Three months later…
That afternoon, the sky was gray, heavy with clouds as if ready to burst into rain. After a long training session with Reina, Shun returned home, his body weary but his heart still burning with determination.
Yet, as he stepped inside, an unusual silence filled the house. There was no familiar cough, no warm voice of Thomas calling him to prepare dinner. Shun's heartbeat quickened, an uneasy dread creeping over him.
He rushed into the room. Thomas lay still on the bed, his expression calm, as if drifting in a deep, eternal sleep. Shun stumbled forward, trembling hands pressing against his nose, his chest… but there was no breath, no heartbeat.
In that moment, it felt as though all strength had been drained from him. His hands clutched the old man's cold fingers tightly, his throat tightening with grief.
"Grandpa… Grandpa, please wake up… I'm still here… I haven't even shown you yet…" — his voice broke, shattering into sobs.
For over fourteen years, Shun had not shed a tear — not when his friends fell, not even in the face of loss. But now, at this moment, the first tears burst forth, streaming uncontrollably.
Outside, the evening wind howled through the cracks, and the sky finally wept with rain. Inside the small room, a fourteen-year-old boy clung to his grandfather's lifeless hand, crying like a lost child in a vast, unforgiving world.
A hero was being forged… but before he could rise tall, he first had to learn to carry the weight of his greatest loss.
Shun spent the night at his desk, the dim oil lamp flickering as his trembling hands penned letters to Willin and Holland. He wrote of their grandfather's passing — peaceful yet unbearably painful — and closed with a plea: "Come home, so we may bid him farewell together."
That evening, Shun ate only a few bites of cold rice. He felt no hunger, no taste. His heart was heavy, yet his mind was clear: he had to prepare the funeral.
At dawn the next day, when mist still clung to the village, Thomas's funeral was held. Only two figures stood there — Shun and Reina. No drums, no crowd, only incense smoke curling into the gray sky, and the quiet fields bearing witness to a life lived in silence and sacrifice.
This time, Shun did not cry. The deaths of Kiba, and now of Thomas, had hardened him. His grief no longer poured out as tears — instead, it settled deep within, shaping him into someone stronger. He knew that if he let sorrow rule him, he would never stand tall on the path of a Hero.
After cleaning and tending to the now lonelier house, Shun sat quietly on the porch, waiting.
Three days later.
Through the heavy air of mourning, the sound of hooves echoed from afar, slow but steady. A dust-covered carriage rolled into view. Willin and Holland had returned. The atmosphere grew heavy, as if even the sky itself fell silent to welcome them home.
That afternoon, after tidying up the house, Willin and Holland quietly walked with Shun to the backyard, where Thomas's grave rested beneath the fresh earth. The incense still smoldered, its smoke curling into the fading sky.
Both brothers knelt down, bowing deeply. Their gesture was not only farewell, but also gratitude — to honor the man who had raised them like a second father. Willin's voice trembled softly:
— "Grandfather… without you, we would not be here today…"
The smoke drifted upward, the wind brushed past them, carrying with it a silence heavy with meaning.
After a long pause, Holland spoke, his voice steady but filled with yearning.
— "Shun, Willin… let me tell you about my journey."
He recalled the day he left for the city of Gaffing Light. There, amidst the bustling capital, he had to study and work tirelessly just to survive. But in that struggle, he met someone who would change his life — Araki Amura, a young man with the same poverty-stricken background, yet burning with a dream: to end the war ravaging his homeland.
They became sworn brothers, sharing meager meals, enduring harsh training, and finding rare moments of joy together. Their bond was carved deep, unshakable.
But the day of parting came. On the very day Holland graduated from Hard-Wirrt Academy, Araki left. Their final handshake carried no promises, only a silent vow: "We will meet again."
Araki boarded a ship to travel the world, seeking knowledge and strength to save his homeland. Holland, meanwhile, chose a different road — returning to the village, to kneel before his grandfather's grave, to reunite with his brothers, and to share his story.
Holland's eyes shone with resolve.
— "I want the three of us to join my guild — Lander Ghost. Together, we'll travel the world, grow stronger, and search for my lost brother-in-arms. Araki taught me something important: no one can carry everything alone. That's why I need both of you. Together, we will write our own story."
The wind stirred the air around the grave, as though carrying with it Thomas's blessing.
When Holland finished speaking, silence fell over them. The wind rustled through the grass around Thomas's grave, like a somber song.
