Part 7: I Have Never Failed More Than Once
The front door slid open with a soft drag, the evening chill following Akari and Renjiro past the genkan. They had signed off on the patrol logs, expected a quiet house, and planned to check on the boys.
Instead, they stepped into complete ruin.
The hall was torn apart. Sliding screens hung from splintered frames, paper panels ripped to shreds, and shattered clay from a decorative vase lay strewn across the blood-spotted wood. Heavy furniture had been shoved aside, paper scrolls scattered like dead leaves across the floor.
Neither of them spoke. Renjiro dropped into a low, defensive stance, his eyes scanning the destruction, while Akari's breath hitched in her throat. Without a word, they followed the trail of broken wood and crimson smears straight into Kaito's room.
Inside, the silence was suffocating.
Haruto and Kaito lay sprawled in the center of the wrecked tatami mats, barely two feet apart. Both were completely motionlessness, covered in drying blood, bruised, and unconscious.
Akari dropped to her knees, rushing straight to Haruto's side. Her trembling fingers pressed against his neck, relaxing only when she felt the faint, ragged thud of his pulse. Beside her, Renjiro knelt over Kaito, checking his airway and lifting his eyelid to check his pupils.
"He's breathing," Renjiro reported, his voice tight, stripped of its usual calm. "Pulse is steady, but weak."
"Haruto's breathing is shallow," Akari whispered, her hands already glowing with a faint, warm green light as she applied immediate medical jutsu to stabilize his chest. "His ribs... they've taken more damage."
There was no scolding. There were no outbursts or angry accusations against the unconscious boys. Looking at the torn screens, the shattered furniture, and the dark blood pooling on the mats, both guardians understood the devastating reality. This was not a childish fight. This was the violent, inevitable explosion of Ayame's death finally tearing through her brothers.
They transported both boys to the village hospital under emergency care.
The white, sterile corridors of the medical ward felt unnaturally cold compared to the quiet warmth of the Inazuma household. Haruto and Kaito were immediately wheeled into separate trauma rooms down opposite sides of the hall.
Akari and Renjiro stood in the waiting area, staring at the floorboards. The heavy silence between them was weighed down by unspoken guilt. Neither blamed the boys for what had happened—they blamed themselves for leaving them alone, even for ten minutes.
"You two look like you're carrying the sky," a quiet, rugged voice spoke up.
Renjiro turned his head. Raijin was walking down the corridor, holding a small paper bag of medicine. His expression softened slightly as he took in their blood-stained clothes and hollowed faces.
"Raijin," Renjiro acknowledged quietly. "What are you doing here?"
"Akashi caught a sudden fever. Just picking up his treatment," Raijin replied, setting the bag down on a side bench. He crossed his arms, his eyes shifting toward the closed doors of the emergency rooms. "Why are you two here? Did something happen with the boys?"
"They... reached their breaking point," Akari said, her voice barely audible. "Haruto and Kaito. They fought."
Raijin listened in quiet silence as Renjiro briefly explained the state of the house and the brothers' condition. He didn't interrupt or offer superficial comfort. He simply leaned against the wall, taking in the full weight of their exhaustion.
"You two are still young," Raijin said quietly, his tone calm, measured, and stripped of judgment. "Taking on two broken boys while grieving yourselves... it's a heavy burden. If it becomes too much—if you genuinely feel you can't manage them both right now—I can take responsibility."
Akari looked up, startled.
"Haruto, Kaito... or both," Raijin continued, meeting their eyes directly. "I'm not forcing you, and I'm not saying you've failed. It's just an option. Think about it."
He gave them a respectful nod, picked up Akashi's medicine, and walked down the corridor, leaving them alone with his words.
A long, suffocating silence stretched between Akari and Renjiro after Raijin's departure. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead hummed faintly.
Renjiro leaned his head back against the wall, his hands resting heavily on his knees. "Akari..." he began, his voice rough and hesitant. "Maybe... maybe we should let him take one."
Akari stiffened, looking at him in shock. "What?"
"Look at us," Renjiro whispered, gesturing faintly to the bloodstains on his sleeves. "We're struggling. We couldn't stop this. I'm not talking about abandoning them—I'm terrified that we aren't capable of protecting them anymore."
"No," Akari said immediately, her voice sharp and resolute. "No, Renjiro."
"What if we fail again?" Renjiro countered, his eyes raw with hidden fear. "What if they tear each other apart next time?"
"We already lost Ayame!" Akari snapped softly, tears welling in her eyes, though her posture remained immovable. "She was the bridge between those two! She held them together!" She took a shaky breath, stepping closer to him. "We couldn't protect the triplets from what happened during the raid. We failed her. So now... now we protect the brothers who are left."
Renjiro stared at her, his jaw clenching. "And if we fail?"
Akari wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, her gaze locked onto his with absolute, unyielding conviction.
"I have never failed more than once," Akari stated, her voice quiet, steady, and unyielding.
Renjiro let out a slow, heavy breath. The sharp tension in his broad shoulders finally gave way, and he gave a single, quiet nod, accepting her stance without another word.