Kurogane Ikki: "Another one!"

The Kurogane family study was silent save for the faint ticking of an ornate clock on the wall. The room bore the weight of legacy—old portraits of Blazer ancestors, a family crest carved into the dark oak table, and a katana, its hilt worn with use, displayed prominently on the far wall. Despite the grandeur, the atmosphere was cold, as if honor alone could not warm the air.

The room was a shrine to legacy, adorned with relics from generations past. The training katana of Ryoma Kurogane, the family's most celebrated hero, hung on the wall, its blade catching faint moonlight that streamed through the tall windows. Ryoma's name was spoken with reverence, but his legacy of honor was now a burden, pressing down on those left to carry it.

Aina Kurogane sat with her back straight, her tailored suit crisp and sharp like her words. She didn't look at her husband, Itsuki , who leaned against the window, his gaze drifting to the neglected garden outside. The tension between them was palpable.

"She appeared in the tabloids again," Aina began, her tone biting. She didn't bother with preamble. "Another mistress, another scandal. How many times must I clean up your messes?"

Itsuki sighed, his fingers tightening imperceptibly on the window frame. "Aina, let's not do this right now."

"No," she snapped, finally turning to face him. Her eyes, cold and piercing, locked onto his. "We will do this now. The elders are already dissatisfied with your lack of discipline. And now we have a failure for a son to add to the list of disgraces."

At that, Itsuki flinched, though he quickly masked it. "Ikki is just a child."

"A child with no talent," Aina countered. "An embarrassment. Do you think the elders will tolerate this? He's an F-rank Blazer. Do you know what that means? He'll never amount to anything. It's better we send him away before he tarnishes the family name further."

"Honestly, Itsuki," Aina continued, her tone sharpening like a blade. "What else could I expect? Ouma's brilliance is a testament to my blood, the true strength of this family. And that other boy? He's nothing but a reflection of your weakness—pathetic and beneath me in every way."

Her words carried a mix of pride and venom. She leaned back in her chair, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "He has my blood to thank for that, of course. Strength, ambition, and talent—everything this family needs. Unlike…" She paused, her lip curling slightly. "That other one."

Itsuki's eyes narrowed, the air in the room shifting as his restrained emotions boiled to the surface. He turned to face Aina fully, his voice low and laced with a sharp edge. "Enough, Aina."

The weight of his magical power suddenly pressed against her, subtle but undeniable, like the edge of a blade hovering just above her skin. His intent to cut was palpable, a silent warning wrapped in raw energy. The room grew heavy, the polished katana on the wall seeming to hum faintly in resonance.

"You've made your point," he said, his tone steady but cold, his gaze unyielding. "But don't think for a second that you can keep pushing me. Even a dull blade can still cut when provoked."

For a brief moment, Aina's composure faltered, her body stiffening under the invisible pressure.

For a brief moment, Aina's composure faltered, her body stiffening under the invisible weight of Itsuki's magical pressure. The air was suffocating, thick with his restrained intent to cut, and for the first time in years, she felt a flicker of unease. Her pride held her firm, but her pulse quickened, betraying her fear.

Aina gritted her teeth, her nails digging into the armrests of her chair as she fought to steady herself. The tension eased as quickly as it had come, Itsuki pulling his power back, but the silence that followed was heavy with unspoken defiance. She forced herself to sit straighter, her pride burning through the momentary fear.

"You're talking about a baby," Itsuki said quietly, though his voice carried an edge. "A month-old child."

Aina's cold demeanor returned, though her voice trembled slightly before regaining its usual bite. "A failure is a failure, no matter the age," she said, leaning back and crossing her legs with forced elegance. "But we can remedy this. We'll need another child—this time, maybe a girl. Someone we can marry off to one of our allies. The elders have already mentioned the Takagawa family."

Itsuki turned to face her fully, his expression hard. "You're planning alliances when our son hasn't even been sent away yet?"

"I'm planning for this family's future," Aina snapped, anger flashing in her eyes, though her voice carried an undercurrent of forced composure. "Something you should try doing for once."

Her pride shielded her, but deep inside, the memory of Itsuki's sharp intent lingered, an unwelcome reminder of the strength she so often dismissed.

---

Itsuki said nothing. He wanted to defend his son, to remind Aina that Ikki was innocent, just a baby. But the weight of tradition and expectation pressed down on him, silencing his protests. He knew the elders had already made their decision.

"We'll send him to the manor," he said finally, his voice hollow. "It's better for him."

"Better for us," Aina corrected, a faint smirk on her lips. "He'll be out of sight, out of mind. The elders agree. No gatherings, no public appearances. As far as the world is concerned, Kurogane Ikki does not exist."

Itsuki hand clenched tighter. He wanted to argue, but what could he say? The family's honor was paramount, and Ikki's lack of magical aptitude was an undeniable blemish.

Itsuki stared at her for a long moment, his mind racing. He wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong about Ikki, wrong about everything. But the words caught in his throat. Deep down, he felt the guilt gnawing at him—the guilt of not being strong enough to stand against the elders, against Aina, or even against himself.

He glanced at the katana on the wall, a stark reminder of Ryoma Kurogane's unyielding ideals. What would Ryoma think if he saw his family now?

Itsuki clenched his fists. "You're weak," his inner voice whispered. "Too weak to stop this. Too weak to protect your own son."

---

The Nursery

In the next room, Ikki lay in his crib, swaddled in soft blankets. Moonlight streamed through the window, casting a silver glow over his tiny form. He wasn't crying, though his wide, curious eyes seemed to take in everything around him.

Inside his mind, the world was quiet. Simple thoughts flickered like soft whispers:

'Warm. Soft. Voices.'

But then, something stirred. In the recesses of his mindscape, a symbol of infinity glowed faintly, spinning slowly in the darkness. A butterfly, its wings engraved with intricate patterns, fluttered across his thoughts. These images faded as quickly as they appeared, leaving behind a quiet calm.

Ikki shifted in his crib, his tiny fingers curling into fists. Though he couldn't understand it yet, something deep within him was beginning to awaken.

---

Back in the study, Aina stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her suit. "It's settled then. He'll be sent to the manor by the end of the week. And Itsuki…" She paused, her voice lowering into something venomous. "Keep your scandals out of the public eye. The next time I have to shut down a tabloid, I'll make sure the elders know just how unfit you are."

Itsuki didn't respond. He watched as Aina swept from the room, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. Once she was gone, he sank into a chair, his head in his hands.

Itsuki gazed between his hands on the katana once more. "Ryoma," he whispered, his voice heavy with bitterness. "You had your honor. What do I have? A family tearing itself apart… and I'm too weak to stop it."

"Forgive me, Ikki," he whispered to the empty room.