“…Freedom rejected him.”
The words settled into the room with a weight that was hard to ignore.
Hana’s brows drew together.
“Rejected…?”
The old man gave a slow nod.
“When Kaito entered his subconscious, he tried to approach the essence of Freedom. But it refused him.”
Toru’s voice was calm, but there was tension beneath it.
“What does that mean?”
The old man straightened slightly, folding his hands behind his back as he looked down at Kaito.
“It means he wasn’t ready,” he said.
“He tried to reach something far beyond his understanding.”
Hana’s gaze softened as she looked at her son lying there, still unconscious.
“But… he’s just a child.”
“Yes,” the old man replied quietly.
“And that’s exactly why.”
A faint breeze passed through the space, barely stirring the air.
“A Guardian won’t respond to someone who doesn’t understand what it is,” he continued.
“Not truly.”
Toru narrowed his eyes.
“So this was always going to happen.”
“More or less.”
The old man’s attention returned to Kaito.
“Freedom didn’t harm him. It simply pushed him out.”
“Like… closing a door.”
Hana’s voice dropped to almost a whisper.
“So he’s not in danger?”
The old man shook his head.
“No. This isn’t a failure.”
He paused, then added, “If anything, it’s the beginning.”
Hana frowned slightly.
“The beginning of what?”
“Kaito has already brushed against something far beyond a normal existence,” the old man said.
“That alone is enough to change the direction of his life.”
Toru exhaled slowly.
“Then what does he need to do?”
The old man’s gaze drifted toward the shifting winds around them.
“He needs to grow. Not just physically—but mentally, and spiritually.”
Toru’s tone sharpened.
“Be more specific.”
“You can’t force a Guardian to accept you,” the old man said.
“They aren’t tools, and they aren’t servants. They are… ideas made real.”
Hana listened in silence.
“For Freedom to acknowledge Kaito,” he continued, “Kaito has to understand what freedom actually is.”
“Not just the word,” he added.
“But what it means. What it demands. What it protects.”
Toru frowned.
“And until then?”
“He’ll keep being rejected.”
The answer was simple and final.
Then the room fell quiet again.
A few seconds later, Kaito’s fingers twitched.
Hana gasped.
“Kaito!”
His eyes slowly opened, unfocused at first.
“…Ugh…”
He groaned, shifting slightly as if even moving took effort.
Everything felt heavy.
His body, his thoughts… even the air.
“…Where am I…?”
His vision cleared enough to make out familiar faces.
“Mom…?”
Hana pulled him into a tight embrace.
“Kaito! You scared me.”
“I’m okay… I think,” he said, still trying to piece things together.
Toru crouched beside him.
“What do you remember?”
Kaito frowned, thinking.
Fragments flashed through his mind—endless landscapes, shifting skies, something breaking apart above him.
“…Something pushed me,” he said slowly.
“That place was… weird.”
Then his expression changed.
“Wait—”
He sat up straighter.
“Freedom!”
His eyes snapped toward the old man.
“That thing tried to kill me!”
The old man shook his head calmly.
“No.”
Kaito blinked.
“What?”
“It didn’t attack you,” the old man said.
“It rejected you.”
Kaito frowned.
“That felt like an attack.”
A faint chuckle escaped the old man.
“You tried to approach something you don’t understand. A concept like Freedom doesn’t let itself be grasped so easily.”
Kaito crossed his arms, still annoyed.
“…So it just kicked me out.”
“Yes.”
Kaito looked down for a moment, quiet.
Hana watched him closely, her chest tightening.
She expected fear… maybe even tears.
Instead—Kaito clenched his fist.
“…Fine.”
Everyone looked at him.
He pushed himself to his feet.
“Then I’ll just go back.”
Hana blinked.
“Kaito…?”
“If it threw me out this time,” he said, determination settling into his voice, “then next time I’ll go further.”
The old man watched him carefully.
Then, slowly, a faint smile appeared.
“…Just as I thought.”
