The sky was gray, the wind gliding over the clinic's rooftop, and the sun fading beyond the horizon.
Ken sat on a metal chair, his legs crossed, a half-burned cigarette between his fingers, while Yoko sat beside him, gazing silently into the distance. The wind played with her hair as her soft voice broke the quiet:
"You know… I never imagined I'd see you here again, after all these years."
Ken didn't turn to her. He looked up at the sky for a moment before answering in his calm, steady tone,
"People disappear, then come back. It's not that rare."
She studied his face for a while—those sharper, quieter features.
He wasn't the same boy she once knew; that child who laughed at the simplest things.
Now, before her sat someone else… as if the old Ken had died in the ashes, replaced by a silent shadow who only spoke when he had to.
"You've changed so much, Ken," she said, a faint, sad smile on her lips.
He looked at her with those cold gray eyes and replied,
"Does a child who walks out of war ever remain a child?"
Yoko froze. His words pierced her heart slowly.
She lowered her gaze to the ground, the wind toying with strands of her black hair, hiding the tear that almost fell without permission.
Inside, she whispered to herself,
"Have I… changed too?"
She remembered that little girl who once ran through the burning alleys with him—laughing despite fear, dreaming despite ruin.
Where had that girl gone?
Had time swallowed her the same way it swallowed Ken?
Was she, too, nothing but a shadow now?
She lifted her eyes to him quietly, watching him in silence.
He still wasn't looking at her. His gaze remained fixed on the clouds.
Finally, she spoke, her voice low, almost confessional:
"Maybe we're not the same anymore, Ken… not you, not me."
The wind grew stronger, as if it were pushing her back into the past.
One image flickered in her mind—a golden afternoon sun, and the sound of laughter from a time that no longer existed.
[Ruby Province – 8 Years Ago]
Ruby was a lively place back then. Houses were decorated with flowers hanging from balconies, and the air was thick with the scent of fresh bread.
In one modest home near the city's edge, a red-haired boy stood with clenched fists, full of excitement.
Ken, eight years old, laughed from the bottom of his heart as his older brother, Dan, chased after him—his eyes full of playful mischief.
Dan, three years older, had darker red hair, wild and unkempt, and the same gray eyes as his brother.
Dan laughed loudly.
"Heh! Come on, little hero! Let's see who's stronger today!"
Ken raised his tiny fists stubbornly, grinning wide.
"This time I won't lose! I've been training a lot!"
But Dan didn't wait. He lunged forward, lightly punching Ken in the stomach.
Ken fell to the floor, gasping more in surprise than pain, tears welling up in his eyes.
Dan laughed triumphantly, but their younger sister, Emily, jumped up from the corner, shouting,
"Dan! That's not fair! I'm telling Dad!"
Emily looked different from her brothers—her shining brown hair and bright blue eyes made her stand out.
Ken wiped his tears with his sleeve, muttering between shaky breaths,
"I hate you! You're mean!"
Dan raised an eyebrow, chuckling.
"Crying over one punch? What drama."
But the laughter stopped when the door creaked open.
Their father, Akako, stepped in calmly. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and looked almost identical to Dan—same red tone, same gray eyes—but his expression carried both discipline and warmth.
"Dan," he said in his steady voice, "how many times have I told you? Strength doesn't mean hurting the weak. It means protecting them."
Dan stiffened, lowering his head.
"I'm sorry, Father."
Akako placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder, then turned to Ken and asked softly beneath his serious tone,
"Are you all right?"
Ken nodded, avoiding his brother's eyes.
Akako sighed.
"Apologies aren't made with words alone. Look him in the eye."
Dan slowly lifted his head and extended his hand toward his little brother.
"I'm sorry, Ken."
Ken hesitated for a moment, then shook his brother's hand silently, his small fingers trembling. Tears still glimmered in the corners of his eyes.
Just then, the door opened again, and their mother, Masha, entered quietly—her rounded belly showing she was six months pregnant.
Masha looked so much like Emily it was almost uncanny—the same light brown hair, the same blue, gem-like eyes—but her face held a gentle maturity. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, with a few strands brushing her cheeks softly.
She placed a hand on her husband's shoulder and smiled.
"What's all this little chaos about?"
Akako smiled back.
"Nothing, Masha… just your children learning what strength really means."
Ken ran to her at once, hugging her and burying his face in her swollen belly.
He said in a soft, childlike voice,
"Mom, when will my new brothers come? I want to play with them!"
Masha laughed, running her hand through his red hair.
"Soon, my little one… very soon."
That day was ordinary… simple… but it stayed in Ken's memory as the most beautiful moment he ever had.
The next day, Ken sat on the floor, drawing with his colored pencils. He held the pencil in his left hand, as always. Akako entered the room carrying a cup of tea, its steam fading into the air.
