The sky over the city was painted gray, clouds hanging low like a lid sealing away the sunlight.
It had been raining since dawn—a cold, steady drizzle that never seemed to fully stop.
The rhythmic hiss of water sliding off rooftops and the occasional car passing through puddles filled the streets with a kind of melancholic symphony.
The world seemed muted, colors dulled, as if someone had turned down the vibrancy of life itself.
Akio stood at the window of his small apartment, watching droplets race each other down the glass.
His transparent umbrella leaned against the wall beside him, his see-through raincoat folded neatly on the chair.
He hadn't slept much since last night, haunted by the memory of those emerald green eyes, glowing faintly beneath the neon haze.
The boy's voice still echoed in his skull, each word dripping like poison into his thoughts.
"Hey... brother."
Akio clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.
He didn't want to remember that voice, but it refused to leave him alone.
It had only been a single encounter, yet it had shaken something deep inside him, something fragile he'd spent years carefully hiding.
Who are you...?
And why do you feel so... familiar?
He turned away from the window and grabbed his umbrella and raincoat.
His school uniform was still neatly pressed despite the sleepless night, but his tie hung loosely around his neck, giving him a slightly disheveled look.
The chill in the air made him shiver as he zipped up his coat, its plastic sheen reflecting the dim light of his apartment.
Today, he wouldn't sit back and let fate decide the course of his life.
Not like with Sora, where everything had spiraled out of control before he even realized it.
Not like with the reincarnation into this strange world.
This time, he would take action.
This time, he would hunt for answers.
The Search Begins
The streets were slick with rainwater, reflecting the neon signs and street lamps like rippling mirrors.
Akio's transparent umbrella created a small sanctuary from the drizzle, each raindrop striking it with a soft, percussive tap.
The raincoat clung to his frame, and his shoes squelched softly with every step.
He started by retracing the path he'd walked last night when he encountered the child.
The memory was vivid—the way the drizzle had thickened, the way those glowing eyes had pierced through the gloom.
But now, the streets felt empty, haunted only by echoes of his own anxious breathing.
Akio questioned shopkeepers, street vendors, and even random passersby, describing the kids appearance in careful detail:
Shaggy black hair,
Bandage on the left cheek,
Deep emerald green eyes,
Wore a black hoodie and dark green shirt underneath.
Most people shook their heads, saying they hadn't seen anyone like that.
Some looked away nervously, as if they knew something but were afraid to speak.
The deeper Akio went into the backstreets of the city, the more uneasy he became.
Graffiti marked the walls in strange patterns—jagged symbols that at first seemed random, but when Akio looked closer, he realized they weren't.
They were directed, almost like arrows pointing him somewhere.
No way...
He's... guiding me?
Every strange turn he took seemed to lead to another clue:
a scratched carving on a lamppost, a folded piece of paper left on a bench, a chalk mark near a vending machine.
It felt less like a search and more like he was being led, as though this "brother" had planned everything long before Akio even decided to leave his apartment.
The Puzzle
By the time the sun should have been setting—though the gray sky gave no hint of it—Akio found himself standing in the middle of a small, deserted park.
The rain had picked up, falling harder now, rattling against his umbrella like thousands of tiny fists.
There, on the ground, was a map.
It wasn't just any map—it was of their entire city.
It had been crudely drawn, the paper soaked and frayed at the edges, yet it was unmistakable.
Red lines crisscrossed the map, marking the exact paths Akio had wandered all day.
Akio's breath caught.
"This... this is impossible. How—how could he have known where I'd go?!"
His trembling fingers traced the red lines.
At first, they seemed random, chaotic... but then, slowly, a pattern emerged.
The lines weren't random at all—they formed a symbol.
Akio's pulse thundered in his ears as he realized what the symbol represented:
a badminton shuttle, perfectly drawn across the city's layout.
In the center of the shuttle's "feathers" was a single location marked in black ink:
the tournament building where Akio had competed just days before.
And beneath the drawing, written in jagged, uneven handwriting, were the words:
"The Truth Shall Be Prevailed
Through the Likes of Your Next Badminton Tournament.
Saturday. Next Week.
As long as you win... that is."
Akio's hands trembled so violently that the paper nearly slipped from his grasp.
He stared at the words, his mind reeling.
He knew I'd follow these paths...
He manipulated my every step...
Memories of last night surged back in vivid detail: the kids calm, knowing voice, his half-smirk, the way he'd called Akio "brother."
Those eyes—cold, calculating, yet unbearably sad.
A shiver ran down Akio's spine despite the layers of clothing.
He looked around the deserted park, half-expecting the boy to be standing in the shadows, watching him even now.
But there was nothing.
Only the rain, falling heavier and heavier, drowning the world in its relentless rhythm.
Realization
Akio sank to his knees, clutching the map to himself.
His breathing was ragged, his throat tight with panic and rage.
Why badminton? Why a tournament?
What are you trying to tell me?
He thought of his past matches, of every moment he'd struggled to rise above the pain and cruelty of his old life.
Badminton had been his escape, his sanctuary...
And now, this mysterious figure was twisting it into some kind of game.
"No..." Akio muttered through clenched teeth, tears mixing with the rain on his face.
"I won't let you control me like this.
If you want me to play your game, fine.
But I'll play on my own terms.
And when I win...
you'll tell me the truth."
He stood slowly, determination hardening his features.
The drizzle soaked his hair, plastering it to his forehead, but he didn't care.
He folded the map carefully and tucked it into his bag, as though sealing away a promise.
As he turned to leave the park, a voice—soft, almost a whisper—drifted through the rain.
"Good. That's exactly what I wanted to hear, brother."
Akio froze, his heart leaping into his throat.
He spun around, eyes wide, umbrella trembling in his grip.
There was no one there.
Only the faint outline of a figure high above, perched on a distant rooftop, visible for the briefest of moments before vanishing into the storm.
Final Scene
Akio returned home long after midnight, exhausted but resolute.
He hung his transparent raincoat on the rack, the plastic dripping steadily onto the mat below.
His umbrella leaned in the corner, its surface scratched and worn from the long day.
He sat at his desk, pulling out the map once more.
The words glared back at him like a challenge, a riddle carved into fate itself.
The Truth Shall Be Prevailed...
Through the Likes of Your Next Badminton Tournament...
Akio's reflection stared back at him from the window—his emerald green eyes glowing faintly in the dim light, just like his brother's had.
For the first time, he whispered the question aloud:
"Who... are you?"
The screen faded to black as the sound of rain intensified, leaving the audience with a single image burned into their minds:
The map's crimson shuttle symbol glowing faintly under the light, a promise of both truth and destruction.
TO BE CONTINUED...