Arc 1: A Home in the Shadows
The morning sunlight spilled gently through the thin curtains, tracing faint golden lines across the modest dining room. The aroma of freshly brewed tea mingled with the faint chirping of sparrows outside. It was an ordinary morning in every sense—or at least, it appeared to be.
At the head of the wooden table sat Ryouji Hyūga, his broad shoulders slightly hunched as he cradled a steaming cup between calloused hands. To anyone looking in from the outside, he was a man in his late thirties, dressed plainly in a simple shirt and trousers. Yet the weight in his gaze betrayed something else—memories that clung like a second skin, shadows that time could not erase.
"Papa, stop staring into nothing. The food will get cold!" chirped Sakura, his youngest, her legs swinging back and forth beneath the chair. At eight years old, her voice carried the bright energy of a child untouched by the weight of the world.
Ryouji blinked, pulling himself back. A faint smile touched his lips, the kind of smile that tried too hard to be natural. "Alright, alright. I'm eating," he replied, picking up a piece of egg from his plate.
By the stove, Hana Hyūga moved gracefully, apron tied neatly around her waist. Her smile was soft, but her eyes carried an edge that belied her gentle appearance. Once, she had been a nurse, tending to wounds both bloody and invisible. She had seen lives slip away in her hands. That part of her life was over now—or so she wished. Here, she chose to be something simpler: a wife, a mother, the quiet strength of the Hyūga household.
"Ren," she called, glancing at her eldest, "eat faster. You'll be late for school."
Ren Hyūga, fifteen, sat across from his father, poking at his rice with his chopsticks. "I know, Mom. I'm eating…" His tone was lazy, yet his expression revealed more than he realized. He bore the look of a boy who carried responsibilities heavier than his age allowed. With features mirroring Ryouji's and eyes that flickered with determination, Ren often acted as though he needed to guard his little sister from the world.
The room filled with the small, homely sounds of breakfast: clinking chopsticks, Sakura's laughter, Hana's soft reminders. To an outsider, it was a scene no different from countless families across the city. But Ryouji felt the fragility of it with every breath. Normalcy, to him, was something that could shatter at the slightest touch.
His eyes drifted toward the window. For a fraction of a second, he saw it—a figure standing still across the street, watching. Too still. Too long. His muscles tightened instinctively, his senses sharpening as if years of old training had suddenly awoken. But the next blink showed nothing. The street was empty, quiet.
Hana caught the flicker of tension in him. She didn't ask. Instead, she sat down beside him and brushed her hand lightly across his arm. It was a wordless message: Stay here. Stay with us. Don't slip away.
"Dad," Ren's voice broke the silence, hesitant. "There's a basketball game next week… Can you come?"
The boy's tone carried hope and doubt intertwined, as though he already braced himself for disappointment.
Ryouji set down his cup, meeting his son's gaze. "Of course," he said, the words firm but almost fragile. "I'll be there."
Sakura clapped her hands, her laughter spilling like sunlight. "Yay! Papa and Mama will watch Ren become the star of the court!"
Hana smiled softly at the children. "Then practice hard, Ren. No excuses."
Ren gave a quick nod, though something lingered in his eyes—relief mixed with disbelief. Would his father really be there this time?
Ryouji sipped his tea again, trying to silence the storm raging inside. He wanted desperately to believe in this peace. He wanted to be the kind of man whose biggest worry was the rising price of groceries or his son's grades. But a part of him knew the truth: the past never released its grip.
And the past whispered now. When he closed his eyes, he heard voices he could never forget. Names, screams, the metallic tang of blood. A world where he had been someone else entirely.
He opened his eyes quickly, grounding himself in the present. Hana's steady hands, Ren's cautious determination, Sakura's innocent laughter.
If the shadows return… I will never let them touch this family.
Outside, the wind pressed against the windows with a sudden force, rattling the glass. It was a small thing, but enough to send a chill through the room.
Ryouji glanced once more toward the street. Empty. Silent. But in his chest, unease lingered, whispering that their so-called ordinary life was only the calm before the storm.