The winter sun barely touched the little village tucked between the pine-covered hills of rural Japan. A place where roads were narrow, roofs sloped low, and everyone knew each other's names. To travelers, it was peaceful. To the villagers, it was routine.
To six-year-old Kaito Takashiro, it was the entire world.
He darted between the wooden houses barefoot, chasing the pale breath that puffed from his mouth. His laughter echoed between the shrines and rice fields, rolling like a warm breeze across cold land.
"Slow down, Kaito!"A smaller voice called out behind him.
Yuki, his five-year-old sister, stumbled in the snow as she chased him with tiny legs. Her cheeks were flushed pink, a mass of dark hair tied in a crooked little ponytail. She clutched a wooden charm—one their mother had carved—to keep herself "safe from spirits." She believed it more than any prayer.
Kaito slowed down, hands on his hips."You'll fall if you keep running like that."
"You're the one running!" Yuki pouted. "I wanna go where you go!"
He huffed—because pretending to be annoyed was his default—but he held out his hand. Yuki grabbed it instantly, the way she always did, as if he were her anchor to the world.
They walked together toward the main shrine on the hill, where incense always hung heavy in the air and worshipers came to pray.
The Church of Darkness had a stronger hold here than most places. It wasn't the ominous thing outsiders imagined—at least, not openly. To the villagers, it was simply tradition, a religion older than memory. Here, "darkness" meant understanding the unseen, embracing what lay beyond mortal sight.
But Kaito's father—Rei Takashiro—had always looked at that word differently.
That afternoon, as sunlight ran thin, Kaito found him inside the shrine hall, sitting cross-legged before a spread of ancient manuscripts. Candlelight flickered against his father's determined face.
Kaito peeked in."Father… are you studying again?"
Rei lifted his head slowly, exhaustion clear in the lines carved across his face. But when he saw Kaito, his expression softened.
"You're supposed to be playing," he said, patting the cushion beside him. "Come."
Kaito hesitated—manuscripts were "adult things"—but he obeyed. He sat down carefully, eyes wide as he looked over the strange, inked pages.
Symbols danced across the parchment: spirals, runes, sigils that seemed to shift when you blinked.
"What does it say?" Kaito whispered.
Rei chuckled. "You really want to know?"
Kaito nodded fiercely.
"These," Rei pointed, "are the earliest teachings of Erythil. Before the Church… before the rituals… before everything became twisted."
Kaito tilted his head. "Twisted how?"
Rei paused, then placed a gentle hand on his son's hair."That's something you'll understand when you're older. For now, know this—"
He tapped a passage that glowed faintly under the candlelight.
"Darkness was never evil. It was knowledge. Depth. Potential. The world forgot that."
Kaito looked up at him, eyes bright. "So… the Church is wrong?"
A shadow crossed Rei's gaze.
"I shouldn't say that," he murmured. "Not yet. But one day, you'll see the truth for yourself."
Before Kaito could ask more, Yuki burst into the hall with all the grace of a small hurricane.
"Mama says dinner's ready!" she declared proudly. "And she said if you don't come now, Father, she'll bring the food here and drop it on your manuscripts."
Rei laughed—really laughed—and ruffled her hair.
"Then we'd better go before she makes good on her threat."
As they walked home, Kaito glanced back at the shrine candles flickering behind him. He didn't know why, but something in his chest felt tight.
His father's voice lingered in his mind.
"One day, you'll see the truth for yourself."
He didn't understand the warning yet.
He didn't know the manuscripts his father studied would soon be marked as heresy.He didn't know the Church elders whispered about "corruption" and "betrayal."He didn't know shadows had already begun creeping toward their quiet village.
For tonight, he was just a boy with cold hands, a warm home, and a little sister who clung to his sleeve.
But fate had already chosen him.
And the darkness was waiting.