Late morning traffic moved steadily through the crowded streets of Manila, the city alive with its usual rhythm as motorcycles slipped through narrow gaps between slow-moving cars, jeepneys rattled past sidewalks filled with pedestrians, and vendors called out to passing customers while arranging their goods beneath bright umbrellas that swayed gently in the heat; everything felt ordinary, loud, and full of motion, yet inside a dark sedan weaving through the traffic, the atmosphere carried a completely different weight, one that felt quiet, focused, and heavy with intent.
Captain William De Ramos sat in the passenger seat with a tablet resting in his hand, his gaze fixed on the screen as the recorded footage replayed once again, showing a small boy standing calmly in the center of a backyard training ground, silver hair catching the sunlight while faint arcs of lightning gathered within his hand with unnatural control; William watched the moment carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly as the thin bolt of electricity shot forward with a sharp crack and struck the metal rod, producing a clean vibration that echoed briefly before fading, and then came the part that held his attention more than anything else, the moment that refused to leave his mind no matter how many times he replayed it, because the lightning did not scatter wildly, nor did it linger uncontrollably like it should have—instead, it vanished instantly, as though it had never existed at all.
"...There," William said quietly, pausing the footage at the exact frame where the energy disappeared.
Lieutenant Jose Aquino, who was navigating the vehicle through the traffic with steady hands, glanced briefly at the tablet before returning his focus to the road, though the slight shift in his expression showed that he already understood what William was pointing out; "The suppression," he said, his tone thoughtful, almost impressed, because even without studying the clip frame by frame, the difference between normal control and what they had just witnessed was impossible to ignore.
William nodded slowly, his thumb tapping lightly against the edge of the tablet as he replayed the sequence again, watching every detail with careful attention; "That wasn't accidental," he said, his voice calm but certain, because accidental control did not look that clean, and it certainly did not happen immediately after releasing an attack.
Jose leaned back slightly in his seat as the car rolled through an intersection, his eyes narrowing just a little as he thought about it more deeply, because lightning users, even trained ones, struggled with that level of precision for years, often losing control of their mana output after an attack due to the violent nature of the element, yet in the video, the boy's control remained absolute, almost unnatural in how smoothly the energy disappeared without leaving any trace behind; "Most lightning users struggle with suppression like that," he said slowly, as if trying to measure the situation against everything he already knew.
"And this kid did it like it was normal," William added, his gaze still fixed on the paused frame.
Jose let out a quiet breath, something between a whistle and a sigh. "...Five years old."
Neither of them spoke after that.
The silence stretched as the car moved forward, weaving through traffic while both men processed the same thought from different angles, because talent at that age was not unheard of, but this was not simply talent—it was control that bordered on instinct, something that did not align with the expected development of a child, no matter who his parents were.
Eventually, Jose broke the silence with a small chuckle, though it carried more curiosity than humor. "Guess having Gabriel Nozomi as a father helps."
William smirked faintly. "Probably."
The sedan turned away from the main road and descended toward a secured underground entrance, the towering glass structure of the Philippine Warrior Association Headquarters rising above them like a reflection of authority and order, its mirrored surface catching the sunlight in a way that made it appear almost untouchable from the outside, though both men knew that beneath that clean exterior lay a system that never stopped watching, never stopped recording, and never ignored anything that stood out.
Jose guided the car into the designated parking area and brought it to a smooth stop, the engine falling silent as William stepped out first, tablet in hand, his expression unchanged as he glanced briefly toward the building before speaking. "Let's report."
---
A few minutes later, the two officers stepped out of an elevator and into one of the upper floors, where the quiet hum of constant activity filled the air, personnel moving through the halls with purpose while large digital displays projected maps of portal activity across the islands, glowing markers indicating recent disturbances and ongoing operations; conversations remained low but continuous, a constant flow of information being exchanged behind closed doors as the Association maintained its control over the unseen threats scattered throughout the country.
William and Jose walked toward a conference room at the end of the hallway, stopping only long enough for William to knock once before a calm voice from inside granted them entry, and as they stepped in, the atmosphere shifted immediately.
Vice Director Helena Aragon stood near the center of the room, her white officer's uniform perfectly arranged, silver insignia resting along her collar, and her presence alone was enough to quiet any unnecessary movement or speech, her sharp eyes moving toward them the moment they entered, assessing, measuring, already expecting something worth her time.
