Cote: Elite in Action

The time passed in the park as Kayden observed his surroundings. He had been interacting with some people, mostly adults, as he found it easier to start a conversation with them than with someone his own age. Additionally, adults were usually more approachable and willing to chat. However, this time he decided to approach a couple who were fondly watching what appeared to be their daughter, who was happily playing with other children.

With complete naturalness, Kayden sat on the wide bench next to the couple, maintaining a calm and polite expression.

—Oh, wow! What a cute child! What's your name, darling? —asked the woman with a warm smile, admiring his appearance.

—Hello, my name is Kayden Osawa —he replied courteously, slightly bowing his head.

—Kayden? That doesn't sound like a Japanese name, unlike your last name —the woman commented, intrigued.

Kayden nodded calmly.

—My mother was Swiss —he explained—. She's the one who gave me the name.

The woman showed a surprised expression upon hearing the past tense in his response.

—Was...? Don't tell me that...

Kayden gave him a calm smile, trying to ease the discomfort in the atmosphere.

—Yes, my mother passed away many years ago —he confirmed—. But don't worry, I'm fine. It's been a long time, so it doesn't affect me.

The woman nodded gently, still with an empathetic expression on her face. The man, who had remained silent until that moment, gave Kayden a peaceful smile.

—It must have been tough growing up without her —he said kindly—. But you seem like a strong kid.

Kayden tilted his head slightly, reflecting for a moment.

—I think it depends on how you look at it —he responded with an unusual maturity for his age—. Sometimes I feel sad when I miss her, but I know she wouldn't want me to stay that way. She always said I should smile, even if things were hard. So... that's what I try to do.

The woman exchanged a surprised look with her husband.

—You're very mature for your age —the man commented, looking at him with a mix of curiosity and admiration—. Most kids don't think like that.

Kayden gave a slight, relaxed smile.

—I guess I learned it from my mom —he said naturally—. She always told me that sadness is part of life, but staying trapped in it is a choice. It's better to accept what can't be changed and move on.

The woman looked at him with tenderness, wondering how a child so young could speak with such serenity.

—It seems like you have a very wise perspective —she said, impressed—. Is your father like that too?

Kayden looked ahead, observing the children playing in the park. His gaze remained calm, though his thoughts were much deeper than his age suggested.

—My dad... doesn't work in the traditional sense —he responded calmly—. His main focus has always been to ensure I can reach my full potential.

The woman frowned, intrigued by his response.

—Ensure you reach your full potential? How does he do that?

Kayden didn't seem to think about it too much.

—He's always researching. He analyzes how he can improve me, how to maximize my abilities. It's not that he pressures me to be perfect, but he believes that knowledge and preparation are essential to face any challenge in the future. He's always looking for ways to give me the best education and the best opportunities.

The man, who had been silently listening until now, nodded slowly.

—That sounds like a big responsibility for such a young kid —he commented, somewhat surprised.

Kayden didn't seem bothered by the comment. In fact, he gave a slight smile.

—I don't see it as a burden. My dad has never forced me to follow his path. He always shows me options and lets me decide what I want to do. I've learned to be alone since he's busy with his research most of the time, but I respect him a lot. I know he does it because he wants the best for me.

The woman fell silent, processing his words. Kayden, with his maturity, was a complex child, and although he wasn't used to sharing much about his life, he seemed comfortable talking about his father. However, there was something in his tone that suggested their relationship wasn't based on the typical emotional closeness between a father and son, but more on an intellectual and distant structure.

The couple felt a lump in their throat after hearing such mature and serene words. Before they could say anything more, a child's voice broke the moment.

—Dad, mom! We finished the base of the castle! —she exclaimed, initially not noticing Kayden's presence. Then her eyes landed on him, curious—. Huh? Who is he?

—His name is Kayden Osawa —the woman replied, smiling—. He's a very smart boy.

Kayden gave a slight bow of his head.

—Hello, my name is Kayden —he said kindly.

The girl blinked, processing the name before smiling broadly.

—Oh! I'm Sakurako Tsubaki! —she said cheerfully—. We're building a sandcastle over there —she pointed to a group of children—. Do you want to come help me?

Kayden blinked a couple of times, as if considering the offer.

—A sandcastle? That sounds interesting. But I've never built one —he admitted honestly.

Sakurako let out a cheerful laugh.

—It doesn't matter! I'll teach you! —she said, energetically taking his hand—. Come on, it will be great!

Kayden briefly looked at the girl's parents, who smiled at him in approval, and then let Sakurako lead him toward the sandpile where the other children were already working hard.

As the girl pulled him toward the play area, Kayden couldn't help but think about what he had just heard. A sandcastle. What was the point of building something that would inevitably disappear with the wind or the tide? He observed the excitement on Sakurako's face and that of the other children, but he couldn't understand the source of that euphoria.

For him, activities always had a clear and concrete goal: to improve his skills, learn something new, or move forward toward a defined goal. But this game... What was achieved in the end? There was no practical value in piling up sand, shaping it, and watching it crumble later.

However, as the girl spoke nonstop about the towers and walls she planned to build, Kayden felt a strange unease in his chest. Why did they seem so happy doing something that had no logical purpose? Was this emotion what they called "fun"?

When they reached the sandpile, Sakurako immediately knelt down, enthusiastically pointing to the base of the castle she had built with other children. Kayden watched her with curiosity, trying to understand what made all of it seem so exciting for them.

