Narration: In the beginning, there was nothing. No stars, no planets, no sky, not even darkness—just an endless emptiness stretching in every direction, silent and still. There was no time, no movement, no life. Yet, even in this nothingness, something existed—a vast and boundless energy, hidden within the void, waiting to be set free.
For what felt like forever, nothing changed. But then—something happened.
A sudden explosion ripped through the silence, a burst of energy so immense that it created everything—the first particles, the first flashes of light, the very building blocks of the universe. It was a moment of pure chaos and creation, later known as the Big Bang.
In an instant, the universe began to expand, stretching out in every direction. Tiny particles slammed together, fusing into the first atoms. These atoms formed clouds of gas, and from those gas clouds, the first stars were born—massive, burning infernos that lit up the once-empty void. Galaxies took shape, swirling like great celestial storms, their gravity pulling in stars, planets, and moons. The cosmos was no longer empty; it was alive with motion and energy.
But among all this creation, something unexpected happened.
Deep within the swirling chaos, at the very edge of reality, a single strange atom came into existence. Unlike the others, it did not obey the normal rules of space and time. It was caught in a fractured place, a boundary where time was twisted, and space bent in impossible ways.
For billions of years, this lonely atom drifted through the void, trapped between dimensions. It was small, unnoticed, and forgotten by the universe. But even in its isolation, it wasn't truly lifeless. Slowly, as the echoes of creation continued to ripple across existence, the atom absorbed energy—pulling in fragments of power from the very birth of reality itself.
And then, ever so slowly… it began to change.
Narration: As time passed, it grew, slowly but relentlessly. It absorbed cosmic radiation, pulling in bits of energy from exploding stars and distant supernovae. The tiny speck became a cluster of matter, then a rock, then a gigantic asteroid, unlike any other object in existence.
It was a sight both mesmerizing and terrifying. Brilliant streaks of blue, purple, and fiery orange trailed behind it like a celestial wildfire, leaving behind glowing embers of raw energy. Its surface was jagged, cracked, and ever-shifting, as if alive with untamed power. At its heart, a blinding burst of white and golden light pulsed, like the core of a dying star struggling to contain its own might.
This was no ordinary asteroid.
It carried something ancient, something beyond time itself—the raw essence of both creation and destruction. It was a relic of a reality that had existed before the universe took shape, a harbinger of forces no living being could ever understand.
For countless millennia, it drifted silently through the void. It passed through colossal nebulae, swirling clouds of gas and dust that painted the darkness with vibrant colors. It skimmed the edges of distant star systems, absorbing the energy of pulsars, gamma-ray bursts, and even the pull of black holes. With every encounter, it grew larger, denser, and more volatile, its core flickering with a strange, otherworldly glow.
To the untrained eye, it might have looked like just another piece of space debris—a wandering rock, lost among the stars. But to those who could sense the pulse of the universe, it was something far more profound. It was a living remnant of the battle between chaos and order, a reminder that even in a universe bound by laws, some things still existed beyond understanding.
For eons, it remained a silent observer, waiting. Drifting. Watching.
But then, something changed.
Its path—once random, aimless—began to shift. Slowly, as if pulled by an unseen force, the asteroid started moving with purpose. It was no longer just wandering. It was being drawn toward something.
A small, vibrant planet—teeming with life—had unknowingly become its destination.
The asteroid, this ancient harbinger of power, was now on a collision course with Earth.
Narration: The year is 2015, and humanity is at its peak. After thousands of years of struggle, war, and hardship, civilization has finally entered a golden age. Technology, medicine, and science have advanced beyond what people a century ago could have even dreamed of.
Hospitals are curing diseases that once wiped out entire populations. New medicines and treatments have extended human lifespans, making once-deadly illnesses nothing more than distant memories. The quality of life for billions has improved, with people living longer, healthier lives than ever before.
Travel is easier and faster than ever. High-speed trains, energy-efficient cars, and advanced planes have made the world more connected. Even the most remote villages now have access to modern conveniences. Planes that once took hours now take minutes, and trips across the world feel shorter than ever.
The internet has changed everything. People from different countries, backgrounds, and cultures can now communicate instantly. Barriers that once divided nations—language, distance, misunderstanding—are disappearing. Knowledge is shared faster than ever, and information is at everyone's fingertips.
Food is no longer scarce. Advances in agriculture have created farms that produce more food than the world has ever seen. Crops that once took months to grow can now be harvested in weeks. Hunger is no longer an unavoidable fate—it's a problem that humanity is finally solving.
And beyond Earth, humanity is reaching for the stars. Space exploration has taken its first great steps. Satellites explore the solar system, astronauts live on space stations, and for the first time in history, Mars is within reach. The dream of exploring beyond Earth no longer seems impossible.
