[Eralos Province – Supreme Intelligence Headquarters]
Inside a glass, anti-surveillance chamber lit only by massive digital screens, three of Makia's intelligence officers sat around a circular data-table. At its center hovered a faint hologram of a teenage boy's face—the one known as Steve. His data filled the screen around him… but it was incomplete. Too incomplete. Suspiciously so.
Officer 1 (nervously): "This boy… we have no birth record, no genetic imprint, no clear origin."
Officer 2 (tapping at her datapad): "But we did find an old surveillance clip from two years ago. Source: a rusted street camera in Darkova's marketplace. We managed to restore the audio."
The screen flickered—showing a grainy image of Steve in his mid-teens, shouting at an older man in a dark alley.
Steve's voice, from the recording: "I told you never to say the name Kuroishi Kazuma in front of me!!"
The room fell silent.
Officer 3 (with a cold smile): "Kuroishi… that name is not unknown to us."
Officer 1 (typing quickly into an old database): "The Kuroishi family… their origin is in Faweila Province. Once known for mastery of hand-to-hand combat and deception. But they vanished twenty years ago, without a trace."
Officer 2 (frowning with focus): "Not vanished… transformed. We recently cracked an intelligence cipher from the Valoria Shadows organization. It revealed the family reinvented itself under a new cover—as sleeper spies."
Officer 3 (deep, grim voice): "And their goal? To topple Makia, Cirrus, and every standing order. To build a third system—neither capitalist, nor authoritarian… but a Rule of Shadows."
Officer 1 (clenching his fist): "Kuroishi Kenji… Steve's father. His name appears repeatedly in the organization's core files. Fighter. Strategist. Expert in mental infiltration and covert ops. He trained the first generation of the central Shadow cell."
Officer 2: "And his son… is the cipher. The unknown variable planted inside Teracola itself. He left after betraying her… and now moves freely near our borders."
Officer 3 (pointing a finger at the hologram of Steve): "Kuroishi Kazuma… he is no longer 'Steve.' He's the heir of the family we've tried to silence for decades."
The screen updated automatically, the profile changing:
File No. 401-S
• True Name: Kuroishi Kazuma
• Lineage: Son of Supreme Spy Kuroishi Kenji
• Affiliation: Valoria Shadows Organization
• Status: Wanted alive for interrogation – Threat Classification: B+
• Note: Execution prohibited without Makia's direct authorization.
Officer 1 (uneasily): "The game of shadows… has already begun."
⸻
[Zetara Outskirts – Slopes of Mount Sairo]
The sky had begun to ease its wrath. The winds calmed slightly, though the mountain was still wrapped in a heavy gray shroud of fog. The group walked in silence along a narrow trail, struggling to keep balance over slick stones. Nyoro, walking beside Steve, kept stealing side glances at him for several minutes—until he finally spoke.
Nyoro (quietly): "You know… since I've met you, I don't think I've heard a single thing about your life."
Steve didn't answer at first. He just kept walking, eyes fixed ahead.
Nyoro (lightly, teasing): "We're outcasts, hunted, we've lived through so much together… and yet, I know nothing about you but your name, and that cold voice of yours."
Steve (low, without turning): "Maybe… that's all you need to know."
Nyoro stopped for a beat, then gave a small smile.
Nyoro: "Hah… I expected that. But you know? It's not that you don't talk—it feels more like… you're afraid of being recognized."
Steve finally stopped, turning toward him slowly. His eyes carried something Nyoro had never seen before—a mixture of caution and regret.
Steve (softly): "Because some things, Nyoro… once known, can't be undone."
Nyoro (half-joking): "Like… what, that you're in disguise? An exiled prince? Or maybe… the son of a dangerous spy?"
Steve didn't react. He simply turned back to the path, leaving only one quiet line.
Steve: "Maybe I was all of that… or none of it."
Silence stretched between them until they resumed walking.
Nyoro (hands behind his head, smirking faintly): "Hah… that's more than I've gotten out of you in months. I'll call it a victory."
Steve (with the faintest smile): "Don't get used to it."
⸻
[Flashback – 9 Years Ago – A Hidden District, Faweila Capital]
In a neighborhood cut off from anything resembling ordinary life, the first child of the Kuroishi family was born: Kazuma.
The place was a semi-secret compound, home to an entire bloodline of spies. A family whose name only appeared in reports of betrayal and political upheaval: the Kuroishi.
Kazuma's father, Kuroishi Kenji, was a man who never mistimed, never relaxed in training, never forgave in decisions. Tall, with the same blue eyes as his son and hair black as midnight, he wore the very same glasses his boy would later wear—like he had birthed a smaller copy of himself to one day take his place.
And yet, beneath that unyielding stone exterior… he carried something hidden deep inside. A love he never truly knew how to express.
He was precise, practical, obsessed with efficiency. And yet, he would pat Kazuma on the head whenever he survived a brutal training… or leave him a short note at the door before departing on missions that lasted days:
"You are the eldest. Protect them as if you were me."
Steve—or Kazuma, back then—was only eight years old. Still, he had grown used to waking his younger siblings, preparing them simple soup, cleaning the house, and then wheeling his mother to the chair by the only window… even though she could see nothing but the blank wall across from it.
His mother was frail, sickly, her voice always weak. She rarely spoke. And in his father's absence, Kazuma had to be the father, the brother, the guard, and the cook. He had to be strong—not just for his family, but because in the Kuroishi bloodline, weakness was forbidden.
Nights were long. Kazuma would fall asleep with half his eyes still open, holding his little brother in his arms, waiting for the door to knock at any moment—for Kenji to return, covered in blood, in ashes, or with dire news. And every time he came back, Kenji's words were short. His gaze, sharp.
One night, nearing midnight, the family's secret knock echoed at the door—three light raps, then one heavy. No one knew it but the Kuroishi. Kazuma, still drowsy, rushed to open. He froze.
His father, Kuroishi Kenji, stood barely holding himself together. His black shirt ripped at the shoulder, his left arm wrapped hastily in bloody bandages. Drops of crimson trailed from his mouth. His right eye swollen, his glasses tilted.
Kazuma (trembling): "Father… are you—are you okay?!"
Kenji (calm, as always): "I'm standing, aren't I? Then don't ask stupid questions."
He walked in slowly, threw his blood-stained coat onto a chair, then sat without a word. Kazuma watched him unpack a small kit and begin treating his wounds as if it were a routine chore.
Kazuma: "Who did this to you?"
Kenji (looking up calmly): "Someone not ready to die… but he did."
Kazuma (low voice): "Will you always stay like this? Bleeding, pretending you don't feel anything?"
Kenji (flat, cold): "When you become a spy, Kazuma, pain is just… data. You process it. You don't feel it."
Kazuma crept closer and sat on the floor in front of him, staring at the bandages around his father's chest.
Kazuma: "I don't want to become like that…"
Kenji (staring long, then sighing): "But you were born to be. You are not an ordinary child. You are Kuroishi. You inherit everything… including the blood you see on this wound."
He paused, then placed his hand roughly—but not without warmth—on Kazuma's head.
Kenji: "You are the eldest. If I fall, the family does not fall. That means you must be stronger… smarter… faster."
Kazuma (fighting back tears): "But I don't understand… why do we live this way? Why must we be spies?"
Kenji (his eyes sharp as knives): "Because someone has to do what others never will. We do not rule the world… we cut down the ones who think they are gods in it."
He grew quiet, his voice dropping into steel.
Kenji: "The day will come… when you're alone, forced to make a decision that changes everything. And when it comes—do not hesitate. Even if you are bleeding."
Kenji stood, walking toward his room, ignoring the blood dripping on the floorboards. Kazuma remained there, staring at the ground, whispering to himself:
Kazuma (softly): "But I only wanted… to be your son. Not your successor."
He looked toward the door that had just closed. For the first time, he realized: this house, this name, this role—they weren't choices. They were obligations carved into him before he was born.
⸻
[Days after Kenji's injury – Kuroishi Family Training Yard]
The cold wind bit at young Kazuma's face as he stood barefoot in the center of the family's training grounds. His white gi was stained with dirt and scratches. Before him stood his father, watching with lethal focus. It was past ten at night… but in this house, training had no schedule.
