"You have lost those who were precious to you. And the one who took them from you did not do it only to destroy you. He did it to provoke you. To drag your hatred into the light.
To force open the hidden power sleeping inside you."
Morunar's eyes shifted for only a moment.
Something had entered his awareness.
From somewhere beyond the storm, from far above the ruins and blood and grief, a powerful aura was tearing through the sky at an unnatural speed. It was not ordinary. It was not careless. It was coming straight toward this place.
Morunar smiled.
Then he looked at Nemjiro one last time, as if what stood before him was not a broken child drenched in rain and blood, but the beginning of something he had already seen in his mind long ago.
"Oh. I almost forgot to mention something," Morunar said, his voice calm, almost playful, as his feet slowly began to lift from the ground. "If you do come for me one day... then do not forget to bring your true power with you."
Nemjiro stared at him in disbelief.
His body was still shaking. His face was wet with rain, tears, and the blood of the people he loved most. Yet even in that shattered state, his eyes widened at the sight before him. He had never seen anyone rise from the ground like that before. Never seen a man speak so lightly while standing over the remains of a family he had destroyed. A man... lifting into the air as if gravity itself meant nothing.
Nemjiro slowly raised his face higher toward him, the pain in his chest burning hotter than the cold around him. His body trembled, but he forced himself to look up.
"WAIT." His voice cracked, but he screamed anyway. "Where am I supposed to find you? At least tell me your name, damn you."
Morunar was already rising further into the sky, as if the world itself could no longer hold him. His cloak moved with the wind. His presence felt like a curse lifting away from the ground.
"You will find out sooner or later, son," Morunar's voice whispered back, distant and strange, like something spoken inside a dream. "However long it takes... I shall be waiting for you at the top."
And then he was gone.
Not with noise. Not with effort.
He vanished like dust carried away by the wind.
Nemjiro stared upward with his fist still stretched toward the empty sky, too stunned to lower it, too broken to breathe properly. His lips trembled. His eyes searched the clouds as if rage alone could drag that monster back down from the heavens.
"No..."
The word slipped out weakly.
Then louder.
"NO. WAIT."
Then louder still, until it tore out of him with everything he had left.
"DAMN YOU. DAMN YOUUU."
His voice collapsed into the open air. His knees gave out beneath him and he fell to the soaked ground, sobbing in front of the bodies of those who would never answer him again.
He looked toward his family.
They had not moved. They would never move again. Still. Silent. Gone.
The rain, which had poured without mercy all this time, began to ease. Then it stopped completely, as if the evil hanging over the village had left with the man who caused it. The sky slowly opened. Light broke through the clouds. The sun emerged with an almost cruel brightness, shining upon a scene it did not deserve to witness.
Far above, Daichi tore through the sky at a speed that would have looked impossible to any ordinary eye.
As he neared the village, he slowed.
His gaze shifted downward.
And then he felt it.
Nemjiro's aura.
Weak. Trembling. Still alive.
Daichi descended at once. In one breath, he landed.
He landed without sound and disappeared in the same instant, only to reappear standing directly behind his grandson.
He stood tall, broad, and powerful, built like a warrior whose body had been forged over decades of battle. Age had reached him, yes, but not with softness. It had carved itself into him instead. His hair was short, white, and spiked. His beard was long and white, moving slightly with the last breath of the wind. His eyes were black and sharp like a hawk's, the kind of eyes that could see through a man before he ever opened his mouth. A scar ran across his face, old and deep, a mark that did not weaken him but made him seem even more severe.
Over his body rested a long black cloak. Upon it traveled two symbols, one of a lion and one of a dragon, following him as naturally as shadow follows flame.
Nemjiro felt someone behind him.
At first, he did not want to turn. His body was too tired. His soul was too wounded. He could not bear one more sight, one more voice, one more truth.
But something inside him made him look back anyway.
He turned slowly, only enough to look over his shoulder with one eye.
And the moment he saw who it was, his face changed.
Not fully. Not truly. But enough.
Through the pain, through the blood, through the ruin of everything he had just lost, a small innocent smile appeared. A smile broken by tears, but real all the same.
"Grandpa...?"
Daichi looked at him, and for a moment the old warrior said nothing.
