Year 1051 A.N.
May 20th...
...
We rose at dawn each day. We ran through the mountains, trained in the river, in the mist, even with our eyes blindfolded.
We lived in constant motion, on alert, hidden in the depths of a forest that had become our home and refuge.
The children had changed. They were no longer the same trembling, frightened bodies I had met in that hidden cabin. Each had formed their own routines. Takeshi was in charge of gathering fruit, edible bark, and mushrooms.
He could distinguish poisonous from edible better than anyone. Sana handled the water—she searched for clean sources, monitored purification with charcoal, and boiled every drop. Reijiro and Daiki, the oldest, had become experts in hunting small animals and setting up rudimentary traps. Haru, though the weakest, helped prepare food and kept the group's spirits up with stories she made up by the fire.
We lived in hiding. Each night we covered our tracks, and each morning we shifted our position slightly. We had hideouts, routes marked only by us, escape points. I taught the children to read the wind, to observe birds, to understand when a predator—be it beast or man—was near.
But I knew it wouldn't last forever.
I began to assess our resources. The forest was generous, but not infinite. We had already depleted several gathering points. Prey was becoming increasingly scarce. The damp soil and cold seeped into our makeshift shelters.
That's when I noticed something troubling: Haru was coughing. Not a strong, occasional cough—but a constant, low, persistent one. Her skin looked paler, her lips more chapped.
"Giotto-nii... I'm fine," she would say with a weak smile, but I could see the fever hiding behind her eyes.
The damp and cold were making her sick.
We couldn't go on like this.
One night, while we shared a warm broth beside a fire pit buried and covered to avoid smoke, Reijiro approached me in silence. His eyes shone with more than just the fire's reflection.
"I saw something, Giotto-san," he whispered. "Beyond the northern edge of the forest, when I went to set traps three days ago. I saw… a silhouette. Big. Really big. Like a house among the trees."
I turned to him, alert.
"Was it inhabited?"
"I don't know. I didn't get too close. But I smelled smoke. Old smoke. Like wood that burned long ago. I didn't see any lights. Just the shape."
I pondered his words for a long time. If a structure existed and was abandoned, it could be exactly what we were looking for. A safer base. A real shelter.
We made the decision at dawn. With the children carrying only the essentials, we headed north. We crossed the forest's edge through a gorge covered in underbrush. The terrain sloped downward, and the vegetation changed. It was no longer the dense forest we knew, but more open areas with abandoned rice paddies and spaced-out trees.
And then we saw it.
There, on a hill hidden behind cypress trees, stood an old wooden structure, blackened with age. One side of the roof had caved in, and the front pillars curved as if time had warped them.
Still, the design was clear: it was a noble house. Ancient. With architecture from the Yayoi period—or perhaps even Kofun. A wide hall, pillars carved with demonic faces, and thick sliding wooden doors, though chipped.
The children stared in awe. Haru staggered, and I caught her arm before she fell.
"Inside. Quickly," I ordered. We entered.
The inside smelled of dampness, dust, and memories. The mats were rotted, but the structure remained strong. In the main hall there were remains of pottery, a rusted brazier, and an abandoned family altar. Everything indicated the house had been looted, then occupied by bandits, and finally left to decay.
Even so, it was perfect.
We spent the rest of the day cleaning. We opened broken windows to let light in, drove out rats, patched leaks with dry bark and mud, and marked out rooms. Haru was placed next to the brazier, now covered with hot stones and dry furs.
That night, we slept under a roof for the first time in months.
And for the first time in a long while, I felt hope.
That old house would be our base.
Our stronghold.
Our first step toward something greater.
---
The trees began to part, as if an ancient forgotten path opened before them. Reijiro led the way, eyes sharp, body tense, while the others followed in close formation. Haru walked near Giotto, wrapped in an improvised fur blanket; her pale face was a reminder of the urgency.
