From his bedroom window, Takeru Arashi gazed at the twinkling lights of the city.
The whisper of the wind rustled the leaves of the tree in front of his house. He was alone, sitting on the windowsill, his legs dangling and his gaze lost in thought. In his hands he held a notebook. The same one he used to try to organize the ideas swirling around in his mind.
«He had to decide: intervene and alter the inevitable, or stay the course and wait for the worst?
It wasn't the first time it had revealed itself to him.
There were images, thoughts, sensations he couldn't explain. Fragments of a future that hadn't happened yet, but which he remembered with disturbing clarity. Destroyed cities, impossible creatures, pain, fire, screams, and a strange energy that hung over the world like a shadow.»
«Why do I know this?»
«Why do I see what hasn't happened yet?»
«If I stay out of it... maybe I can lead a normal life. Maybe everything will stay as it should be...»
Takeru muttered to himself, though even he didn't believe it.
«But if I do nothing, am I not equally guilty?»
«Am I being selfish?»
Takeru wondered, clenching his fists.
Sometimes he wondered if he had a mission. If perhaps he had come into this world for a purpose. Because if those memories were real... someone had to stop what was coming. And if he knew, even though he was only a seven-year-old boy, then maybe...
A light knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Son."
Daigo Arashi's low, warm voice called from the other side.
Takeru quickly sat up in bed, pretending to be normal as his father opened the door and poked his head in, holding a steaming cup.
"Another long night, huh?"
Takeru nodded without answering right away. He didn't want to lie, but he didn't know how to explain the truth either.
"I had a nightmare."
Takeru muttered, looking down. His usual excuse. He had used it too many times before, but his father had never pressed him.
Daigo entered quietly and sat down next to him, placing the cup on the table.
"You don't have to tell me everything if you don't want to. But you know I'm here for you, right?"
"Dad. Do you think some people are born with a special purpose? Like they have something important to do... even if they don't know what it is yet."
Daigo looked at him in surprise, but he didn't laugh. He didn't treat him like a child who was fantasizing.
"Yes. I believe so. Sometimes, life puts certain people on difficult paths because they have a special light. Something that makes them different. They may not yet know what their purpose is, but the time will come when they will understand. And when it comes, they must have the courage to follow it."
Takeru felt a slight tremor in his hands.
Was that what he was? A piece placed in this world for a purpose? He didn't have all the answers...
Takeru discreetly clasped his hands on his knees so his father wouldn't notice.
"Thank you, Dad."
Takeru thanked him sincerely. That was all he could say.
Daigo stood up with a smile and ruffled his hair affectionately.
"Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow you can sleep more if you want. I've already spoken to Ryoma and told him that you need to rest too."
"Ryoma... Mei's father?"
"Yes, him. He's always busy, but he asks about you. He cares about you, even if he doesn't say so."
Daigo added before leaving and closing the door.
«He's only seven years old... but sometimes I look at him and feel like I'm talking to someone much older.»
With a mixture of pride and concern, he slowly walked away down the hallway.
Inside the room, Takeru remained silent, staring at his cell phone.
[Raiden Mei: Are you still awake?] (8:30 p.m.)
[Raiden Mei: I see you're online on Discord...] (8:33 p.m.)
[Raiden Mei...] (typing)
When Takeru finally decided to reply, Mei's messages had already disappeared.
The next morning, the Arashi family's private dojo echoed with the sound of wood striking wood.
"Again!"
Ordered the firm voice of their instructor, a burly middle-aged man with a gaze as sharp as his katana. His name was Gendo Fushimi, a veteran of traditional martial arts.
Takeru stepped forward, bending his knees and twisting his wrist with precision. His training sword traced a swift arc through the air, colliding with his master's with a force unexpected for a child.
Gendo frowned and took a step back.
"That boy's technique was too refined for his age."
When Gendo was appointed as the teacher of Takeru, a boy barely five years old, he initially thought it was just childish enthusiasm. However, observing the boy's reluctance to give up training and his persistence in improving, he realized that this drive was not fleeting, and decided to train him seriously.
"Keep your center. Don't let your emotions interfere."
Gendo adjusted his stance for the next move.
"I'm trying."
Although Takeru was panting, his gaze burned with a mixture of determination and inner conflict. Every thrust he made, every step he took on the tatami mat was also a way to release the pressure that was eating away at him inside.
The master attacked. Takeru dodged it by inches, turning with the agility of someone who had repeated that technique hundreds of times. He counterattacked with a speed that forced Gendo to block with both hands.
"That's enough for today!"
Gendo ordered, stepping back with a sharp movement.
Takeru slowly lowered his sword. His breathing quickly stabilized.
"Master Gendo, may I ask you a question?"
The instructor looked at him sternly, but approached him.
"Do you believe... that one can change their destiny? Even if it is already written?"
Gendo watched him silently for a few seconds. It wasn't a question he expected from a child. But with Takeru, he wasn't so surprised anymore.
"I don't know if destiny can be changed. But I do know that those who sharpen their will can cut through even the strongest chains. Why do you ask?"
"Just out of curiosity"
Takeru responded with a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes.