The sun was bright above Neo-Tokyo-3, its golden rays spilling across the Mitsuyo Clan estate — a world of balance between ancient beauty and futuristic brilliance. Floating sakura petals shimmered beside quantum streams, and the air smelled faintly of tea and memory.
A twelve-year-old Kyuroto Mitsuyo ran through the gardens, his laughter echoing like light bells.
His hair, shorter then, still carried the same dual tones — red and green glinting beneath the sunlight.
> "Kyuroto, careful!"
His mother, Amane Kyoko, smiled gently as she arranged blossoms in a silver vase. Her kimono reflected shifting colors, like starlight upon water. She was calm and soft-spoken, the sort of mother whose every movement seemed like a prayer.
> "I'm fine, Mama!" Kyuroto grinned, holding a training blade carved from holo-wood. "Father said I should practice footwork while the blossoms fall."
From the veranda, Mitsuyo Renzou, his father, watched with quiet pride. His eyes were sharp — a strategist's eyes — but when he looked at his son, they softened.
> "Footwork, yes. But awareness, Kyuroto. A strategist must see more than motion — he must see the meaning behind it."
Kyuroto paused, tilting his head. "Meaning?"
Renzou smiled. "Every movement hides intention. The blossom that falls might hide the wind that moved it. The opponent who strikes may hide his fear. Learn to see both, and you will never be deceived."
Kyuroto nodded earnestly. His mother giggled softly, placing her hands on his shoulders.
> "Your father always talks like that," she whispered. "But he's right. You have his eyes, Kyuroto — the eyes that can see truth."
The boy beamed, cheeks warm with pride.
They spent that afternoon in peace — drinking tea beneath the cherry trees, sharing stories of distant stars, listening to Kyuroto recite his lessons about probability threads and philosophy.
He didn't understand everything then.
He only knew this moment felt perfect — sunlight, warmth, and laughter.
As the sun set, Renzou placed a hand upon his son's head.
> "Remember this, Kyuroto. Shadows and light are not enemies. They complete each other. Promise me — never lose your balance."
> "I promise, Father."
That night, Kyuroto slept between them, his parents speaking softly about the future he would inherit.
Outside, a faint wind stirred — unnoticed — carrying with it the first scent of storm.
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