Everywhere was dark, and the moon undoubtedly shone brighter than usual that night. You could also hear the wind howling gently. In a thick forest deep within the mountains, a young girl with silver hair and skin as pale as moonlight ran as fast as her tiny legs could carry her, clutching a young boy who looked to be her companion.
They were being chased—and no, it didn't just look like tag. Over 20 men pursued two children who looked about eight; it was pure chaos. But Horikita wasn't giving up. She had promised their grandpa she'd keep Bruce safe, and she was going to do just that, no matter the cost.
They ran at full speed for about twenty minutes until they reached a secluded area, hoping to catch their breaths. It was an abandoned shed toward the foot of the mountain. The pursuers were all around, but for that single moment, it was quiet. Bruce was terrified, and Horikita was exhausted.
Yes, it was bad timing—terrible timing indeed—as he happened to spot the shed. He stepped in wearing white clothes like an angel, but the grin on his face belonged to the devil. He opened the door to two children: the boy with black hair, frightened enough to be traumatized from weeks, if not months, of horror; and the girl with silver hair, fierce as a wounded tigress protecting her cub. He assessed the situation for a second… only to widen his grin.
Upon seeing this, Horikita removed her seal immediately, without hesitation. "The spirit words technique," she reminisced. For a second, she flashed back to moments with their grandpa. It was a rainy day, and Bruce was asleep. She had just found a book. On the thick cover, it read "Spirit Words" in mighty font. She took a seat on the tatami mat as she opened it, and their grandpa, Tora Hanma—who had been watching from the fusuma (opaque sliding doors)—entered the room.
"Wow, Horikita, that book has been here for over a hundred years, and not once have I seen it opened," he said as a joke, but she tensed up instead. "Perhaps she thinks she's in trouble," he thought to himself.
He patted her head and said, "Relax, it's a good thing you opened it. I've also been meaning to know what was written inside." But it still didn't look like she was buying it, so he added, "Can you read it out to me?" She began to do so in an inaudible tone, and that was when he explained, "Only people who can use the spirit words technique can open that book, and only people who are pure of heart with no sins can read it—meaning that although people who have the technique can open the book, only children can read it."
He told her, "Horikita, listen up. Even though there is an infinite amount of powers in this world, that is one of the few that stand above the rest. Completely master it, and no one would be able to treat you as they always have, even if they wanted to." That statement sounded like salvation to the one who had been oppressed all her life, and immediately she realized that a single step is what separates the past, present, and future—and she took it.
Back to the present.
She removed the nose mask and yelled, "Get away!" In that instant, the man in white was blown away so far all he could see was the clouds. But that single action blew their cover, and the shed was destroyed almost immediately, with the people in white clothing coming from all sides. It was a do-or-die situation, and even then, she knew exactly what to do.
She turned to Bruce and smiled. "Don't worry, it's going to be okay." But Bruce replied, "No, don't do anything stupid. We'll make it out together—you promised." He began to sob heavily, but as if his words fell on deaf ears, he cried out, "Horikita! Don't leave me—please, don't!"
The girl's face softened, tears streaking down her cheeks. Moonlight caught the trembling of her lips as she forced a smile that hurt to see.
"I'm sorry, Bruce… I promised your grandfather I'd protect you. But if you stay here, you'll die."
Her grip faltered. Bruce shook his head violently, his childlike voice breaking.
"No! We'll run away together! We'll hide, we'll—"
"Come and find me." Her whisper cut through his panic, soft and final, like the last note of a lullaby.
Bruce froze. "…Huh?"
His small hand reached desperately for hers.
Horikita's eyes fluttered shut. *Grandfather's technique… The Spirit Words. I swore I'd never use it.* Her hands trembling while undoing the seal.
"Get away."
The world convulsed.
A violent gale swallowed Bruce, hurling him skyward. His scream tore out of his chest as the mountain shrank beneath him. Wind ripped at his face—then a blinding pair of headlights blazed across the night sky.
A truck. A truck in the air.