Then his jaw tightened.
"DAMN IT. I... was... late... again."
The words left him like a wound reopening.
He lifted his eyes toward the clearing sky for a brief moment, and from the bitterness inside that stare, it was obvious. He already knew. Or at least he knew enough.
Nemjiro looked at him with sorrow spilling fresh from his eyes.
"Grandpa... they're dead. They're all dead."
Daichi turned his face toward him again, and what Nemjiro saw there did not comfort him.
It hurt him more.
Because Daichi's eyes understood.
"I know, son," Daichi said quietly. "I know."
He stepped forward.
There was no speech that could fix this. No words worthy of the dead. No lesson that belonged in a moment like this.
So Daichi did the only thing left for the living to do.
He began gathering the fallen.
With his right arm, he lifted Nemjiro's mother, his own daughter, onto his shoulder. With his left, he lifted Nemjiro's father and placed him over the other. His movements were firm, careful, reverent. He did not treat them like bodies. He treated them like what they were.
Family.
The second Nemjiro saw that, he moved.
His grief was still crushing him, but his body obeyed something stronger than pain. He rushed toward his little sister, bent down, and lifted her small form onto his back as gently as he could. His teeth clenched. His eyes stung so badly he could barely see.
A few days later, the two of them stood in silence before freshly made graves in the garden behind the house.
That was where they buried them.
Not somewhere distant. Not in some forgotten place.
They buried them where they had lived.
Where they had laughed.
Where they had loved.
Where they had died.
Nemjiro stood opposite the graves with his eyes shut tight. His face, still carrying the softness of childhood, looked painfully small beside the weight he was trying to carry. There was something about the way he stood there, trembling but refusing to fall, that made even the air around him feel sadder.
Daichi stood beside him, his face fixed into a grave stillness that somehow looked even more painful than tears. A man like him probably knew too well that there are some losses too deep to scream for.
Then Daichi looked down at his grandson.
And that was all it took.
Nemjiro broke.
He rushed toward him and wrapped both arms around him with all the strength he had left, clinging to him like the last piece of the world that had not been stolen away.
Daichi's body stiffened for only a second.
Then a long-awaited tear slipped from his eye.
"Son..." he said quietly. "Go and pack your things. We are leaving this place."
Nemjiro pulled back and looked up at him, startled.
"Leaving? Why?"
"I will tell you later."
"But where are we going? And when are we coming back?"
Daichi's face hardened, though not out of cruelty. He simply knew what Nemjiro did not.
"I said I will tell you later," he replied, firmer now. "Right now I need you to gather everything important to you. We do not have time to waste here."
Nemjiro took a step back, confused and uneasy.
"Grandpa... you're scaring me now."
Daichi exhaled and softened.
"Son, I'm sorry. Just trust me. All right?"
Nemjiro stood still for a second, then slowly nodded.
"All right."
He turned and ran into the house.
The silence inside it felt wrong now.
Not because it was empty.
But because it had once been full.
He went upstairs and packed everything he could think of, everything a child might grab when he did not understand that this was the last time he would ever see his home.
When he stepped back into the hallway, he stopped in front of his parents' room.
The door was open.
He stood there, staring. Silent.
His fingers tightened around the bag he carried.
Dad...
even when you were strict... even when your voice felt cold... you still treated me with respect. You always tried to spend time with me. You trained me. You corrected me. You wanted me to grow stronger not because you were harsh... but because you believed I could become something greater.
Mom...
you always knew. Somehow, you always knew what I was feeling, even when I said nothing. You could look beneath the beneath. You could see pain before it spoke. You had a way of making every heavy day disappear. You and little sister made this house feel alive.
He stood there with tears in his eyes, taking memories instead of belongings.
His chest tightened. He moved on.
Then he came to the small room that belonged to his sister.
Colors.
Puzzles.
Teddy bears.
Life.
A world too innocent for the cruelty that found it.
Nemjiro could not step fully inside.
He only looked. He just stood there... staring.
Then slowly, gently, he reached out and closed the door.
Dear sister... can you hear me?
Are you... watching me right now?
Are you somewhere above this world now? Somewhere peaceful? Somewhere warm?
