The room felt quieter after Yato's words, though the air itself seemed heavier, almost viscous. Sunlight had climbed higher, but it failed to warm the faces around the table.
Ren's mother stared at her hands. Her fingers flexed and relaxed unconsciously, tracing patterns in the air as though she could still manipulate what had been told. Her voice came out small, trembling:
"So… all this time… the myths… the warnings… wasn't it just an exaggeration?"
"No," Yato said gently, his voice steady, yet firm enough to carry the gravity. "Every story you've ever heard about dark magicians is true… and yet it's incomplete. The danger lies not only in the magic, but in the world's inability to accept it. Fear, suppression, misunderstanding. They all feed the cycle."
Ren's father exhaled heavily, his shoulders sagging. "I… I never imagined…" His gaze fell to his son. "Our son… could carry something so… immense."
Ren remained silent, listening. He had understood part of this instinctively and had felt the shadows within him for as long as he could remember. Yet hearing it narrated, in precise and deliberate words, made it concrete, terrifyingly real.
Mira leaned forward, her eyes bright, almost accusatory. "Then… that's why the world hunts him. Why did they see him as a threat before even knowing him?"
Watson's arms crossed tightly. "It's not just about fear of destruction," he muttered. "It's about control. The moment anyone realizes darkness can be wielded responsibly, it challenges everything."
Yato inclined his head. "Exactly. Darkness cannot be contained in libraries, cannot be stabilized in circuits, cannot be licensed like other forms of magic. It bends rules or breaks them entirely. The world fears that unpredictability."
The parents exchanged a look, a mix of awe and dread. Their son, the boy they raised in a modest home in Zone Five, had the potential to become the very thing nations feared.
Ren's father finally spoke, his voice firm despite the trembling beneath it. "Then… what must we do? How can we keep him safe?"
Yato's gaze swept the room, softening just slightly. "For now, you do nothing but understand. Teach him care, teach him discipline, and most of all, teach him that his power is not a curse… it is responsibility. And also entrust him to us."
Ren's mother swallowed hard. "I… I suppose that is all any parent can do."
The silence that followed was quieter than before, filled with thoughts too complex for words.
★★★
The Afternoon
By noon, the family shifted to small, ordinary motions, preparing lunch, setting the table, pouring tea. The mundane rhythm of home was a fragile shield against the enormity of what they had just learned.
Ren's mother insisted that Yato stay for the meal. "You've spent all morning revealing… things none of us could have imagined. You need to eat."
Yato paused, eyes flicking to the others. Professional restraint warred with the warmth of hospitality. Finally, he nodded. "Very well. I will join you."
Before they could move to the table, Yato stood and stepped outside briefly. He waved his hand, summoning a crystal communicator. A soft hum answered almost immediately.
"Stand down for now," he said, his voice low. "Join us inside. All of you."
A subtle shimmer appeared along the driveway. One of his team members had been stationed there since morning, observing, ready. At Yato's word, they relaxed, dematerializing the wards that had surrounded them.
He returned inside, calm and composed, the presence of control contrasting sharply with the lingering unease in the household.
Lunch was simple, nourishing, a counterpoint to the weight of history. Ren helped his mother arrange plates; Watson served tea. Mira lingered near the windows, still absorbing fragments of Yato's story. Even Yato, composed as ever, allowed himself a moment to observe them, to see the threads of understanding and fear weaving silently through the family.
For a few precious moments, the room felt normal. Laughter did not emerge, but quiet conversation did. The sun illuminated the small hall, painting the furniture and the faces of the family in gold. Outside, the city of Zone Five pulsed softly, unaware of the shadows that history had stitched into its future.
Yet even in this ordinary calm, a quiet tension lingered. Evening would come. With it, the summons from the President. And with that summons, decisions would no longer remain within the safety of walls and food.
But for now, for a single afternoon, they were just a family.
Lunch lingered longer than it should have. Not because of the food. It was modest, simple home cooking but because no one wanted to break the fragile quiet it had built.
Ren ate slowly, each bite a reminder that for a little while, things could still feel normal. He glanced occasionally at his parents, at Mira and Watson, then at Yato, who sat with the same composed discipline as though this were another meeting rather than a family's dining table.
When the plates were cleared, the conversation returned, inevitably to what lay ahead.
Ren's father leaned forward, elbows resting against the wood. "So… when evening comes, they'll come for him. You're certain?"
Yato nodded once. "The President's right hand informed me directly. They will send transport. It will not be delayed."
His mother's voice wavered. "And what then? What will they do to him?"
Yato's gaze settled on her. Not unkind, but unflinching. "They will not harm him. At least, not openly. The President wishes to see him, to question him, perhaps to measure him. What happens after depends on what they decide. But you must understand this: to the world, Ren is already… unusual."
The word hung in the air. Too soft to be threatening, too sharp to be comforting.
Watson broke the tension, his tone edged. "So they want to probe him. Test how much of a threat he could be."
"Or how much of an asset," Mira added, frowning.
Ren shifted uncomfortably. His hands curled on his lap. "Do I even get a choice in this?"
Yato turned toward him slowly. For the first time that day, his stern composure cracked just slightly, showing the shadow of regret. "In a perfect world, yes. In this world… not yet."
The words struck deeper than any blow. Ren looked down, swallowing hard. He had known it, deep down, but hearing it spoken aloud confirmed it. He wasn't free.
His mother reached for his arm, her grip tight as if she could anchor him with sheer will. "Then we'll go with him," she said. "Wherever they take him, we will be there."
Yato's eyes softened, but his answer was measured. "You may be allowed nearby, but understand. The President's estate has protocols. Not even family bypasses them easily."
A silence followed, broken only by the ticking clock on the wall.
Mira finally spoke, her voice low, almost hesitant. "Then… what do we do now?"
Yato leaned back slightly, folding his arms. "Now… we wait. And we prepare. Not with spells, not with weapons—those will avail you little in such halls but with resolve. The evening will test more than just Ren's strength. It will test your steadiness."
Watson gave a short, bitter laugh. "Resolve. Easy to say when you're not the one being summoned."
Yato didn't flinch. His gaze swept the table, calm and immovable. "I have been summoned before. More times than I wish. Resolve is the only thing that ever walks you back through those doors."
The weight of his words silenced them again.