Year 1048 A.N. – August 15th
The next day...
In the dim light of the basement, several adults gathered in silence. One of them, a middle-aged man with a scar on his forehead, spoke in a low voice as he slid tokens over a map drawn in charcoal.
"We didn't expect a second guardian so soon, and with such strange powers. Ugetsu is another problem."
"Nor did we expect the children to keep growing like thorns," added another in a deep voice.
"We must act before another one appears," said a sharp-eyed woman. "We already serve a childish family. Do you expect us to kneel before ghosts too?"
The man with the scar sighed.
"We'll wait for the harvest festival. That night, all attention will be on the village. The garden will be more vulnerable. We'll act then."
"And if we're discovered?"
"We won't be. The boy may have eyes, but he still doesn't know what betrayal from within feels like."
But what they didn't know... was that a child had heard them.
Daiki, small, quiet, and skilled, had been spying. His face was pale, and his heart raced. He didn't understand everything, but he did hear a word he couldn't ignore: betrayal.
Later...
Giotto's room
"Are you sure?" Giotto asked as Daiki finished telling him what he had heard.
"Yes! They used that word... betrayal! And they said something about doing it during the harvest festival!"
Giotto nodded calmly, though his face hardened.
"You did well. From now on, only you and I will know this. Alright?"
Daiki nodded, though he was still trembling.
"And what are we going to do?"
"What we always do," Giotto replied, closing his notebook firmly. "Prepare first... and strike later."
The following days...
Secret preparations
While the family was busy with new plans for next month's festival, Giotto and Reijiro devised an invisible surveillance system.
"Do you trust Daiki?" asked Reijiro as they placed traps along the hallways of the southern wing.
"Yes. He hears better than most adults."
"And Haru... does he know too?"
"Not yet. I don't want him to act recklessly. Haru still believes protecting me means killing first and asking later."
"And G... you haven't told him either."
Giotto shook his head.
"No. He'd want to burn them alive from the start."
Reijiro smiled.
"And you want answers."
"Exactly."
Rainy night...
Ugetsu was sharpening his sword, seated in lotus position. Haru joined him, silent as the rain itself.
"I didn't come to train," Haru said.
"Then?"
"I want to ask you something."
Ugetsu looked at him calmly.
"Why do you follow Giotto?"
"Why do you?" Haru replied. "You're a Guardian too, even though you come from that place where the boss came from with G. But you didn't grow up with him like we did here. Why do you obey?"
The swordsman looked up at the sky, where the clouds glowed with the moon behind them.
"Because he doesn't seek obedience. He seeks understanding. And because the sky that does not rule... is the one that needs the most guidance."
Haru remained silent, until he spoke a single word:
"Would you protect him... with your life?"
Ugetsu smiled. For the first time, there was true warmth in his expression.
"With my soul."
And in that moment, Haru realized he was not alone in his desire to protect Giotto. For the first time, he could trust someone other than his boss.
Harvest festival...
At golden sunset. The skies, though cloudy, showed no sign of storm. The drizzle from the past days had ceased just as the celebration began, as if the heavens had paused to watch.
The mansion, located in a forest clearing, was lit with paper lanterns. Flags bearing symbols of wheat stalks and celestial circles fluttered gently in the breeze.
Children from the nearby village laughed as they ran between makeshift stalls offering roasted rice, dried fruit candies, and stuffed mochi balls.
Giotto watched from the upper-floor balcony, arms crossed. He wore a black cape with golden details—more symbolic than functional—and his eyes silently scanned every corner of the grounds.
"Too quiet," said G beside him, also watching. "Even for a fake celebration."
"Exactly as I want it," Giotto replied without turning. "Today, what looks like a party... will be a purge."
"And the children?"
"Safe. Each has a different mission far from the epicenter. Except you and Ugetsu."
"Oh... and what's my role?"
Giotto finally looked at him, with that half-smile only G understood.
"Fire. If this lights up, you either put it out... or burn everything down."
G let out a dark, excited laugh.
"I love it when you use me like a match..."
Meanwhile...
In the back garden
Haru, Daiki, Sana, and Reijiro walked among the bushes pretending to play with bamboo swords. But each knew it wasn't a game.
"Anyone notice anything?" Reijiro murmured.
"Three men near the north well," Sana replied. "Pretending to be drunk."
"Two more by the tool shed," added Daiki. "But one of them doesn't blink... literally."
Haru didn't speak. He just looked up at the sky, just as a small drop fell again.
"It's starting again," he said quietly. "Just like during the summoning."
"A sign?" Daiki asked.
"A warning."
East wing...
Hidden basement
The traitors gathered once more. This time not to plan, but to act.
"Tonight. Amid the commotion. We kill the boy. Make it look like an accident. Then we take control as legal guardians."
"And the ghosts?"
"Without their core, they'll vanish. Everything in this world has an anchor, and that child is theirs."
