Itsuki dismounted from the Nightmare Wolf as it faded into the shadows. The gleaming golden eyes of the beast lingered for a moment before vanishing entirely, leaving him and Pip to face the sprawling estate in the distance.
The grand Kagero mansion loomed like a fortress on the hill, its towering gates flanked by stone guardians. The sight of it sent a cold chill down Itsuki's spine, though his expression remained calm. This was the home this body had grown up in. The place where his family had ridiculed, scorned, and ultimately killed him.
But this time, things were different.
Itsuki adjusted his tattered cloak, masking the steady strength in his posture. To his family, he was still the meek, spineless failure they had always known. They didn't need to know that he had changed—that the Itsuki they had discarded was gone, and in his place was someone who would dismantle their perfect world piece by piece.
"I can't believe you're just walking in there," Pip whispered from his shoulder. "You know they hate you, right? Like, seriously hate you."
"They hated the old me," Itsuki said softly, his dark eyes gleaming. "But I'm not him anymore. And they don't need to know that. Besides to deal with his family, I need to know who's on his side and who isn't. Take care of those who aren't would be easy."
Pip tilted his head. "So, what's the plan? You gonna unleash that big bad wolf on them or something?"
Itsuki smirked faintly. "Not yet. For now, I'll play along. Let them think I'm still weak. It'll make things easier when the time comes."
As they approached the gates, the guards didn't even glance at him. He was invisible to them, just as he had always been. The heavy iron doors groaned open, revealing the sprawling courtyard lined with cherry blossoms.
Inside, the atmosphere was stifling. His siblings moved with the same effortless grace they had always flaunted, their conversations filled with boasts about their latest achievements. None of them spared him a second glance as he passed by.
A voice cut through the air like a whip.
"You're late, Itsuki."
Itsuki froze, masking the surge of bitterness in his chest. His eldest brother, Daichi, stood at the far end of the room, arms crossed. With his broad shoulders and piercing eyes, he exuded the commanding presence of a born leader. It was Daichi who had landed the final blow in his past life—the brother he had once admired most.
"I'm sorry," Itsuki said quietly, bowing his head. "I was delayed."
Daichi scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're always a disappointment. Don't forget your place."
Itsuki clenched his fists, keeping his face carefully neutral. "Yes, older brother."
As Daichi turned away, Itsuki allowed himself the faintest of smiles. He had seen through them all—their hypocrisy, their pride, their twisted sense of loyalty. This time, he wouldn't be the one cowering in the shadows.
"I won't forget my place," he whispered under his breath.
Itsuki moved silently through the estate, carefully observing the faces that had haunted his nightmares for so long. His father, Haruto, sat at the head of the dining table, stern and imposing, his aura a reminder of why the Kagero family was feared.
His mother, Sayuri, perched gracefully at his side, her sharp eyes scanning every movement as though she could see into Itsuki's very soul.
His siblings dominated the room with their loud voices and boastful tales, each recounting their latest feats.
"Father," Daichi said, his voice brimming with pride, "I completed the inferno trial in half the time as the last heir."
Haruto gave a curt nod. "As expected of my eldest. And you, Aiko?"
Aiko, the second sibling, smiled smugly. "I've perfected the magnetic seal. No one in the region can match my mastery."
Pride lit up their father's face, but his expression hardened as his gaze landed on Itsuki.
"And you?" Haruto's voice was cold, cutting through the hum of the room. "What have you achieved, Itsuki?"
The room fell silent, the words dripping with mockery. Itsuki felt all eyes on him, their disdain palpable.
"Father you should be well informed about my situation" Itsuki said softly, lowering his head. "I haven't achieved anything significant yet."
Daichi snorted. "Of course not. Why would you? A Beast Tamer's potential is laughable at best."
Laughter rippled around the table, and Itsuki forced himself to remain calm. He could feel Pip trembling on his shoulder, his small body vibrating with barely suppressed rage.
"Don't let them get to you," Itsuki murmured under his breath.
"I don't know how you're so calm," Pip hissed, keeping his voice low. "They're insufferable.
Haruto sighed as he stood up beaconing Itsuki to follow him.
"…!!"
Itsuki straightened as he followed his father, wondering why he would ask him to work with him. Maybe it was to scold him or downgrade him as usual.
Itsuki followed his father through the dimly lit corridors of the Kagero mansion, his mind racing with possibilities. Haruto rarely paid him any attention unless it was to voice his disappointment or assign menial tasks. For him to request a private moment was unusual—and concerning.
The heavy silence stretched as they entered Haruto's private study, a room Itsuki had never been allowed to enter before. The air was thick with the scent of old books and incense, and the walls were lined with shelves filled with ancient tomes. In the center of the room was a single, unadorned table, and atop it rested a small, ornate wooden box.
Haruto gestured toward the box without meeting Itsuki's gaze. "Sit."
Itsuki obeyed, his movements measured and deliberate. His father's expression was unreadable, his sharp features carved in stone.
"This box belonged to someone we don't speak of often," Haruto began, his voice low. He placed his hands on the table, fingers tracing the edge of the box. "My youngest brother. He was… like you."
Itsuki stiffened but said nothing.
"A Beast Tamer," Haruto continued, his tone betraying a hint of bitterness. "In a family of powerhouses, he was an abnormality. My father—your grandfather—saw no use for his ability. He was… overlooked, just as you have been. But my brother refused to accept his place."
There was a flicker of emotion in Haruto's eyes—regret? Pain? Itsuki wasn't sure be sure.
"He tried to prove his worth, to show us all that a Beast Tamer could be something more. But he was reckless. He sought strength in dangerous places, and it cost him his life. He died young." Haruto's voice hardened. "The Kagero family does not speak of failures. It was decided that his memory would fade, just as his efforts did."
Itsuki's heart ached for the uncle he had never known. Another Beast Tamer, cast aside and forgotten.
Haruto pushed the box toward him. "I don't know why I kept this. Maybe because he was my brother, or maybe because some part of me thought he might be right. But it doesn't matter now. I'm giving it to you."
Itsuki hesitated, his hands hovering over the box. "Why?"
Haruto's gaze sharpened. "Because you're all that's left of him. If there's anything in there that can help you… you might as well use it."
Itsuki opened the box slowly, the hinges creaking as he lifted the lid. Inside was a collection of small trinkets: a worn journal, a cracked pendant, and a set of beast-taming sigils carved into smooth stones. He picked up the journal, its pages brittle with age, and flipped through it.
The handwriting was neat but frantic, filled with notes, diagrams, and theories about Beast Taming. Itsuki's breath caught as he read the words of a man who had once shared his struggle.
"You don't have to thank me," Haruto said abruptly, turning away. "I don't expect anything from you, Itsuki. Just… don't waste it."
As Haruto left the room, Itsuki sat in stunned silence, the journal resting heavily in his hands.
"He didn't have to do this," Pip murmured, appearing beside him.
"No, he didn't," Itsuki agreed, his voice quiet. "But maybe… some part of him wanted to."
Pip tilted his head, eyeing the journal. "What now?"
Itsuki's grip on the journal tightened. "Now, we learn everything he left behind. If my uncle believed a Beast Tamer could be strong, I'll prove him right. For him. For me. For all of us who were cast aside."