I hope you are watching me.
I hope you know I am still here.
I wish you were by my side right now. I wish you were laughing. I wish you were asking me again for that special ice cream you loved so much.
If there is one thing I regret right now... it is that I was too late to bring it to you.
I thought you'd get mad at me...
I didn't know...
His breathing shook.
It was hot that day. I remember thinking you were going to get angry with me if I came home too slowly. I even imagined you pouting at me and calling me lazy.
But then the rain came.
The ice cream melted.
And by the time I reached home...
You were already gone.
Your last words were telling me to run.
Even then... even then, you were thinking about me.
Tears fell quietly.
Nemjiro's lips trembled. He pressed his forehead lightly against the door.
I promise you. I promise all of you. One day I will avenge your blood. All of you. I swear it. And when that day comes... maybe then I will be worthy of standing before you again.
Thank you.
May heaven keep you.
May I see you again someday.
Thank you...
Downstairs, Daichi took one final look through the house.
He moved slowly through the living room, saying nothing, allowing the silence to press against him. Near the floor, something caught his eye.
He bent down and picked it up.
It was a picture.
A family picture.
His daughter. Her husband. Nemjiro. His little sister. And himself.
They stood together in it with their hands and shoulders touching, all of them smiling with the easy peace of people who do not yet know what is waiting for them.
Daichi stared at it for a long time.
Then a bitter smile touched his face.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Looks like I'm going to break that promise."
Footsteps came from the stairs.
Nemjiro descended with a bag on his back. Daichi turned and looked at him as if the boy had already become something more fragile than childhood itself.
"Nemjiro," Daichi said, holding the picture out toward him. "Take this with you."
Nemjiro accepted it.
The second he looked at it, his tears fell again.
Daichi closed his eyes briefly.
"I suppose you will need it."
The two stood together in silence for one last moment, offering a final prayer toward the graves and toward the house itself.
Then Daichi spoke.
"Are you ready, son?"
Nemjiro wiped his face and drew in a breath. When he looked up again, there was still pain in him. That would not vanish. Not today. Not tomorrow.
But something else had entered his eyes too.
Focus.
"I'm ready... Pa."
Daichi studied him quietly.
This boy is already changing.
He is already learning to stand inside pain without collapsing under it.
Perhaps now is the time.
No...
This has always been the time.
Nemjiro... I truly hope you become a warrior recognized throughout this world.
It will not be easy for you. I know that better than anyone.
You have little time, and I have even less.
My own life is nearing its end.
And inside you sleeps a power I sealed long ago. A power I once carried myself.
Sotenkigo.
No wonder the years found me so quickly after that.
And still... it all belongs to you now.
Your Hadazun is low. Barely awake.
But one day... it will become terrifying.
May your life carry you far.
May you make it to the end somehow.
And whichever road you walk... you will rise among the Karosamu.
Perhaps even above them all.
With Shikanumi and Runushu traveling beside you... there may yet come a day when loneliness leaves your side forever.
A day when defeat can no longer reach you.
Daichi let the thoughts settle.
Then another realization struck him, sharp and immediate.
Uchutamu.
He had to move.
The time limit of that dimension would not wait for grief, nor memory, nor old men burdened by regret.
He drew in a breath and stepped toward the door.
One hand touched the old wood.
He pushed it open slowly, the hinges groaning as if the house itself did not wish to let them go.
Before stepping through, he looked back over his shoulder at Nemjiro.
There was confidence in his eyes now.
And a faint, pleased smirk on his face.
"Good," Daichi said. "Because we are leaving this place... forever."
Nemjiro walked toward him.
The two stepped beyond the threshold.
And in the next instant, they vanished in a flash of light, disappearing from the home that had already become part of the dead.
⸻
To Be Continued...
⸻
The tragedy had already happened. The past has burned. The loss is real.
And now...
The journey begins.
Nemjiro had lost his family, and the one who found him in the aftermath was his grandfather, Daichi.
But Daichi is not simply taking him away.
He is taking him somewhere that will change everything.
Toward truth. Toward power. Toward the path of a warrior. Toward a destiny far greater than he understands.
And from this point onward, Nemjiro's journey of vengeance truly begins.