“What do you think you were trying to do with the boy?” Minato slowly lowered his hand.
His expression remained entirely calm, but his eyes had turned dangerously cold.
Shinazu remained completely unharmed as he slowly descended and touched the ground.
An unknown feeling swept in Shinazu’s heart from Minato’s word and him protecting him.
The attendant instantly turned pale as a sheet, his knees shaking as he tried to get up.
That dirty mutt is his kid?
Before he could even stammer out an apology, another woman hurried over from the back of the boutique, alerted by the commotion.
She appeared to be the owner of the parlor.
Taking one look at Minato’s commanding aura and recognizing his status from fine clothes, she bowed deeply, her voice trembling.
“My deepest apologies, sir!”
“This boy is with me,” Minato repeated coldly, “and your attendant just tried to hit him.”
The owner looked between Minato and Shinazu, clearly confused by the stark contrast between Minato’s fine, noble clothing and Shinazu’s appearance as a ragged street kid.
But still she fiercely glared at the terrified attendant.
“Get out of my sight!
You are fired!” She turned back to Minato, straightened her dress, and bowed again.
“I sincerely apologize for my staff’s behavior.
Please give us another chance.
I’ll personally assist you from now on.”
Minato gave a casual nod.
He knew it would have been the same no matter which shop he visited.
“It’s fine.
I am only looking for you to dress this boy up into a fine young man.”
“Pardon me, sir, but may I ask how much you intend to spend?” she asked respectfully.
“There’s no need to worry about the cost.
I’ll leave everything to you,” Minato replied with an easy smile.
“Understood, sir.” She bowed once more before turning to Shinazu.
The disdain she’d shown him earlier was gone, replaced by open curiosity.
“Right this way, young master.”
Young master?
Shinazu had no idea how to respond.
He glanced at Minato, frowning.
Why is he going this far for me?
Minato only gave him an encouraging nod and gestured for him to follow her with a faint smile.
The next hour was pure torture for Shinazu.
The boutique owner treated his makeover with the determination of a general preparing for battle.
Her first fight was with his hair.
Shinazu sat stiffly in the chair as she washed his head with warm water, worked soap through his tangled hair, and brought a pair of scissors dangerously close to his neck.
Every instinct he’d developed on the streets screamed at him to jump up, dodge, or run away.
But he fought the urge, gripping his knees as she dragged a comb through the knots in his hair.
His scalp practically ached with every stroke.
“Sit still, you little squirrel,” she scolded, snipping away at his hair.
“A proper young man shouldn’t be frightened of a pair of scissors.”
Then came the clothes, and things only got worse.
Shinazu wanted something plain that wouldn’t draw attention and blend in.
So he kept reaching for the plainest, cheapest gray shirts he could find on the lower shelves.
Part of it was habit, another part was because he wanted to owe as little debt as possible to anyone.
But the woman wouldn’t let him get away with it.
“Put that back.” She slapped his hand away before he could pick up another one.
“Are you planning to attend a funeral?
She pulled a rich indigo shirt from the rack and handed it to him.
“Try this.”
Shinazu slipped it over his head, but he had barely started on the buttons when she frowned.
“No, the shoulders are all wrong.
It’s too much loose.
Take it off!”
Before he could object, she pulled the shirt over his head and replaced it with a dark green velvet one.
He had only just managed to get his arms into the sleeves when she clicked her tongue.
“That color does nothing for you.
Off it comes!
Hurry!”
“Wait, I haven’t even buttoned it yet,” Shinazu protested, his cheeks warming.
“There’s no point buttoning it if it doesn’t suit you.” She was already reaching for something else.
Before Shinazu could catch his breath, she snapped open a measuring tape and began measuring his chest, waist, and shoulders.
Her hands moved so fast and poked at his body softly that his head spun.
His cheeks turned bright red with embarrassment as she moved around touching him, adjusting his posture, lifted his chin, straightened his arms, and muttered measurements under her breath like a scholar solving a difficult problem.
Shinazu could outrun guards and street thugs through the narrow alleys, but none of that had prepared him for this.
He had no idea how to defend himself against an enthusiastic woman with a measuring tape.
Desperately, he looked toward Minato.
He was leaning back comfortably on a plush sofa, sipping hot tea, watching Shinazu’s panic with pure amusement.
