Night had fallen over Hanzo’s house, silent and wrapped in a soft mist.
The children slept, curled up near Kumo, who purred softly, now fully healed.
Shiro sat by the fire, carving a small wooden figure with his knife — just like he used to in his village.

But Akari couldn’t sleep.
Kaien wasn’t in his bed.

She found him in the clearing behind the house, beneath the tall tree of dried leaves.
The Ryusatsuga katana was stabbed into the ground before him. He stood there, head bowed, breath heavy, fists clenched.
Sweat ran down his back, even though the air was cold.

The tall tree stood silently, its branches gently leaning toward the house — as if watching over him too.
Above, the dry leaves fell slowly, like silent blessings.

—Still training? —Akari asked softly.

Kaien didn’t answer. He only clenched his fists tighter.

—Kaien… —she stepped closer, voice trembling—. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay.

He shut his eyes tightly.
—I’m not pretending.

—Then why won’t you look at me? —she said, taking another step.

Kaien gritted his teeth.
—Because if I look at you… I’ll…

A heavy silence fell between them. Akari felt her heart tighten.

—Do you know why I made myself forget? —he said, lowering his voice—. Because I couldn’t take it anymore.
Because every time I remembered those eyes… my parents’ eyes when they left me… cold, empty…
something inside me shattered.

—They looked at me like I was worthless. Like I had never existed.

Akari slowly stepped closer, saying nothing, and stood beside him.

—I know I’m not special. Or brilliant. I’m just… someone who survived.
No one loved me. No one came for me.
No one held me when I needed it most. And that’s the truth.
That’s why I made myself forget. Because I couldn’t live with that truth anymore.

Then she hugged him.
Without asking. Without speaking.
With her whole heart.

Kaien trembled.
Like a small child finally letting go.
The tears he had buried for years found their way out.

—You deserve love too, Kaien, —she whispered—.
Even if they didn’t see it… you deserve it.
And here… you already have it.

Later that night…

While everyone slept, the children tiptoed into Kaien’s room.
One carried a drawing.
Another brought a torn ribbon they wanted to give him — as a “big brother” belt.
Kumo climbed onto his lap and looked at him as if he understood.

—Are you sad? —asked Haru.

Kaien smiled, just slightly.
—A little.

—Don’t be sad, Kaien. We’re your family.
We’ll always be with you.

Shiro appeared behind them, holding a lantern and a small wooden box.
Inside: a blank piece of paper and a feathered pen.

—What’s this? —Kaien asked.

—Akari’s idea. A ritual to let go of what hurts, —Shiro said with a soft smile.
—You write what you wished you had heard… and then burn it, so the fire can carry it away.

Kaien hesitated. Then nodded.

He took the paper.
Thought for a long time.
Finally, with trembling hands and tears running down his face, he wrote:

“We love you, Kaien.”
—Mom and Dad

He folded the paper, placed it inside the box, and with Shiro’s help, lit the candle.

The fire crackled gently.
As the paper turned to ash, something inside Kaien also loosened.
It didn’t disappear… but it softened.
As if, at last, he could breathe without pain.

That night, Kaien dreamed.

He was in a dark alley, under the rain.
A five-year-old child shivered, covered in mud, holding a chunk of stale bread.
It was him — his smallest self.
Vulnerable. Invisible.

Adult Kaien knelt before him.
The child didn’t look up.
He didn’t trust.
He was broken.

—You’re not alone, —Kaien said softly.

He offered his hand.

—Thank you… for not giving up.
Thank you for holding on… even when it hurt so much.

The child looked up at him with tear-filled eyes.
And threw himself into his arms.
They both cried.

The sky in the dream opened.
For the first time… it wasn’t gray.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen…

Akari and Shiro sat talking quietly.

—Do you think he’ll be okay? —she asked, stirring an herbal infusion.

Shiro glanced down the hallway, where Kaien now slept deeply.

—I don’t know. But I think… he’s starting to be.

—Thank you for being with him, —she said.

—Me? —Shiro smiled—.
I’m just the guy who makes bad jokes and scolds parrots.
He’s the one walking forward.
We just walk nearby.

Akari smiled, tired, but warm.
—Sometimes, that’s what matters most.

At dawn…

Kaien awoke with damp eyes and a lighter heart.
Outside, the sun had just begun to rise.
Akari slept near the window, the children snored in the hallway.
Shiro, too — head buried in a cooking pot.

Kumo lay on his stomach like a stuffed toy.

Kaien gazed at the light coming through the door.

It still hurt.
But for the first time… it hurt differently.

| Author's Note |

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