Ray and Anna had stayed up the entire night, the weight of their worry acting as a barrier to sleep.
Selena had succumbed to exhaustion at some point, her head resting on the wooden table, but the two elders remained vigilant as the first rays of dawn began to bleed through the shutters. Neither spoke of the fears gnawing at them: Is he okay? Did that child truly help, or did I hand my grandson to a monster?
Anna, her face a mask of tension, finally looked at Ray. "I think you should go. See if Kenji is... if he's still there."
Ray hesitated, his old bones aching, and gave a slow nod.
Just then, the door to the boys' room creaked open. Takahiro stepped out, looking more rested than he had in days, though his eyes were immediately searching. Yume followed close behind, clutching his sleeve like a lifeline.
"Morning," Takahiro said, getting straight to the point. "Is Kenji back yet?"
Ray opened his mouth to answer, but the heavy thud of the front door interrupted him.
"Yo."
The entire household froze. Standing in the entrance was Kenji. His crimson hair was a bird's nest of tangles, and his tunic was a disaster zone of grey, red, and dried black stains.
"Kenji!" Takahiro lunged forward, a brilliant smile breaking across his face even as tears began to track down his cheeks. He grabbed Kenji's shoulders, shaking him slightly as if to ensure he was solid.
Ray let out a breath so long and deep it felt like his lungs were collapsing. He gripped the edge of a nearby shelf for support, his knees buckling with relief. Selena bolted upright at the noise, saw Kenji, and practically tackled him in a sob-filled hug.
"You had us so worried!" she wailed.
Even Anna, the stern pillar of the family, felt her composure crumble. She walked over and knelt, pulling Kenji into a fierce embrace.
In the midst of the chaos, Ray and Yume were the only ones who noticed the shadow lingering in the doorway.
"Who's that?" Yume whispered, her eyes wide.
The figure standing there was a masterpiece of androgynous beauty. With moon-silver hair and eyes the color of rare violets, the child looked like a doll carved from pale jade—flawless, silent, and hauntingly beautiful. A heavy cloak was wrapped around his small frame, hiding his attire but not the chilling grace of his posture.
The household fell silent, their tears drying as they stared at the stranger who appeared to be no more than eleven or twelve years old. Kenji broke away from the hugs, walked to the door, and took the child's small, pale hand. He pulled him gently into the warmth of the house.
"Everyone, this is Yushiro," Kenji introduced with a proud, tired grin. "And he's part of the family now. My little brother."
The silence that followed was thick with confusion, but Kenji just kept on smiling.
Thirty minutes earlier.
Kenji woke up on the stone floor of the throne room. He frowned, his back aching from the hard surface, but the realization hit him instantly: the pain was gone. No jagged blades in his chest. No black veins pulsing in his neck.
He sprang to his feet, testing his movements with a few shadow-punches. He felt light. He felt alive.
He looked over to see the silver-haired boy sitting cross-legged a few yards away, watching him with a bored expression.
"You saved me."
"Yes," the boy replied simply.
Kenji walked over, standing above him. "I never did learn your name."
The boy smirked, a flash of the "King" returning to his eyes. "You aren't worthy of it."
"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're too weak."
Kenji looked at him closely. Up close, the boy looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his violet eyes, and a strange ring-like pattern circled his pupils.
"Why don't we just go home?" Kenji offered, reaching out a hand.
The boy stared at the calloused hand for a long moment, his lip curling in a faint frown, but he took it. He stood up and moved to the crates, grabbing a small travel bag and a cloak.
As they walked toward the exit, the massive stone doors groaned and swung open without a touch. Kenji stared in awe.
"That's cool. Are you doing that?"
"You ask too many questions," the boy muttered.
They walked down the long, massive silent hallway of the ancient castle. "You need a name," Kenji insisted. "Not having one is inconvenient."
"I have one."
"What is it?"
Silence.
Kenji sighed, tapping his chin as they walked. "What about Toshiro? No... Kujiro? Nah, sounds like an old man's name. What about... Yushiro?"
The boy continued, tilting his head. "What does it mean?"
"Something like 'Intelligent,'" Kenji said, beaming. "So, Yushiro... when we get home, what do you want to do first?"
Yushiro sighed, a sound of exaggerated patience. "I will see."
Kenji went quiet for a moment, then leaned in and whispered shyly, "Err... you are a boy, right?"
Yushiro's soft lips quirked into a truly mischievous, wicked grin. "Oh? What do you think, dear older brother?" He asked in his pleasant voice.