"Report," she said without hesitation.
William stepped forward and placed the tablet on the table, activating the display so that the footage appeared on the large screen, the video playing once more as Kosoku stood in the backyard, lightning forming, releasing, and then vanishing in that same precise moment that had drawn their attention.
Helena watched the entire sequence without interruption, her expression composed, unreadable, but not indifferent, because when the clip ended and silence filled the room, she crossed her arms slowly, her gaze lingering on the now-dark screen.
"....Age confirmed?" she asked.
"Five years old," William replied.
"And mana output?"
"C-Rank level," Jose answered.
Helena's eyes shifted slightly. "Output?"
"Yes, Vice Director."
William continued, choosing his words carefully, because speculation carried weight in this room. "However, the control level appears significantly higher."
"How much higher?"
"...Possibly B-Rank control."
The silence that followed was subtle, but noticeable.
Even Helena's gaze sharpened slightly as she processed that.
"B-Rank control... at five years old."
Jose nodded once. "That's what surprised us."
Helena stepped closer to the screen as William replayed the segment again, highlighting the brief fluctuation in the mana pattern, the moment where the energy did not behave like a single element, but something layered, something overlapping in a way that did not align with standard elemental flow.
"For a brief moment, the mana pattern shifted," William said.
"Shifted how?" Helena asked.
"Like multiple currents overlapping," Jose answered.
Helena did not respond immediately, her eyes fixed on the screen as the clip looped once more, her attention narrowing on the smallest details, the smallest inconsistencies, until finally she reached forward and turned the display off, the room falling into a quieter stillness.
"Continue observation," she said.
"Yes, Vice Director."
"No interference."
Jose hesitated slightly. "What about the parents?"
A faint, knowing smile appeared on Helena's lips. "Gabriel Nozomi already knows we're watching."
William let out a quiet chuckle. "He didn't seem concerned."
"That man rarely is," Helena replied as she turned toward the large window overlooking the city, her gaze drifting over the endless spread of Manila below, where movement never stopped and nothing ever truly rested, and yet her voice lowered slightly as she added, "Still... I want weekly reports."
Both officers straightened. "Yes, Vice Director Aragon."
---
Back at the Nozomi household, the atmosphere felt far removed from the structured intensity of the Association, the quiet of the living room broken only by the faint scratching of pencil against paper as Kosoku lay flat on the floor with a notebook spread out in front of him, his attention completely absorbed in the drawings that filled the pages, each one showing variations of lightning shaped into different forms, some rough, some refined, all leading toward a single idea that he seemed determined to understand.
"...Maybe thinner," he murmured, adjusting the lines of a narrow blade as he sketched again, his mind working through the problem with quiet focus, because the concept made sense to him, felt natural even, as if the shape he was trying to create already existed somewhere just beyond his reach.
He raised his hand slightly.
A faint spark appeared.
The lightning gathered, twisted, condense—
And for a brief moment, a small blade of electricity formed, humming softly with unstable energy before collapsing into scattered sparks that faded into nothing.
Kosoku blinked.
"...Almost."
From the nearby couch, Alisa watched him in silence before speaking gently. "You're experimenting again."
"Just a little," Kosoku replied, turning the notebook toward her. "I'm trying to make a weapon."
Alisa studied the drawing carefully, her expression thoughtful. "...A kunai."
"You know it?"
"Of course."
Kosoku looked back at the page. "I think lightning works better with throwing weapons."
"That makes sense," she said.
"But it disappears every time."
"Because your control isn't stable yet."
Kosoku sighed lightly. "Dad said the same thing."
"You are five years old and you'll figure it out."
"Eventually."
Outside, Gabriel stood near the fence, his gaze fixed on the street beyond, his posture relaxed but his awareness sharp, because even though the Association scouts had already left, he understood something they did not need to say out loud—this was only the beginning, and once attention like that settled on someone, it did not fade easily.
"...Let them watch," he murmured.
Inside the house, Kosoku stared at the drawing again, his fingers tracing the outline of the lightning blade as if trying to memorize it, because the idea did not feel new to him, it did not feel like something he had just invented, but rather something he was remembering, something that had already existed long before he ever tried to create it, and as that thought settled quietly in the back of his mind, the faintest spark flickered across his fingertips once more, lingering just a little longer than before, as though responding not to his will—but to something deeper, something older, something that had finally begun to notice him again.