The Forbidden Door

Five years passed.
Kaito stood before the graves of his parents. The wind blew softly across the hilltop, carrying with it the scent of wild grass. He laid a hand on the cold stone markers.
“Mom, Dad… today I leave home. My journey begins.”
His voice was steady, but deep in his chest, his heart wavered. He had lived with grief for so long that silence had become his companion. Yet today, that silence was broken.
When he returned to his house, Kaito stopped before the storehouse at the back. For years, that door had been sealed. His father’s words had been absolute: Never open it.
But now… now he had no one left to forbid him.
He pushed it open. Dust swirled in the air, glittering faintly in the dim light.
At the center of the room rested a great sword, its black scabbard aged yet imposing. Beside it lay a sealed letter, his father’s handwriting pressed into the surface.
Kaito’s hands trembled as he broke the seal and unfolded the paper.
“If you’re reading this, you’ve turned seventeen. Happy birthday, Kaito. I wish I were there with you and your mother.”
“From tomorrow, leave the village. Learn the world. Trust little, observe much.”
“And the truth… Kaito, you are not my blood. Your mother and I could never bear a child. I found you outside this village. Beside you lay that sword. I don’t know its power, only that when another touched it, he died. It belongs to you alone.”
“Take it, and walk your hard and painful journey. Forgive me, son… but this is your fate.”
The paper shook in his grip as his vision blurred. Tears splashed onto the letter.