A sense of hope and unity spreads across the globe. There is a real feeling that, for the first time, war, famine, and disease might one day be left in the past. Humanity is standing at the edge of something extraordinary, on the brink of a future without suffering.
The world shines brightly, a beacon of progress and endless potential.
But far beyond Earth, something is coming.
At the outer edges of the solar system, hidden in the vast darkness of space, the ancient asteroid drifts closer. A hulking mass of energy and destruction, its presence goes unnoticed—just a faint blip on the radars of a few observatories.
Narration: At first, no one was worried. The asteroid—initially nothing more than a distant speck in the void—wasn't anything unusual. Astronomers have spotted countless space rocks over the years, most of which either burn up in the atmosphere or drift safely past Earth.
But this one is different.
Scientists begin to notice strange readings. The asteroid's size and movement don't match anything recorded before. It doesn't behave like a normal space rock—its path shifts unpredictably, its surface absorbs energy instead of reflecting it, and its density defies logic.
At first, it's dismissed—just another rare but harmless anomaly floating through the endless void of space.
But then—the calculations come in.
The asteroid is headed directly for Earth.
Panic spreads among the scientific community. Telescopes across the world turn their focus to the sky, tracking its every movement. Supercomputers run simulation after simulation, but the answer is always the same:
Impact is inevitable.
The object is given a name—Genesis. A name that should symbolize creation, but instead now foretells destruction.
Its size alone is terrifying. A direct impact would be worse than anything the Earth has ever seen—worse than the asteroid that wiped out the dinosaurs. But what's even more disturbing is its energy signature.
Genesis isn't just a rock.
It's something else.
Something unknown.
And nobody knows what will happen when it enters Earth's atmosphere.
Governments across the planet mobilize. Nations that were once enemies now share information, resources, and technology. The brightest minds on Earth work together, desperate to find a way to stop Genesis before it's too late.
The world watches as rockets launch into the sky, carrying humanity's last hope. Some missions send nuclear warheads, hoping to shatter the asteroid into harmless debris. Others launch experimental gravitational technology, designed to pull it off course.
Explosions light up the sky, bursting like dying stars against the blackness of space. News stations broadcast the operations live, and billions of people hold their breath as each attempt is made.
Then—silence.
The dust clears. The flames flicker out.
And Genesis is still there.
Unaffected. Larger. Closer. More menacing than ever.
The world, for the first time in modern history, collectively realizes one horrifying truth:
Nothing can stop it.
Before everything changed…
The golden rays of the afternoon sun spread across the white sands of Okinawa's coastline, turning the ocean into a giant, glittering jewel. The waves rolled lazily onto the shore, humming a quiet, endless song that Hayato Amari had heard every day of his life. To him, it was the sound of home.
At just seven years old, Hayato already knew this place was special. He stood barefoot on the back porch of his grandparents' beach house, the wooden planks warm against his feet. His white-blond hair caught the sunlight, creating a soft halo that contrasted with his dark brown skin. The salty ocean breeze ruffled his hair, making it stick up in messy spikes, but he didn't mind. He liked the way the wind felt against his skin—it made him feel light, fast, free. The crisp white collared shirt he wore fluttered slightly in the breeze, the small patch on the sleeve—bearing the insignia of his grandfather's old fishing union—standing out like a badge of pride.
His bright blue eyes locked onto the horizon, watching as the sky slowly melted into the ocean. He had seen it a million times before, but still, every evening, he liked to come outside and just… watch.
Behind him, the sound of tiny footsteps and laughter filled the house.
"Careful, Hikari," their grandmother called from the kitchen, her voice warm yet firm.
"Got it!" Hikari chirped, pulling the ball out triumphantly before hurrying to her brother's side.
"Nii-chan! Catch!"
Hayato turned just as Hikari—his five-year-old little sister—came racing onto the porch, her small hands cupped around a shiny blue ball. Her long, snowy white hair swayed behind her, catching the last rays of sunlight that contrasted with her dark brown skin. She was dressed in a simple white long-sleeved dress, which only made her bright blue eyes seem more striking as they darted about, filled with childish delight.
"Why are you yelling?" Hayato frowned, raising an eyebrow. "It's just a ball."
"It's not just a ball," Hikari huffed, holding it up to him with wide, excited eyes. "Look! It's sparkly!"
Hayato squinted. "It's just plastic."
"No, it's magic."
Hayato sighed dramatically, crossing his arms. "Magic? You think a shiny ball has powers?"
Hikari nodded very seriously. "Mhm. I bet if we throw it in the ocean, a sea dragon will come out and give us treasure!"
Hayato couldn't help but laugh. "There are no sea dragons, Hikari-chan."
"Maybe not for you," she said, cradling the ball like it was the most important thing in the world.
