Chapter 2 – Small Hands, Long Shadows
Date: Late Summer, Meiji 31 (1898)
Location: Azabu District
Age: 5 years old
---
The morning bell of the orphanage rang softly, a cracked sound made by metal worn thin with years. Kai opened his eyes before it finished echoing.
He had already been awake.
The smell of rice porridge drifted through the hallway, familiar and grounding. He lay still for a moment, staring at the wooden ceiling above him, counting the shallow cracks.
Another day survived, he thought calmly.
[Vital signs stable]
[Hunger level: Moderate]
"Yeah, yeah," Kai murmured under his breath, sitting up. "I'm getting up."
The other children stirred slowly—coughing, yawning, some grumbling. Kai moved quietly, folding his thin blanket neatly before standing. The matron, Oba-san, noticed immediately.
"Kai," she said, narrowing her eyes. "You're always awake early. Don't you ever get tired?"
Kai tilted his head, offering a gentle smile. "I like mornings."
That wasn't a lie. Mornings were safe. Demons didn't roam when the sun was kind.
---
In the kitchen, Kai stood on a small wooden stool, stirring the pot carefully. Steam rose, fogging his vision.
[Temperature optimal. Reduce heat slightly to avoid burning.]
Kai reached out and adjusted the flame. Oba-san watched him with crossed arms.
"You didn't even taste it," she said suspiciously.
Kai blinked. "It smells right."
She snorted. "Brat."
But when she tasted it, her expression softened despite herself. "…Fine."
Kai hid his small smile.
---
After breakfast, he ran errands through Azabu, a woven basket tucked under his arm. He delivered herbs for the old doctor, returned borrowed tools, and swept the front steps of a nearby shop without being asked.
"Kai!" a voice called.
He turned to see Mitsuri barreling toward him, pink hair bouncing wildly, a bundle of firewood nearly as big as she was strapped to her back.
"Kai!" she repeated, beaming. "Look! I carried all of this myself!"
Kai's eyes widened—appropriately, he hoped. "That's amazing."
She puffed out her chest proudly. "Mama says I'm getting stronger every day!"
"I believe her," Kai said sincerely. "You might become the strongest girl in Azabu."
Her face turned red instantly. "E-Eh?! That's embarrassing!"
He laughed softly.
[Observation: Compliments increase Mitsuri Kanroji's morale by significant margin.]
[Conclusion: Continued encouragement recommended.]
Noted, Kai thought.
---
They sat together near the shade of a wisteria tree, eating sweet dumplings Mitsuri's mother had given them. Mitsuri swung her legs happily.
"Kai," she asked suddenly, mouth full, "why do you work so much?"
He paused.
The easy answer was survival. The real answer was preparation.
Instead, he chose the truth that fit a child's mouth.
"So I don't become a burden," he said quietly.
Mitsuri frowned. "You're not a burden."
He smiled, softer now. "Thank you."
She looked at him for a long moment, eyes serious in a way five-year-olds rarely were. "If you ever need help, I'll help you! I'm really strong, you know!"
Kai felt something warm twist in his chest.
That's exactly why I need to protect you, he thought.
---
Later that day, Kai accompanied the old doctor, Hachiro, on his rounds. The man leaned heavily on his cane, sighing dramatically.
"You walk too fast for an old man," Hachiro complained.
Kai slowed instantly. "Sorry."
Hachiro chuckled. "You're polite. That'll get you far."
They stopped at a small house where a woman lay coughing. Kai watched closely as Hachiro examined her.
"Why does she sound like that?" Kai asked afterward.
"Fluid in the lungs," Hachiro replied. "Weak constitution."
Kai nodded, storing the information away.
[Medical knowledge updated: Respiratory distress – potential causes logged.]
As they left, the woman's husband pressed a few coins into Kai's hand.
"For the boy," he said. "He's helpful."
Kai bowed deeply. "Thank you."
Money isn't power, Kai reminded himself as he tucked the coins away. But it buys time.
---
That night, beneath the quiet stars, Kai trained again.
He stood barefoot in the dirt, arms trembling as he practiced slow, deliberate movements. Not sword forms—breath forms.
Inhale.
Circulate.
Anchor.
His chest burned, sweat rolling down his temples.
[Warning: Physical strain exceeds safe threshold for age.]
"I know," Kai whispered, teeth clenched. "Just a little."
He remembered warmth. Endless warmth. A breath that did not destroy but nurtured.
The ground beneath his feet felt warm.
Just for a second.
Kai froze.
"…Did you feel that?" he whispered.
[Anomaly detected. Minimal. Recommend cessation.]
He exhaled slowly and sat down, heart pounding.
It's real, he thought, awe creeping in. Sun Breathing… it's not gone.
But rebuilding it would take years.
And sacrifice.
---
As he lay back, staring at the moon, a thought crept in—quiet but heavy.
Even if I change things… will they accept me?
He clenched his small fists.
It doesn't matter.
Acceptance was optional.
Their survival was not.
---
The next morning, Kai woke with a plan.
Skills first. Strength later.
He tied his sandals, smiling softly as he stepped into the sunlight.
"Good morning," he whispered to the world.
The sun answered him warmly.
And somewhere far away, fate shifted—just a fraction.