The Unmasked Bond

The orphanage grounds were alive with the laughter of children. The midday sun stretched long shadows over the dirt field where kids ran barefoot, their tattered clothes fluttering as they played. The air carried the scent of soil and distant cooking fires, but amidst the liveliness, one figure stood apart.

Edran.

A man clad in dark leather and a long, weathered cloak, his presence alone enough to silence any joy that came too close. He leaned against an old wooden fence, arms crossed, his face hidden beneath the shade of his hood. His mere existence was like a specter looming over the children—a reminder of something violent, something untouchable.

None dared approach him. None except one.

Kai.

The boy wiped his muddy hands on his rough tunic and strode forward. His footsteps crunched against the dry earth, each step drawing gasps from the children behind him.

Hale's voice hissed in warning. "Are you insane?" He grabbed Kai's wrist. "Do you not fear him?"

Even Rena, normally fearless, seemed uneasy. "Kai, come back."

The whispers spread like wildfire.

"He's going to get himself killed."

"Doesn't he know what that man is?"

"They say he's taken lives before… a lot of them."

Kai didn't stop.

He reached Edran and stood before him, tilting his head up, eyes unblinking. "Why are you always alone?"

Edran's hooded gaze shifted slightly. He didn't answer.

Kai continued. "Why don't you ever talk to anyone? Why don't you play with us?"

Edran exhaled slowly. "And why do you think that is?" His voice was deep, calm—like steel dragged across stone.

"Because everyone fears you." Kai shrugged. "But that's only because you don't talk to them."

A pause.

Edran chuckled—a low, dry sound. "So, why are you talking to me?"

Kai smiled faintly. "If you were truly a monster, I wouldn't be standing here, would I?"

A flicker of something crossed Edran's face—perhaps surprise, perhaps amusement. He leaned down slightly, so his hood no longer cast as deep a shadow over his scarred face. "Is that what you believe?"

Kai met his gaze without flinching. "I don't believe in shadows without knowing what's behind them."

Edran was silent. The wind stirred, rustling the leaves of the nearby oak tree.

"Do you know why I cover my face?"

Kai nodded toward the hood. "Because of your scar?"

Edran gave a slow nod.

Kai grinned. "I think scars are cool."

Edran chuckled again. It wasn't the laughter of amusement—it was something else. A sound between disbelief and curiosity.

"You are an interesting child."

Kai crossed his arms. "People fear what they don't understand. That's why they fear you." He tilted his head. "But I think they're wrong."

Edran studied the boy for a long moment. His fingers, calloused from war, flexed slightly. "And what makes you so sure?"

Kai's voice was steady. "A rock, no matter how rough, can turn to ash if beaten down enough… but if polished with patience, it shines."

Edran's golden eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp—calculating. Then, slowly, a smirk tugged at his lips.

"You speak like someone far older than your years."

Kai simply smiled. "Maybe."

The two stood there, under the sun, as the orphanage's laughter echoed behind them.

And for the first time in a long while, Edran did not feel like a ghost in a world that feared him.

As the wind carried away the final words of their conversation, a rare flicker of warmth touched Edran's expression. His golden eyes, usually sharp and unreadable, softened just enough to show a sliver of something forgotten.

He tilted his head. "Kid, what's your name?"

Kai's lips curled into a playful smirk, his brown eyes gleaming with mischief. "Maybe Kai."

Edran raised a brow but said nothing. With a shake of his head, he turned and walked away, his cloak swaying with each step.

Kai watched him go, his hands in his pockets, humming softly to himself.

Then—

"Kai!"

A wave of children swarmed him the moment he stepped back into the group. Their eyes were wide with excitement, their voices overlapping like birds in a storm.

Hale practically bounced on his feet, his usual serious demeanor completely forgotten. "Hey, hey, Kai! What did you say to him? Why were you laughing with him?" His tone was eager, his admiration for Edran making his curiosity unbearable.

Kai stretched lazily, as if savoring the attention. Then, with a smirk, he leaned in toward Hale. "Oh, I just asked him if he'd take you as his apprentice."

Hale's eyes went wide. "Really?!"

Kai tapped his chin. "Mmm… no, not really."

"KAIII!!" Hale groaned in frustration, making the other kids burst into laughter.

Rena crossed her arms, trying to suppress her own amusement, but even she couldn't keep the excitement from her voice. "Hey, hey! Stop messing around! Just tell us what you were talking about!"