When Shinazu looked at him, Minato just raised his teacup with a little smile, teasing him.
Traitor.
“Now, let’s try something truly proper,” the owner announced, her eyes bright with inspiration.
She hurried into the back room and returned with another set of clothes.
The ordeal began all over again.
She dressed him, fastened the buttons, examined him from every angle, then decided the outfit wasn’t quite right and took it off again.
Another set followed.
Then another.
By the time half an hour had passed, Shinazu was ready to collapse.
At last, the owner straightened his collar and stepped back.
She stared at him for a moment before stepped back, and letting out a gasp filled with pure satisfaction.
A proud smile spread across her face.
“There.
Perfect.”
Shinazu exhaled, relieved that she seemed finished.
Then he turned toward the tall mirror on the wall and froze.
The reflection staring back at him felt like a complete stranger.
His messy black hair had been neatly trimmed, framing his face instead of falling into his eyes.
Someone had finally scrubbed away the layers of dirt he’d carried for so long.
His torn, bloodstained rags were gone, replaced by a well-fitted black outfit with delicate silver embroidery along the collar and sleeves.
For once, he didn’t look like a boy who’d spent his life fighting to survive but a respectable young noble.
The difference was so startling that he kept looking to convince himself it was really him.
Minato adjusted his glasses, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
“Not bad.”
“Not bad?” The owner frowned.
“Sir, I’ve created a masterpiece!”
Minato wisely chose not to argue with her.
While Shinazu was still staring at his reflection, the owner instructed an attendant to pack several more sets of matching clothes. This story is hosted at g.com.
She arranged them into neat bundles and brought them over.
After everything was done the ring on Minato’s middle finger flashed violet and a moment later, a silver ring appeared in his palm.
Shinazu recognized it immediately.
A spatial storage ring.
Even an orphan who’d spent most of his life on the streets knew how rare and expensive those were.
With a casual gesture, Minato sent the bundles into the ring’s storage space.
Then he tossed the silver ring to Shinazu which he caught it on instinct and stared down at it in disbelief.
“What is this for?” He asked.
Minato ignored the question and turned to the owner.
“How much do I owe you?”
“It will be Ten Marks, sir.”
“Ten Imperial Marks?” Shinazu blurted out, but neither of them paid him any attention.
Minato’s ring flashed violet again and 10 glittering golden coins appeared and floated across the room toward the owner, who caught them neatly and slipped them into her own storage ring.
“Thank you for your patronage!” she said with a bright smile and another bow.
Shinazu stared at Minato in absolute disbelief.
Minato, however, acted as though he hadn’t noticed a thing.
He simply turned toward the door and left the shop.
Shinazu hurried after him, still clutching the silver ring.
Behind them, the owner watched the pair disappear into the street.
“Whatever his background, that boy really is sweet,” she murmured with a small smile.
As they walked down the street away from the boutique, Shinazu finally found the courage to ask what had been bothering him.
“Why did you spend so much money on me?
We could’ve just gone to a regular sho…”
“Children shouldn’t worry about money,” Minato said, cutting him off before he could finish.
“Let’s pick up the pace.
We need to catch a ferry.”
Shinazu looked down at his new self and said nothing.
The two eventually reached the grand harbor, where dozens of ships bobbed on the sparkling water.
Most of them were heavy merchant vessels that crowded the docks, while others were luxurious passenger ships sat farther out, ready to carry travelers to distant shores.
Their destination lay near the end of the main dock: a sleek, elegant ferry flying an official crest.
Shinazu stopped.
Beyond the harbor stretched an expanse of open water, vast enough that the opposite shore was nowhere in sight.
Somewhere beyond that horizon stood Himetsu, the greatest magical academy in the world where his new life was supposed to begin.
Minato walked up the boarding ramp, then glanced back at him.
“You coming?”
Shinazu didn’t answer right away.
He looked back toward the bustling city, then farther still, toward the lands of Hokuto.
That was where he’d awakened.
Where he’d been hunted like an animal.
Where he should have died.
His fingers brushed the silver bracelet around his wrist and for a brief moment, he remembered the mysterious woman.
under the silver moon.
Shinazu drew a slow, deep breath.
Then he turned away from the past and stepped onto the ferry.
Toward an uncertain future.
Toward Himetsu.
Toward the beginning of everything.