The months slipped by quietly, like wind through the branches, unnoticed but ever moving.
One evening, as the sun dipped low behind the hills and painted the sky in streaks of gold, the soft tap of wooden sandals echoed along the stone path to Kaito's home. The rhythm was familiar, steady, calm.
Moments later, the front door slid open.
Raiden Kaze stepped inside first—tall and dignified, his long white hair flowing like snow-laced silk. His sharp eyes swept the room with quiet authority. Behind him, Aiko followed, her presence warm and calming, like sunlight after rain.
Before anyone could say a word—
"DAD!!"
Toru exploded out of the kitchen, sprinting toward Raiden with arms wide open, a dramatic grin plastered on his face like he was six years old again.
Raiden didn't miss a beat. Without even glancing, he stepped to the side and smacked Toru in the face with a flat palm. Smack!
"Out of my way, I'm not here for you."
Toru spun mid-air and landed with a thud on the floor, limbs tangled and dignity shattered.
Raiden's eyes scanned the room. "Where is my boy?"
At that exact moment, another voice shrieked with joy almost as if summoned by the question: "GRANDPA!"
Kaito came sprinting right behind his dad, feet pattering fast, eyes sparkling. He leapt and Raiden's expression instantly
"Kaito!"
He caught the boy mid-air and spun him around in circles, laughter booming from both of them. Wind rushed gently through the room, kicked up by the joyful movement.
Kaito giggled as he spun. "Faster, Grandpa!"
Toru, still flat on the ground, lifted his head. "What about me…?"
Mid-spin, Kaito stuck his tongue out at him. "Blehhh!"
"You little!" Toru started, rising to his feet.
Raiden turned with a warning smile, still holding Kaito effortlessly. "Touch him, and I'll break every bone in your good-for-nothing body."
Toru froze. "…This is not fair."
Across the room, the sound of laughter rose again, but this time, softer.
"He hasn't changed at all," Hana said, giggling.
"And somehow," Aiko giggled, "neither have they."
Hana and Aiko had already moved toward each other, and in the next moment, they were wrapped in a warm embrace. It had been a while, and it showed—not in anything dramatic, but in the way they held on just a little longer than necessary.
"I missed you," Aiko said softly.
Hana smiled, resting her head briefly against her mother's shoulder. "I missed you too."
When they pulled back, Aiko's gaze naturally drifted downward.
And there it was.
Hana's belly—full, round, unmistakably close to its time. The fabric of her clothes stretched gently over it, leaving no room for doubt.
Aiko's expression softened even more.
"…It's really been that long," she murmured.
Hana placed a hand over her stomach almost instinctively, her smile turning quieter, more tender. "Nine months already."
Aiko stepped closer without thinking, reaching out gently, almost as if asking for permission without words.
Hana nodded.
Aiko's hand rested lightly against the curve of her belly, careful, warm. For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Then Aiko whispered. "…He's grown so much,"
Hana let out a small laugh. "Or she."
Aiko smiled faintly. "Already keeping secrets from me?"
"Maybe," Hana teased softly.
Aiko's thumb brushed lightly over the fabric, her voice lowering just a little. "Are you feeling alright? No pain? No discomfort?"
"I'm fine," Hana assured her. "Just a bit tired sometimes."
"That's normal," Aiko said gently, though there was still a hint of concern in her eyes. "But don't push yourself too much, alright?"
Hana nodded. "I won't."
For a brief moment, the world around them faded into the background—the laughter, the noise, even Toru's complaints. It was just the two of them, standing there quietly, sharing something simple and deeply personal.
Aiko looked at her daughter again, really looked this time—not just as Hana, but as someone about to become a mother herself.
"…You're doing well," she said softly.
Hana's eyes warmed at that. "I learned from you."
Aiko smiled. "And you'll do even better."
Nearby, Raiden's laughter rang out again as he continued spinning Kaito around, while Toru argued helplessly from the side.
And for a moment, everything felt exactly as it should.
Dinner passed with soft conversation and bursts of laughter. Afterward, Raiden motioned for Kaito to follow him outside. The sky had turned to velvet—indigo laced with stars. A breeze carried the scent of earth and jasmine.
"Sit with me," Raiden said, patting the wooden bench.
Kaito climbed up beside him. For a while, they simply watched the stars.
Then Raiden spoke.
"Before all this, before the clans, the kingdoms, the wars, there was only a village. A quiet one. And in that village, a child was born."
Kaito turned toward him. "What kind of child?"
Raiden's gaze stayed on the sky. "One like you. But something about him was… different. Even as a baby, the wind gathered around him. Trees leaned toward him. When he cried, rivers stirred."
