The wind ripped the scream out of my throat.
The city spun—up, down, sideways—lights stretching into broken lines as gravity seized me.
I was falling.
Down and down.
Rain smashed against my face, cold and merciless, flooding my mouth, my eyes, my lungs.
I'm going to die.
The thought came with terrifying clarity.
Then—
Impact.
Not the ground.
Something hard. Elastic. Loud.
My body slammed onto a moving surface, pain detonating through my ribs and spine. Metal groaned beneath me as I rolled instinctively, arms curling in, muscles tightening the same way they always did before cutting into water.
Air tore out of my lungs.
I skidded, barely gripping the edge before gravity tried to claim me again.
A horn blared.
The world lurched violently.
Through ringing ears and blinding pain, realization struck—
I was on the roof of a running truck.
The driver slammed the brakes. Tires screamed against wet asphalt. I didn't wait. The moment the speed dropped enough, I rolled off the side and crashed onto the road, shoulder first.
Pain exploded through me.
But nothing snapped.
Nothing broke.
I lay there for half a second, rain soaking into my clothes, chest heaving uncontrollably.
I'm alive.
I forced myself up, legs trembling, vision shaking. My fingers were clenched around something cold.
The sword.
The impossible sword from my room.
Its faint neon blue-violet veins pulsed softly, rain hissing the instant it touched the blade.
"What…?" I whispered hoarsely.
No time.
I staggered off the road and ducked behind parked vehicles as the truck sped away, the driver never realizing what he had carried.
My ears rang violently. Every nerve felt lit on fire, like my body was still falling even though my feet were on solid ground.
My phone vibrated.
Once.
I flinched.
Missed Call — Mom
My heart dropped into my stomach.
It vibrated again.
I answered with shaking hands.
"Aiko… Mom?" My voice cracked.
Her sobbing hit me like a punch to the chest.
"Kaien… your brother… Arata… Mei…"
She couldn't finish.
The world tilted.
"…Renya?" I whispered. "Tell me Renya's okay."
"He's alive," she cried. "Only him. Please… come to Shinsei General Hospital."
Her words kept coming.
Mine didn't.
I stood there in the rain, mouth open, but no sound came out. My chest burned. Tears streamed down my face without permission.
The call ended.
Rain blurred everything.
My thoughts collided violently.
The assassins.
The hidden weapons.
The accident.
This wasn't coincidence.
This was a purge.
I tried to flag down a car.
People stared.
One man pulled his phone closer. A woman grabbed her child and stepped away. Someone muttered, "Gangster… maybe killer," under their breath, eyes flicking to the blood on my clothes and the glowing sword in my hand.
No one stopped.
Somewhere nearby, a siren wailed—ambulance or police, I couldn't tell. Red and blue lights flickered at the end of the street, reflecting off puddles like broken signals.
They weren't for me.
A shopkeeper pulled his shutter down halfway as I passed. Another locked his door. I caught my reflection in a darkened window—soaked, shaking, clutching something that didn't belong in this world.
I didn't look like someone who needed help.
I looked like trouble.
When I needed help the most—
No one came.
So I made a choice.
I stole a bike.
Didn't think. Didn't care.
The engine screamed as I tore through rain-soaked streets, running red lights, skidding through turns. My muscles burned, lungs on fire, but I didn't slow down.
Wind tore at my eyes until everything blurred into streaks of color and light. Every pothole sent pain shooting up my arms, but I welcomed it.
Pain meant I was still here.
The city felt endless, streets stretching and bending like they were trying to swallow me whole.
I didn't pray.
I didn't curse.
I just kept repeating their names in my head, like a rhythm I couldn't lose.
Mom.
Renya.
Mom.
Renya.
If I stopped—even for a second—I was afraid everything would collapse at once.
Mom. Renya. Please…
My brother's face kept flashing in my mind—his voice, the way he had laughed when he put Renya in my arms.
"Watch him for me," he had said once.
I hadn't asked when.
I hadn't asked how long.
I just knew I was already too late for something.
