The fading light of dusk painted the village of Kusin in hues of gold and deep orange. As the sun dipped below the horizon, shadows stretched long across the cobblestone streets, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere. Shin wandered through the quiet village, his thoughts consumed by a single, elusive figure: Ayano Poirot, the man who had once been a beacon of hope and brilliance in a world steeped in magic. Ayano had changed Shin's life a decade ago, yet now he was nothing more than a ghost, lost to time and disinterest.
As Shin walked, he passed a group of children playing in the alleyways, their shrill laughter echoing off the stone walls. Their joy felt out of place in the stillness of the evening, but it was a welcome reminder of the simpler times Shin had long since left behind. He watched them for a moment, smiling faintly, but his attention was soon drawn to a figure slumped on a nearby bench.
"Hey! Mad Man, Mad Man!" one of the boys shouted, pointing toward the man on the bench.
Shin's eyes followed the boy's gesture. The man in question sat lazily in the corner, half-hidden in the gathering shadows. His clothes were tattered, hanging off his lean frame like rags, and his long, unkempt hair covered much of his face. His eyes, half-closed, appeared to be on the verge of sleep, but his expression was one of irritation, as though even resting in silence was a chore.
"Get off our playing area!" the same boy yelled, picking up a small rock and hurling it toward the man. The rock missed by a wide margin, skittering uselessly along the ground. The man barely reacted, his eyes fluttering open for the briefest of moments before closing again.
Another child giggled. "Yeah! You look like some bland, old beggar!" The laughter spread through the group like wildfire.
The man stirred slightly, opening one eye to give the children a lazy, indifferent glance. His expression didn't change; the insults were nothing more than background noise to him. He shifted his position, muttering under his breath, "Let's go somewhere else." His voice was soft, barely audible, more an exhale of breath than a spoken sentence.
With a long, tired sigh, the man pushed himself up from the bench. He stretched his arms, his back arching with a slight crack, and shuffled away from the group without so much as a backward glance. His movements were sluggish, unhurried, as though the world itself couldn't compel him to rush.
The children's laughter grew louder, their voices filled with triumph. "He's so weird!" one of them jeered, watching the man retreat.
Shin stood quietly, watching the man's back as he disappeared into the shadows. There was something about the way he moved—so indifferent, so unaffected by the cruel words thrown his way. The way he carried himself with complete disinterest was both fascinating and unsettling. It reminded Shin of someone he had known long ago.
Could it really be him? Shin wondered, his brows furrowing in thought. Ayano Poirot—the once-legendary magician who had revolutionized their world. The man who had brought hope and joy to so many. What had happened to him?
Night fell swiftly over Kusin, draping the village in darkness. The inn where Shin had taken up residence for the night was quiet, the only sounds being the occasional creak of wood or the distant howl of the wind. Yet, despite the stillness, Shin found sleep elusive. His mind replayed the memories of his past over and over, memories of Ayano from ten years ago, back when Shin was just a boy, alone and lost.
---
The cold streets of Shandiam were unforgiving, blanketed in heavy snow that muffled the sounds of the bustling city. A young Shin, no more than eight years old, wandered aimlessly through the icy streets, shivering as the blizzard pressed down on him. His thin clothes clung to his frail body, offering little protection from the biting cold. He glanced toward a restaurant glowing with warmth just a few steps away. Inside, the patrons laughed and chatted, their warm coats and hearty meals a painful reminder of how isolated and frozen Shin felt.
"You okay, kid?" A voice broke through the swirling wind, soft yet filled with quiet confidence.
Shin turned slowly, surprised by the sudden sound. Before him stood a young man, his figure outlined by the falling snow. His long, dark hair hung awkwardly around his face, nearly covering his deep bluish-purple eyes. Despite the disheveled appearance of his layers of scarves and mismatched clothing, there was something strikingly warm and inviting about him. He seemed calm—comfortable, even—in the harsh winter.
"W-who are you?" Shin stammered, his teeth chattering too much to speak clearly.
The man took a step closer but remained respectful of Shin's space, rubbing the back of his neck in a familiar, awkward gesture. "Just passing by," he said with a light chuckle, "but it's freezing out here, so I thought maybe I could help?" His voice trailed off uncertainly, like he wasn't used to offering assistance.
Shin stared at him. The man's presence was oddly comforting, and he didn't seem bothered by the cold, or even Shin's hesitation. His expression was warm but slightly nervous, as though he wasn't sure how to approach the situation.
Before Shin could answer, the man suddenly fumbled with his oversized scarf and draped it over Shin's small, trembling frame. "Here," he said gently, his tone soft but kind. "It's way too big, but it'll keep you warm."
The scarf nearly swallowed Shin whole, but the warmth was immediate. He looked up at the man, who gave him a slightly crooked, awkward smile, but behind it was genuine care.
"Wh-why are you helping me?" Shin asked, his voice shaking from more than just the cold.
The man scratched his head again, his eyes darting to the side, uncomfortable. "I dunno. I just saw you standing there, looking like a little snowman, and figured... well, no one should freeze, right?" He gave a goofy grin, the kind that seemed more like a nervous reflex than an actual joke.
Shin blinked at him, caught off guard by the man's unusual kindness. The joke was clumsy, but the sincerity behind it made Shin feel... safe.
