(Three months later)
Haru sat cross-legged on his bed, a notebook spread open in front of him. Pencil in hand, he muttered under his breath, "I think it should go like this…"
The page was filled with symbols and scribbles, notes. Not a single word of any conventional language appeared. It was a music sheet.
He tapped the pencil against the paper thoughtfully, eyes narrowing in concentration. Every line, every curve had to be just right.
'Could try it now…' he thought. 'After all, Mom and Dad shouldn't be home for a bit.'
From the start he had decided he would only play when his parents weren't around. After all, he didn't want to be a bother.
They'd been gone for a while now, on their weekly date night, and he was still perfecting the song he was trying to recall from his past life, one he was certain would push him to the very limits of his ability on the guitar.
He was almost sure he had superpowers, after all. His sense of smell reached far beyond anything human, sharp enough to pick up details most people would miss. His taste was just as absurd one bite of a meal was enough to tell him what ingredients had been used and how long it had been cooked.
And then there was the most recent one.
His mind.
He could absorb information at an incredible speed, concepts clicking into place almost the moment he encountered them. Combined with his uncannily precise memory. He could remember almost everything from his past life down to the smallest details, lyrics, intricate storylines, and the exact sound of anything he had ever heard.
'There's no time to dilly-dally.' He sprang from his bed, dragged the amp and the guitar out from beneath it, and headed straight for the garage and got to practicing.
(Thirty minutes later)
Haru stood in the garage, scribbling in his textbook, correcting the mistakes he'd found in the sheet music after running through it a few times.
He finally set the book aside and took a slow breath. 'This is it. This has to be the one.'
He'd tried every other combination he could think of.
He took a deep breath and struck the first note.
(Master of puppets - Metalica)
Dun. Dun dun dun dunn.
He drove into the riff, every note struck harder than the last. The amp snarled as his forearm burned, the strings biting into his fingertips. He leaned into the guitar, shoulders hunched, body moving with the rhythm as if the sound itself were yanking him upward.
And then he really started. The lyrics poured out of him effortlessly.
"End of passion play, crumbling away,
I'm your source of self-destruction!"
"Veins that pump with fear, sucking darkest clear
Leading on your death's construction!"
"Taste me you will see
More is all you need
You're dedicated to!"
"How I'm killing you!"
(Outside)
Gouro pulled into the driveway, the car rolling to a stop just outside the garage. He and Miki exchanged a look, confusion and alarm etched across their faces. The vehicle itself was vibrating, metal rattling faintly against the pavement beneath them.
"What is that?" Gouro shouted over the ungodly noise.
Miki could only stare at Gouro with a grin. "I think I know what it is."
They got out of the car together and hurried to the garage. Gouro hauled the door open.
Natural light flooded in, and there he was, shredding like nothing else in the world existed.
Then the intensity shifted. The riff sank lower, vibrating through the garage. A small, haunting solo threaded through the low notes, each one deliberate, each one echoing in the air.
He began headbanging as the riff deepened again, then screamed out,
"Master!, master!
Where's the dreams that I've been after?"
"Master, master"
Gouro heard it and thought to himself, 'Is that English?'
"You promised only lies
Laughter, laughter
All I hear or see is laughter!"
"Laughter, laughter
Laughing at my cries"
"Fix me!"
He launched into a wild solo, body bending and moving with the music, completely consumed by the riff. His grin widened, almost manic, eyes sparkling with the thrill of the performance.
Then he looked forward. The grin vanished, replaced by calm surprise.
"Oh… hey, Mom, Dad," he said. "What did y'all get here?"
Gouro's jaw was dropped, while Miki grinned from ear to ear, shooting a look at Gouro that said everything without words.
Gouro looked at her and, with a sigh, pulled out his wallet and handed over a 1,000 yen note.
"Damn, I really thought he'd give up too…" he muttered.
Haru's eyes lit up. "Whoa! Give me something too, yeah?" he said, holding out his hand, not really understanding why his father had given money to his mother.
Gouro and Miki exchanged a glance. Miki shook her head, laughing, while Gouro raised an eyebrow. "Not so fast, little man. There's none for you. And where in the name of the gods did you learn to play like that?"
Haru looked at his dad calmly. "The internet."
Gouro met his son's deadpan stare and thought, 'Yeah, right. The internet might be able to teach it, but if it were that easy, everyone would be this good at everything. Maybe he's some kind of musical genius or something.'
On the outside, he simply nodded. "Makes sense." he said.
His mom stepped closer, phone in hand, ready to look it up. "What's the name of the band that song belongs to?"
Haru thought to himself, 'Technically, it belongs to Metallica, but Metallica didn't exist here. So…' Then he pointed at himself and said, "I made it."
His mom blinked, clearly not believing him. "Yeah, right… you can't speak English."
Then, in perfect English, he said, "Yes, I can."
Both his mother and father gasped in surprise. Haru shrugged again. "The internet." he added, lying as naturally as he breathed.