Bruce's wide eyes reflected the absurd sight—then darkness slammed down.
He blinked rapidly as he suddenly jolted awake.
Bruce touched his face, confused and disoriented. *A… dream?* he thought, noticing a tear slip from his eye.
The sound of a tray crashing to the floor broke the silence. A nurse stood in shock, hands shaking.
"D-doctor!" she stammered, running out in a panic.
A man with long red hair was seen smoking a cigarette in the hospital's reception. He wore a tuxedo with a brooch of the Hanma family emblem on his chest and an eyepatch over his left eye. "Mr. Minato," the receptionist called out, clearly referring to him. "You know smoking isn't allowed in the hospital," she said in an authoritative tone.
"Oh, my apologies, miss." He disposed of the cigarette in the waste bin and adjusted his tie.
"Who is he, Senpai? He looks like an aristocrat," the second receptionist asked, and the previous one replied, "Oh, I forgot you're new here. He is the guardian of the patient in room 204. The patient was admitted here because he was found in a deep coma—that was eight years ago. I was also just a rookie then, but he has been coming here at least twice a week ever since. Most of the old staff know him." She added, "But don't get any funny ideas. From what I hear…"
The nurse from earlier was now with the senior doctor, Dr. Haruto Saeki. They walked as fast as they could, the matter clearly urgent, when they bumped into Minato.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Doctor. Let me help you with that." He helped pick up the scattered documents. "But why are you in such a hurry?" Minato asked.
Dr. Haruto adjusted his glasses. "Oh, Mr. Minato—good timing. About the patient you brought in…" (inaudible)… Now the three of them hurried toward Bruce's room. "And you're sure about what you saw?" Dr. Haruto asked the nurse.
"Yes," she replied. "I went to administer his dosage, and then…"
"Don't worry about it," Minato cut in. "It's all right now."
Hearts raced as they opened the door to his room. "He's not here," the doctor said, mouth agape, as the room telephone rang. The nurse picked it up, and to her surprise, the call came from reception. "Dr., I think you should take this." She handed him the phone, and he listened—only to witness another surprise. "Mr. Minato, some patients complained they saw someone jump from this floor," he said, and Minato simply replied, "It could be him."
"But that's impossible—this is the third floor." He rushed to the window and spotted Bruce seated in the fields. In the blink of an eye, they were already there.
"What are you doing out here?" Minato asked.
"Fresh air," Bruce replied.
Minato sat beside him. "Do you know me?"
"Should I?" Bruce said without looking back.
"I am your uncle, Bruce."
"I know," Bruce answered. Minato paused, stunned. "And how did you manage that?"
"The emblem on your brooch," Bruce said. "But I don't know anyone with a bad eye."
Minato smiled. "This is nothing but a small scratch."
"It wasn't a weapon, but a specialized strike—pure focus, pure malice. He crushed the globe of your eye against the bone of the socket."
"The trauma was so massive, your eye couldn't contain the pressure. It ruptured internally, like a balloon bursting. No saving it. No repair possible. The doctors removed the remnants and cleaned the socket… Traumatic Enucleation."
Minato and Dr. Haruto were left speechless; the deduction was flawless. But Minato asked, "How did you know the person was male?" Bruce replied, "I don't know who did it, but the force required—weight, size of the hands—was all taken into consideration."
Dr. Haruto held his head. "Man, you kids are giving me a serious headache today. First you wake up from a deep coma after eight years, and now you're speaking like a professor."
Minato adjusted his coat. "So what now?"
Bruce shrugged. "I don't know. My head's a mess. I think I'll just find my way home—Grandpa would be waiting. He'd know what to do."
"If you were smart enough to decode all that right now, shouldn't you have realized that if Grandpa isn't here, the odds of him being at home aren't very favorable?" Minato asked, lighting another cigarette.
Bruce sighed. "I'm not a smartass. I'm just a chill guy with good eyesight."
Minato puffed smoke. "I know someone like that. Guess what? He's now blind." Bruce looked him in the eye. "What are you insinuating?"
