Kurogane Ikki: "Another one!"

Ikki's consciousness drifted in an infinite void, his tiny body weightless as if he were suspended between dreams. Then, like a tether snapping, he fell.

His eyes shot open.

The first thing he noticed was the scent—crisp, fresh, and utterly foreign. It smelled like wet soil after a summer rain, the deep fragrance of pine needles, and the faint sweetness of blooming flowers. It was alive.

The air in his crib had always been stale, unmoving, trapped within the confines of the nursery. But this? This moved, carrying with it whispers of things unseen.

The second thing he noticed was the cold. The chill bit at his skin, seeping through his clothes. His crib had always been warm. Even when the maids barely paid him attention, the room never carried this kind of bite.

And the third thing— he was no longer in his crib.

The sky above him was an endless canopy of green, ancient trees stretching so high their branches blotted out the heavens. Sunlight barely filtered through the thick foliage, casting dappled patches of gold onto the forest floor. The moss beneath his fingers was damp and soft, cushioning his fall like nature itself had caught him.

Ikki blinked, his black eyes reflecting the towering trees around him. His tiny fingers clenched a fistful of moss, feeling its strange, spongy texture. It was the first time he had ever touched something like this.

Curious, he brought it close to his nose, sniffing experimentally—then, without much thought, he bit into it.

The taste was… awful.

His face scrunched up instantly. Bitter. Damp. Wrong. He spat it out, his tiny hands furiously rubbing at his tongue.

"Blegh!" he babbled, his baby voice filled with betrayal.

Moss was not food. Lesson learned.

For a moment, the tranquility of the forest was broken by his tiny coughing fit. He pouted, thoroughly offended by the experience.

He wasn't scared—just curious.

Even as the towering trees loomed like giants above him, even as the distant cries of birds and rustling leaves reminded him of how alone he was, he didn't panic. Something deep inside him stirred—a familiar calm. A challenge.

Something about this place felt realer than any dream.

Ikki stood up on wobbly legs, much stronger than he should have been, his little feet sinking into the moss-covered ground. Standing—once difficult just weeks ago—came to him naturally now.

He looked around, his black eyes sharp, scanning his surroundings.

Where was this?

Then—

A twig snapped.

Ikki froze.

---

A low growl rumbled through the undergrowth.

From the shadows between the trees, two glinting yellow eyes emerged, staring directly at him.

Ikki's breath came quick and shallow.

The ground beneath him—rough, uneven. Not like the soft crib. Not like the smooth wooden floors of the nursery. This was different. Hard. Cold. Alive.

The air—it smelled strange. Heavy. Damp. Not like the dusty manor, thick with stillness. This air moved. It carried things.

Sounds—not the muffled echoes of distant footsteps, not the idle murmurs of disinterested maids. Sharp sounds. Rustling. Chirping. Breathing.

And then—

A wolf.

Ikki's black eyes locked onto the creature before him.

Not like Reika. Not like the shadows on the ceiling. Not like anything.

It was big.

Bigger than him.

It moved with a strange, silent grace, its paws sinking into the earth without a sound. Brown fur. Thin. Dirty. Bones visible beneath the coat.

Something inside Ikki tensed, though he didn't understand why.

His tiny hands clenched the dirt beneath him, fingers digging into something soft and crumbling. Moss. His first time feeling it, and yet, it was forgotten in an instant.

Because the wolf was moving.

Slow. Watching. Its dark eyes locked onto him.

Ikki didn't move.

He didn't understand the word predator, but his body did.

It was hungry.

That, he understood.

It stepped closer, its nose twitching, sniffing the air.

Ikki's scent was… wrong. Filled with unknown scents.

The wolf hesitated.

A moment of quiet.

Then—

The wolf lunged.

Ikki moved.

Not with thought. Not with reason.

With instinct.

His tiny legs pushed off the ground, his body twisting at the last possible moment.

The wolf's jaws snapped shut, biting empty air.

Ikki landed, his legs wobbling. His breathing sharp. His heart pounding.

What was that?

His mind couldn't process it.

But his body knew.

The ball game.

The maid's laughter. The wooden floor. The small, bouncing ball always just out of reach. The frustration. The chase. The endless, cruel game.

Move. Dodge. Adjust. Try again.

It had been a game. A meaningless, frustrating game.

But now, it wasn't.

Ikki's body braced itself differently this time, adjusting. His legs settled into the dirt, lower, more stable.

The wolf snarled, turning to face him again.

It was surprised.

Ikki didn't understand hunger, not truly. He had never known starvation, never gone without food long enough to feel its weight.

But the wolf had.

The beast's ribs showed through its fur. Its body moved slower than it should. Its limbs trembled slightly with exertion.

It was weaker than it wanted to be.

But still—stronger than Ikki.

Then—a whistle through the air.

A branch flew from the trees, striking the wolf's snout with a sharp crack.

The beast yelped, stumbling back.

Ikki's tiny head snapped toward the source.

---

Two figures emerged from the path, their robes rustling with each step.

A white-bearded man, eyes sharp and calculating, stood tall with his hands clasped behind his back, as though he had all the time in the world.

Beside him, a woman of dignified beauty, her posture straight, her presence commanding, yet… her expression softened the moment her eyes landed on Ikki.

Ikki stared at them, his young mind struggling to process what he was seeing.

He had never seen these people before.

They were not the maids.

They were not the walls of his crib.

New. Strange. Different.

The wolf shook its head, trying to recover.

The woman moved first, stepping between Ikki and the beast with an ease that defied her age. Her arms lifted slightly, her fingers curling—not in fear, but in readiness.

The wolf hesitated.

Too many people.

Too much risk.

It gave one last low growl, then turned and slunk back into the undergrowth.

Only when it was gone did the woman exhale.

She turned to the child, slowly kneeling.

Her gaze softened, filled with something Ikki didn't recognize.

Not like the maids.

Not like the cold hands that barely held him.

Not like the indifferent voices that spoke over him, not to him.

This was… warm.

A feeling foreign to him.

"You poor child," she whispered, brushing away some of the dirt from his face.

Ikki blinked at her.

He didn't understand what she said.

But her voice was soft.

For the first time in his short existence—

He wanted to listen.

---