Before Hayato could tease her more, their grandfather stepped onto the porch, stretching his arms after a long day in the shop. He was tall and lean, his tanned skin weathered from years of working under the sun. His short gray hair was neatly combed back, and he wore his usual olive-green fishing jacket over a plain white shirt.
"Hayato," Grandpa said, adjusting the old watch on his wrist. "Did you finish stacking the new souvenir boxes?"
"Yes, Grandpa," Hayato answered quickly, though his attention drifted back to the sky.
Grandpa followed his gaze, smiling softly. "Waiting for your dad's plane again?"
Hayato flinched. He hadn't even realized he had been staring at the sky hoping for something.
"…No," he muttered.
Grandpa didn't push him. Instead, he patted Hayato's head before walking back into the shop.
The souvenir store was small, but it was full of life. Shelves lined with colorful seashell necklaces, hand-carved figurines, and tiny bottles of sand made the whole place feel warm and familiar. Tourists would visit often, drawn in by the inviting glow of lanterns strung outside and the friendly chatter of their grandmother as she welcomed each customer.
For Hayato and Hikari, this was home.
Hayato and Hikari had been living with their grandparents for as long as they could remember. Their mother had passed away when they were too little to fully understand why. The details were blurry, but the sadness lingered in the quiet moments—like when Grandma would suddenly stop humming while cooking, her eyes distant, or when Grandpa would sit alone on the porch at night, staring out at the sea as if waiting for something that would never come back.
Their father, Colonel Amari, a high-ranking officer in the U.S. Air Force, was previously stationed at Kadena Air Base in Okinawa, as part of a top-secret collaboration with the U.S. Space Force. His work was classified, shrouded in secrecy, and though he sent letters when he could, his presence in their lives had become more of a shadow than a reality.
But to Hayato…
It just meant he wasn't here.
Dad used to promise he'd visit more often, that he'd find a way to bring them to the base someday. But those promises always fell through, lost in the never-ending calls of duty and responsibility.
And so, their grandparents took them in, raising them in the small, sun-kissed village by the sea. While their grandparents managed the shop, Hayato and Hikari often helped in small ways—Hayato by organizing and stacking inventory, and Hikari by greeting customers with her radiant smile. They gave them a safe home, a warm family, and a childhood by the sea.
Hikari didn't seem to mind much—as long as she had her toys and Hayato, she was happy. But Hayato, even at seven, knew better.
Sometimes, when he looked at the sky for too long, he couldn't help but wonder—
If Dad works with the Space Force, does that mean he sees the stars?
Does he ever wonder if we're looking at the same ones?
Hayato let out a small sigh, shaking off the thought. Right now, things are peaceful. And even if it wasn't perfect, this is our home.
Hikari sat beside him, still turning her "magic" ball over in her hands.
She hummed softly to herself, completely lost in thought.
Hayato watched her out of the corner of his eye before nudging her lightly with his elbow. "What are you thinking about?"
Hikari blinked and looked up at him. "Mmm… nothing."
Hayato smirked. "Liar."
She huffed, puffing out her cheeks in protest. "I'm not lying!"
"Then tell me."
Hikari tapped her chin dramatically, as if she were deciding whether or not to share some deep, world-changing secret. Then, she grinned. "Okay, but only if you promise not to laugh."
Hayato held up a hand in mock seriousness. "I promise."
She held up her ball again, eyes shimmering with excitement. "I was thinking… what if this really is magic?"
Hayato rolled his eyes. "Hikari…"
"No, listen! What if—" she scooted closer, lowering her voice as if she were about to tell him something top secret, "—if I make a wish on it, something amazing will happen?"
Hayato smirked, leaning back on his hands. "Like what? A sea dragon giving us treasure?"
Hikari gasped, nodding rapidly. "Yes! Or maybe—maybe it can make us fly! Or turn invisible!"
Hayato chuckled. "You've been watching too many movies, Hikari-chan."
She pouted. "You don't know! It could work."
He shook his head playfully. "Alright, fine. What are you gonna wish for then?"
Hikari opened her mouth to answer but suddenly paused, her excited expression softening into something more thoughtful. She lowered the ball onto her lap, tracing small circles over its surface with her tiny fingers.
A few seconds passed before she finally spoke.
"For Dad to come home."
An awkward silence filled the room for a brief moment as Hayato poured into his thoughts to find the right response.
"Nii-chan?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think Dad will be here for my birthday?"
Hayato hesitated. Then, forcing a smile, he ruffled her hair. "Of course."
And for now, that was enough.
Later that afternoon, Hayato and Hikari set off to explore the beach, a daily ritual that had become a source of joy and adventure for the siblings. The golden sunlight bathed the coastline in a warm glow, making the ocean sparkle as waves rolled gently onto the shore.
