The Past Of the Fallen King...
"W-what was that thing?" Hakari's voice carried a confused edge, but beneath it was something sharper—unease. His gaze locked on Kage, searching for cracks in his composure. "Why was it calling you 'Master'?"
Kage's breath hitched. "I… I don't know. I can't remember." His eyes shifted to the ground, then back to Hakari. "And besides… why does it matter what it called me? It's clear he's our enemy."
The wind between them stilled for a heartbeat.
Hakari straightened, his shadow stretching long in the dim light. The cold in his voice could have frozen steel. "Why does it matter?" His tone rose, the weight of frustration breaking through. "Do you even hear yourself? I'm sick of this. We've been attacked again and again by strangers—shadows with no names—and you expect me to just accept it? No. I want to know. Then I'll decide for myself if he's my enemy or not."
Kage's shoulders trembled. "L-listen… I know what it's like to be surrounded by enemies." His voice faltered, each word dragged up from somewhere deep. "But remember—I am not your enemy."
Hakari's exhale was slow, his narrowed eyes fixed on Kage as though trying to see through his skin. "I truly hope so."
He stepped forward, the gravel crunching beneath his boots. "Kage, you have to tell me everything you know. Whatever it is. This isn't just about you and me—or even the world or Koha. All of that means nothing compared to our family. So please… understand. Tell me."
Kage's gaze drifted down, shadows hiding his expression. For a long moment, only the distant rustle of leaves filled the silence. Then—
"…All right."
When he lifted his head, his eyes were clouded with memory. "Before I ended up in that cage… I was born into a noble family. We had everything—wealth, respect, influence… everything except peace. My father was a terrifying man… but only to those who preyed on the weak."
His tone slowed, deepening, as if pulling the past into the present.
"One day, disguised as a commoner, he was walking through the marketplace. He saw a man forcing himself on a young woman in broad daylight. She was pale with shock, frozen like a statue, unable to even cry for help. My father approached, his steps unhurried, and asked, 'What's the problem here?'
The man sneered, 'What's it to you?'
My father said, 'I was curious.'
The man laughed, saliva glistening at the corner of his mouth. 'Curious, huh? Curious about what'll happen to her? Don't worry… I'll take care of her.' He grinned, eyes glittering with filth."
Kage's voice hardened to steel. "My father said, 'Oh… well then. Have a good day—if you can.' And he walked away."
Hakari blinked, disbelief shadowing his features. "He… left? Why? Didn't he—?"
Kage cut him off, his lips curling into something between pride and warning. "He did. That night, people found a severed head in the streets. The eyes had been gouged out. The tongue was cut from the back. Across the forehead was carved: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Beneath it… the name Rui Yamazaki."
He met Hakari's gaze without flinching. "For me, my father was the epitome of justice."
Hakari's voice was barely above a whisper. "Who… was your father? Who are you?"
— In Murakami The Mainland of Koha
Far from them, under the pale wash of moonlight, Akami trained alone. His movements carved through the night air with the sharpness of a blade. Each strike left an echo in the silent yard, the sound of leather and skin splitting under relentless impact. His knuckles were raw, bleeding freely, but he didn't slow.
The cold bit into him, but the fire inside was hotter than pain. Save them. My brother trusted me. The words pulsed with each heartbeat.
He shifted his stance, preparing to release a command—when two small, warm hands covered his eyes from behind.
"Guess who?" The voice was light, teasing, familiar.
The storm in him broke instantly. "…Heena. You could've gotten hurt."
She climbed onto his back with a giggle. "I knew you'd say that."
Heena slid down to face him, her eyes serious now. "Show me your hands."
Akami hesitated. "…There's nothing—"
"Your left hand," she demanded.
He turned it over. The skin was torn, smeared red.
Her voice shook. "I told you not to hurt yourself! You're a bad brother. You never listen."
He smiled faintly, kneeling so their eyes met. "Hey, hey… I promise I won't. But every day, I see people doing terrible things… and I can't just watch. So I train. To be stronger. To be braver. To be—"
"A hero."
"Yes." His voice softened. "But you already think I am, don't you?"
"You're my number one hero," she said with fierce conviction.
He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Since when did you get so mature?"
"Since I got my brothers."
Carrying her on his shoulders, he took her to her room—a warm fortress of stuffed animals and soft blankets.
"I don't want a war where my brothers get hurt," she murmured as her eyes grew heavy.
He paused, looking at her in the dim lamplight. "I promise."
As she drifted into sleep, she whispered something faint—Father… father…—and Akami sat beside her, brushing her hair gently, unsure whether it was a dream or a memory.
Flashback — Velvet Palace
In the great hall, nobles and commoners gathered.
A rich man sneered, "It was his fault. He stepped on my shoe. I only beat him so he'd know his place."
A commoner's voice cracked with rage. "You beat him to death! You killed him!"
The noble shrugged. "So what? He wasn't your family."
A guard's shout cut through the tension: "The holder of Code Z—!"
The air stilled. The man who united the three eastern kingdoms had arrived.
"Rui Yamazaki… the King of Velvet!"
The hall erupted in whispers.
The narrator's voice :
This was the man of justice, the hope of three nations, the warrior of dreams…
The fallen King of Velvet. The father of Kage and Heena,"Rui Yamazaki'