Three years later...
The mist never seemed to leave.
It rolled across the fishing village every morning, swallowing the narrow roads and weathered docks in a blanket of pale gray. To Haruki, it was normal. The world had always looked like this.
Small.
Hidden.
Quiet.
The three-year-old sat on a wooden crate near the shoreline, kicking his legs as he watched fishermen pull in their nets.
The sea smelled salty.
Cold wind brushed against his cheeks.
Haruki liked the ocean.
The ocean didn't ask questions.
The adults did.
"Stay where I can see you," his mother called from nearby.
"Okay!"
Aiko smiled as he waved both arms enthusiastically.
At least, she tried to smile.
Haruki noticed that adults did that often.
They smiled without looking happy.
Especially his father.
Yukio stood beside a fish stall, speaking with several villagers. His expression remained calm, but Haruki could always tell when his father was paying attention to something important.
Today was one of those days.
The fishermen weren't talking about fish.
They were whispering.
Haruki tilted his head.
Children were often ignored by adults.
That made it easier to listen.
"...found near the northern coast."
"Are you sure?"
"Three witnesses."
A nervous silence followed.
One of the men spat into the dirt.
"Good."
Haruki blinked.
Good?
Why did he sound angry?
Another fisherman crossed his arms.
"I heard he was one of them."
The others immediately glanced around.
As if merely saying those words was dangerous.
"Keep your voice down."
"I'm just saying what everyone knows."
A third man lowered his voice.
"They say he could make ice."
Haruki's ears perked up.
Ice?
The men looked disturbed.
Not impressed.
Not curious.
Afraid.
The first fisherman shook his head.
"Those people bring trouble."
"Exactly."
"They should've left years ago."
Haruki frowned.
What people?
Who could make ice?
Why was everyone upset?
The conversation continued.
"The hunters found him in the woods."
"They say his whole family's gone."
"Good riddance."
Several villagers nodded.
Haruki stared.
Good riddance?
The words felt wrong somehow.
He didn't understand why.
He only knew the adults suddenly looked frightening.
Not because they were yelling.
Because they weren't.
The hatred in their voices was quiet.
Cold.
The way winter felt.
A hand rested on his shoulder.
Haruki jumped.
His father stood behind him.
"When did you get here?"
Yukio glanced toward the fishermen.
"Long enough."
Haruki pointed.
"They were talking about someone who could make ice."
For a brief moment, Yukio froze.
It happened so quickly most people would've missed it.
Haruki didn't.
His father's eyes sharpened.
"What else did they say?"
"They didn't like him."
The answer came immediately.
Children noticed emotions better than facts.
Yukio's jaw tightened.
"I see."
Haruki looked up.
"Why?"
The question lingered.
Several gulls cried overhead.
The fishermen continued talking in the distance.
Yukio remained silent for several seconds.
Finally, he crouched beside his son.
"Some people fear things they don't understand."
"Like monsters?"
A sad smile appeared.
"Sometimes."
Haruki thought about that.
"Was the ice person a monster?"
The smile disappeared.
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
Too firmly.
Haruki blinked.
Yukio looked away toward the sea.
"No," he repeated quietly. "Not necessarily."
Not necessarily.
The words confused Haruki even more.
Before he could ask another question, his father stood.
"Come on."
"Where are we going?"
"Home."
"But I want to stay."
Yukio extended a hand.
The discussion was over.
Haruki reluctantly took it.
As they walked through the village, he noticed something strange.
Adults kept lowering their voices whenever certain topics came up.
Whenever someone mentioned bloodlines.
Whenever someone mentioned strange abilities.
Whenever someone mentioned clans.
The atmosphere changed.
Fear.
Distrust.
Hatred.
Haruki didn't fully understand it.
But he felt it.
And feelings were easier to remember than explanations.
By the time they reached home, the sun was beginning to set.
Orange light filtered through the mist.
Aiko greeted them at the door.
"You were gone awhile."
Yukio nodded.
"The village is talking."
Her expression immediately darkened.
"What happened?"
"Another one."
Aiko looked toward Haruki.
The conversation stopped.
Immediately.
That happened a lot too.
Adults always stopped talking when he entered the room.
Haruki pouted.
"I'm not a baby."
His parents exchanged glances.
The tension eased slightly.
Aiko laughed.
"Of course not."
"I heard the fishermen."
The laughter vanished.
Haruki noticed.
Again.
Every time.
The same reaction.
Ice.
Bloodlines.
Fear.
Something connected all of them.
He just didn't know what.
That night, after dinner, Haruki lay beneath his blankets staring at the ceiling.
The wind rattled the shutters.
His parents thought he was asleep.
He wasn't.
Voices drifted from the next room.
"...getting worse."
Aiko.
"I know."
Yukio.
"How long can we keep doing this?"
"As long as we have to."
"What if someone discovers—"
The rest became too quiet to hear.
Haruki rolled over.
His eyes slowly drifted shut.
Outside, the mist moved through the village like a living thing.
Silent.
Watching.
And somewhere far away, another bloodline user had disappeared without anyone coming to save them.
Haruki didn't understand what that meant.
Not yet.
But for the first time in his young life, he began to realize something important.
There were things in this world people hated simply for existing.
And whatever secret his parents were hiding...
It was connected.