Kaito knelt before the boy and gently held his hand.
His grip was warm, not overbearing.
"Akechi Haruto," he said, voice low and resolute. "From today, I am your father."
Haruto didn't flinch.
His wide eyes, still unfamiliar with this world, searched Kaito's gaze as though looking for a reason to trust. Something within him responded, not to the words, but to the truth in them.
He nodded.
The war council continued in the high-roofed blackwood hall.
Haruto now sat beside Kaito, his small form dwarfed by the men and women, by the scrolls, swords, and silent tension in the room.
Kaito leaned in. "Listen closely. These matters may sound heavy, but they shape the world you live in."
At the center of the room, Yori stepped forward, Kaito's second eldest son. Taller, composed, bearing the air of a seasoned commander.
Kaito's tone sharpened. "Now that a divine child resides within our clan, we expand eastward. Toward Nirou."
Haruto tilted his head. Divine child? The term stirred something deep inside, something distant, sacred and terrifying.
"I summoned you, Yori, because of what your uncle sent me this morning," Kaito continued. "A falcon from Tadao brought grim tidings."
He stood up.
His next words fell like thunderclaps.
"The Daimyo of Nirou is dead. Assassinated."
The hall stilled. Even the wind seemed to stop outside.
"His entire bloodline was wiped out. His half-brother, Goto Junpei, staged a midnight purge. Even the Lady Ichiko, the mother of both was spared only to be exiled, stripped of power, and sent on pilgrimage. Junpei now wears the title of Tiger Victor."
For a moment, no one dared breathe.
Then, all heads turned toward Lady Akiko.
Her face was already pale, drained of its usual warmth.
The name Goto was not just familiar to her.
It was home.
She stood motionless, frozen by memories rushing in like waves during a storm.
Her niece… only twelve. Always dressed in a yellow or red kimono. Always laughing. Always plucking the shamisen with little fingers and singing off-tune while Akiko scolded her gently.
Her brother, Goto Masato… so kind, so steady. He had once carried Akiko on his back when she was ill. He had loved his clan, and had loved peace.
His wife, Harumi, had treated Akiko like her own sister. She had braided her hair when she was sixteen. They had laughed over tea, had planned festivals together.
All of them… gone.
But not in sickness. Not in war.
Butchered in the night.
Tears rose like knives behind her eyes. Her stomach churned with the violence of it.
She tried to breathe. Tried to remain composed.
I am samurai. I do not cry in front of others. I endure.
But the weight was unbearable.
She closed her eyes.
Her fingers dug into her kimono sleeves.
Her breath trembled.
'They didn't even let Masato die peacefully. He had not time to even commit seppuku with his family like a samurai of honor.'
Beside her, Kaito placed a hand on her lap, gentle and grounding.
His eyes darkened with quiet sorrow.
'Masato... You deserved better. But you died with honor. You stayed a samurai even in your final breath.'
Kaito turned to the court.
His voice was no longer soft.
"The Goto clan was not just our ally. They were family. And they were executed like peasants."
His eyes swept the room.
"This dishonor must be avenged."
A low growl of agreement stirred across the hall.
"With the divine child's presence, we no longer require the imperial court's approval."
Shouts erupted.
"Akagi!"
"Kaito!"
"Justice!"
One by one, the members stood and left the hall, fire burning in their veins.
Only Kaito, Akiko, Haruto, Tetsuya, and Yori remained.
Akiko could no longer hold back.
She turned her face to the side.
And the tears fell softly, quietly but not weakly.
Haruto watched her, puzzled.
"Why is Lady Akiko crying?"
Kaito's jaw tightened.
"She's crying… because her family was taken from her. Because people she loved were killed while they slept. And because her mother was banished from her own home."
Haruto remained silent. The pain in the room was a new sensation to him. Something alien.
"That's the only question you have?" Kaito asked gently. "You're a kind boy."
"Why would anyone do such things?" Haruto asked. "Why did the enemies attack her family?"
Kaito inhaled deeply.
That question didn't have an easy answer.
"The Akagi and Oda clans have hated each other for centuries. The reason is buried in history but the fire still burns. They want strength, same as us. The power to shape this continent. We seek the same."
And then… Haruto changed.
His expression faded into stillness.
The golden glow in his eyes intensified, unnatural and ancient.
The air warped. Even the torches flickered.
"Why?" he asked.
But it was no longer Haruto speaking. It was something else entirely.
"Why must you pursue strength? What drives you? What do you fear to lose?"
The voice held no malice but it echoed like judgment.
Like the voice of a god asking its disciple to answer truthfully… or be broken.
Kaito felt a chill crawl up his spine.
Akiko's tears stopped not out of comfort, but instinct. Her soul recognized something in that voice. Something from the old days of myth.
Bloodlust. Divinity. Chaos.
Then, as suddenly as it came, it vanished.
Haruto blinked.
And smiled.
The room warmed again. The torches returned to normal. The wind passed softly across the hall.
But Kaito and Akiko sat frozen.
'This boy…' Kaito thought. 'He is indeed a divine child.'
A maid stepped into the silence, placing trays of food and a pot of warm tea.
She bowed and left without a word.
"Can you use chopsticks?" Akiko asked, voice faint, still shaken.
Haruto nodded. It felt easy. Natural.
He ate slowly but with joy. His small mouth smiled at the warm rice and pickled vegetables.
The quietness remained.
Evening crept into the corners of the hall.
Kaito led Haruto to a guest room, its futon soft and its walls etched with flowers and cranes.
Haruto lay down, and sleep took him instantly.
He didn't hear Kaito whisper in the dark hallway as he looked back at the door.
"…Sleep well, son. You'll carry the burden of gods."