Year 1048 B.N. – August 15th
While the family was busy planning the upcoming festival for the next month,Giotto and Reijiro devised an invisible surveillance system.
"Do you trust Daiki?" Reijiro asked while placing traps along the hallways of the southern wing.
"Yes. He hears better than most adults."
"And Haru… does he know too?"
"Not yet. I don't want him acting recklessly. Haru still thinks protecting me means kill first, ask questions later."
"And G... you didn't tell him either."
Giotto shook his head.
"No. He'd want to disintegrate them alive with his flames from the start."
Reijiro smiled.
"And you want answers."
"Exactly."
...
Rainy night...In the old mansion...Ugetsu was sharpening his sword, seated in lotus position. Haru joined him, as silent as the rain itself.
Ugetsu had gotten used to several orphan children coming to watch him train—or to be trained by him.
"I didn't come to train," Haru clarified.
"Then?"
"I want to ask you something."
Ugetsu looked at him calmly.
"Why do you follow Giotto?"
"And why do you?" Haru replied. "You're a Guardian, even though you come from that place where the boss and G came from. But you didn't grow up with him like we did here. Why obey?"
The swordsman lifted his gaze to the sky, where the clouds glowed faintly behind the moon.
"Because he doesn't seek obedience. He seeks understanding. And because the sky that does not rule... is the one that needs the most guidance."
Haru remained silent, until he whispered one word:
"Would you protect him… with your life?"
Ugetsu smiled. For the first time, real warmth appeared in his expression.
"With my soul."
And in that moment, Haru realized he was not alone in his desire to protect Giotto. For the first time, he could trust someone other than his boss.
...
Harvest festival...At golden sunset.The sky, though cloudy, showed no signs of storm. The drizzle of the past days had ceased just as the celebration began, as if the heavens had paused to watch.
The mansion, nestled in a forest clearing, was lit by paper lanterns. Flags with symbols of wheat stalks and celestial circles fluttered gently in the breeze.
Children from the nearby village laughed as they ran between improvised stalls offering roasted rice, dried fruit sweets, and mochi balls with sweet fillings.
Giotto observed from the upper floor balcony, arms crossed. He wore a black cloak with gold details—more symbolic than practical—and his eyes silently scanned every corner of the grounds.
"Too quiet," said G beside him, also watching. "Even for a fake party."
"Exactly how I want it to be," Giotto replied without turning. "Today, what looks like a celebration… will be a purge."
"And the children?"
"Safe. Each one has a different mission far from the epicenter. Except you and Ugetsu."
"Oh… and what's my role?"
Giotto finally looked at him, with that half-smile only G could understand.
"Fire. If this catches flame, either put it out... or burn everything."
G let out a dark chuckle, thrilled.
"I love when you use me like a matchstick..."
...
Meanwhile...In the back garden...Haru, Daiki, Sana, and Reijiro walked unseen among the bushes.
"Anyone noticed anything?" Reijiro whispered.
"Three men near the north well," Daiki replied.
"Two more next to the tool shed," Daiki added. "But one of them... doesn't blink. Literally."
Haru didn't speak. He just looked up at the sky, right as a small drop began to fall again.
"It's starting again," he said softly. "Just like during the summoning."
"A sign?" Daiki asked.
"A warning."
...
East Wing...Hidden basement...The traitors gathered once more. This time not to plan, but to act.
"Tonight. Amidst the chaos. We kill the boy. Make it look like an accident. Then we take over as legal guardians."
"And the ghosts?"
"Without their core, they'll vanish. Everything in this world has an anchor, and that child is theirs."
But none of them noticed the shadow watching from the doorway.
...
Ugetsu's POVUsing my Rain Flames as warning signals was a novelty. In my former, more adult form, I was strong and could control my power effortlessly. But now, in this child's body, the control was far more delicate.
When using my flames, I had to restrain them, measure them. It wasn't enough to use them only in combat—I had to become an instrument, an adagio of calm or a prelude.
That's why, instead of unleashing raging flames, I decided to turn my equipment into extensions of that subtle touch: my three short swords, agile as raindrops, and my long sword, steady and serene.
Before, my Japanese was refined, with the accent spoken in the Heian period, used by high-class samurai, ninjas, and nobles. Not something from ancient times alone, but also of times yet to come. Purely classical. Now, it evolves with the tones of this Kofun era—my language is learning to move with the rhythm of history.
Being the Rain Guardian demanded a sacrifice few might understand: giving up my inner music, that eternal melody where every drop was a note. I left it behind to care for my friends, to offer them presence, even if my gaze no longer birthed ethereal sounds.
It didn't hurt—because I understood Giotto did the same for me: he gave up part of himself to form this team. That sacrifice, noble and silent, marked my soul indelibly.
...
FlashbackI remember the first time I spoke to Giotto on the day I arrived in this world, when everything was still confusion—chaos, soaked leaves, and the promise of awakening another Guardian.
