It happened on a fateful Saturday.
The morning began quietly too quietly. The wind that usually danced through the trees seemed hesitant, as if it carried a secret only the world itself could understand. The air was neither warm nor cold, simply strange… the kind of stillness that whispers before something breaks.
Beyond the Manabe home, Tokyo was alive as always trains rumbling, cars honking, people rushing but none of them knew that one small boy's world was about to shatter.
Yuto Manabe, seven years old, sat cross-legged beside his window, sketchbook open, crayons scattered across the tatami like spilled treasure. His fingers were smudged with red, blue, and gold as he filled the pages with heroes, dragons, and galaxies that only he could see.
He loved manga.
Not just reading them feeling them. The way colors gave emotions a heartbeat. How a single shade could turn sadness into beauty.
To Yuto, color was life itself.
"One day," he always said, "I'll draw a story everyone can feel a world brighter than this one."
His parents, Touya and Momo Manabe, were his everything.
Touya was the gentle type the kind who worked late but never forgot to ruffle his son's hair. Momo was warmth itself; her laughter filled the house like music, her cooking the heartbeat that kept it alive.
Life was simple, but happiness lived in simplicity.
That Saturday was special Yuto's seventh birthday.
The smell of miso soup drifted from the kitchen as Momo's cheerful voice called out,
"Yuto! Come downstairs!"
He jumped up, nearly stepping on his crayons.
"Coming, Mama!"
The living room was small, but to him, it was paradise. Balloons hung from the ceiling, paper flowers sat on the table, and in the center his mother smiled like springtime.
"Where's my present?" he asked, bouncing with excitement.
"Present?" Momo tapped her chin dramatically. "Oh no… did I forget?"
Yuto's face fell. "Eh..no way.."
Her laughter sparkled. "Got you! Here open it."
He tore through the wrapping paper. A brand-new sketchbook, a box of professional crayons, and a set of limited-edition manga volumes glimmered inside.
"Arigatou, Mama!" he cried, hugging her tight. "You're the best!"
"Promise me you'll fill that sketchbook with happiness," she said softly.
"I will! But… where's Papa?"
"He said he'd be home early."
Just then, the front door opened. Touya stepped in wrinkled suit, tired eyes but smiling.
"Papa!"
Touya crouched down, hiding something behind his back. "Guess what I brought?"
"Crayons?"
"Mama beat me to it." Touya chuckled, then revealed a small cake with Happy Birthday, Yuto written in bright frosting.
"Seven already," he murmured. "You're growing up too fast."
That night was full of laughter and music.
Momo sang softly while Touya spun Yuto around until they both collapsed, breathless and happy.
Later, Yuto fell asleep in his mother's arms, still holding a crayon.
Outside, the wind sighed again quieter this time. Like the last whisper before the storm.
The next morning was ordinary.
Yuto hurried to school, his bag packed with his new crayons.
"Eat your breakfast first!" Momo called.
"I'm coming!" he shouted, half chewing, half running.
Touya had already left for "an important meeting." Momo didn't question it she trusted him.
At school, Yuto showed his best friend Hisoka his new supplies.
"Look! Mama got me these!"
Hisoka grinned. "You're gonna be a real mangaka someday!"
Yuto laughed. Life was still full of color.
Until it wasn't.
That night, Touya didn't come home.
One day became three.
A week became a month.
A month became a year.
Touya Manabe never returned.
....
Three years later
Yuto was ten when the door opened again.
A man stood there thin, hollow-eyed, his face worn by something heavier than time.
"...Papa?"
Touya didn't smile. Didn't speak. He just walked past him.
When Momo saw the shoes by the door, she dropped her groceries and ran upstairs. "Touya! You're home!"
She hugged him tight, but his arms stayed limp.
They learned the truth later.
He'd been accused of theft at work. Fired. Disowned. Lost. The world had chewed him up and spat out what remained.
The man who came back was not the father Yuto remembered.
He was broken. Bitter. And soon, a drunk.
The home once filled with laughter turned into a battlefield.
Touya shouted at small things. Momo cried quietly at night. The warmth in their home turned cold, and Yuto's drawings the worlds he once built with joy began to fade.
The colors on his pages dulled until one day, they were gone.
"Why can't I draw anymore?" he whispered to the empty air.
Then came that night.
Shouting. Crashing. His parents' voices slicing through the house like thunder.
"It's your fault, Momo!"
"No, it's yours! You're not the man I married!"
Yuto pressed his hands over his ears. "Stop... please stop…"
But the storm didn't stop.
When he finally fell asleep, tears still clung to his cheeks.
And when he woke
the world had changed.
The sunlight through his window was white, but everything else… was gray.
The walls. The floor. His hands.
The crayons on his desk all colorless.
"Where… where did the color go?" he whispered.
He rubbed his eyes until they burned, but the world stayed dead.
And so, the boy who once dreamed in color learned to live in monochrome.
...
Ten years later.
At seventeen, Yuto Manabe's world was still gray.
He stopped drawing. Stopped dreaming.
Until the day he saved a girl from stepping off the bridge.
She turned to him, eyes cold as winter.
"Who asked you to save me?"
Yuto froze. Speechless.
Later that day, their teacher introduced the new transfer student.
"Everyone, this is Takamine Mika."
And at that moment
the gray world around Yuto flickered.
A heartbeat of blue.
A spark of red.
A shimmer of gold.
For the first time in ten years…
Yuto Manabe saw color again.