He sat beside him and asked with a smile,
"What are you drawing this time?"
Ken raised the paper proudly.
"Our family! Look—this is Mom, that's Emily, that's Dan, and that's me! I even drew myself taller than Dan!"
Akako chuckled lightly.
"You've been ambitious since you were small."
He tilted his head to see the picture clearly, then asked,
"But why does Dan look angry?"
Ken stopped coloring, his voice suddenly quiet.
"Because he hit me yesterday… so I gave him an angry face."
Akako looked at his son with calm kindness and said softly,
"Were you angry with him?"
Ken shook his head slightly, his eyes fixed on the drawing.
"No… I was just sad. Because I don't like fighting with my brother."
He paused for a moment, then set the paper down on the floor. Looking up at his father with confusion in his small gray eyes, he asked,
"Dad… am I weak?"
Akako stared at him for a long time, a look that held both understanding and sorrow. Then he leaned forward, placed his hand gently on Ken's head, and said in a steady, warm tone,
"No, my son… weakness isn't in feeling. Weakness is in stopping yourself from feeling. To love your family, to fear hurting them… that's a strength few possess."
Ken looked up at his father with silent eyes.
"But I don't want to feel pain anymore."
Akako pulled him into a sudden embrace, pressing his head to his chest.
"When you grow up, you'll understand that pain never disappears… but it's the only thing that reminds you who you are."
Ken closed his eyes and gave in to that warmth he hadn't felt in a long time.
And on the clinic rooftop in the present, his inner voice whispered with the wind:
"Father… you were right."
Despite the earlier quarrel, Ken and Dan sat side by side in the living room, as if nothing had happened. The room was warm, filled with the orange glow of the evening sun. In the center stood an elegant wooden box engraved with curved patterns, a faintly glowing blue crystal at its heart.
It was the Radison—the voice transmitter used in Valoria to broadcast news and reports across the lands. Akako, Masha, and Emily joined them, and the family sat quietly, anxious and curious, as the device crackled before finally stabilizing.
Broadcaster: "Welcome to the Ruby Province News Bulletin. Unfortunately, tonight's news is heavy. We've received official reports confirming that the army of the Kingdom of Kaji, led by King Cirrus, has begun advancing through the southern borders of the capital. Massive tanks have been sighted moving in, and fighter aircraft are flying over the outskirts. Are we standing at the brink of another war?"
Silence fell. Only the faint hum of the Radison echoed through the walls like a whisper of dread. The family exchanged looks; every face showed fear in its own way. Masha's features tightened, Dan bit his lip, Ken's face turned pale, and Emily still didn't understand what it meant.
Ken asked in a trembling voice,
"Dad… does this mean we're at war?"
Akako answered quietly, though worry crept into his tone,
"I hope it doesn't come to that."
Dan stood up, fists clenched, eyes burning.
"But why? What does King Cirrus want from us?!"
Masha spoke, trying to hold herself together,
"They want to annex Ruby… to make it part of Kaji."
Emily looked up at the glowing crystal, her voice innocent,
"Kaji? That sounds like our name… Yukaji."
Dan gave a faint, bitter smile as he looked at her.
"Dad hasn't told you yet, has he? We're not from here. Father came from Kaji."
Her eyes widened in shock, while Ken clenched his small hand in honest anger.
"Who is this king?! Who's Cirrus?! Why does he want to destroy us?! I'll never forgive him… our army will defeat him!"
The crystal's light began to dim, the Radison's voice fading into broken static, as if even the machine feared what came next. Akako stood silently, looking at his children for a long moment before turning toward the bedroom. Masha followed him in worried steps.
The door closed behind them. Only tense breathing filled the air.
Akako sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed, hands clasped as if carrying a weight heavier than the world.
He muttered under his breath, bitterness dripping from every word,
"I can't believe this… does that damned man intend to shatter peace again?"
Masha sat beside him, placing her hand on his trembling one, her voice low and fearful.
"Cirrus… he's not just a king, Akako. With his power, he could burn an entire city with a single strike. No one can stop him."
Akako slowly raised his head. A faint gray light flickered in his eyes.
"He's not just a king… He's my brother. And I… am still the exiled prince in their eyes."
Masha's voice broke as she gripped his hand tighter.
"And our children know nothing… they don't know they're heirs of the Yukaji bloodline… or that their uncle is the one leading this war."
Akako closed his eyes, breathing unevenly.
Then he heard her whisper through her tears,
"I'm scared, Akako… I don't want to lose you… or any of our children."
He pulled her tightly into his arms, as if trying to shield her from the entire world. The room was still, but behind those walls, time itself was moving slowly toward disaster.