Since earlier, James had not felt at ease even once. A restless unease lingered within him, pressing against his thoughts without pause. From time to time, he glanced toward his home upon the hill, as though his gaze alone could bridge the distance and confirm that all was well.
He tried to distract himself by browsing the market, forcing his attention upon the goods laid before him. Yet the attempt bore no fruit. The discomfort remained, growing more intrusive with each passing moment.
He then spoke with several villagers, hoping that light conversation might ease the tension coiling within him. Instead, his mood only tightened further, as though the unease itself pulled his thoughts toward darker possibilities. That tension deepened, followed by fleeting images that stirred unease.
His instincts as the head of a household sounded a warning he could not ignore. There was an invisible bond, strong and unyielding, that tied him to his family, as though whatever occurred at home was directly connected to him. If something befell them, his mind would mark it at once as danger.
Has something happened at home?
That paternal instinct pressed harder, striking against his awareness like a relentless hammer. A faint certainty began to form, that something had occurred to his children.
What of them? I cannot ignore this feeling.
The change in him did not go unnoticed. His expression made it clear that he was burdened by heavy thoughts.
An elderly man with white hair, the village head, let out a quiet sigh.
"You have not truly been listening. Speak plainly if something troubles you. This old man may yet be of use."
A gentle pat upon his shoulder offered a brief sense of calm, as though attempting to draw him out from the turmoil of his thoughts.
James held deep respect for the old man before him. Since arriving in this village seven years ago, the village head had always treated him kindly. Never once as an outsider. Instead, he had offered guidance and help, teaching him the customs and ways of this place.
Because of that, the villagers had come to accept him. Such kindness was not something to be repaid with betrayal.
Even so, not all shared that same sentiment. A few still regarded him with thinly veiled disdain for being a newcomer. Yet such matters had never concerned him. There was no purpose in dwelling on things that only added weight to the mind.
James drew a slow breath before answering.
"My thoughts keep turning toward home, as though something is amiss."
"I understand that feeling. There is no need to force yourself to entertain this old man. Go, return and see to them. Your face already resembles that of one struck by misfortune."
A faint smile formed upon James' lips. It did not fully reach ease, yet it was sincere, offered in respect for the understanding shown to him.
Perhaps it was experience that granted the old man such insight. He too was a head of a household, a father who had lived through many seasons alongside his wife, children, and even grandchildren.
"Bring your children here from time to time. Do not keep them always upon that hill. I fear they may find it difficult to mingle with the other children."
"I understand."
"Go on. The longer you remain, the worse your expression becomes."
James inclined his head in respect before taking his leave. He turned and departed, while the village head watched him go.
"If only my granddaughter were fated to wed such a man. It is not easy to find one so devoted to his family."
The old man shook his head lightly, dismissing the idle thought, then returned to greeting those around him.
Once he reached a secluded place, James no longer hesitated. He immediately called upon his ninjutsu, hastening his steps as he made his way back home.
----
"Why have those two not yet returned from behind the house?"
Irene muttered under her breath, pacing back and forth within the main room. At times, she went upstairs to soothe her youngest son, who continued to fuss and cry.
Her urge to go out grew stronger. Her maternal instincts sharpened, mingled with a frustration she could scarcely restrain.
The anger of a mother had taken hold of her. Her affection for her two children only caused her emotions to rise further, unlike her usual composed demeanor.
Unlike James, who tended to indulge the children, Irene had no wish to raise them in such a manner. She held fast to the upbringing she herself had received, one that was not overly lenient.
It did not mean she wished to be harsh. Only that she believed a household required someone who would instill discipline with firmness.
If not her, then who? Her husband would not take on that role.
James might reprimand them, yet only when a line had been clearly crossed. And that line was often one only he could perceive. Irene had reminded him more than once to be firmer, especially with their daughter. She feared that such gentleness might one day be taken advantage of.
She understood well how a girl's nature could change with time. She had once passed through that same phase, a time when she had rebelled so fiercely that her aunt, who had raised her in place of her parents, had grown weary of her conduct.
"Ah, I cannot go out to fetch Charlotte and Ian. Ryan is far too restless today."
Her youngest son only added to the frustration that had already built within her. The child would wake, cry, fall asleep again, only to begin crying once more moments later.
This was the first time he had cried so much since his birth.
Irene's thoughts became increasingly tangled. Though irritation still lingered, her affection for Charlotte and Ian gradually softened her as darker possibilities began to surface in her mind.
A sudden fear took root, much like the one James felt elsewhere.
She refused to let it grow any further.
Irene made her decision and moved toward the stairs as her baby's cries rose once more.
"I must go out. Those two have likely become too absorbed in their play and lost track of time."
----
Irene stared at her two children in shock. Her heart pounded violently as she saw her daughter being supported by her son, her body limp and unconscious.
The anxiety that had lingered within her finally surged to the surface. She tried to steady her expression, yet the change came too swiftly.
Unease, sorrow, fear.
Countless possibilities flooded her mind without restraint, until tears began to fall before she even realized it.
For the first time since giving birth to her daughter, she beheld such a heart-wrenching sight. When her gaze fell upon the scratches and bruises marring Charlotte's pale arms, her body nearly lost balance, almost dropping the youngest child still in her arms.
Dark red marks along the backs of her fingers and across her knuckles were clearly visible, tightening the pain that spread through her chest.
Moments earlier, driven by worry, she had decided to go out and search for them while carrying Ryan.
