Kurata brought the children to his home, where the reality of what had happened finally sank in. They cried—Takeshi, Kori, and Raiden—all in a huddle, sobbing for their parents. But Kurata, though his own heart was heavy, knelt down in front of them and spoke firmly.
"Crying won't bring them back," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I know it hurts. But this is the way of things. You have to accept it, and keep moving forward."
The children listened, their faces streaked with tears, but they couldn't respond. Over the next few days, they did what they could to process the loss. The pain felt overwhelming, especially for Raiden, the youngest. He clutched his mother's memory close, struggling to believe she was really gone. Kori and Takeshi stayed by his side, but even they were drowning in their grief.
When the time came to bury their parents, there were no bodies left. The fire had taken everything. Instead, they gathered what little belongings remained—a few charred items, fragments of memories—and took them to the family gravesite. It was a somber place, with stones bearing the names of their ancestors: Hikari Sungu, Mary Hikaru, and now, Aoiro Hikari and Catherine.
The sky was dark and heavy, rain pouring down as if the heavens themselves mourned their loss. Only Kurata and the children were there, dressed in black suits, standing silently as they laid their parents' belongings to rest. The air was thick with sorrow, and no words could capture the weight of the moment.
Raiden stood in front of the graves, his small hands clutching the necklace his father had given him. The green light from the stone flickered faintly, reminding him of the promises, the love, and the hope his parents had once carried. He began to cry again, unable to hold it back.
"I miss them," he whispered, his voice breaking.
Kori and Takeshi placed their arms around him, offering what little comfort they could. Takeshi's eyes were red from crying, but he kept a strong face for his siblings. "We'll be okay," he said, though even he wasn't sure if it was true.
As Raiden's tears fell, his necklace seemed to respond, sparking with a faint green aura. It was as if the energy of the past was still there with him, lingering like a quiet whisper.
After the burial, they walked home in silence, the rain still falling. Kurata had been strong for them, but his grief was no less heavy. As they entered the house, he turned to the children, his expression serious.
"Tomorrow, your training begins," he said. "You're not just children anymore. You're going to have to learn how to survive in this world, and that means getting stronger. I'll train you until you're ready to stand on your own."
The next morning, Kurata wasted no time. He woke the children before dawn, his voice loud and commanding.
"Get up," he said, pulling them from their beds. "Your training starts now."
Raiden, Takeshi, and Kori were still groggy from sleep, their bodies aching with the weight of their grief. But they knew there was no escaping this. Kurata wasn't just training them for battle—he was preparing them for the harshness of the world, where nothing was guaranteed, and losses like theirs were inevitable.
The pain of losing their parents would never fully go away, but they had no choice but to keep moving forward, just as Kurata had told them.