Hayato walked ahead, his bare feet sinking slightly into the soft, sun-warmed sand. The tiny grains clung to his skin before being brushed away with each step. Hikari, a few steps behind him, skipped along, her small hand occasionally clutching the hem of his shirt to keep up. She loved trailing after him, just like she had since she was old enough to walk.
The beach stretched endlessly in either direction, a breathtaking mix of white sands and scattered tide pools. Tiny crabs skittered between the rocks, and little starfish clung stubbornly to damp surfaces, waiting for the tide to return. The salty ocean breeze carried the scent of the sea and the distant call of seagulls circling above.
Hayato loved this part of the island—not just because it was beautiful, but because it felt like a place where the rest of the world didn't matter. Out here, there were no loud tourists, no teachers with disapproving looks, and no classmates whispering behind his back. Just the sound of the waves and the endless sky stretching above them.
"Look, Nii-chan!" Hikari cried suddenly, her voice full of excitement. She pointed toward the water, where a group of small crabs scuttled near the shoreline, their tiny legs moving frantically as they dug into the wet sand.
Without waiting for a response, she crouched down, watching them closely, her bright eyes wide with fascination.
Hayato sighed, placing his hands in his pockets. "You're going to scare them off."
Hikari shot him a playful look over her shoulder. "They're not scared! See?"
Carefully, she extended her hand, and one of the crabs hesitated before crawling onto her small finger. She giggled as its tiny legs tickled her skin.
Hayato knelt beside her, watching with mild curiosity. "You're good with animals," he admitted.
Hikari beamed, still focused on the crab. "And you're not?" she teased, glancing at him with a smirk.
Hayato shrugged. "Not like you."
With a final twitch of its legs, the crab dropped back onto the sand and scurried away. Hikari dusted off her hands and stood up, brushing stray strands of white hair from her face.
Hayato stretched his arms above his head, his gaze drifting toward the sky. A few wispy clouds floated lazily above, shifting and changing shape with the breeze. This was his favorite part of the day—the quiet moments when he could just stand there and feel small in the best possible way. Out here, beneath the endless sky, he could forget about everything else for a while.
As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, it painted the sky with streaks of orange, pink, and deep purple. The ocean mirrored the colors like molten gold, shimmering with each gentle ripple. A warm breeze carried the scent of salt and distant rain, rustling through the palm trees lining the narrow path leading home.
Hayato and Hikari walked side by side, their bare feet sinking slightly into the cool, packed sand of the trail. The rhythmic crashing of the waves behind them was a constant lullaby, blending with the occasional chirp of distant seagulls.
Even before they reached the door, the familiar scent of grilled fish and freshly cooked rice filled the air, wrapping around them like a warm embrace. Their grandparents' home—small, sturdy, and weathered by years of salty air—stood near the beach, its wooden walls glowing softly in the fading light. The windows cast golden beams onto the sand, flickering slightly as the breeze pushed through the sheer curtains inside.
Standing in the doorway, their grandmother watched them approach. Though small in stature, there was an undeniable strength about her, a quiet but commanding presence that had been built over years of hard work. Her silvery-gray hair was pulled into a loose bun, with stray wisps framing her sharp, perceptive eyes. Her tanned hands, worn from years of tending to the shop and cooking for her family, rested firmly on her hips.
"You're late," she remarked, her voice carrying that familiar balance between gentle and firm—the kind that left no room for argument.
Hayato and Hikari tensed up and exchanged a quick glance, already knowing what was coming.
"Your food was going to get cold. I just made you your favorite meal."
Hayato and Hikari's eyes quickly lit up with sparkles in their eyes.
"Katsudon!" Hayato and Hikari yelled with excitement.
"That's right, now go wash your hands so you can eat."
"Okay, Grandma," they responded with a huge smile as they hurried inside.
The house was filled with warmth, the scent of the meal mingling with a lingering aroma.
Dinner was already laid out when they returned to the table, the comforting warmth of home wrapping around them like a familiar embrace. Steam rose from bowls of Katsudon, a crispy, deep-fried pork cutlet served over a bowl of steamed rice and topped with a sweet and savory egg mixture. It's coated in breadcrumbs, fried until golden brown, then simmered in a light sauce made of soy sauce, dashi, and a bit of sugar. The eggs were gently cooked with onions in the sauce. An ideal meal for a close-knit family. They all gathered at the table.
Their grandfather, dressed in his usual button-down shirt and slacks, was already seated, his weathered hands carefully pouring tea into small ceramic cups. His posture was relaxed, but his sharp eyes, filled with quiet wisdom, took in everything.
"Sit, sit," he said with a grin, gesturing toward the empty chairs. "Before your grandmother thinks I ate all the food without you."
Their grandmother shot him a look from the other end of the table as she set down a pot of hot broth. "I wouldn't put it past you."
"Thank you for the meal" They said all together as they then dived into their meals.
