The Fox Kingdom stood upon rolling hills surrounded by red pine forests and warm, steaming rivers. From afar, its main palace looked like frozen flames—tall towers layered with reddish obsidian stone, curved rooftops resembling raised fox tails, and royal banners that always fluttered, bearing the image of a nine-tailed fox engulfed in fire.
Ryuuga was a kingdom of the fox race.
And to the fox race, fire and wind were not merely elements, but symbols of purity, heritage, and the honor of blood.
For hundreds of years, the kingdom's ancient texts recorded that the first foxes were created from the flames of the heavens and the gusts of mountain winds. Thus, any fox born with an element other than those two was considered a deviation. Not always openly despised, yet rarely accepted wholeheartedly.
Tradition did not forbid their existence.
But tradition never protected them either.
In one wing of the Ryuuga palace, a young boy stood still before a tall window framed with black wood. His jet-black hair fell neatly to the nape of his neck, while his eyes—dark red like embers on the verge of fading—stared out at the palace courtyard without truly seeing it.
His name was Keito Ryuuga.
He was a noble.
The second son of the Ryuuga main family.
And from a very young age, he had learned one important thing: hiding oneself was often the safest option.
He was only fifteen years old, yet his demeanor did not reflect a puberty-stricken teenager easily swayed by emotion. Keito was neither cold nor cheerful. He was warm in his own way.
Within the palace, the servants knew him as a polite young master who never caused trouble. The guards respected him because he never treated them as mere tools. And the nobles… only glanced at him briefly, then looked away.
Not because he was unworthy of being seen.
But because they did not know what to see him as—an anomaly that appeared once in hundreds of years, or merely an ordinary prince from a small kingdom?
Keito slowly raised his hand. In the palm of his hand, the air began to change. The temperature around him dropped. Thin particles of ice formed, shimmering faintly as they shaped into a beautiful ice flower, before Keito himself shattered it.
He closed his fingers.
Ice...
An element never mentioned in the prayers of the fox kingdom.
Keito had mastered ice since he was seven years old. Not in a dramatic or explosive way, but like someone who suddenly realized they could breathe underwater—slightly panicked, something normal for a seven-year-old child.
From that day on, he stopped practicing in front of others. His grandmother often said that elements other than fire and wind were anomalies that should not exist within the main family.
. . .
Footsteps sounded behind him. Keito lowered his hand and turned just as the wooden door slid open.
"Keito."
The voice was firm and familiar; Keito knew who it was.
A man with dark red hair, fox ears and tail of the same hue, entered the room, wearing training clothes bearing the emblem of a blazing fox on his chest. He was tall, his gaze warm.
Haruki Ryuuga.
His older brother.
"Morning training has already started," Haruki said while slinging a towel over his shoulder. "Father asked why you haven't come yet."
Keito nodded lightly. "I'll follow soon."
Haruki looked at him for a few seconds longer than usual. He seemed worried. Yet as always, Haruki never pressed for answers.
He only gave a small smile. "Don't daydream for too long."
After Haruki left, Keito let out a soft breath.
Haruki was the perfect example of what the Ryuuga kingdom expected—charming, strong, brave, and able to wield fire flawlessly. On the training grounds, his flames were always the brightest, the wildest, and the most praised compared to anyone else.
Keito admired his brother.
And perhaps....a little envious.
The royal training grounds were filled with the sounds of clashing weapons and shouted commands. Wind swirled among the young warriors, following their movements like an obedient living being. Flames ignited and extinguished, controlled with pride.
Keito stood among the young nobles, holding a wooden sword with perfect posture. His movements were precise, never excessive.
When it was time to spar, his opponent lunged forward with wind swirling around his legs. Keito parried, turned, and stepped back.
He could win.
He knew it.
But winning meant being seen.
And being seen meant risk.
In the midst of training, Keito sensed something far more secret than his ice element.
Something invisible.
Dimensional Space.
To Keito, space was not an absolute boundary. Since childhood, he could sense subtle folds in the air, like fabric that could be pulled, opened, or twisted. He did not fully understand what it was. He only knew one thing—this power should not exist within him.
Every time he came close to losing control, Keito forced himself to stop. To draw a breath. To lock his emotions away.
After training ended, Keito secluded himself in the palace's back garden. The thin snow he created melted slowly in his palm, falling to the ground and vanishing.
In the distance, the palace bells rang softly.
Beyond the kingdom's walls, the world was moving as it should.
Keito was still naïve, but he was clever.
He knew his life felt like walking on thin ice...calm on the surface, fragile underneath.