[Seno Estate — Hayato's Quarters, Dawn]
The letter lay crumpled in his fists, blotched with tears. The lantern had burned low, throwing long shadows across the stone walls.
Hayato hadn't moved all night. He couldn't. Every word of his mother's letter carved itself deeper into him: If I remain, they will use me to break you.
She was gone. She had left to save him. Or to save herself. He didn't know which hurt worse.
But he knew the clan would not see it that way.
The door slid open without warning. Vernon stepped inside, his pale eyes falling to the letter, then to Hayato's face. For once, his calm voice carried weight.
"They know."
Hayato's chest tightened. "…What?"
"The elders. They know she is gone."
[Great Hall — That Same Morning]
The clan assembled quickly. The red banners hung heavy overhead, shadows twisting across the stone. Elders sat in judgment, masks gleaming faintly in the torchlight.
Hayato stood in the center, the letter hidden in his sleeve. Vernon stood at the edge, silent as stone.
The clan head's voice echoed across the chamber.
"She fled. Your mother spat on our name a second time. Her blood was ours, and she threw it away."
Murmurs rippled through the hall — anger, disdain, whispers of cowardice.
The clan head leaned forward, his voice sharp as glass. "A Seno who runs brings shame on us all. And shame must be punished."
His gaze locked on Hayato. "She is not here to suffer it. You are."
Hayato's stomach twisted. His fists clenched.
Two attendants stepped forward, each carrying iron rods wrapped in cloth, their tips still faintly glowing from the forge.
Vernon's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Hayato stood rigid as the first blow struck across his back. The searing pain tore through him, his body arching as the iron burned into his skin. A second followed, then a third.
He refused to scream. His teeth sank into his lip, blood spilling into his mouth. His shards twitched, desperate to flare — but he forced them down.
He would not give them the satisfaction.
By the fifth blow, his vision blurred. By the seventh, his knees buckled. But he forced himself upright again, staggering, chest heaving.
The clan head's voice rang cold over the chamber.
"Remember this, boy. Your mother's weakness is now your burden. If you carry her shame, you carry it as a Seno — until you can prove otherwise."
The rods lowered. The attendants stepped back. Silence pressed heavy, broken only by Hayato's ragged breath.
Vernon's eyes met his, unreadable.
Hayato's body shook with pain, blood running down his back, but his voice cracked through the quiet:
"I won't break."
The murmurs hushed. Some laughed bitterly. Others sneered. But the clan head only leaned back in his chair.
"Then prove it."
[Hayato's Quarters — Later]
Vernon sat nearby as Hayato lay on his stomach, back seared and raw. He worked in silence, binding the wounds with steady hands.
"You shouldn't have stood," Vernon said quietly. "Most would have stayed down."
Hayato's voice was hoarse, but steady. "…If I fall, they win."
Vernon paused, then nodded faintly.
Hayato's eyes burned, not just with pain, but with a vow sharper than any shard.
This clan is evil. They will never own me. I'll grow stronger. Strong enough to leave. Strong enough to never need them again.
He clenched his fists, even as they trembled.
"For her. For him. For me."
[Seno Estate — Council Chamber, Later That Night]
The torches burned low, shadows stretching long across the great hall. The elders sat in a half-circle, their masks glinting faintly in the firelight.
The clan head leaned back in his seat, his voice calm, even after the punishment that had left the boy bleeding.
"He endured," he said. "Even after seven strikes. The boy did not cry out."
One elder scoffed. "Endurance is not strength. He is stubborn — like his father. That same arrogance will kill him."
Another leaned forward, voice smooth as silk. "Or it will sharpen him. Pain forges will. And his hybrid kagune is… unique. We would be fools to waste it."
The room murmured with agreement and dissent, a mix of disdain and interest.
The clan head raised a hand, silencing them. His eyes, sharp behind the mask, glowed faintly.
"Then we give him another test. One beyond a starving stray. Let him face something worthy."
A younger elder spoke cautiously. "A Dove?"
"Not yet," the head replied. "But a ghoul who has drawn Dove attention. Strong enough to resist capture, dangerous enough to be watched. We will send him there — under Vernon's eye. If he falters, he dies. If he survives…" His voice sharpened. "…then he begins to earn the name Seno."
[Training Yard — Two Days Later]
The snow had begun to melt, leaving the stone slick and cold. Hayato stood shirtless in the yard, his back still crosshatched with burns. The scars pulled with every movement, but he ignored the pain.
His shard-arm gleamed denser now, the blade extending further past his elbow. Behind him, fractured Ukaku shards pulsed faintly, sharper than before, flaring in bursts when he exhaled.
Vernon circled him, pale eyes assessing every strike.
"Faster," he said. "Your speed is your advantage. Don't meet them head on — carve openings. Make them bleed before they can touch you."
Hayato slashed again, his blade sparking against the weighted shield Vernon had given him to train. His arm ached, his legs burned, but he kept moving. Each strike cleaner, each shard sharper.
The memory of his mother's letter burned in his chest. The taste of blood and smoke from his punishment lingered in his mouth.
And still he moved.
Not for the clan. Not for their name.
For himself.
I'll take their strength. And when I leave, they'll never be able to chain me again.
Vernon's voice cut sharp through the cold.
"Again."
Hayato's eyes flared crimson as he charged, shard-arm swinging, Ukaku knives bursting in a precise arc.
The training would not stop. Not until he was ready for what came next.