Maybe... the goal wasn't the castle itself, but the process of building it. The joy of sharing the effort with others, the satisfaction of watching it take shape. An experience he had never really lived.

—Come on, Kayden! —called Sakurako, holding out a bucket full of sand—. Let's start with the towers!

Kayden took the bucket without saying anything, still processing what he was feeling. Maybe, at least this time, he could try to understand what it meant to enjoy something without thinking about the results.

...

—So, Kayden, how did it go today at the park? Did you learn anything? —Keisuke asked, observing his son with a calm but attentive gaze, as if he already knew that his son would give him an answer beyond what an average child might say.

Kayden, without hesitation, sat down naturally, as if he had been waiting for this question. He took a moment to organize his thoughts before responding, and then spoke with his characteristic, analytical, and reflective tone.

—Today... was interesting. Observing the children gave me a perspective on how most people make decisions. They seem to act based on impulses that respond to immediate desires, almost without the intervention of reason. There's an innate curiosity that guides their actions, a desire to experience what they don't understand, without questioning much about the ultimate purpose of what they do. I saw how they built their sandcastle, for example. Some sought precision, perfection in the structure, while others simply let themselves go with the process. It's curious how both types of behavior existed at the same time, with neither necessarily being more "correct" than the other.

Keisuke nodded, a slight hint of approval on his face. It didn't surprise him what his son was saying; he had expected such an analysis—precise and deep, as always. In fact, it seemed almost inevitable that Kayden would come to these conclusions at such an early age.

—And what conclusions did you draw from all this? —Keisuke asked, as if it were a natural continuation of the conversation, knowing well that his son wouldn't stay on the surface of things.

Kayden thought for a moment, then his voice resonated with impressive calm, as if he were breaking down what many adults might not even have noticed.

—The main difference between children and adults is the way they manage their desires. Children let themselves be carried away by impulse, they don't worry about the long-term consequences because they don't have the ability to anticipate them. They simply act based on what they feel in the moment. Adults, on the other hand, learn to control those impulses. In their case, curiosity transforms into a tool for achieving specific goals, and that can be beneficial. However, they lose something in the process. In their eagerness to plan and rationalize, they sometimes forget to enjoy the present, overlooking the importance of immediate gratification, which, at the time, could have been as revealing as any long-term achievement.

Keisuke nodded again, already familiar with his son's level of reflection. There was nothing extraordinary about it for him. He knew that Kayden not only understood human behavior but deconstructed it and analyzed it in a way that few could.

—That's what I expected from you —Keisuke said with a light smile. It wasn't arrogance, but a natural acceptance of what his son was capable of. He knew that for Kayden, this type of analysis on human nature was just the beginning.

Kayden, oblivious to his father's approval, continued with his analysis, as if it were an extension of his own learning process.

—It's curious how, in reality, people, at any stage of life, remain essentially the same. The only thing that changes is the way they channel their desires and curiosities. Children don't worry about the results, they act simply for the pleasure of doing it, while adults need to know if what they do will bring them some kind of tangible reward. But they are all still driven by basic human impulses, just in very different ways.

Keisuke observed his son with a slight smile, his face impassive but clearly satisfied. It wasn't the first time he had heard Kayden reach conclusions like this, but he always found a way to make it deeper, more precise. Without a doubt, his son was different from the others.

—So, what do you think about all that? —Keisuke asked, interested in Kayden's final thoughts on what he had learned.

—I think that, to be truly human, we need to learn to balance the spontaneity of childhood with the planning of adulthood. However, we shouldn't lose the ability to enjoy what we do for the simple sake of doing it. —Kayden thought for a moment more before adding with a slight smile—. Although, for now, it seems like children have an advantage. They experience the world with the purity of curiosity, while adults sometimes lose that ability due to the pressures of daily life.

Keisuke stared at him for a moment, as if evaluating the depth of his son's words. He knew that Kayden, even at such a young age, had a unique ability to understand the world—not only through knowledge but also from an emotional and intuitive level.

—Well, Kayden, that seems very wise to me. Maybe we should find a balance between those two things. —Keisuke stood up and gave his son a light pat on the head, a sign of affection—. What you've learned today is not only valuable, but it will also be useful to you later.

Kayden nodded, and without further ado, he went to his room while Keisuke watched him, thinking about his son's future. He knew that each day was another step toward his evolution—not only as someone highly skilled but also as someone who might come to understand the world in a unique way.

But as he watched Kayden disappear down the hallway, Keisuke also felt a small weight on his chest. He knew that the process he had started with his son had been long and meticulous, and while the results were remarkable, he couldn't help but wonder how much more his own body could endure. The research, the dedication... it all seemed to have a price.

Suddenly, Keisuke felt a burning sensation in his throat, followed by a dry, harsh cough. His legs began to weaken, as if the energy that had sustained him up until this point was slowly fading away. The cough grew more violent, leaving red stains on the floor as his body seemed to collapse slowly.

With difficulty, he lifted his gaze, his mind clouded by exhaustion. The cough wouldn't stop, and in his chest, he felt a growing pressure. The blood mixed with the cold sweat that covered his forehead.

I must hurry, I don't have much time... he thought desperately. He knew that his time, the time he had tirelessly dedicated to his son, was running out. He had fulfilled his goal, and now he just hoped to see Kayden grow, become more human, more capable. But that dedication, that endless effort, had taken its toll. And now, in the solitude of his office, he faced the bitterest truth: his time was running out, and there wasn't much he could do about it.