"Are you sure this is the way?" Takeshi asked quietly, eyeing the twisted trunks and moss that covered everything like a disease.
"I swear I saw a huge shadow among the trees. It wasn't a bear," Reijiro replied firmly. "It was something... man-made."
The morning mist began to lift. Sana, the quietest of the group, observed the broken branches on the ground.
"There are tracks," she murmured.
"Multiple people."
Giotto crouched to examine them. She was right. Recent prints—large, heavy steps. The direction matched their path. He stood and activated his Vongola instinct. The flames inside him didn't burn, but they vibrated faintly.
---
When they reached the clearing, they saw it.
A structure half-hidden by vegetation.
Blackened wood, sloped roofs in ancient style, low stone walls, and thick beams covered in fungus. Still, the architecture was clear: a rural mansion from ancient times, perhaps once belonging to an important family.
The main roof resembled ceremonial Yayoi shrines, with later modifications suggesting repeated occupations.
"It's huge..." Daiki whispered in awe.
"And still standing. Almost whole," added Takeshi.
But they were not alone.
A group of armed figures—filthy, in rags, with empty eyes—moved inside. Bandits. Exiles. Perhaps former soldiers turned human carrion. Giotto studied them calmly from behind a rock.
There were at least seven. Some had improvised spears, others rusted swords. One, bulkier, seemed to be the leader. They moved with confidence, unwatched.
"This place... could be ours," Giotto whispered in a low, determined tone. "But first, we must take it."
Reijiro clenched his fists, impatient.
"Should we take them out?"
"No. We move like shadows. If stealth fails, we fight. But I won't risk Haru or Sana."
Giotto rose slowly. Shadows of the past whispered to him. In his mind, he recalled the silent raids of his life as a Vongola. But now he had no rings. No active flames. Only these five children… and his wits.
---
He divided the group.
Takeshi and Daiki would flank the left side, where the structure looked weaker. Reijiro would take the right, skirting a small water canal leading to the back pond. Sana and Haru would remain hidden in the brush, watched by Giotto from afar.
They waited for the wind to blow. For the bandits to scatter inside the building.
Giotto moved first.
Silent as a shadow of ancient days, he slipped through an opening and ventured into the mansion's heart. Dust, old wood smell, footsteps echoing deep within. One man's breathing guided him. From the dark, Giotto emerged behind him, striking silently with the base of his palm to the neck. The body fell without a sound.
One by one, the shadows of the past fell.
Reijiro took one from the canal, submerged him and left him unconscious. Takeshi and Daiki threw stones to distract others, drawing them to the corners where Giotto intercepted them like a wolf.
But not all of them were fools.
The leader spotted them. He roared like a wild beast, drawing his rusted blade and shouting:
"Intruders! Filthy kids!" Giotto stepped forward without fear.
"This is no longer your refuge."
"And what are you going to do, boy? Hit me with words?"
He lunged powerfully, but Giotto evaded with a graceful spin. Teachings from the river, the forest, the silence… all flowed through his body. A blow to the gut. Another to the jaw. But the man was strong. He landed a punch that knocked Giotto against a broken wooden column.
Reijiro didn't wait. He jumped from a beam, landing both feet on the leader's shoulder. Daiki came from the other side with a sharpened branch.
The man finally fell, unconscious.
Hours later...
The mansion was theirs.
They spent hours securing the place. They sealed off entrances, dragged the bandits into the forest—bound and far from the shelter—and explored every corner. The building had several rooms, a main hall, underground storage, and even an interior well.
"I can't believe it…" said Takeshi, throwing himself onto a dusty futon.
"It's like a castle..."
"It's old, but solid," Giotto said, gazing at the sky from the outer balcony.
"It was built by hands that knew what they were doing."
Sana found an elevated room, most likely the master bedroom. Haru lay down there. Her skin was still cold, but she no longer trembled.
"This will save her," Giotto whispered, kneeling beside her.
"No more nights in the open. No more fever from the mud."