Haru—still too young to understand everything—was human and vulnerable, but within him pulsed a storm refusing to settle. His intense, misty gaze gave him away: he was lost, unsure of his role, without a direction. Like a storm in fog, aimless and fearsome.
I saw the daring glint in his eyes as he watched me from afar. Giotto said to me with a calm, firm voice:
—"Looks like little Haru likes you, Ugetsu. He's disoriented. His sensitivity doesn't know how to channel itself yet."
—"Your first mission will be to guide him, so he finds his path," he added with determination.
I didn't respond immediately. But the glance from the corner of my eye was enough, carrying restrained serenity, and I felt Haru take a step back, surprised. Behind that shyness was a dormant strength… possibly tormented.
—"I see his hands are stained with blood, even at his young age," I finally said quietly. "But there's nobility too. There's hope."
—"I know, Ugetsu," Giotto nodded. "But if we know that path... his worth will be immense."
I gave a slight nod, aware no more words were needed. An implicit pact, silent, like morning dew.
Ugetsu, with his sword still sheathed, didn't need to kill to silence.He just listened… and waited for the signal.
From the center of the garden, three small bells rang from the main mast.It was a secret signal known only to loyal members: Imminent danger. Silent protocol activation.
Giotto descended the stairs with steady steps.G vanished behind a column, slipping into the shadows like a hunter.
Within seconds, the stalls were shut. The vendors withdrew.The village children were guided home by loyal members pretending to close shop due to rain.
In under a minute, the mansion was silent… like a tomb.
The traitors emerged from their hiding places, believing it was the perfect moment."Now. Move!" one of them ordered.
But just as they took the first step…
The rain fell.Not a downpour, but a cold, steady curtain.
And then, a figure appeared among them.
Dry leaves crunched beneath foreign boots.The air, heavy with the moisture of a recent shower, reeked of betrayal.
Ugetsu stepped forward.His face was that of a child, but his gaze carried centuries of experience.The mansion, silent, seemed to hold its breath.
In front of him, five armed men formed a threatening semicircle.One of them, clad in worn armor and clouded by arrogance, spat on the ground.
"You shouldn't tread on land you haven't watered with loyalty," said Ugetsu, his voice soft but firm, like a current that doesn't need to shout to be heard.
"He's just one of them!" one rebel shouted.The desperation in his voice betrayed him.He unsheathed his sword clumsily.
Ugetsu responded in silence.With precise movement, he drew his three short swords, one after another, with an elegance almost ceremonial.
"Swords… short ones?""Yes," he replied calmly, his tone detached, as if correcting an incorrect posture in a musical instrument. "This will be enough."
The traitors couldn't process the scene before the young swordsman moved toward them.His body was agile, light as mist, yet his steps struck the ground with the determination of a storm that knows its path.
The first strike wasn't a cut, but a displacement—Ugetsu used the flat of one sword to redirect the enemy's weapon in a circular twist.The traitor barely kept his balance before receiving a dry thrust to the wrist that made him drop his sword.
Ugetsu's second blade slid in a straight line toward the next attacker's neck—Not to wound, but to force him back.Seizing the moment, he spun on his axis and struck the back of the third's knee with the hilt, making him fall with a muffled cry.
Each movement was clean, efficient.It looked more like a dance than a fight.His style echoed ancient samurai art, fused with the effortless fluidity of someone who mastered his center of gravity as if floating.As though every step resolved the fight while avoiding the conflict.
"Damn brat!" yelled another rebel, charging with brute force.
Ugetsu didn't respond.Instead of confronting head-on, he turned to the side, letting the enemy's own momentum pull him forward.With a lazy flick of the wrist, he slid one sword across the hilt of the man's weapon, deflecting it to the ground.Then, like a controlled gust, he slammed the blunt side of his other blade into the man's chest, knocking the wind out of him and sending him staggering backward.
Four down.
The last one—the tallest, with a noble posture—stepped back.He knew this wasn't a normal fight.Ugetsu looked at him, without hatred.
"You can still surrender," he said calmly. "My blades carry no blood. Yet."
But the enemy clenched his teeth and raised his weapon, trembling.Not from physical fear—but from the uncertainty of what stood before him.
Ugetsu prepared to move… but it wasn't necessary.
A shadow appeared behind the man.Silent. Precise.Like the final note of a symphony.
G.
With his hair tied back and his piercing gaze, he placed a hand on the traitor's shoulder.
"You know the greatest sin?" he whispered coldly."What?" the man stammered."Underestimating what you don't understand."
Without waiting for an answer, he lifted the man and slammed him into a pile of crates.The impact echoed like thunder muffled by the damp air.
Silence.The leaves swirled on the ground, as if applauding.
Ugetsu slowly sheathed his three swords, one by one, like marking the end of a song.His breathing was steady, not tired, just a faint vapor escaping his lips in the cold air.
G approached him."Still holding back?""Yes. My child's body can't yet handle the pressure of my old techniques…" Ugetsu answered without turning."But I can still teach them what rain means. It doesn't destroy. But no one stops it."
G smiled approvingly."Sometimes I forget how young you look now… but how old your soul sounds."