As they ate, the conversation flowed easily, weaving between lighthearted banter and the day's events. Their grandfather, always the storyteller, launched into an animated recounting of the tourists who had visited the souvenir shop earlier in the day.
"And then," he said, leaning forward as if revealing a great secret, "the man tried to haggle over a keychain! A keychain! As if I'd give away my best craftsmanship for pennies!"
Their grandmother shook her head, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Don't let the children think you're such a pushover," she chided, placing another piece of pork on Hayato's plate.
"Pushover? Me? Never!" the old man declared, puffing out his chest in mock offense.
Hikari giggled, her bright eyes crinkling with delight. "Did he buy the keychain in the end, Grandpa?"
"Of course, he did!" their grandfather replied, waving his hand dramatically. "I might've knocked off a tiny amount, but only because he looked so pitiful. The man was practically begging me!"
Hikari grinned, taking a sip of her apple juice. "You're too soft."
Their grandfather let out a deep, hearty laugh. "Don't tell anyone! It would ruin my reputation."
Hayato smiled faintly at the familiar scene, the warmth of the meal filling his stomach, but his mind drifted elsewhere. His thoughts returned to the beach, to the endless sky stretching beyond the horizon. There was something about the vastness of it all that made him feel both small and free at the same time.
As he absentmindedly poked at his rice with his chopsticks, his grandmother's voice pulled him back.
"Hayato, eat," she said gently. "A wandering mind won't fill your stomach."
He blinked, then nodded, taking another bite of pork. The taste was rich, savory, and comforting—just like home.
"Hayato," his grandmother's voice broke through his thoughts, gentle yet firm. "You've been staring off into space a lot lately. What's on your mind?"
The question caught him off guard. He blinked, his chopsticks pausing mid-air as he tried to gather his thoughts. He hadn't realized how long he'd been lost in them. A part of him wanted to shrug it off, to say it was nothing, but his grandmother's keen eyes didn't miss much.
He set his chopsticks down, glancing at her before turning his gaze toward the open window. The sky outside was vast, painted in deep hues of twilight, the first stars beginning to pierce through the fading sunlight. The sight made his chest feel lighter and heavier at the same time.
"I just… like how big the sky is," he said quietly, his voice carrying a thoughtful edge. "It makes everything else feel small."
For a moment, silence settled over the table. His grandfather looked up from his tea, his gaze thoughtful. Hikari, sitting across from him, tilted her head, her curiosity shining through as she listened intently.
His grandmother's expression softened, and a small smile curved her lips. "That's a good thing, Hayato," she said, her voice steady and warm, like a soft blanket on a cold night. "The sky reminds us that the world is vast, and so much of it is still unknown. It's important to remember that our problems, no matter how heavy they feel, are only a small part of something much greater."
Hayato lowered his gaze to his plate, rolling her words over in his mind. "But… what if the world is too big?" he murmured. "What if we get lost in it?"
His grandmother reached across the table and placed a hand over his. Her touch was firm but comforting, grounding him in the present. "You might feel small in the world, Hayato, but you'll never be lost," she said. "As long as you know where your heart is—where your family is—you'll always find your way back."
Hikari, chewing thoughtfully on some rice, suddenly chimed in. "Besides, you're not that small, Nii-chan. You're like, the biggest thing in my world."
Her earnest words, so simple yet filled with meaning, earned a chuckle from their grandfather, a deep and hearty sound that carried warmth through the room. Even their grandmother, usually the most composed, let her lips curve into a rare, affectionate smile.
Hayato let out a small breath of laughter, ruffling Hikari's hair. "You're such a sap."
Hikari stuck her tongue out at him but giggled nonetheless.
His grandmother squeezed his hand lightly before pulling away. "The world will always seem big, Hayato," she said, returning to her meal. "But you'll find your place in it, just like we all do."
Hayato nodded, feeling something settle in his chest—not quite an answer, but something close. A reassurance that, no matter how far he wandered in his thoughts, he would always have a home to return to.
After the meal, the grandmother gathered all the dishes for cleaning.
"Hayato, Hikari can you both help me clean the dishes with me?"
Their grandfather was already seated, glancing up from a newspaper with a knowing smile.
"Go on." he said with a chuckle, watching as Hayato and Hikari darted toward the wash basin with their grandmother.
For all the changes and uncertainties in life, this moment was always the same—the warmth of family, the scent of home, and the quiet wisdom that filled the space between words.
Later that evening, as the house settled into a quiet lull, Hayato found himself drawn outside. The night air was cool against his skin, carrying the scent of salt and the distant rustling of palm trees. The ocean stretched before him, endless and vast, its waves glimmering under the soft silver glow of the moonlight. Each crest and crash against the shore felt steady, unchanging—a rhythm that had always been there, always would be.