"Come on," the man said after a moment, his tone still awkward but full of warmth. "There's a nice place up the road. Warm food, better than freezing out here. I can get you something to eat. If that's okay with you?"
Shin hesitated for a moment but then nodded. His hunger and exhaustion outweighed his wariness. The man gave him another relieved, crooked smile and motioned for Shin to follow him.
As they walked through the snow, the man introduced himself quietly. "Ayano Poirot," he said with a little self-conscious laugh. "You might've heard the name, but no big deal. I don't like the whole 'hero' thing much." He kept his voice low, almost embarrassed by the admission.
Shin's eyes widened. Ayano Poirot—one of the 26 heroes summoned to save the world, a figure known for his brilliance in magic. Yet the man before him seemed nothing like the legends. He was awkward, unassuming, and deeply introverted, but still, there was an unmistakable warmth about him.
"You're Ayano?" Shin asked, incredulous.
"Yeah," Ayano replied with a sheepish grin. They soon reached a small, cozy restaurant, and Ayano led Shin to a table near the fireplace. The warmth of the fire made Shin's limbs tingle as the chill melted away. Ayano waved to the waitress, ordering a bowl of stew for Shin in a quiet, almost shy voice.
"Stew's good, right? Or... they have soup if you want that instead?" Ayano asked, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the table.
"Stew's fine," Shin mumbled, grateful but overwhelmed by Ayano's generosity.
The two sat in comfortable silence for a while. Ayano was clearly someone who understood the value of quiet, never pressing Shin for details about his life. Every now and then, Ayano would make a soft, goofy comment, trying to break the ice with a quiet laugh. Though awkward, his attempts to connect made Shin feel less alone.
When the stew arrived, Ayano gestured toward it with a small, encouraging smile. "Eat up. Gotta stay strong, right?"
After the meal, Ayano stood, brushing crumbs from his coat. "You need a place to stay?" he asked, his voice still quiet, but no longer hesitant. "I've got a decent place nearby. Not far, and it's warm. If you want, you can stay for the night. Totally up to you."
Shin nodded, the thought of a safe, warm place too tempting to pass up.
Ayano's home was a large, sprawling house nestled on the edge of the forest, its size impressive but not overwhelming. It had a quiet, understated charm, with tall windows that let in plenty of natural light and wooden beams that gave the place a rustic, cozy feel. The rooms were spacious, filled with soft, warm lighting, and decorated with simple furniture that made it feel welcoming, not grand.
Though Ayano lived alone, the house never felt empty. Whenever loneliness crept in, his fellow heroes would visit, filling the quiet halls with laughter and conversation. Despite the size of the home, it always felt intimate, like a place where people could gather and share quiet moments of warmth and friendship.
As Shin stepped into Ayano's home, he felt an unexpected warmth wash over him. Despite its size, the house didn't feel intimidating or grandiose. Instead, it was cozy, like stepping into a place that welcomed you without words. The soft lighting, the warmth of the wood-paneled walls, and the gentle crackle of a fireplace made the large space feel intimate and comforting.
---
Shin awoke from his dream with a start, his heart racing. That was the moment that had changed everything for him. But the man he had seen earlier today... Could that truly be the same Ayano Poirot?
Before Shin could dwell on the thought any longer, the peaceful stillness of Kusin was shattered by the sound of screams. The air filled with panic as the village's defenses were breached. D-class monsters from the nearby forest had made their way into the heart of Kusin, their grotesque forms emerging from the darkness like twisted shadows.
Shin leapt to his feet, his sword already in hand. His mind snapped into focus as he sprinted through the chaos, scanning the streets for any sign of the creatures. The moonlight cast long, eerie shadows across the village, making it difficult to discern friend from foe in the confusion.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it—a towering beast, its fangs dripping with venom, stalking a group of children. Among them was the same boy who had taunted the man earlier. The monster growled, its eyes fixed on its prey, preparing to strike.
Shin's muscles tensed. He was too far away. He wouldn't reach them in time.
But just as the creature lunged, a blur of movement shot past Shin. The man from earlier—the one the children had mocked—stepped into the path of the beast with a calm, practiced ease that sent a chill down Shin's spine. In one fluid motion, the man unsheathed a dagger from within his cloak. The blade glinted in the moonlight for a brief second before it flashed through the air, slicing cleanly through the monster's neck.
The creature let out a gurgling shriek as it crumpled to the ground, its body twitching violently before falling still. The children stood frozen, their wide eyes locked on the man who had just saved their lives—the same man they had taunted and jeered at only hours before.
The man sheathed his dagger with a single, effortless motion. He glanced down at the fallen creature with mild disinterest, as though slaying such a beast was a trivial task. His expression remained calm, detached, as if none of this had ever truly concerned him.
Shin stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest. There was no mistaking it now. The fluidity of his movements, the effortless precision with which he had dispatched the creature—this was no ordinary drifter.
"Ayano Poirot," Shin called out, his voice carrying across the quiet village.
Ayano turned slowly, his expression one of mild discomfort at being recognized, but also something else—an unspoken bond between them. There was still a flicker of the kind, awkward hero who had saved a frozen boy all those years ago.
"So… you found me," Ayano said, his tone soft but steady, with just the faintest hint of his old, goofy self. "What now?"
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