The sun was barely brushing the rooftops of Arkion when I stepped onto the balcony of Hoshikawa, the faint hum of the city below stirring like a living creature. I had finished my morning tea and let my gaze sweep across the streets — merchants setting up, travelers moving through the alleys, the occasional child chasing a ball of tattered cloth — and my mind was already calculating the day's possibilities.
"Big brother," came a small voice, shy but earnest. I turned and saw the girl, Rei, no older than seven, tugging at the hem of my coat. Her wide eyes held a mixture of fear and hope. Beside her, a slightly older boy, Nax, ten, fidgeted with his hands, clearly unsure whether he was allowed to speak so casually.
I crouched slightly to bring myself closer to their height, letting my presence settle around them like a calm shadow. "Rei… Nax," I said gently, testing the names. The girl blinked in surprise, but I continued, "You two will live here now. I'll teach you… everything you need to know. But first, you need names. Names give identity. Identity gives purpose."
The children exchanged glances. Rei's small lips trembled before she whispered, "R-Rei…"
"Yes. Rei," I confirmed, nodding. "It suits you." I turned to the boy. "And you?"
"Nax," he said, almost too quickly, as if afraid I would change it.
"Good. Strong. Short. Precise," I remarked, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. "You have potential."
I motioned for them to follow inside. The previous pair — Asar and Mitsuki — were already in the kitchen, tidying up after breakfast. Asar looked up, his brown eyes flicking to me with quiet reverence. Mitsuki, always precise, straightened her apron and gave a polite bow.
"These are your new siblings," I said simply, gesturing to Rei and Nax. "They are orphans. They will learn here, as you did. Do not underestimate them."
Asar's brow furrowed, but a small smile appeared. Mitsuki tilted her head, already evaluating the newcomers. "I see," she said. "We will help them."
I nodded. That was all I needed. Cooperation and observation — everything else could be taught.
We started with the basics. I taught them arithmetic first. Addition, subtraction, multiplication, division — simple numbers at first, then gradually increasing in complexity. I allowed them to ask questions, but only after they attempted the solution themselves. Mistakes were not punished; they were corrected. Precision and understanding mattered more than speed.
Rei struggled at first, her small fingers tracing numbers in the dust on the counter. I crouched beside her, letting her see my hands move in patterns of calculation. "Watch carefully," I said softly. "Numbers are not just symbols. They are patterns. They tell stories. Learn to read them, and the world becomes simple."
Nax, being older, caught on faster. His eyes brightened when he realized he could anticipate the results of my examples before I finished. "Like… predicting the future?" he asked.
"Exactly," I replied. "But only through understanding, not guessing. Your mind is your most powerful weapon."
By midday, Rei had managed to memorize addition tables up to 100, Nax was calculating multiplication problems in his head, and Asar and Mitsuki were helping them along, quietly proud. I watched them with a detached amusement, letting the threads of their learning weave together.
Later, I took them to the small training yard behind the restaurant. Not combat training — not yet — but agility, observation, and patience. I had each of them place small objects at varying distances and try to move them with precision using subtle energy manipulations I allowed them to access. The children gasped and squealed with delight when objects moved exactly where they wanted, though it was small and imperfect.
"Focus," I said calmly, letting my golden eyes settle on each of them in turn. "Your energy flows where your mind guides it. Control the mind, control the energy. Control both, and the world obeys."
Rei stumbled, her small hands shaking. Nax furrowed his brow, clearly annoyed at his own clumsiness. Asar and Mitsuki, having mastered these basic manipulations under my supervision weeks ago, offered tips without speaking, showing by example.
When the sun dipped low, casting golden streaks across the courtyard, I allowed them a short break. They gathered near me, their little faces flushed from exertion and excitement.
"Remember," I said, sitting on the edge of the training platform, legs dangling, "you are not here to follow the world's rules. You are here to create your own. You will learn to think, to act, to adapt. And one day… when the time comes, you will act without hesitation, without fear."
Rei looked up at me, her eyes wide. "Big brother… will we be strong like you?"
I allowed a small, almost imperceptible smirk. "Stronger. You will be stronger than anyone expects. But strength is not just power. Strength is knowledge, strategy, patience, and execution. You will learn all of it… here."
Nax nodded, gripping my sleeve. "We won't let you down."
"You will," I said softly, letting a faint edge of seriousness cut through the warmth. "You will fail, over and over. That is how you will learn. But I will guide you. And if you remember one thing, it is this — the world does not care about weakness. It only respects results."
As evening fell, I led them inside. The villa was quiet, golden light reflecting faintly on polished wood and walls. Rei clutched a small wooden toy she had found outside, Nax adjusted his worn jacket, and Asar and Mitsuki already prepared the evening meal with practiced ease.
I watched them in silence for a moment, allowing the weight of the day to settle. This small family — these four children — held sparks of potential that, if guided correctly, could reshape the future.
And for now, they were mine. My responsibility. My little family in the heart of Arkion.
As I stepped onto the balcony later, the city lights shimmering like a sea of stars below, I allowed myself a faint smile. Hoshikawa wasn't just a restaurant anymore. It was a sanctuary. A school. A forge. And these children — Asar, Mitsuki, Nax, and Rei — were its first apprentices.
The real work had only just begun.