But none noticed the shadow watching them from the entrance.
Ugetsu, sword still sheathed, didn't need to kill to silence. He just listened... and waited for the signal.
From the center of the garden, three bells tied to the main pole rang. It was a secret signal known only to loyal members: Imminent danger. Silent protocol activation.
Giotto descended the stairs with firm steps. G vanished behind a column, slipping into the shadows like a hunter.
Within seconds, stalls shut down. Vendors retreated. The village children were guided home by loyal members pretending to close due to rain.
In less than a minute, the mansion was silent as a tomb.
The traitors emerged from hiding, thinking it was the perfect time.
"Now. Move!" one ordered.
But just as they took the first step...
The rain fell. Not a downpour... but a cold, persistent curtain.
And then, a figure appeared among them.
Ugetsu.
"You should not tread ground you haven't watered with loyalty," he said firmly.
"It's just one of them!" shouted one man, drawing a sword.
But in an instant, Ugetsu's figure multiplied.
"What...? Shadows?"
"Reflections," he replied.
And before anyone could clearly see, the replicas began to move—dodging, disarming, striking with the flat of the blade. No lethal blows, but each one final.
One by one, the traitors were thrown to the ground. And just when it seemed over... G appeared behind the last one standing.
"You know what the greatest sin is?" he whispered in his ear.
"What?"
"Underestimating what you don't understand."
And he slammed him into a stack of crates without hesitation.
A few minutes later...
The traitors knelt, bound. Giotto walked calmly in front of them.
"You tried to betray a child... and failed. Not because of his strength, but his faith."
He looked at them coldly.
"Did you think I had no eyes? No ears? No loyal souls?"
No one dared reply.
"I could kill you. But that would be... too simple."
He made a gesture, and Sana, Reijiro, and Daiki brought in torture tools.
"From today on, you are marked. You cannot speak of this, or of me, or of what you've seen. If you do... you'll face worse than this—or death."
"And you'll let us live?" one asked, trembling.
"Only so you remember... that even in the sky, rain falls with purpose."
And I'm the one who decides when it rains.
That same night – South Tower
Giotto watched the rain in silence.
Ugetsu approached.
"Did everything go as you planned?"
"Yes. But it wasn't a game."
"Nothing involving loyalty ever is."
"Thank you for acting without killing."
Ugetsu smiled.
"I didn't do it for them."
"Then why?"
"I did it for you. I want this world of yours—this future—not to begin with more blood."
Giotto closed his eyes.
"Then the first step... was taken in the rain."
The sky wept in silence. Gentle drops fell through the leaves, tracing invisible paths along the dojo's wood and the damp earth. Beneath that constant rain, Haru panted, soaked, his practice katana trembling in his small hands.
Ugetsu, calm as ever, walked barefoot across the mud without leaving a mark.
—"Again," he said softly, never raising his voice. "But this time, don't strike with anger."
Haru clenched his teeth. His brow furrowed in frustration. He was only six, and his body still couldn't respond with the grace he imagined. He stepped forward and struck in a straight line.
Ugetsu deflected the blow with a simple branch, as if brushing away a bamboo leaf in the wind.
—"Too much force. You're fighting against the rain."
—"Rain doesn't defeat anyone!" Haru shouted, shaking.
Ugetsu knelt down to his level, setting the branch aside. His face showed no anger—only endless patience.
—"And who told you that?"
—"My father… he said strength is everything. That wielding a sword means imposing your will."
—"And what has that will done for you?"
Haru looked down. His knuckles were white from gripping the hilt too tightly. The rain hid his tears, but it didn't fool Ugetsu.
—"Rain doesn't impose," whispered the swordsman. "Rain accompanies. It doesn't push—it caresses. It doesn't cut—it seeps in. Watch."
He rose slowly, picked up the branch, and stood before Haru. He didn't attack. He moved. Each step was fluid, each turn a silent dance. The branch floated in his hand like an extension of his breath. He didn't seem like a swordsman... but a poem in motion.
When he finished, Ugetsu stood quietly before Haru.
—"Did you see?"
—"You didn't strike hard," the boy whispered.
—"And yet, in a real fight, you would've already lost three times. The enemy doesn't see strength. He sees the gap. The rhythm. The soul."
Haru took a deep breath. He closed his eyes. He felt the water run down his face, the breeze through the trees, the soft crackle of drops on bamboo. And then… he attacked. His thrust wasn't fast or strong—but for the first time, it wasn't clumsy.
Ugetsu smiled.
—"That's it. Let the world flow with you."
The boy lowered his weapon. He was muddy to the knees, arms aching—but something inside him had awakened. Not a flame… but a river.
—"Do you think I'll ever move like you?"
—"Only if you stop trying," Ugetsu said with a soft laugh. "And start feeling."
The rain kept falling, as if applauding in silence. And for a moment, the dojo became a temple.