Yet—
She had not even managed to open the door after coming down from the upper floor when the wooden door was knocked upon by her second child.
And this was the sight that greeted her.
Irene paid no heed to the tears that continued to fall. Her gaze remained fixed upon her children as she spoke.
"Carry your younger brother. I shall take your sister to her chamber."
Ian's voice sounded weary, yet obedient.
"Yes, Mother."
Irene handed Ryan to him, then carefully lifted Charlotte's body. The longer she looked, the tighter her chest felt at the sight of her daughter's condition.
Her thoughts drifted to her husband. She needed him here, beside them, to face this together.
After laying Charlotte upon the bed, Irene quickly returned downstairs to take Ryan back from Ian's arms.
Ian himself was not in much better condition. His small body must have been exhausted after supporting his sister all the way home.
She did not wish to question him now. Irene chose to wait for James. She knew that if she forced the matter without her husband present, the panic would only worsen.
I do not wish for that.
"When will your father return..."
She murmured softly as they stood once more within Charlotte's chamber.
Ian remained silent, his head lowered.
His mother's voice, gentler now, made him lift his gaze.
"You must be very weary. Lie down beside your sister."
"I am quite well, Mother."
The answer sounded more like an attempt to reassure, not only his mother, but himself.
Irene lowered herself after placing Ryan on the other side of Charlotte. Her hands rested gently upon Ian's shoulders.
No matter how firm and disciplined she had always been, all of it crumbled in an instant before such a reality. The principles she once held so tightly no longer seemed to matter.
What mattered now were her children.
Emotion overtook her completely, pushing aside the part of herself that had long suppressed feeling in favor of reason.
To Ian, that expression was unfamiliar. The mother who had always seemed more fearsome than their father now appeared fragile.
His heart ached at the sight of the woman he respected so deeply in such a state. Words caught in his throat.
Slowly, his hands lifted. He cupped his mother's face and gently wiped her cheeks, his small thumbs brushing away the tears that would not cease.
When he spoke, his voice was soft, yet sincere.
"I truly am well, Mother. Please do not weep. I shall begin to weep as well if you continue so."
Irene gave a faint smile, striving to steady herself.
"Thank you. Watch over your sister and your brother. I shall go below to fetch medicine and warm water to tend to your sister, and..."
One of her hands rose, resting softly against Ian's cheek.
"You must be thirsty as well. Supporting your sister is no small burden. Remain here, I shall not be long."
"Yes, Mother."
***
Outside the house, a faint, transparent spiral began to form in the air near the door. The space around it seemed to warp, as though it might draw in anything that came too near.
From within that vortex, a man emerged, his body seeming to unravel and then gather itself again before landing lightly upon the neatly arranged stones in the front yard.
James.
He had just made use of the ninjutsu within his right eye.
It was an ability he rarely employed. To him, walking at a normal pace brought greater calm. Yet in certain circumstances, he would not hesitate to use it.
Such as now.
When it concerned his family.
Without wasting a moment, he entered the house and found his wife descending the stairs in haste.
His tension sharpened at once.
He moved toward her quickly.
"Irene, what has happened?"
In her haste, Irene only noticed his presence when he spoke. She looked at him, her eyes still wet, then rushed forward and embraced him tightly.
"Ah, my husband..."
Her tears broke free, her body trembling within his arms.
So fragile.
James understood at once. There were few things that could bring this woman to tears in such a manner, aside from matters concerning their children.
His hand moved gently along her back, attempting to calm her, even as his own heart began to race.
"Be at ease. Tell me slowly."
He listened carefully as Irene explained how Ian had knocked upon the door, how she had opened it, and what she had seen thereafter.
Behind his composed demeanor as both husband and father, the tension within him only grew. His thoughts filled with countless possibilities of what might have happened to their children beyond the house.
Irene had not questioned Ian directly, and he understood why.
It was for the best.
They would hear everything together, with nothing concealed, directly from their child.
***
As soon as he entered Charlotte's chamber, James fixed his gaze upon his daughter.
Without realizing it, both his hands had clenched into tight fists. So tightly that the joints of his fingers produced faint cracking sounds, clearly heard by Irene and Ian.
Irene understood what was happening. She reached for her husband's arm, attempting to calm the turmoil that was plainly visible.
"Be at ease."
That gentle voice slowly eased the fire burning within James' chest.
The bloodline that had been reconstructed to its deepest level had altered much within him.
All this time, he had appeared calm and approachable. Yet a moment such as this could overturn everything. The nature flowing within his blood made his emotions far more sensitive, especially when it concerned those he held dear.
That anger nearly surged beyond control.
Had it not been for the experiences of his previous life, he might have lost himself entirely. The surge of emotion was so powerful that it left his state of mind dangerously fragile in such moments.
Irene's touch at his side became the restraint he needed.
He knew his wife was just as worried.
"Thank you."
His gaze softened as he turned toward her.
"Let us tend to our daughter first."
Irene forced a faint smile and nodded slowly. The smile did not fully reach her eyes, held back by the anxiety that still gripped her.
She drew a quiet breath.
Truthfully, she had felt a flicker of fear at the sight of her husband moments ago. Yet she had still stepped forward, steadying him, ready to face whatever might come.
Her resolve never wavered. She knew that, no matter the circumstance, James would never harm her.
She did not blame him. She understood the anger that had risen so suddenly.
Even so, there was one thing that weighed upon her heart.
Ian.
She regretted that her son had to witness that side of his father.