Kai grinned, enjoying the rare moment of Rena acting like an excited little sister rather than her usual calm and composed self.

"Why don't you figure it out?"

A chorus of groans followed, but Kai simply laughed, weaving through the crowd of children as they all shouted after him, demanding answers.

A month passed.

Winter's grip loosened, giving way to the crisp freshness of early spring. The air smelled of damp earth and budding leaves, and the fields beyond the orphanage stretched into endless green.

And once again, Edran stood at the edge of the grounds.

This time, Kai wasn't the only one who moved toward him.

Hale clenched his fists, taking a deep breath as if summoning his courage. "I'm going too," he declared.

Rena, arms folded, gave a small huff. "I suppose I'll go as well." But her eyes betrayed her curiosity.

Kai raised a brow. "Are you sure? You two were the ones calling me crazy last time."

Hale clicked his tongue. "That was before I knew he wasn't going to chop you in half."

Rena shot him a look. "You still don't know that."

Despite her words, all three of them walked forward together.

As they neared, Edran's golden gaze shifted toward them. His usual presence was like an unmovable mountain—calm, distant, unbothered.

Kai stepped forward casually. "I brought some friends this time."

Edran's eyes flickered between Hale and Rena, noting the hesitation in their movements, the way they held themselves just a little too stiffly. Fear.

Yet they stood their ground.

Edran let out a low chuckle. "Braver than most."

Hale swallowed, then quickly straightened his back. "I'm Hale!" He said it almost too loudly, like he was trying to force confidence into his words.

Rena bowed slightly. "I'm Rena."

Edran nodded. "Edran."

A moment of silence stretched between them. Then, surprisingly, Edran shifted his stance, as if relaxing slightly. "You came to listen to another conversation, then?"

Kai smirked. "No, we came to hear about your battles."

Hale's eyes lit up at that. "Yeah! Tell us how you fight with a sword! How many bandits have you fought? Have you ever fought a knight? What's the strongest opponent you've faced?"

Even Rena, though quieter, leaned in slightly, clearly interested.

Edran exhaled, shaking his head. "You kids…"

But there was something different this time.

A small, almost imperceptible shift in his demeanor.

For the first time in years, someone wanted to hear his story. Not out of fear, not out of duty—just pure, innocent curiosity.

And just like that, something long buried stirred within him.

Perhaps a memory.

Perhaps a feeling.

Or perhaps… just a bit of warmth in the coldness of his world.

The seasons shifted, time slipping through the orphanage like grains of sand through open fingers. Four months had passed since Edran first began speaking to the children—not as a knight feared by all, but as a man whose presence had once been a silent shadow. He had told them stories of his rise, of sleepless nights spent honing his blade, of calloused hands that once knew hunger. His words carried no embellishment, only truth.

Hale, with wide, eager eyes, drank in every word. His admiration was boundless, a fire kindled by the tale of a man who had carved his place in the world through will alone. Kai, ever perceptive, listened too, though his interest lay elsewhere—not in the heroics, but in the subtle pauses between words, in the weight Edran carried when he spoke of the past.

And just like that, something changed.

At first, it was small—children approaching with hesitant steps, offering greetings in voices barely above whispers. Then, laughter, the kind that rang through the air like forgotten music. The wall that had once separated Edran from them had begun to crumble, brick by brick. He let them see more of him, little by little, until one day, without warning, he abandoned the mask entirely.

Kai sat beneath the ancient tree, the branches swaying with the rhythm of the wind. He tilted his head, an amused glint in his eyes.

"No more mask, huh, mister?"

Edran said nothing at first. A brief silence stretched between them, the kind that carried meaning beyond words. The wind stirred again, lifting strands of Kai's dark hair, carrying the scent of earth and distant rain.

Then, Edran finally spoke.

"You have a sharper tongue than my sword."

Kai smirked. "Maybe the atmosphere changed you, mister."

Edran exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "No more 'mister.' I think 'uncle' suits me better. Can you say it?"

Kai raised an eyebrow, then, with an exaggerated expression, smirked playfully. "Uncle, huh? But isn't that a little—"

Before he could finish, Edran shot him a look. Not an intimidating one, but something else—something that carried the weight of an older brother scolding a younger one.

Kai laughed, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright! No need to look at me like that. Sorry, Uncle."

A small smile crossed Edran's face. Faint, almost imperceptible, but real.

Kai stood up, stretching. "Well, bye then, Uncle."

Edran watched him go, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

Perhaps, after all these years, he had finally found something worth staying for.

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