Reijiro appeared in the doorway.
"Giotto… what now?"
The young leader smiled sadly, yet with hope.
"Now we build something better."
That night, they lit a fire for the first time in weeks without fear of being seen.
They dined with what little they had, but in silence, knowing that this moment marked the beginning of something different.
Outside, the wind carried the echoes of a cruel world.
But inside, the mansion sheltered the birth of a legacy.
...
The next morning arrived with a faint sun, filtered through the dense forest leaves, but it was enough to bathe the old mansion in a gentle light. For the first time in weeks, the children woke without alarm, without cold, without the constant sound of the wind whistling through the trees.
Sana was the first to open her eyes and run toward the ramshackle kitchen. There was a moldy wooden pantry that, with some cleaning, could be useful again. Takeshi and Daiki were still asleep on the shared futon, and Reijiro was already outside, inspecting the perimeter.
Giotto was beside Haru.
The girl slept wrapped in a clean blanket, her breathing more stable than in recent days. Giotto placed a damp cloth on her forehead, silently grateful for the roof over their heads. His fingers brushed a thin lock of her reddish hair.
"Hold on just a little longer..." he whispered.
"This place is ours now."
During the day, they divided up the tasks.
Giotto led the decisions. He ordered the rooms to be cleaned one by one, the mold to be removed by fumigating with burning green branches, and the broken entrances to be sealed with boards salvaged from the storage shed. He even found a rudimentary bathtub with a stone-carved drainage system, connected to an ancient canal that led to the rear pond.
"This is impressive…" he murmured as he examined the underground channels. "They had hydraulic knowledge even here…"
Reijiro, always observant, was helping to clear the overgrown rear garden. There, Giotto found a small stone statue—an ancestral figure, perhaps a guardian spirit of the home. Covered in lichen, but still intact.
"A house with guardians…" said Reijiro, lifting it carefully.
"Yes," Giotto replied with a smile. "And now we're the ones who will protect it."
It was Daiki who discovered the entrance to the sealed basement.
There was a hollow space beneath the floor of the main hall, covered by a reinforced wooden trapdoor. Giotto broke the seal with his improvised knife. When they lifted the hatch, the air that emerged was cold, dry... ancient.
They descended with lit torches made from cloth soaked in animal oil.
The stone stairs led down to a wide chamber, with a low ceiling and rock walls.
There, among cobwebs and rotting barrels, they found a forgotten treasure.
Chests with engravings.
Shelves lined with unreadable scrolls.
Old swords, covered in rust but still intact.
And in the center, upon a ceremonial wooden pedestal, a rectangular box sealed with a traditional knot.
Giotto opened it slowly.
Inside was a lightweight armor of ancient style, with decorated bronze plates.
A facial mask bearing a carved symbol: three curved lines that resembled a swirling storm.
And beside it, a small jade box
The next day...
Reijiro trained with renewed fervor. He had taken the ancient sword from the basement and begun to rebuild his techniques. Giotto watched him from the rooftop. Haru, still recovering, smiled from the window. Sana swept the corridors with dedication.
Takeshi and Daiki were cooking something in the yard.
There was order. There was purpose.
There was a home.
Giotto descended the stairs and stopped in front of the ancient statue of the guardian spirit. He closed his eyes.
—Thank you for enduring. We will carry on what you left behind. Not as bandits, nor as orphans... but as heirs to a will.
While no one was watching, Giotto silently took out a small red seed from the system's storage space.
[ Storm Seed]
A special seed that allows the summoning of the Storm Guardian, "G".
Requirements:
It will only germinate during the most intense storm of the year. The seed will emit a glow when that moment arrives.
Giotto observed it for a few seconds in the palm of his hand. It burned with a faint inner heat, as if it contained a will eager to awaken.
He gently closed it in his fist.
"It's not time yet..."
The seed vanished back into the system, wrapped in a silent flash.
---