From inside the house, the faint sound of Hikari's laughter drifted through the open window, light and carefree. He could picture her curled up on the futon, probably listening to one of their grandfather's stories, her eyes wide with wonder at whatever tale he spun. It was the kind of sound that could make a place feel like home, no matter where they were.
A small smile tugged at Hayato's lips as he rested his arms on the wooden railing of the porch, feeling the warmth of the evening still clinging to the wood beneath his hands. The dinner table conversation lingered in his mind, comforting in its familiarity. But as the world around him quieted, another kind of weight settled over him—one that never fully disappeared, no matter how much he tried to push it aside.
He tilted his head back, his gaze tracing the vast expanse of the sky. The stars were scattered like tiny lanterns against a velvet curtain of night, some twinkling faintly, others burning bright. They had always fascinated him, these distant lights. They felt both familiar and unreachable, like someone else he barely knew anymore.
His father.
The thought came unbidden, creeping into the quiet moment like a shadow. Colonel Amari—his father—was somewhere out there, in some faraway place, wrapped up in things that Hayato didn't understand. The letters he sent were always the same—brief, distant, filled with reassurances that meant little when all they really wanted was for him to be here.
Would he even recognize them if he saw them now?
There were nights when Hayato imagined what it would be like to have his father at the dinner table, laughing with them, telling stories of the world beyond their small village instead of just reading about them in ink on paper. But that was all it ever was—imagination.
And then, there was his mother.
Her memory was even more fleeting. He had only been four when she passed, and time had eroded the little he still clung to. A kind smile. The warmth of a gentle hand smoothing down his hair. A lullaby hummed softly in the dark. He tried to hold onto those fragments, but they slipped through his fingers like sand, no matter how hard he grasped them.
Would she be proud of him? Of how he looked after Hikari the way she once had?
Would she tell him that he was doing enough?
A breeze rolled in from the shore, carrying the crisp scent of saltwater and the soft rustling of palm trees. Hayato inhaled deeply, letting the wind fill his lungs before releasing a slow, steady breath. The ache in his chest lingered, an old companion that had never quite left, but as he looked out at the sea, something inside him steadied.
"Grandma's right," he murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "The world might be big, but as long as we stick together, we'll be okay."
The waves murmured their agreement, the wind whispered it's silent promise, and for the first time in a long while, Hayato let himself believe it.
No matter how vast or uncertain the future seemed, he wasn't facing it alone.
Okinawa was a place of quiet rhythms and gentle beauty. For the Amari family, it was their sanctuary, nestled between the vast blue ocean and the emerald hills. Life here moved unhurriedly, marked by the steady ebb and flow of the tides, the warm breeze carrying the scent of salt and blooming hibiscus, and the comforting hum of daily life in their small coastal village.
Hayato, now seven years old, found solace in the simplicity of his routine. Mornings began with the scent of fresh rice and grilled fish drifting through their home, his grandmother already busy preparing breakfast while his grandfather read the morning paper, sipping on warm tea. The sound of Hikari's giggles echoed through the house as she played with her toys, her boundless energy always filling the space with life.
After breakfast, Hayato would help his grandparents in their small souvenir shop, carefully arranging rows of handcrafted trinkets and keepsakes. Seashell necklaces, carved wooden charms, and tiny bottles filled with sand from the beach lined the shelves, waiting for the occasional tourist who wandered through. He took quiet pride in the task, making sure everything looked neat and inviting, while Hikari, ever the social one, eagerly greeted customers with her bright, welcoming smile.
Afternoons, however, were his own. Once the shop was settled and their grandparents were preoccupied, he would slip away to the beach, feeling the warm sand beneath his bare feet as he wandered along the shoreline. Sometimes, Hikari followed, her tiny footprints trailing behind his in the damp sand. Other times, she stayed behind, playing under their grandmother's watchful eye while Hayato explored on his own.
He would often find himself perched on a weathered rock near the water's edge, watching the waves roll in. The endless stretch of the ocean and the vast sky above never failed to captivate him. It made him feel small, yet not in a way that frightened him—instead, it filled him with a sense of wonder. He liked to imagine what lay beyond the horizon, in the distant lands he had only read about in books or heard about in his grandfather's stories.
Would he ever see those places for himself one day?
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the world in golden hues, the village would begin to settle for the evening. Fishermen returned from the sea, their boats bobbing gently in the harbor as they unloaded their catch. The air filled with the scent of fresh seafood cooking over open flames, mingling with the faint smokiness of burning wood. Children played their final games before their mothers called them inside, and the once-bustling market square gradually emptied as lanterns were lit, casting a warm glow over the village.
To Hayato, this place—this life—felt safe. Unchanging. Permanent.
But change was coming.
He didn't know it yet, couldn't have possibly known, but far beyond the tranquil waves and the endless sky, something was moving. Something vast and unstoppable, drawing ever closer.
