The morning sunlight slipped through the tall curtains, scattering golden streaks across the room. The faint chirping of birds could be heard beyond the open window, mixing with the quiet rustle of leaves.
Kuhaku stretched, bones cracking slightly. His body felt lighter than it had in weeks, yet heavier in strength. The mirror beside his bed reflected a lean, athletic figure — muscles defined by instinct and survival, not by choice.
Not bulky. Not thin. Just… honed. Like a blade forged under pressure.
"So this is what constant death and running for your life does to you,"
he muttered with a half-smile, rubbing the back of his neck.
A gentle knock came from the door.
"Kuhaku, breakfast's ready!" his mother's soft voice called out, warm as ever.
"Coming, Mom," he replied, pulling on a loose shirt before stepping out into the hall.
The mansion's corridors still made him uneasy — spotless floors, hanging portraits, the faint scent of polished wood. Maids passed by, bowing politely, and he nodded awkwardly in return. For someone who used to live in a small, quiet home, this level of elegance felt alien.
Descending the staircase, the aroma of breakfast greeted him before anything else.
⸻
The kitchen was alive with noise.
Aoi stood at the stove, apron fluttering as she hummed softly.
Mei was beside her, slicing vegetables with calm precision.
"You've got quite the hand for this, Mei-chan," Aoi said with a teasing smile.
"You might just put me out of a job."
"Ah—no, I just followed the recipe," Mei replied quickly, flustered.
From the dining table, Kiana groaned, half-asleep with a piece of toast hanging from her mouth. Her white hair stuck out in every direction.
"Five more minutes…" she mumbled, eyes barely open.
Bronya sat beside Rin, the two locked in an intense battle over a handheld console. Rin cheered loudly with every win, while Bronya's expression remained unreadable.
"Biological child," she murmured, "you're abusing the button system."
Rin only giggled louder.
Kuhaku took a seat, grinning at the chaos. "Looks like this place got lively fast."
His mother smiled warmly, glancing around. "It feels nice, doesn't it? Like a home again."
Then she teased, "You three should just stay here forever."
Kiana choked on her toast.
"Eh?! I-I mean… if it's okay…"
Bronya looked away, face slightly red. "Emotional manipulation… noted."
Kuhaku laughed quietly. "She's serious, you know."
Aoi wiped her hands on her apron. "Your father left early again. He's been busy — something about meetings in Kyoto."
Kuhaku raised an eyebrow. "Figures."
⸻
The air in the Kyoto Military Division was cold and still.
Daichi Hoshizora stood before a display table scattered with documents. Across from him sat Tesla, arms crossed, and Einstein, reviewing a holographic chart flickering faintly with unstable mana readings.
"Still no consistent data?" Daichi asked.
Tesla scoffed, adjusting her glasses. "Consistent? You're lucky we got anything readable. These devices react differently every hour. The mana density spikes like it has moods."
Einstein nodded. "The prototypes are functional but imprecise. Mana energy behaves… almost alive. It shifts in response to emotional stimuli — fear, aggression, even hope."
Daichi's gaze lingered on the blue waveform on-screen. "So it reacts to human will."
"Essentially, yes," Einstein replied. "We're testing containment models, but until we can stabilize it, even field units are at risk of overload."
The discussion turned toward his proposal. Project ARK.
A specialized division — not quite military, not quite civilian. A new kind of defense unit.
Daichi stood firm, voice calm but edged with resolve.
"The world's changing. If we don't adapt, we'll fall behind the next disaster. We need trained Awakened — people who can fight without losing themselves."
Tesla smirked. "So basically… a guild, wearing army colors."
Daichi didn't deny it.
"If that's what it takes to protect people, then yes."
Einstein looked thoughtful. "And what about your son?"
Daichi's expression softened for just a moment. "He'll find his own path. I just need to make sure there's a world left for him to walk in."
⸻
Afternoon sunlight spilled over the Hoshizora courtyard. Kuhaku stood at the center, barehanded, shirt clinging to his skin as he practiced his movements. His fists cut through the air with sharp precision — no wasted motion, no hesitation.
"Yo!"
Kiana's voice rang out, energetic as ever. She approached in light sportswear, tying her hair back. "You're not training alone, are you?"
Kuhaku chuckled. "You volunteering?"
"Obviously. Loser does the dishes."
He smirked. "Fine. Don't cry when you lose."
They squared off, the tension in the air sharp enough to cut.
Bronya and Mei watched from the veranda — one with quiet curiosity, the other with a faint smile.
Kiana moved first. Her speed was wild, driven by instinct. Kuhaku blocked, countered, but she slipped past his guard with fluid grace.
Their strikes met with faint ripples of mana, small bursts that cracked the ground beneath their feet.
Sweat glistened on their skin.
They exchanged blow after blow, neither holding back — not out of anger, but trust.
Kuhaku feinted right; Kiana anticipated and countered, slamming her palm into his chest with enough force to send him skidding back.
He landed on one knee, panting, then laughed. "Guess that's one for you."
Kiana grinned, equally out of breath. "Told you, I don't lose twice."
Both of them collapsed side by side, staring up at the sky in silence.
The courtyard looked like a battlefield — cracked tiles, dirt scattered everywhere.
Bronya sighed deeply. "Your destructive tendencies are concerning."
She raised her hand, and the earth rippled — cracks closing smoothly.
Mei joined her, small stones floating as she repaired what was left with her growing telekinesis.
Kuhaku whistled. "Now that's convenient."
"Less work for me," Kiana grinned.
⸻
As the day faded, Kuhaku sat by the courtyard wall, gazing at the orange sky.
He remembered the hospital — the moment he first felt it.
The mana within his family.
Even now, he could sense it clearly.
Rin's energy danced like flickering light — chaotic but bright.
Aoi's was smooth and rhythmic, wrapping the household in quiet serenity.
And Daichi's…
Kuhaku exhaled slowly. The memory alone made his skin prickle.
His father's mana wasn't just strong — it was overwhelming.
Controlled. Absolute.
Like the quiet pressure of standing beneath a storm that could break mountains yet chooses not to.
"He really is on another level…"
"But that's fine."
"If he's protecting the world… I'll protect what's right in front of me."
The sky darkened to deep violet, stars faintly beginning to glow. The faint hum of the world — of mana itself — lingered in the air.
⸻
Later that night, Daichi returned home. His coat was dusted with travel, his expression unreadable.
In his hand, a sealed envelope — the words PROJECT ARK – INTERNAL DRAFT embossed in red ink.
He placed it in his drawer, beside an old photograph of his family — smiling faces frozen in time. His hand lingered there, the faint tremor of exhaustion visible beneath his composed demeanor.
"Let's hope I can keep that promise," he murmured quietly.
Outside, the night wind rustled through the trees — calm, but distant.
Somewhere far away, the world was already shifting again.
⸻
End of Chapter 2 – Part 4