"The world is a cruel place and not safe even for the strong ones like your grandpa, so I want to take you under my wing," Minato said.
Bruce sighed and looked at him.
"Guess I can take that as a yes," Minato said, turning to leave.
"Do I have another choice?" Bruce asked. Minato laughed out loud—something he rarely did—and said, "Of course not."
They left the hospital after waving goodbye to Dr. Saeki, climbed into Minato's sleek black car, and drove off into the fading daylight.
Throughout the long journey, Bruce's mind churned with memories of Grandpa and Horikita—their laughter, the training, the promises. He stared out the window as the scenery blurred into a haze.
He sighed. "Where are we headed?"
Minato kept his eyes on the road, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You'll know once we're there."
Bruce sighed again, deeper this time, and silence settled between them.
After hours of winding roads, the car slowed. They pulled up before an enormous mountain that pierced the sky, its peak lost in a sea of clouds. At a glance, it felt alive—ancient, vast, unyielding.
Bruce stepped out, jaw dropping.
It was home. Hanma Mountain.
Here was where everything had shattered overnight—his small family torn away in a single brutal night. Nostalgia hit him like a wave, sweet and bitter, flooding his chest with warmth and ache.
The mountain was immense: 60 km wide, peak soaring to 3,200 m, foothill "dungeon belt" stretching 5–10 km, base circumference 188.5 km, total area roughly 2,827 km². It wasn't just a mountain—it was practically a small kingdom carved from stone and forest.
Minato stood beside him, hands in pockets. "How long are you going to stand there with your mouth open?"
Bruce wasn't comfortable with the surprise. The mountain held good memories… and the worst ones. The weight finally pressed the question out.
"Where exactly are Grandpa and Horikita?"
Minato didn't answer right away. Instead, he placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder and guided him toward the foot of the mountain.
Hidden among ancient trees and moss-covered rocks stood the gateway—a massive, rune-etched stone arch pulsing with faint, ethereal blue light. The mountain's nervous system: networked to dozens of major gateways and countless minor ones. All you had to do was speak your destination.
Minato dragged him forward. "Let's go."
The air shimmered. In the blink of an eye, the world folded—
—and they stood before a grand mansion.
As they approached the gates—which had been carelessly left wide open—bold golden letters gleamed: **Palace of Peace**. The words felt almost mocking in the heavy silence.
At the entrance, a poised maid in a pristine uniform waited, head slightly bowed.
"Minato-san, welcome back," she greeted, formal yet warm.
"Aaah… Thanks, Narberal," Minato replied casually, shrugging off his jacket.
Narberal's eyes shifted to Bruce, calm but curious.
"Minato-san… is that—"
"Yeah," Minato interrupted with a nod. "He's the last direct descendant of the Hanma family… Bruce Hanma."
Narberal's demeanor shifted instantly. She stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"Narberal pays her greetings to the young master."
Bruce, caught off guard, looked around in confusion.
"Young master? Who… me?"
"Yes," Narberal replied, unwavering.
"Huh?" Bruce tilted his head.
Minato sighed. "Don't worry about it."
"Oh… I see," Narberal said softly. "Minato-san, shall I prepare his room and summon his personal attendant to your office immediately?"
"As you wish."
Narberal turned and disappeared into the mansion, steps light and precise.
Bruce paused, memories surfacing like ghosts. "On a particular day, I asked Grandpa why the gates to this place were always open." His voice was quiet, almost reverent. "He said to me, 'Learn not to judge a book by its cover, as the gates you see open are closed off to most.' I always wondered what he meant by that, but since he wouldn't tell me anyway, I was intent on finding out. The day I did find out… it became my worst nightmare."
This time, Bruce stopped completely. He turned to face Minato, eyes hard. "I've asked a few times already. This is the last time." He looked Minato straight in the eye. "Who are you? And what happened to Grandpa and Horikita?"
