"POW! POW! BANG! BANG!"
The sound of the television echoed through the room. Mikael, with crooked glasses and eyes fixed on the screen, was lost in the FPS — it was already late, but he completely ignored it. A slight urge to go to the bathroom made him pause the game and stand up.
'It's freezing…? It's almost summer.'
A shiver ran down his spine like an electric current. His skin tingled all over, and for a moment, he truly thought he had a fever. He walked to the door and opened it.
The hallway was completely dark.
All the lights were off. Silence. A silence that seemed to clog the ears.
He took a few steps — and had the unsettling feeling that the hallway was… longer than it should be.
Then, behind him, a familiar voice:
"Mikael? Still awake? You have school tomorrow, you'd better go to bed."
"I'm coming, mom. I'm just going to the bathroom. It's dark here, can you turn on the light?"
No answer came.
The air seemed to stop.
He swallowed hard, continuing to walk, while a strange sound began echoing through the corridor. It was chewing, but not human. Something was wrong.
"Mom? Are you okay?"
His chest tightened. The cold intensified. Each step seemed to sink the floor beneath him. Trying to ease his own fear, he forced a crooked smile.
"Okay, that's enough with the joke. It's because of my first day of school, right?"
More steps, silence taking over. Suddenly, his foot touched something, he crouched, and his world collapsed.
His mother was lying on the floor — pale, drenched in blood, one arm torn off, her mouth trembling.
"R…u…n." She whispered, choked by her own blood, tears in her eyes.
Terror knocked him backward.
"Shit… shit… Mom? MOM?!"
He crawled to her, but a voice emerged ahead, buried in the darkness:
"I told you it would be better to lie down."
Two white eyes opened in the darkness, large and terrifying. A hand stretched out too quickly toward him.
He screamed — and closed his eyes.
"Uff… uff…"
He woke up in his own bed, sweating, breathless. He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds until he finally caught his breath. He ran his hand over his face, trying to compose himself.
As he got up, he noticed something strange in the room — tiny particles sparkling in the air.
He blinked several times.
'Damn myopia…'
He grabbed his glasses, put them on, dressed for school, and went downstairs — still with his heart racing a little.
"MIKAEL!!!"
His mother's voice came from the floor below.
He hurried down the stairs and found his father leaning against the counter, holding a cup with both hands. Deep-set eyes betrayed a sleepless night, but the stubborn smile was still there.
"Hey, champ! Ready to catch some girls today?"
Mikael felt his face heat up instantly.
"Dad… seriously? I just woke up."
The man let out a hoarse laugh.
From the kitchen, his mother lifted her head without removing the spoon from the pot.
"Eat quickly, Mikael. You're going to be late."
He took a deep breath, walked to the table, and grabbed a piece of bread without really looking. He chewed slowly, as if chewing were a pointless effort. His body felt disconnected from the rest.
He opened the fridge.
Or tried to.
The instant he touched the door with his palm, something pressed against his chest — strong, dry, as if an invisible hand were crushing him from within.
The air disappeared.
Mikael bent over, his hand clutching his heart. The floor seemed to retreat, the world lost color, and a thick fog swallowed everything around him. The kitchen disappeared. The sound of fire, the pot… everything became a distant hum.
Cold sweat ran down his temple.
And then he felt it.
A hand — cold, weightless — landed on his left shoulder.
He tried to turn his neck, but his body didn't obey. His own breath felt trapped behind his teeth.
The voice came from within. Wet. Broken. Cruel.
"Give up… Do like your brother… and just die."
When he turned, he saw his father with a worried expression. The fog and the pain had disappeared.
"You okay, son?"
Mikael couldn't say anything, just looked down, grabbed his backpack near the stairs, and went to the front door.
"I'm going."
"Don't get hurt," said his father, frowning in concern.
"Relax, they won't remember, right?" He raised his hand while still facing away and pointed at the ceiling. "After all, I am a hero." His voice carried a tone of exhaustion.
Mikael left the house and closed the door. His mother looked at the floor and noticed something had fallen from his backpack. She picked up a superhero comic.
"He really loves fantasy stories," she said, with a sad look.
Mariana went upstairs to the boy's room. Upon entering, she saw several posters of fictional characters on the walls. She opened a drawer and found dozens of comics. Next to them was a photo of Mikael with his brother.
She picked up the photo, kissed it, and placed it back alongside the comics. She looked around the room and commented:
"This room is such a mess… I'll have to sweep here." She spoke lightly, trying to ease the mood.
The scene returns to the boy walking down a narrow street lined with small house walls. The neighborhood is Yanaka, Japan. His Brazilian family had moved there three years ago for his father's business.
'Can't believe I'm already in my last year…' he sighed lightly.
Lost in thought, reflecting on the past, Mikael entered a small commercial area near home. A sign in one shop caught his attention:
"Life Reading — First Session Free."
'Must be another charlatan.'
But curiosity won...