Ugetsu lowered his gaze, reflective."I am an echo still adjusting to this body.But even an echo can calm a storm."
The scene ended with the breeze scattering the last loose leaves…And with the traitors unconscious, bloodless, but with shattered pride.
Minutes later…
The traitors were on their knees, bound.Giotto walked calmly in front of them.
"You tried to betray a child… and failed.Not because of his strength—But because of his faith."
He looked at them coldly.
"You thought I had no eyes? No ears? No loyal souls?"
No one dared answer.
"I could kill you. But that would be… too easy."
He gestured, and Sana, Reijiro, and Daiki brought out tools of torture.
"From this day forward, you are marked.You cannot speak of this. Not of me. Not of what you've seen.If you do…You'll face something worse than this. Or death."
"And you'll let us live?" one asked, trembling.
"Only so you remember…That even in heaven, rain falls with purpose."
And I decide when it rains.
That same night – South Tower
Giotto stood in silence, watching the rain.Ugetsu approached.
"Did everything go as planned?""Yes. But it wasn't a game.""Nothing involving loyalty ever is.""Thank you for acting without killing."
Ugetsu smiled."I didn't do it for them.""Then why?""I did it for you.I want this world of yours—this future—not to start with more blood."
Giotto closed his eyes."Then the first step… was taken in the rain."
…
The sky wept in silence.
Soft drops fell among the leaves, tracing invisible paths over the dojo's wood and the wet soil.Under that constant rain, Haru panted, soaked, the wooden training sword trembling in his small hands.
Ugetsu, calm as always, walked barefoot across the floor.
"Again," he said softly, without raising his voice. "But this time, don't strike with anger."
Haru gritted his teeth.His brow furrowed in frustration.He was only six, and his body didn't yet respond with the grace he imagined.
He stepped forward and swung a straight blow.
Ugetsu deflected it with a simple branch, like brushing aside a bamboo leaf.
Now, outside the dojo in the persistent rain of daily training, the past floated like an echo.Each drop reminded me of the purpose etched into me:To carve calm where fire had left scars.
If this child's body could use its voice to summon storms,It had to refine that voice to project peace.
Under that gentle rain, I gather water in my hands.I watch it turn to mist as my warmth—a Rain Flame—claims it.It's my power, quiet, not burning… but shaping.
Meanwhile, Haru trains.His small figure stands firm against both the weather and his own tension.I watch him struggle with wooden swords.His movements are quick, abrupt, driven by invisible anger.
I approach him silently.Not even my footsteps or robes disturb the rhythm of the rain.
"Haru," I say gently."Do you know why rain doesn't destroy rocks?"
He stops, perhaps surprised by my voice."No," he answers quietly.
"Because it flows around them, seeps into cracks.It doesn't force… it infiltrates.Do the same with your sword."
His grip tightens, wood splintering beneath his tense hands.
"I'm trying… but it's hard," he confesses.
I nod. I understand.
"Let it fall," I tell him."Let the sword flow. Don't push it. Learn its rhythm."
Haru closes his eyes, breath steady.I guide him with my own blades, showing how they barely skim the water on the ground.
A faint flash lights the dojo.His blade now mirrors the gray sky.Haru hesitates—then flows.His strike isn't stormy; it's rain condensed without water.Fluid. Controlled.
I see him improve before my eyes,And my heart—part rusted human mind—warms with pride.
"Too much strength. You're fighting the rain.""The rain defeats no one!" Haru shouted, trembling.
Ugetsu knelt to his level, setting aside the branch.His face showed no anger—only infinite patience.
"And who told you that?""My father… before he left me, said strength is everything.That wielding a sword means imposing your will."
"And what has that will brought you?"
Haru looked down.His knuckles were white from gripping too tightly.The rain hid his tears, but not from Ugetsu.
"The rain doesn't impose," whispered the swordsman."The rain accompanies.It doesn't push—it caresses.It doesn't cut—it seeps. Watch."
He rose slowly, took the branch, and stood before Haru.He didn't strike.He moved.Every step was fluid, every turn a silent dance.The branch floated in his hand like an extension of his breath.He didn't look like a swordsman…But a poem in motion.
When it ended, Ugetsu stood still before Haru.
"Did you see?""You didn't hit hard," whispered the boy."And yet, in a real fight, you'd have lost three times.The enemy doesn't see strength.They see the opening. The rhythm. The soul."
Haru took a deep breath.Closed his eyes.Felt the water run down his face, the breeze in the trees,The soft patter of drops on bamboo.And then… he struck.His blow wasn't fast or strong—but for the first time, it wasn't clumsy.
Ugetsu smiled."That's it. Let the world flow with you."
The boy lowered his weapon.Covered in mud up to his knees, arms aching—But something inside had awakened.Not a flame… but a river.
"Do you think someday I'll move like you?""Only if you stop trying," Ugetsu said with a soft laugh,"And start feeling."
The rain kept falling,Applauding in silence.And for a moment, the dojo became a temple.
…