Shun lifted his head, his fourteen-year-old face still holding a trace of innocence, yet his eyes burned with a flickering flame. His heart pounded wildly in his chest.
— "To go… with you… across the world?" he whispered, clenching his fists.
Inside him, the vision was both dazzling and terrifying. Dazzling, because it was his dream: to become a Hero, to see distant lands. Terrifying, because he knew that once he set foot on this path, there would be no turning back. He thought of Thomas, of the grave before him, and silently told himself: "If Grandfather were here, he'd want me to move forward…"
While Shun wrestled with his feelings, Willin remained silent. He stood tall, his eyes fixed on the gravestone, his expression calm, yet his trembling hand betrayed his emotion. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice steady but resolute:
— "Holland, I understand. You want us not to be alone anymore. Grandfather is gone… Staying here means nothing but emptiness. If the three of us walk together… even if the road leads into the abyss, I will still step forward."
He turned to Shun, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, his gaze unwavering.
— "You're still young, but your heart is strong. If you choose to go, I'll be there to protect you. And if you're afraid, I'll be there to pull you back on your feet."
Shun looked from Willin to Holland, a warmth rising in his chest. He nodded slowly, his voice trembling yet filled with determination:
— "I'll go. I want to stand beside you both… and become someone Grandfather would be proud of."
In that somber afternoon, before the smoke of incense had fully faded, the three brothers clasped their hands together. And in their eyes, a new path had opened — a path of blood, sweat, tears… and dreams.
The day he graduated from the village Training School, Shun knew his path was calling. Before leaving, he went to see Reina — his closest friend, and in his heart, someone he cherished dearly, second only to his brothers and grandfather.
They sat together under the old tree near her home. Shun glanced at her familiar face, his heartbeat quick but his voice steady.
— "Reina… Tomorrow I'll leave the village, to follow my brothers. I don't know when I'll return… Maybe it will be a long journey, or perhaps… I'll never come back."
Reina remained silent, her hands gripping her sleeve tightly. Shun drew a deep breath, his words trembling yet sincere:
— "If the day comes that I can return… I'll find you. And… I'll marry you."
Her eyes widened in shock, caught between surprise and emotion. But instead of refusing, she smiled faintly, her gaze unwavering.
— "Then survive. Come back alive. I'll be waiting."
From her sleeve, she pulled out a small necklace. Inside was a faded photo of herself as a little girl. She placed it into Shun's hand.
— "Keep it close. If I'm ever in danger, the photo will ignite. When that happens… you must come, and save me."
Shun clutched the necklace tightly, his chest tightening with warmth and sorrow. Without another word, he pulled Reina into his arms. She embraced him back, their hug filled with both comfort and a quiet desperation, as though trying to hold onto this fleeting moment forever.
— "Goodbye, Reina…"
— "Go, Shun… And come back."
That night, Shun returned home and quietly packed his belongings. In the silence of his room, the necklace clinked softly with every movement. He knew he was about to leave this place for a long time… but in his heart, he carried a promise he could never forget.
The next morning.
The sky was still veiled in mist, the first rays of dawn breaking through the trees, casting golden light on the ground. In the small courtyard, Shun donned the steel armor forged especially for him by the village blacksmith. The cold metal hugged his body firmly, fitting the frame he had forged through endless training. At his side gleamed a long sword — a perfect match for his fighting style.
Willin stood nearby, a massive bow slung across his back, the quiver heavy with sharp iron-tipped arrows. His gaze was steady, sharp, yet tinged with quiet pride.
And Holland… wore only a simple cloak, carrying no weapon at all. When Shun and Willin questioned him, he only smiled lightly, calm and enigmatic:
— "In time, you'll understand."
As the dawn fully broke, the three brothers walked together toward the village gate. Shun paused for a moment, inhaling deeply — the scent of home, both familiar and fleeting, filled his chest. Each step forward carried the weight of memories and promises.
They had barely taken two steps when the sound of hurried footsteps echoed behind them. Shun turned — it was Reina.
She ran toward them, breathless, her simple dress fluttering in the morning breeze, her eyes shimmering with words unspoken.
Shun froze, then broke into a radiant smile. He raised his hand high, waving as his voice rang clear in the crisp morning air:
— "Goodbye, Reina!"
Reina stopped at the gate, her hand clutching at her sleeve, unable to say a word. She only smiled faintly, her gaze locked on the three brothers as their figures slowly disappeared down the long road ahead.
A new journey had begun.