A storm unlike any seen in decades raged over Shizen. Dark clouds twisted violently across the sky, thunder roared like an angry beast, and lightning carved jagged scars through the heavens. Rain lashed against rooftops and windows, soaking the earth in an unrelenting downpour. The wind howled through the trees, shaking them to their roots as if the land itself was crying out in sorrow.
Inside a modest home, the flickering glow of lanterns cast long shadows across the wooden walls. The scent of incense mixed with the damp air, but even that could not mask the metallic tang of blood.
On a futon, Yumi Yuzuki lay pale and drenched in sweat, her breaths ragged. Waves of pain tore through her fragile body, each one worse than the last. But it wasn't the agony of childbirth that clouded her mind—it was him.
"Kyseil… where are you?"
Three months. Three months of waiting. Three months of praying.
Her husband had vanished, swallowed by the unknown, leaving her with nothing but uncertainty and fear. Had he been taken by bandits? Lost in the mountains? Killed? Or was he still out there, searching for a way home?
A part of her still believed he would return—that he would walk through that door, tired but smiling, just in time to meet their child. But with each day that passed, that hope grew thinner.
And now, here she was—alone, bringing their baby into a world that had already taken too much from her.
"She's growing weaker," a low voice murmured.
The words pulled her back to the present.
Beside her, an elderly doctor knelt, his brow furrowed in deep concern. His weathered hands moved swiftly, checking her pulse, dabbing the sweat from her forehead.
The midwife, a woman in her forties with kind eyes, sat on her other side, gripping Yumi's hand. "Just a little more, Yumi-sama. You must hold on."
Yumi tried to nod but barely had the strength. Her body felt as if it were being torn apart, yet she gritted her teeth and pushed through the pain. She had to survive. She had to meet her child.
With one final cry, the pain reached its peak—then, suddenly, it stopped.
A small, fragile body slipped into the doctor's hands. The midwife moved quickly, wrapping the newborn in a soft cloth. For a moment, the room held its breath.
Then, Yumi heard it—silence.
The storm raged outside. The wind howled. The lanterns flickered.
But there was no cry.
A cold dread spread through her chest.
The midwife's hands trembled as she looked at the unmoving bundle in her arms. The doctor pressed two fingers against the baby's tiny chest, his expression darkening.
Yumi's vision blurred. No… this can't be happening.
Her lips parted, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Doctor…?"
The old man's gaze softened with pity. "There's no heartbeat."
The words crushed her.
The world around her seemed to fade. The roar of the storm became distant. Even the searing pain in her body dulled against the unbearable weight of those three words.
Her baby—her only reason to keep going—was gone before he had even taken his first breath.
Her hands shook as she reached out, fingers brushing against her child's soft, lifeless skin. His tiny face was peaceful, as if he were merely asleep. But he was cold. Too cold.
Tears fell freely down her cheeks.
She had already lost Kyseil—was fate so cruel as to take their child too?
Something inside her shattered.
Despair twisted into something deeper—something desperate. No. She wouldn't accept this. She couldn't.
Summoning the last of her strength, she reached deep within herself, past the pain, past the sorrow. The Four Virya Powers—the sacred forces of life—awoke inside her, responding to her unyielding will.
The air thickened. A strange energy filled the room. The wooden floor trembled.
The doctor's eyes widened. "Yumi, stop! This is forbidden!"
The midwife gasped, her grip on the baby tightening. "Yumi-sama, you'll—"
But Yumi didn't listen.
If the gods had abandoned her, then she would defy them.
Golden light swirled around her, crackling like fire. Power surged through her veins, tearing at her very soul. The pain was unbearable—her body screamed in protest, her vision darkening at the edges. Blood trickled from the corners of her lips.
But she didn't stop.
She pressed her trembling hands over her son's still chest, her voice weak but filled with unshakable resolve.
"Live… my son."
A blinding light exploded from her hands, flooding the room in a golden glow. The walls rattled. The storm outside seemed to pause, as if even nature itself was holding its breath.
Then—a cry.
Not the wind. Not the storm.
A newborn's cry.
The doctor stumbled back in shock. The midwife covered her mouth, eyes wide.
The tiny body in her arms shuddered, then took its first breath. His small hands clenched, his face scrunched up—and then, another cry. Louder this time.
He was alive.
Yumi's lips curled into a weak smile. He's safe…
Her body, drained of everything, finally gave in. The golden light around her flickered and died. The warmth left her limbs.
Darkness crept at the edges of her vision, but she fought to stay awake. One last thing… there was one last thing she had to do.
With great effort, she reached out, her trembling fingers brushing against her son's soft cheek. Her voice was barely a whisper, but it carried more love than a thousand words.
"Akshin… Akshin Yuzuki… that is your name."
Tears slipped from her eyes—tears of love, relief, and farewell.
The storm outside slowly began to fade. The winds softened. The rain eased.
And in that silent room, where a mother had given everything—Akshin Yuzuki took his first breath.
A child of miracles.