For now, though, he was just a boy sitting on the shore, watching the horizon, blissfully unaware that the peace he knew was on the verge of shattering forever.
The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the ocean, its light dancing across the waves as they lapped gently against the shore. The salty breeze tousled Hayato's white hair as he walked along the beach, hands tucked into his pockets, watching as his little sister ran ahead, her laughter ringing through the air.
"Nii-chan, hurry up!" Hikari called, waving for him to catch up. Her bare feet kicked up small sprays of sand as she dashed across the shore, eyes gleaming with excitement. "We have to find the best souvenirs before sunset!"
Hayato sighed, but a small smile tugged at his lips as he followed. "We're not exactly on a time limit, you know."
Hikari spun around dramatically, her white hair catching the sunlight like spun silver. "We totally are! The best treasures are only found by the most dedicated adventurers. And we," she declared, puffing up her chest, "are the greatest treasure hunters ever!"
Hayato chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. But if you find any actual buried treasure, we're selling it."
Hikari gasped, placing a hand over her heart. "Nii-chan! How could you? What if it belongs to a lost mermaid princess?!"
"Oh? And what if the mermaid wants us to sell it so we can buy food and supplies?" Hayato teased.
Hikari narrowed her eyes, pointing a finger at him. "Then she would be a very responsible mermaid."
They spent the next hour combing the beach, searching for anything valuable enough to sell at their grandparents' shop. Pieces of smooth sea glass, polished stones, and delicate shells filled their small basket. Occasionally, Hayato would use his deductive intuition, which almost seemed supernatural, to find the highest quality objects, revealing hidden treasures buried beneath.
Hikari, however, was in her own world. She darted after butterflies, chased the tiny crabs skittering along the rocks, and collected wildflowers to bring home. Every so often, she would stop to admire the ocean, the waves reflecting the sky's shifting colors as the sun dipped lower.
Then, suddenly, she gasped.
"Nii-chan, look!"
Hayato turned just in time to see her crouched near the water's edge, cradling something in her hands. She ran up to him, her glowing blue eyes sparkling with wonder.
It was a seashell—perfectly smooth, pearlescent, shimmering in soft hues of pink and violet. The light caught on its ridges, making it look almost magical.
"Do you think this belonged to a mermaid?" she whispered, holding it out as if it were something sacred.
Hayato crouched down, studying the shell. "Could be," he mused. "Maybe she lost it when she was swimming too fast."
Hikari hugged the shell to her chest. "Then I have to keep it safe! What if she comes looking for it one day?"
Hayato smirked, reaching out to ruffle her hair. "Alright. But if you ever meet a mermaid, you have to promise to return it."
Hikari grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "Deal!"
As the sun dipped closer to the horizon, their grandmother's voice called out from the house, carrying over the sound of the waves.
"Come inside, you two! The sun's setting!"
Hikari stretched her arms toward the sky, letting out a long sigh. "Do we have to?"
Hayato nudged her playfully. "Unless you want to sleep on the sand with the crabs, yeah."
Giggling, she took his hand, and together they made their way back up the shore. The sky had transformed into a breathtaking masterpiece of fiery oranges, deep purples, and soft pinks. The ocean shimmered under its glow, the waves reflecting the fading light as if sprinkled with gold dust. The cool evening breeze carried the scent of salt and blooming jasmine from the garden.
It was a moment so perfect, so untouched by fear, that it felt as though it could last forever.
As they reached the house, their grandfather was waiting for them on the porch, a warm smile beneath his neatly trimmed gray beard. He sat on his wooden stool, a small carving knife in hand.
Hikari eagerly held up the shell. "Grandpa, look! I found a mermaid's treasure!"
Their grandfather chuckled, his kind eyes twinkling. "A mermaid's treasure, huh?" He took the shell, turning it over carefully in his hands. "It is beautiful. And if it belonged to a mermaid, then it's a treasure worth protecting."
Hikari nodded vigorously. "That's why I have to keep it safe!"
Their grandfather hummed in thought, then gestured for her to sit beside him. "How about this? I'll craft it into a necklace for you. That way, you can carry it with you everywhere and keep it safe until you find its owner."
Hikari gasped, bouncing on her heels. "Really?! That would be amazing!"
Hayato leaned against the porch railing, watching as their grandfather pulled out a thin cord and a few small tools. His hands, worn from years of careful craftsmanship, moved with practiced ease as he carefully drilled a small hole into the shell. He threaded the cord through it, tying it securely before holding it up for inspection.
"There," he said, handing it to her. "Now it's truly a treasure fit for an adventurer."
Hikari beamed, slipping the necklace over her head. She held the shell between her fingers, admiring how the firelight made its colors glow. "It's perfect," she whispered, her expression full of pure happiness.
