The night smelled of kerosene.
Ren would remember that scent for the rest of his life. Long after the fire faded, long after the shouting ceased, long after his hands stopped trembling, that sharp, stinging odor clung to him like a curse.
But before the fire, there was peace.
---
"Watch me, mama! I'm going to be a hero one day!"
A boy's voice filled the small wooden house, high-pitched, full of childish conviction. Ren stood on a crooked chair in the center of the living room, a ragged bedsheet tied around his shoulders like a cape. His arms stretched wide, fists raised as though he could touch the sky.
His younger sister clapped from where she sat on the floor, pale but smiling, her legs tucked under a blanket. "Nii-san looks so cool!"
Their mother laughed softly as she stirred a pot of soup, tired lines on her face softened by warmth. "Is that so? Then what kind of hero will my Ren grow up to be?"
"The strongest one!" Ren declared, puffing out his chest. "I'll save everyone! I'll make them cheer my name!"
The chair wobbled, and his mother reached over quickly to steady it. She smoothed his messy black hair, her smile carrying both pride and sorrow.
"You have your father's stubbornness," she murmured, so softly that neither child heard.
Outside, night pressed close. The wind rattled the shutters, and somewhere in the distance, voices stirred.
---
The first stone shattered the window.
Ren's sister flinched, covering her ears. Their mother dropped the ladle with a clatter. Shouts rang from beyond the walls — angry, hateful, venom wrapped in human throats.
"Burn them out!"
"Witch's brood!"
"Spawn of a villain!"
Ren stumbled back, heart hammering. He could see flickering light through the broken window. Not dawn. Not lanterns. Torches.
His mother's face went pale. "Ren. Take your sister. Hide."
"Mama—"
"No arguments." She shoved him toward the back of the house, voice trembling but firm.
The door crashed open with a kick. Men surged in, faces twisted by fear and rage. A woman screamed insults, spittle flying. "Your husband killed innocents! You think you can hide here? You think your children aren't monsters too?"
Ren's mother spread her arms, shielding her children. "Leave them alone! They're only children!"
A bottle arced through the air, smashed against the wall, and flames spread hungrily.
Ren's sister screamed.
Ren froze, small fists clenched, every part of him wanting to fight, to stand tall like the heroes on the billboards downtown. But his legs shook too much to move.
---
The house filled with smoke. Wood cracked, heat rising in waves.
Ren coughed, eyes burning. He tried to pull his sister toward the back door, but she clung to him, sobbing. His mother stumbled, clutching her chest. Blood soaked her dress where shattered glass had cut deep.
"Mama!" Ren cried.
Her eyes found his. So much pain, yet so much love. She grabbed his wrist with surprising strength. "Ren. Take her. Take your sister and run. Don't look back."
"No! I can't—"
"Live."
That single word carried the weight of everything she could not give him. Then she shoved him with the last of her strength.
The ceiling cracked, flames devouring beams above. Ren dragged his sister to the back window, coughing, vision blurred. He shoved her through the gap, ignoring her shrieks. His own hands blistered as he followed, tumbling into the night air.
Behind him, the roof collapsed. Fire swallowed the house whole.
---
Outside, the mob stood in a half-circle, torches raised. Their faces glowed orange with reflected fire, their eyes bright with something worse than hate: self-righteousness.
"There! The devil's brats!"
"Don't let them escape!"
Ren shielded his sister with his body, heart pounding. The fire roared behind him.
And then light descended.
A golden figure floated above the crowd, cape billowing, radiance spilling across the night like sunlight piercing storm clouds. The mob cheered instantly, their fury twisting into reverence.
"It's him!"
"Solarius! The Number One Hero!"
Ren's eyes widened. Hope surged in his chest, fragile, desperate. The hero — the man he dreamed of becoming. The symbol of everything good.
Solarius raised a hand, golden energy shimmering across his skin. His smile was practiced, flawless. "Citizens, you are safe now. Justice has arrived."
Cameras clicked. Journalists scribbled notes. The mob roared approval.
Ren stumbled forward, dragging his sister. "Please! Help her! My mama—she's still inside—"
He tugged on the hero's cape with trembling fingers. Smoke smeared his cheeks. His small body shook with grief.
For the briefest instant, Solarius looked down. His eyes, once dazzling, hardened with irritation. His lips twitched in the faintest grimace — not pity, not sympathy, but disdain.
Then the mask returned. The golden smile. Solarius turned away, lifting his hand for the cameras.
"Fear not," he declared, ignoring the boy at his feet. "Justice will always prevail."
The crowd erupted in cheers.
Ren's hand slipped from the cape.
His sister's sobs echoed in his ears. Behind him, the house collapsed entirely, fire consuming everything. His mother's body was gone.
No one noticed. No one cared.
Only ash remained.
---
There was no funeral. No grave. Nothing left of his mother but charred earth.
Neighbors whispered in the streets, their words slicing sharper than knives.
"Son of a villain."
"He'll end up the same."
"Smoke and blood. It's in their veins."
Ren said nothing. He held his sister's hand as she cried into his shoulder. The scar on her left cheek was raw and red, twisting across her skin like fire's cruel signature.
That night, under the cold moonlight, Ren clenched his fists until his nails dug into flesh.
I'll be a hero, he swore silently. No matter what they say. No matter what it takes.
But deep down, despair already spread like poison.
---
Years later.
The city blazed with light, taller than Ren could have imagined as a child. Towering skyscrapers, flashing billboards, heroic faces plastered across every surface. Solarius's golden grin shone down from a dozen screens, eternal, unchanging.
Ren stood in the alley below, cigarette glowing faintly in the dark. Purple smoke curled from his lips, mingling with the city fog.
He pulled a mask over his face — smooth, featureless, faceless.
The boy who had once tugged at a hero's cape was long gone.
Only Shade remained.
He melted into the night, the smoke rising around him like the ghost of his past.