Both Gouro and Miki exchanged a glance, thinking, 'Yeah, right!' They didn't believe him at all.
But at that moment, Gouro and Miki knew, without a doubt, that their son might be a genius.
*****
(One month later, October 23, 1986)
Haru sat at his desk, clay spread before him. He began shaping the torso first, carefully defining each muscle and smoothing the surface until it looked almost alive.
Next came the legs, which he bent and stretched slightly as he worked, making sure they could support the figure in a natural stance. The arms were next, he threaded a thin metal wire through each one, anchoring them so they could move without breaking. Finally, he sculpted the head, defining a strong jawline that gave the figure unmistakable character.
He set it on its feet and stared at it with excitement and pride. Then he began experimenting with poses: one with its arms on its hips, another in a superhero landing, and finally swapping the head sculpt for one that made it look like the figure was shooting beams from its eyes. He even positioned it as if it were floating and brought up his homemade figure stand to test the effect.
"Not bad," he muttered. "Big Blue Prototype #126 might be the way I need to make my figures from now on."
Yes, #126. He'd tried everything, from plastic to play dough, but finally settled on clay. He had experimented with countless ways to give his figures articulation, but nothing had really worked… until now. He even figured out how to wire the cape, just like they used to do in his original world. He'd had to learn to sew to make the cape, but it had been worth it.
And now he had it, the best Superman figure this world had to offer. Well… for now. After all, it was just a prototype. It didn't even have color yet, and the proportions were all a little off. But hey, progress.
Satisfied that the figure worked, he picked up his brush and began with the emblem, carefully filling in the S. He leaned closer, concentrating, willing his hand to stay steady.
As he worked, his focus narrowed.
The world seemed to quiet around him, his attention tunneling into the figure.
Then, without warning, it vanished.
His hand was still holding it, he could feel it, but the figure itself was gone. In its place were the thin metal wires inside, every bend and twist exposed. A heartbeat later, even those disappeared.
Then the table beneath it vanished too.
Haru sucked in a sharp breath.
He was staring straight down at his own feet.
"That's impossible," he whispered. "I'm wearing sandals."
He tore his gaze away from the figure and looked at the wall.
The wall wasn't there.
Instead, he saw a family of four sitting around a dinner table in another building, laughing softly as they ate. Plates, chairs, faces, every detail was painfully clear, as if the space between them simply didn't exist.
Haru staggered back, heart pounding.
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing them tight, hoping it would make it stop.
When he opened them again, everything was back to normal.
He let out a long breath he hadn't realized he was holding and sighed with relief.
Then he thought to himself, 'Well, that confirms it. I definitely have superpowers.'
He hadn't been sure before. Sure, an uncanny memory could be explained by photographic memory and his taste could be natural talent. But this? Literally seeing through walls left no room for doubt.
'This is a lot to take in…'
He headed to the kitchen for a glass of water.
As he walked down the hallway, his thoughts raced. 'First there was enhanced sense, smell, then touch, then taste. And now… seeing through walls.'
'X-ray vision,' he thought. 'What's next? Super speed?'
Reaching the kitchen, he grabbed an empty glass and turned on the tap.
As the water filled it, his thoughts drifted again. 'Now that I think about it… how is this even happening?'
'Am I a mutant? A MetaHuman? Or something like that?'
He let out a quiet chuckle. 'Yeah, right. That's impossible.'
'I mean, that only happens in Marvel or DC, and those are just fiction. He shook his head slightly. Unless…'
He dismissed the thought almost immediately. 'Nah. That kind of thing only happens in fanfics. And even if it were true,' he reasoned, 'history would be completely different. There'd be stories about the Justice Society of America, Wonder Woman fighting in a world war, or at least some mention of Captain America.'
From everything he'd seen online, history here matched his old world perfectly, too perfectly.
He lifted the glass and drank the water in slow gulps, the coolness grounding him. 'Maybe it's just an after-effect of being reborn,' he reasoned.
'I mean… something like that could happen, right?'
He set the empty glass down in the sink.
"Haru?" his father called from the living room. "Can you come here for a moment?"
Haru paused, then wiped his hands on his shorts and headed toward the sound of their voices. When he stepped into the living room, both of his parents were sitting together on the couch, unusually quiet.
His mother patted the seat beside her. "Come sit down," she said gently.
That alone put him on edge. His parents were acting far more serious than usual.
He sat down beside his mother and glanced between them. "So… what's up?"
His father, sitting across from them, spoke up. "Son, we have something to tell you." His eyes were intense, serious in a way Haru wasn't used to.
Haru swallowed. The tension in the room felt thick enough to cut with a knife.
Then his father blurted it out. "Your mother is pregnant!"
He jumped up from his seat, throwing his arms into the air in pure excitement.
Haru, on the other hand, just stood there, stunned, a dumbfounded expression frozen on his face.
Beside him, his mother couldn't help but let out a small laugh at her husband's reaction.
Slowly, Haru came back to his senses.
'I'm… gonna be a big brother?'