The hospital lights were too bright.
Too clean.
I burst through the automatic doors, rain dripping from my hair, shoes skidding against the polished floor.
"Mom—! Where is she?!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the lobby.
Heads turned instantly.
A nurse hurried toward me—then stopped short.
Her eyes dropped to the sword in my hand.
To the bruises darkening my arms.
To the blood smeared across my clothes.
Her posture stiffened. Her hand hovered near the emergency desk.
For a moment, she didn't see a worried family member.
She saw someone dangerous.
"Sir… please don't panic," she said carefully, keeping her voice calm. "Are you hurt? Do you need help? What happened?"
"Renya Arclune," I gasped, stepping forward. "My family—"
She glanced again at the blood soaking my sleeve. "Sir, you're injured. We need to treat your wounds first, then I can take you to your family."
"No." The word tore out of me harsher than I meant. "I need to see Renya. Now. Where is he?"
She hesitated.
Then her expression changed.
The fear in her eyes softened into something else—understanding.
She could hear it in my voice.
This wasn't aggression.
This was desperation.
"First floor," she said gently. "Emergency care. Room 207."
She stepped aside, giving me space.
"Please… be careful, sir."
I didn't answer.
I was already running.
My legs barely touched the ground.
Stretchers rattled past me. Someone screamed behind a curtain. Monitors beeped in uneven rhythms—some fast, some frighteningly slow. The smell hit me then: disinfectant layered over blood and something metallic that turned my stomach.
People stared as I passed.
Doctors. Patients. Strangers wrapped in bandages and IV lines.
Their eyes followed me—not with concern, but alarm.
Like they were watching a disaster move through the hallway.
I reached the room—
And froze.
I couldn't step inside.
My chest tightened. My vision blurred. My body refused to move.
If I stepped inside, everything would become real.
As long as I stood here—frozen in the hallway—there was still a chance, fragile and desperate, that this was all wrong. That I could open the door and hear her scolding me for running in soaked and bleeding.
My hand hovered inches from the doorframe.
I had faced starting blocks. Roaring crowds. Crushing expectations.
But this—
This felt heavier than all of it combined.
I was a swimmer. My lungs were trained to endure. Endless laps, breath control, underwater drills—I had pushed my body past limits most people never reached.
And yet now—
I was gasping.
Each breath scraped my throat raw, uneven and shallow, like my lungs had forgotten what they were built for.
When was the last time I breathed like this?
I couldn't remember.
Not during training.
Not during competition.
Not even when my muscles burned and my vision blurred.
This was different.
This wasn't exhaustion.
This was fear crushing my chest from the inside.
My hands shook as I pressed my palm against the cold hospital wall, forcing myself to inhale.
Breathe, Kaien.
Just breathe.
It took everything I had to take one step forward.
Then another.
And finally—
I entered the room.
The first thing I saw was the bed.
White sheets. Too neat. Too empty.
A plastic card was clipped to the rail.
Renya Arclune
Age: 3
Sex: Male
My breath caught.
The bed was empty.
And saw her.
My mother lay collapsed near the corridor wall, blood smeared across the floor, splashed up the pale tiles like someone had thrown a bucket of red paint.
"No—no—no—!"
I dropped beside her, hands shaking as I lifted her head.
Her eyes fluttered open.
"Kaien…" Her voice was barely sound. "Renya…"
"I'm here," I choked. "I'm here. Where is he?"
Her hand trembled as it gripped my sleeve, leaving a dark red stain.
"Save him," she whispered. "Please… save Renya…"
Her fingers went limp.
My chest collapsed inward.
"Mom—! No… no…"
Tears spilled freely now—heavy, uncontrollable, burning.
The air shifted.
The sounds of the hospital dulled, like someone had turned the volume down on the world. Even the rain outside felt distant.
My instincts screamed before my mind could catch up.
This feeling—
Footsteps echoed.
Too heavy.
Too controlled.
The same wrongness that had crawled through my apartment.
I felt it before I saw it.
END OF CHAPTER 1