His voice dropped slightly.
But it hit harder.
"Am I really that worthless to you?"
For a split second—
his father's expression shifted.
Then—
SLAP.
The sound cracked through the hall—sharp, absolute.
Kaito's head snapped to the side.
His body staggered half a step—
but he didn't fall.
Silence.
Complete.
The air itself felt frozen.
Kaito stayed like that for a moment.
Still.
Then slowly…
he turned his head back.
His eyes were wide—
not from pain.
From something quieter.
He just looked at his father.
No anger.
No shouting.
Just… staring.
Like he was trying to understand something that no longer made sense.
The room didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
His father's voice came down—cold, final.
"Apologize."
Kaito didn't respond immediately.
His gaze lingered a second longer—
then dropped.
Not in submission.
Just… away.
A pause.
Then he turned.
Slowly.
Toward the woman.
His shoulders felt heavier now.
Not from the strike—
but from everything around it.
Without a word—
he lowered himself.
Knees meeting the cold floor.
His hands resting at his sides.
His head lowered slightly.
"…I'm sorry," he said quietly.
The woman tilted her head.
"I can't hear you."
The words hit.
Harder than the slap.
Kaito's hands clenched slightly.
His nails pressed into his palms.
Then—
he spoke again.
Louder.
"…I'm sorry."
Silence.
The woman looked at him for a moment.
Then—
she scoffed.
"Disgraceful," she said.
Her gaze shifted to his parents.
"This is the heir of the Kaze?" she said coldly. "A liar, a brute, and completely lacking discipline."
She turned slightly, pulling her son with her.
"No wonder," she added, her voice dripping with disdain, "he turned out this way."
Her eyes flicked back once more.
"A family that cannot even raise its own child properly… has no right to lead anyone."
And with that—
she walked away.
Her son followed.
That same smirk returning.
Kaito remained kneeling.
Still.
Silent.
The hall felt colder than ever.
"A family that cannot even raise its own child properly… has no right to lead anyone."
And with that—
she walked away.
Her son followed.
That same smirk returning.
Kaito remained kneeling.
Still.
Silent.
The hall felt colder than ever.
…
A second passed.
Then another.
Kaito didn't move.
Not immediately.
As if his body needed time to remember how.
Slowly—
he inhaled.
Then exhaled.
His hands pressed lightly against his knees as he pushed himself up.
Not rushed.
Not dramatic.
Just… slow.
Controlled.
He stood.
Straight.
For a moment—
he didn't turn.
Didn't speak.
Then—
he looked.
At his father.
No anger.
No shouting.
Just a quiet look.
But it said everything.
Disappointment.
Distance.
Something broken.
He held that gaze—
for a few seconds.
Then—
he turned.
And walked.
Each step steady.
Heavy.
Final.
"Kaito—"
His mother's voice called out behind him.
Soft.
Worried.
"Kaito, wait—"
He didn't stop.
Didn't turn.
Didn't answer.
The sound of his footsteps echoed—
then faded.
Until he was gone.
…
Silence returned to the hall.
Hana stood still for a moment.
Her eyes lingered on the doorway Kaito had disappeared through.
Then—
she turned.
Slowly.
Toward Toru.
Her expression had changed.
Not loud.
Not explosive.
But sharp.
Disappointed.
"You shouldn't have done that."
Her voice was calm.
But it cut deeper than shouting.
Toru didn't respond.
Toru's jaw tightened slightly.
Still—
no response.
And with that—
she walked past him.
Her steps quiet.
But certain.
"I'm going to find him."
Then she turned away.
The sound of the door sliding open—
then closing—
echoed softly.
Toru stood there.
Alone.
The vast hall suddenly felt too big.
Too empty.
His gaze drifted slowly to the floor.
To the spot where Kaito had been kneeling.
Still.
Silent.
The echo of that slap—
still lingering.
His hand lowered slightly at his side.
For a brief moment—
his fingers twitched.
As if replaying it.
As if questioning it.
His jaw tightened.
Then loosened.
"…Tch."
A quiet breath escaped him.
He turned slightly—
but stopped.
Didn't move any further.
Didn't follow.
Didn't call out.
He just stood there.
In the silence.
With nothing—
but the weight of what he had done.