Kenji (sharp): "Stance Four… now!"
Kazuma hesitated for a second before moving into position. But his focus wavered—his eyes kept drifting toward the darkened window of his mother's room. She lay inside, pale as ever.
Kenji (snarling): "Kazuma!"
Kazuma (voice shaking): "Father… mother's in pain… please, let me go to her. Just tonight… I beg you."
Kenji stepped forward slowly, staring into his son's tear-glossed eyes. His lips trembled, holding back a sob.
Kenji (quiet but sharp): "She has a nurse with her. Did you forget?"
Kazuma (dropping his head): "But she asked for me… I'm her son, not the nurse."
Tears spilled, one, then another. Before he broke down fully, Kenji roared, shaking the very walls:
Kenji (furious): "Kazuma!!! Crying is for the weak! A man does not abandon his post in battle to run to those he loves… because their protection begins here!"
He stomped the ground. Kazuma's body jolted, silence fell.
Kenji (cold, stern): "You are not an ordinary son. You are Kuroishi. Your whole life is training. Your tears will not save your mother… but your strength might, one day."
Kazuma's heart cracked, but he wiped his tears with his sleeve. He stood back into stance, clenching his teeth to choke the scream inside him.
Kenji (calm, commanding): "Begin the kata again. From the start."
Kazuma (broken voice, obedient): "Yes… father."
That night, Kazuma stopped being the boy who cried for his mother. He began turning into what his father demanded: a silent shadow, a blade without mercy.
⸻
[Two Years Ago – Faweila Private Hospital]
Night fell over the capital. Inside Faweila's private hospital, a fifteen-year-old Kazuma stood in black mission gear, a small pack slung over his shoulder. His face was sharper, colder than ever. Behind him, his younger brother sat silently by the ICU doors—where their mother had just been taken minutes ago.
Kazuma (voice steady): "Mother's condition is critical. The doctor said the next few hours… are vital."
Kenji (without even looking at him): "I know."
Kazuma (voice tight, angry): "If you know… then why this mission now?! Why not send someone else?! I… I'm her son."
Kenji turned toward him slowly, his words cutting.
Kenji (cold, calm): "Because no one else can infiltrate Darkova unnoticed. Teracola doesn't trust anyone. But orphaned teenagers? They are the perfect key."
Kazuma (gritting his teeth): "And mother? Does she mean nothing to you?!"
Kenji stepped closer, placed a hand on his shoulder, pressing firmly—
Kazuma (with restrained anger):
"If you know… then why this mission now?! Why not send someone else? I… I'm her son."
Kenji (turning to him, voice cold and sharp):
"Because no one but you can infiltrate Darkova undetected. Teracola doesn't trust anyone. But orphaned teenagers? They are the perfect key."
Kazuma (gritting his teeth):
"And does my mother mean nothing to you?"
Kenji stepped toward him slowly, placed his hand on Kazuma's shoulder, and pressed slightly.
Kenji (low voice):
"Your mother knew this day would come. I didn't marry her to build an ordinary family… but to build the next generation of the Kuroishi."
Kazuma (eyes tightening in pain):
"Even at the cost of her last farewell?"
Kenji:
"If you die on this mission, she won't forgive me. But if you stay, and you fail… you won't forgive yourself."
He pulled a small data card from his pocket and handed it to him.
Kenji:
"Forged ID. Destination: Darkova. You'll be registered as an orphan in Teracola's records. Watch them. Note every detail over the next two years."
Kazuma was silent for a moment. His hand trembled slightly as he took the card, then he lifted his eyes to his father's face.
Kazuma (whispering):
"And if she dies?"
Kenji (after a pause):
"Don't bury her… make her the reason you keep going."
Kazuma said nothing. He turned his back and began walking toward the exit. His chest was tight, each step dragging him a thousand miles farther from what was left of his heart. He couldn't even say goodbye to his mother…
⸻
Two days later, in a dark alley near a cracked stone wall in Darkova, Steve walked slowly. His clothes were torn, hair matted with dirt, a small sack on his back—looking every bit the lost vagabond. He had arrived only the night before. His mission had just begun: infiltrate Darkova, get close to Teracola, blend into the streets.