Their grandfather smiled, ruffling her hair gently. "Then keep it close, little one."
As the stars began to twinkle in the vast night sky, the three of them sat together on the porch, enjoying the peaceful evening. Laughter filled the air as Hikari excitedly spoke about all the places she would search for the lost mermaid.
Hayato watched her, a soft smile playing on his lips.
The world had not yet been tainted by war. The fear of Aberrants and battle had not yet reached them.
For now, at least, they could hold onto this peace.
The night air was cool, carrying the salty scent of the ocean as gentle waves lapped against the shore. The sky stretched endlessly above, a deep shade of navy, dotted with twinkling stars. A full moon hung low on the horizon, casting a silver glow over the quiet town.
Hayato sat beside his grandfather on the porch, listening to the rhythmic sounds of the sea. The old man puffed lazily on his pipe, the faint trail of smoke curling into the night air. His sharp, aged eyes remained fixed on the horizon, as if lost in some distant memory.
After a long silence, Hayato spoke.
"Do you think the sea ever gets tired, Grandpa?" His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.
His grandfather chuckled, the deep, rumbling sound carrying warmth. "Tired? No, boy. The sea's been moving for longer than any of us can imagine. It doesn't stop, doesn't rest. It just keeps going, no matter what happens."
Hayato let his gaze drift out toward the waves, their endless motion steady and unwavering. He wanted to believe in what his grandfather was saying—that some things in life were constant, that some things never changed.
The old man glanced at him from the corner of his eye, studying the distant look on his grandson's face. "That's a strange question to be asking. Something on your mind?"
Hayato hesitated for a moment before sighing, slumping forward slightly. "I just... feel out of place sometimes," he admitted. "Here, with all of you, I feel safe. I feel like I belong. But out in town, at school… it's different." He clenched his hands into fists. "People stare. I hear the whispers. I can tell they see me as an outsider."
His grandfather let out a hum of understanding, tapping the ash from his pipe before placing it down beside him.
"Your mother used to feel the opposite," he mused, a small, wistful smile forming on his face.
Hayato looked up, confused. "Mom?"
The old man nodded, his sharp gaze softening as he leaned back against the wooden post of the porch. "She loved this island, but she always felt like it was too small for her. Like she was meant for something bigger, something beyond the horizon. She was never content staying in one place for too long. She had the heart of a wanderer."
He chuckled to himself, the sound filled with both fondness and melancholy. "I remember the way she'd look at the ocean, the same way you do now. But instead of feeling like she didn't belong, she saw it as a calling. Like the wind was always pushing her forward, toward something more."
Hayato swallowed hard, his chest tightening. "But I don't feel like I'm being called anywhere… I just feel stuck."
His grandfather's expression turned thoughtful. He reached over, placing a firm yet gentle hand on Hayato's shoulder. "The wind doesn't push—it guides. And sometimes, you don't know where it's leading you until you get there."
Hayato lowered his gaze, the words sinking into him.
His grandfather sighed, looking back up at the sky. "Your mother's gone, but her love never left you. You carry it with you, in the air around you, in the way the wind moves when you're upset or when you're at peace." He gave Hayato's shoulder a light squeeze. "You might not realize it yet, but that same restless spirit is in you too."
The wind picked up slightly, rustling the trees and stirring the lantern hanging from the porch. Hayato's hair shifted with the breeze, and for a moment, he thought he could feel something—something familiar, something warm.
He let out a quiet breath, unsure if he believed in his grandfather's words, but not wanting to doubt them either.
For a while, they just sat there, listening to the waves, wrapped in the stillness of the night.
But as Hayato gazed out at the dark horizon, a faint unease crept into his heart—a feeling he couldn't quite name. It was subtle, like the whisper of an oncoming storm, something vast and unrelenting.
Before he could dwell on it, his grandmother's voice called from inside the house, warm and comforting.
"Hayato! You'll catch a cold sitting out there all night."
Hayato blinked, pulled from his thoughts. He turned toward the house, where light spilled from the open doorway.
"Yes, Grandma," he called back, standing and brushing the sand from his pants.
His grandfather pushed himself up with a small grunt, stretching his back before giving Hayato one last glance. "Don't dwell too much on where you belong, boy. Like the wind, we go wherever we feel like we must. And sharing that journey with the people we love is what matters most."
Hayato nodded slowly, his fingers curling slightly. "…Yeah."
He followed his grandfather inside, closing the door behind him. The warmth of the house greeted him instantly, the scent of freshly brewed tea filling the air. Across the room, Hikari sat on the floor, humming a soft tune as she carefully arranged flowers in a small vase. The soft glow of lantern light danced across the wooden walls, wrapping the space in familiarity.
Hayato exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders.
Maybe his grandfather was right.
Maybe home wasn't about where he fit in—it was about who he shared it with.