The cold morning breeze stirred his hair as he lay in the grass, back pressed against the rough bark of an old tree.
Birdsong echoed faintly through the forest, but in his mind there was only silence — and then, a voice.
"Promise me… Aaki…"
The sound was soft yet desperate, trembling like a flame in the wind.
"You'll protect your sister… no matter what."
The air in his dream was heavy, suffocating.
He could still see her that day — his mother, framed in the burning light of sunset, her hair disheveled, her clothes torn from battle.
Blood stained her arm, but her hand never wavered as it rested on his shoulder.
Her eyes, fierce yet warm, bored into him as if she could carve her will into his soul.
"I… I promise, Mother."
His voice had been small then, choked with fear. "I'll protect her with my life."
The world in the dream shuddered, the edges of reality curling away.
And then—silence.
Aaki's eyes opened to the soft touch of sunlight spilling over his face.
He raised a hand, blocking the light with his palm.
The warmth lingered there, almost like the memory of her hand, and before he could stop himself, a single word escaped his lips.
"Mother…"
The sound was almost inaudible, yet it carried the weight of every battle fought, every burden shouldered.
His eyes told a story — one no stranger would ever understand.
He closed them again, letting the breeze whisper over him.
But the peace was broken by faint, distant screams.
Aaki pushed himself up, brushing dirt from his coat, and followed the sound through the trees.
The forest opened to a dirt road — and chaos.
A carriage lay on its side, one wheel still spinning.
Several armored guards sprawled on the ground, blood pooling beneath them.
Men in ragged gear surrounded the wreck, weapons glinting in the light.
Inside the shattered frame of the carriage, two children — a young prince and his little sister — clung to each other, faces streaked with tears.
"Keep it down," Aaki said, his tone calm but carrying an edge that cut through the noise.
One of the attackers turned, sneering. "And who the hell are you supposed to—"
"Shut it," their leader snapped, shooting him a warning glare. He inclined his head toward Aaki. "Sorry for the noise. We'll keep it down."
The mocking man ignored the order, swaggering forward.
Aaki didn't move until the man was a few steps away.
Then — one punch, a blur of motion, and the attacker's body crashed through the undergrowth, vanishing into the shadows of the forest.
The rest froze.
The leader's face hardened. "So… you're not just a passerby."
From the carriage, the prince's voice cracked with panic. "Please, save us, mister! They're going to kill me and my sister!"
Aaki's eyes flicked toward him, steady and unblinking. "You're only worried about your life, aren't you? Look at her — clinging to you, crying — and all you can think about is yourself?"
The prince's mouth opened, but no words came.
"Being a big brother is a blessing," Aaki said quietly, "but it's also a responsibility. You don't think of yourself first."
The boy's fists tightened at his sides. He glanced at his sister — her small hands gripping his sleeve, her eyes red and trembling.
He swallowed hard, stepped down from the carriage, and stood in front of her. "I'll protect my sister."
A faint flicker of approval crossed Aaki's face. "It's never too late to understand. What matters is that you do."
Then, softer, "Now stand behind me."
The prince wiped at his eyes, but his voice was firm this time. "Please save her, mister."
"You both will be fine," Aaki said simply.
The leader snarled. "You shouldn't interfere."
"I already have."
A ball of fire roared to life in the man's palm, the heat curling the air around it. With a shout, he hurled it toward Aaki.
Aaki didn't flinch.
He snapped his fingers — and the flames vanished midair, as if swallowed by the wind.
"What…?" the leader stammered. "Where did—"
"Get him!" one of the men yelled.
They surged forward.
Aaki's figure blurred. In the next instant, bodies were flying through the air, crashing into tree trunks and hitting the ground with dull thuds.
None of them had seen his fists move.
Silence fell.
Aaki knelt beside the fallen guards, his hand hovering over each wound.
Light, faint but warm, spread from his palms, and in moments, the cuts and bruises faded until even the scars were gone.
The guards stared, bewildered.
Aaki rose and turned to leave.
"Wait!" the prince called, running after him. "What's your name, mister?"
Aaki paused, glanced over his shoulder.
His lips moved — a name, just for the boy. But the prince couldn't hear it.
And then Aaki was gone, his figure dissolving into the morning mist as if the forest itself had taken him back.
The prince stood there for a long moment, the weight of the encounter settling over him.
And despite everything — despite the fear, the danger — a small smile found its way onto his face.