As he trudged through mud and stagnant water, he stopped suddenly. Beneath his ragged shirt, his hidden device vibrated. It wasn't even palm-sized, but it carried secrets heavy enough to topple nations. Glancing around, he slipped into a narrow side passage, sat against the wall, and unlocked the device with his iris.
One notification.
K-21: Update – Kuroishi Faria – cardiac arrest at 12:47 AM.
He read it once. Then again. His face stayed blank. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to the sky. Rain began to pour down, masking the tears that refused to fall. His chest clenched painfully… but he remembered his father's words, etched deep into him since childhood:
"Men don't show tears… because eyes can betray what must never be spoken."
He closed the device, placed it back, then drew his knees to his chest and rested his head against them. He sat there like a true vagrant. The pain inside, however, was no disguise. He spoke nothing, did nothing… just waited for the moment to move. As if nothing had happened.
⸻
[Faweila Central Cemetery – The Day After Faria's Death]
Fog veiled the cemetery. Three children huddled around a small grave carved with their mother's name: Kuroishi Faria.
Younger brother (sniffling, wiping tears):
"Mom… why did you leave so soon?"
Sister (sobbing, placing white flowers):
"You promised you'd get better… you fought so hard…"
Their heads bent in grief. Behind them stood a tall man, dressed in immaculate black, his body like steel. Kenji. Their father. He didn't move, didn't weep. His gaze fixed on the grave with cold stillness.
He stepped forward quietly, crouched, and placed a single white lotus on the grave—adjusting it carefully.
Middle brother (angry, broken):
"Father… why don't you cry? Why don't you say anything?! Mother is dead!"
Kenji's cold eyes lingered on them. For a moment, it seemed he wouldn't answer. Then, unexpectedly, he stepped closer, knelt to their level, and wrapped his arms around all three at once.
The embrace was heavy, rigid—not warm like their mother's—but built for protection. And they clung to it.
Kenji (barely audible, voice rough):
"I don't have time to cry… but I am still your father."
His shoulders trembled—not with sobs, but a silent quake in his chest. He held them tighter, as if afraid he'd break apart if he let go.
Kenji (voice dry, hiding a tremor):
"Things will be harder now… but they won't crush you, as long as you stay together."
The hug didn't last. Kenji soon stood, turned away, and left the cemetery without another word. The children remained—surrounded by flowers, tears, and the absence of warmth… left only with a father's cold arms still learning what it meant to protect.
⸻
[Zetara Outskirts – Mountain Path]
Steve walked silently behind the group after finishing his talk with Ann and Neuro. Suddenly, his inner pocket buzzed.
He pulled out the small black device, its surface pulsing with faint red light.
Steve (whispering):
"Not again…"
He pressed the button. A cascade of messages filled the screen:
• [Urgent Warning: Your location is compromised.]
• [Mission terminated – return immediately to Faweila.]
• [Steve, emergency protocol activated. Move now.]
• [Ignoring this is considered direct treason.]
He stared at the screen for seconds. His expression didn't change. No panic. No hesitation. Only a cold look of disgust.
Steve (softly):
"You're the ones finished… not me."
Clenching the device, he turned toward the cliff edge—and hurled it into the abyss.
He paused, then walked on without looking back. What he had thrown wasn't just a device. It was his past.
The echo of its fall faded into the canyon below. Steve pressed forward in silence. Fog thickened, wind tugging at his coat and hair. Yet he didn't feel cold. He felt something else—something clearer, stronger.
Steve (to himself, low):
"All my life, they told me what I had to be… a spy, a weapon, a shadow without will."
He stopped, lifting his eyes to where Kin, Akio, and Ann walked ahead.
Steve (whispering):
"But them… these kids—Akio, Kin, Ann… each one walks a path they chose themselves. No one wrote their story for them."
He clenched his fist, raised his chin.
Steve:
"As for me? … It's time to begin again. No one else will decide who I am."
And he walked forward. Slowly. But this time… toward a life he would write himself.
To be continued…