Minato's lips curved into a slow smile. "My, I've smiled twice in one day already. That's a new record." He tugged off his white gloves one by one, deliberate. "And what if I refuse to answer?" His long coat followed, sliding to the ground in a whisper of fabric.
Bruce's fists clenched. "Then I'll punch the answers straight out of your mouth."
The air thickened, charged with heat and unspoken threats. Servants froze in the shadows, eyes wide.
Then a soft voice cut through like a blade.
"Bruce."
In that single moment of silence, a death blow connected—straight to his face. The world exploded in white, and Bruce was sent flying, crashing into darkness.
He woke to the scent of antiseptic and faint cherry blossoms.
Beside him sat a beauty. Jet-black hair framed a flawless face, her eyes striking purple that seemed to pierce straight through him. She was a bit shorter than he was now, yet she stood with perfect poise in a classic black-and-white maid outfit—no flaws, no hesitation.
Bruce's heart lurched. He jumped out of bed in a panic, only to tumble straight to the floor.
And then, of course, Minato walked in.
"Ooh, what do we have here?" Minato squatted beside him, smirking. "It seems someone decided to kiss the ground without me even needing to punch him."
Bruce scrambled back, cheeks burning. "Shut up, you cheater! You caught me off guard!"
Minato cupped his ear mockingly. "Huh? What's that? I can't hear you through all this whining."
"If you're so confident, let's go at it again!"
"Bold words from the guy who leaves one hospital only to end up in another."
The bickering escalated until servants rushed in to drag them apart like unruly children.
Then the door opened again.
She entered like a storm wrapped in silk. Long black hair cascaded down her back, threaded with thick strands of shimmering light purple. Her eyelashes were dark as night, but her eyes were a lighter, icy blue—stigma tattoos vivid and glowing faintly within the irises. Golden jewelry adorned her black-and-white maid outfit, turning the simple uniform into something regal, almost ceremonial. Her presence alone sucked the air from the room; no one would ever guess such elegance hid a crude, devastating sword style.
"Minato. Young Master Bruce," she said calmly, voice low and commanding. "I think that's enough for now."
In the next breath, they were both in Minato's office—a grand room filled with shelves of old books, a massive desk, and an air of history and authority.
The silence in Minato's office lingered like the mountain mist outside the windows. Minato tapped ash from his cigarette into a crystal tray, then met Bruce's eyes again.
"You've only just woken up, so it's alright if you have a few questions," he said, voice steady but softer. "But please—next time, don't go around with false accusations. Even I wish I knew where your grandpa is."
Bruce frowned, frustration creeping back. "But you still aren't making any sense. Grandpa, Horikita, and I left the palace a few days before he disappeared. Soon after, we met with someone. I thought that person would be you."
Minato leaned back, steepling his fingers. "Hmmm… is that so?" He exhaled slowly. "I have an idea of who the person might be, but it'll take some time to confirm. In the meantime, your personal attendant will take you to your room."
He nodded toward the door. It slid open silently, and the maid with jet-black hair and striking purple eyes stepped in—the one Bruce had woken up beside earlier. She bowed slightly, posture impeccable.
"This is Belita," Minato said. "She'll be looking after you from now on."
For the rest of the day, Belita guided Bruce through the sprawling Palace of Peace. Halls that once felt familiar now stretched longer, lined with new tapestries, glowing lanterns, and unfamiliar faces among the staff. He met cooks, gardeners, guards—each polite, but none the people he remembered from eight years ago. The mansion had grown, evolved, like a living thing that had waited for him to catch up.
By evening, Bruce collapsed onto the soft futon in his old-yet-new room, exhausted. Belita stood at a respectful distance, hands folded.
"Man… a lot really does change in eight years, doesn't it?" he muttered, staring at the ceiling. "The new buildings, the staff roll… I don't even know half the population."
Belita offered a small, understanding smile. "Time moves forward, Young Master. But some things remain."
Meanwhile, back in the office, Minato rose and walked to the wide window overlooking the darkening peaks. He exhaled a plume of smoke that curled against the glass.
The mountain kept its secrets, and the night grew deeper still.