Ethan stood in a vast, colorless void. Silence echoed. Then—light. A blinding flash cracked the sky, and two colossal figures emerged: one bathed in blazing sunlight, the other cloaked in a silver shroud of moonlight.
They clashed—not with weapons, but with presence. Mountains crumbled, oceans boiled, time bent. Yet Ethan felt no fear.
A third figure appeared. A being of pure balance… with flowing white hair, glowing red eyes. He looked just like Ethan.
"The world devours itself. When sun forgets moon, and night resents day... the child of both shall rise," the voice whispered.
Ethan reached toward the being. Their fingers nearly touched—
But then fire consumed the vision. Screams. Betrayal. Red stained white.
He jolted awake, heart racing, unsure what any of it meant.
---
Ethan blinked rapidly, the faint glow of early morning seeping through the thin curtain beside his bed. He sat up, dragging a hand through his thick black hair, his crimson red eyes still wide from the dream. At ten years old, Ethan Takahara had the look of someone who didn't quite fit in—black hair like his parents and sister, but eyes that burned with quiet intensity. He wasn't slim, nor was he bulky—just in that in-between build of a boy who hadn't yet hit his growth spurt, but moved like someone used to play and mischief.
He exhaled slowly. Just a dream. A weird one.
"Big bro! Breakfast!"
Aya's voice sliced through the morning haze like sunlight through clouds.
Before he could answer, the door creaked open and in burst a little whirlwind—Aya, nine years old, face bright and cheeks still a little puffed from sleep. Her black hair swung behind her shoulders as she skipped in, brown eyes lighting up at the sight of her brother still in bed.
"You're still sleeping? Papa's gonna eat your share!"
Ethan groaned. "I'm up, I'm up."
Aya grabbed his blanket and yanked it off dramatically. "You always say that, then Mama drags you out with a slipper."
He chuckled as he swung his legs off the bed. "You better run before I tickle you into next week."
"Try me," she challenged, already halfway out the door.
The Takahara home was small but full of warmth—worn wooden floors, walls adorned with old family photos, and the smell of toasted bread and fried eggs drifting from the kitchen. Ethan padded out into the living room, where sunlight spilled through the windows in golden stripes.
Their mother, Hana Takahara, stood by the stove in a faded apron. She was in her mid-thirties, her black hair tied back in a messy bun, and her brown eyes carried the kind of strength that didn't need to raise its voice. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled.
"There's my sleepy boy."
Kaito Takahara sat at the small dining table, one leg crossed over the other, pretending to read the newspaper. Broad-shouldered and in his late thirties, his hands were rough from years of work, but his smile was soft. He glanced up, eyes crinkling with amusement.
"Sleep well?" he asked, reaching out to ruffle Ethan's hair as the boy sat down.
"Papa, he didn't even brush yet!" Aya tattled with mock horror.
"Let him eat first," Hana said, plating Ethan's breakfast. "We're running late."
Ethan slid into his seat beside Aya. She was already chewing a piece of toast, legs swinging beneath the chair.
He stared at his food for a moment. The dream lingered in the back of his mind like a fading echo.
"I had a weird dream," he said, almost without thinking.
Hana paused, just briefly, while placing a cup of tea beside him.
"Oh?" she asked, voice light.
"Yeah. There were these giant people… one made of light, one of moonlight. And someone that looked like me. He said something weird about day and night forgetting each other."
A split-second of silence passed.
Neither Hana nor Kaito spoke immediately, but the moment passed so quickly it barely left a trace. Ethan, still focused on his eggs, didn't notice the way his parents briefly exchanged a glance.
"That's quite the dream," Kaito said finally, his tone casual. "You sure you didn't sneak a late-night anime?"
Hana smirked, nudging her husband with her elbow. "Or maybe you've been reading your papa's old comic books again."
Ethan chuckled and took another bite. "I don't even like the old ones. They smell weird."
The morning continued with the usual rush. Hana was already packing lunches, Kaito looked at the clock and muttered something about traffic, and Aya dashed around looking for her other shoe.
Ethan stepped into his school uniform—simple but neat: a clean white shirt tucked into navy-blue shorts, and a dark vest over it. His satchel hung across his chest, slightly too big for his frame.
Aya's uniform was similar, though her sleeves drooped adorably past her elbows. She held her comb like a weapon, trying to wrestle her hair into shape.
"Ethan, help meee!" she whined.
"You're hopeless," he said, grabbing the comb and gently fixing the back of her hair.
Kaito stood at the door, slipping on his work shoes. "Alright! Move it, squad!"
He leaned down and whispered to Ethan, "Tell your mom I already cleaned the sink. If she asks again, I'm saying you did it."
Ethan snorted. "Coward."
Kaito straightened with a grin. "Smart coward."
Hana stepped out with the bento boxes, handing them over like mission-critical gear.
"Come straight home after school," she said.
"We always do," Ethan replied.
"Liar," Aya muttered, loud enough for him to hear.
He flicked her forehead lightly. "Snitch."
She grinned, rubbing the spot.
As they stepped out, the warm sunlight greeted them, painting the quiet street gold. The air was fresh, filled with birdsong and the soft hush of morning wind.
"Study hard, and protect your sister!" Kaito called from the doorway.
Aya puffed her cheeks. "I'm the one protecting him!"
Ethan smirked, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "We'll see about that."
The two siblings laughed as they raced down the path side by side, the sound of their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet street.