Toru raised an eyebrow.
“You expected that?”
“Kaito carries the essence of Freedom,” the old man replied.
“It would be strange if he didn’t. And besides he is a Kaze.”
Kaito gave him a look.
“You know I’m right here, right?”
The old man chuckled.
“Exactly.”
Then his tone shifted slightly.
“And that’s why I came.”
Hana straightened.
“…You mean there’s more?”
“I didn’t come here just to explain things,” he said, turning back to Kaito.
“I came to prepare you.”
“…Prepare me?” Kaito asked.
“For training.” The old man replied
Kaito’s eyes lit up instantly.
“Training?!”
Toru folded his arms.
“What kind?”
“The kind that matters,” the old man replied.
“Your mind. Your spirit. And your understanding.”
Kaito scratched his head.
“…That sounds complicated.”
“It is,” the old man said.
“But if you want to face Freedom again, you’ll have to learn.”
Hana hesitated.
“Grandfather… is this dangerous?”
“Yes,” he said plainly.
“But doing nothing would be worse.”
Silence followed.
Then Toru gave a firm nod.
“…We trust you.”
The old man looked back at Kaito.
“I’ll return from time to time,” he said.
“And when I do… your lessons will begin.”
Kaito grinned.
“Alright!”
The old man turned toward the exit.
“…It’s time for me to go.”
The space around them shifted again, the strange winds curling and fading as reality settled back into place.
The estate hall returned, as if nothing had happened.
Kaito blinked.
“…That’s so cool.”
The old man slowed near the doorway, one hand resting lightly against the frame as if he had remembered something at the last moment.
He didn’t turn right away.
For a brief second, the room held its breath.
“There’s something else,” he said.
That was enough to pull everyone’s attention back to him.
Toru’s expression tightened slightly.
“What is it?”
The old man glanced over his shoulder, his eyes settling on Kaito.
There was a quiet weight in that look, the kind that made it hard to speak too quickly.
“Freedom isn’t the only Guardian that’s starting to awaken.”
The words landed without much force, but they lingered.
Toru frowned.
“You’re saying there are others?”
“There always have been,” the old man replied.
“They just don’t all wake at once.”
Hana’s grip on Kaito’s shoulder tightened without her noticing.
“And now they are?”
“Some of them,” he said.
Kaito shifted where he stood, trying to follow.
“So… there are more things like that inside people?”
The old man didn’t answer immediately.
His gaze stayed on Kaito, steady, measuring something.
Then he spoke again, more directly this time.
“You’ve already met one.”
Kaito blinked.
“What?”
A small smile touched the old man’s face, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Your friend.”
For a moment, the words didn’t connect.
Kaito stared at him, waiting for it to make sense, but it didn’t.
Not right away.
“…Ren?” he said, slower this time.
The old man gave the slightest nod, as if that confirmed everything that needed to be said.
By the time Kaito tried to ask anything else, the old man had already turned away.
The air stirred faintly around him, and then he was gone, slipping out of sight as though the wind had taken him with it.
The room felt different after that.
Quieter, but not in a calm way.
Kaito stayed where he was, staring at the doorway long after the old man had disappeared.
“…Wait.”
He turned abruptly, looking between his parents like they might explain it.
“Ren is what?”
That night, the village was quiet.
The wind drifted lazily through the floating bridges and rooftops, carrying the soft sounds of a world at rest.
Kaito lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling.
His thoughts refused to settle.
Freedom.
Guardians.
Training.
Ren.
“…This is insane,” he muttered.
He turned onto his side, pulling the blanket slightly closer.
“…But it’s kind of awesome too.”
Eventually, exhaustion caught up with him, and his eyes closed.
Deep within his mind in that endless white space something shifted.
A presence stirred.
Ancient.
Watching.
A voice echoed faintly, distant and cold.
“…Foolish child.”
Then silence returned.
And Kaito slept on, Unaware of the eyes watching him from beyond his own mind.