"He had powers?"
Raiden nodded. "Yes, but more than that. He understood. The world didn't just obey him. They listened. At three, the villagers knew: this was no ordinary soul. And when his gifts grew, he didn't conquer, he healed. He gave."
Kaito sat up straighter, eyes wide.
Raiden's voice dropped, reverent. "He breathed life into sick lungs. Formed oceans with a sweep of his hand. Raised mountains with a step. They called him… the Creator."
"But he wasn't a god," Raiden added, looking down at his grandson. "Just a boy. A boy who loved the world and wanted to give it hope."
"With his power, he created 16 gifts— for the people. They were called the Embodiment Essence."
Kaito's brow furrowed. "Essence?"
Raiden nodded. "Those gifts—were us, embodiment of wind, and he taught the us how to channel the dormant power within us, what we call Vital Pulse. It flows through our body, strengthening not just our bodies, but everything about us, our spirit, our soul, our will, and our bond with the world."
Kaito leaned forward. "What happened to him?"
"When his time came," Raiden said, "he divided his own power, his Origin Essence to be exact. And gave one to each of the embodiments."
A quiet beat passed.
"Is it real?" Kaito whispered. "The Origin Essence?"
Raiden turned to him. "Would you like to see it?"
Kaito's eyes lit up. "Can I?"
Raiden rose, moonlight casting silver along his hair. "Come. Just us."
They moved through moon-dappled trees, guided by the whisper of leaves overhead. Raiden led him down a hidden path known only to Wind Clan protectors, the forest folding in like a secret.
Eventually, they stopped before an ancient stone wall, overgrown with moss and vines. Raiden placed his palm on the center. Wind stirred suddenly, sharp, focused.
A deep hum resonated. The vines pulled back like threads unwinding, revealing a stone door carved with swirling patterns.
They stepped inside.
The air changed—cool, still, alive. A low, melodic hum filled the chamber, like a breath from the earth's core. Wind danced around their ankles, carrying the scent of time-worn stone and ancient roots.
At the center stood a pedestal. Floating above it, glowing softly, was the Wind Origin Essence.
Kaito stared.
A translucent orb, pulsing sky-blue and pearl-white, shimmered with light like clouds trapped in glass. A gentle warmth radiated outward. Kaito felt it not just on his skin, but in his chest. A quiet pulse. A call.
"That," Raiden whispered, "is the Creator's gift. The heart of our clan."
Kaito stepped closer, drawn to its glow. He reached out instinctively, then froze. A wave of warmth washed through him, not burning, but deep. Familiar. Like being held.
Raiden rested a hand on his shoulder. "For generations, our family has protected it from those who would twist it for power or destroy what it stands for."
He knelt beside Kaito. "One day… it will be your turn."
Kaito turned slowly. "Why me?"
Raiden's gaze didn't waver. "Because the world is changing. And one day, people will come for this. When they do… someone must be ready. Not just as an embodiment of wind, but as a king, a ruler and a protector"
He placed both hands on Kaito's shoulders, his voice calm but charged with meaning.
"You are Kaito Kaze. Heir to our clan. This core… this legacy… it's yours to protect."
The orb pulsed gently, the wind wrapping around Kaito like a silent oath.
That night, the house slept.
Moonlight spilled through windows, silver and soft. Crickets chirped, their song steady in the quiet.
Kaito stirred in bed. Something had pulled him from sleep. A whisper. A feeling.
He rose quietly, padded across the floor, and peeked outside.
There, on the porch, sat his mother—Hana. Her back was to him, her hair flowing like silk down her shoulders. A robe wrapped gently around her, hands resting over her round belly.
She gazed at the stars.
"Can't sleep, Kaito?" she said without turning.
He stepped out beside her.
"Come," she said, patting the spot next to her.
He sat down. The wind passed through, soft and slow, brushing their skin like breath.
"I like the stars," Hana whispered.
"They remind me how small we are… and how far we can still reach."
Kaito hugged his knees. "Mom… is it peaceful everywhere?"
Hana didn't answer right away. "No. Some clans still fight. Some hold onto pain. Not everyone has what we have."
Kaito frowned. "That's not fair."
"No," she said gently. "It's not."
"Will it ever stop?"
"I don't know."
He looked at her. "If I get strong… really strong… can I fix it?"
She smiled softly, brushing his hair back. "It won't be easy. People carry fear… and pride."
"I'll still try," Kaito said. "I'll protect everyone. I'll protect my sibling. I'll be the strongest big brother ever."
Tears gathered in Hana's eyes. She pulled him close, cradling his head to her shoulder and resting her other hand over her belly.
"You already are," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.