⟢ East of the Clouds of Azure ⟣
Cold.Quiet.Weightless.
Those were the conditions surrounding the boy as consciousness drifted back into him like a fading ember reigniting in the dark. The world didn't return to him through pain or panic or breath—none of the violent, emotional moments that mark birth or resurrection. Instead, he came alive as if someone simply turned a page. No tension. No memories. No heartbeat pounding fear into his skull. Only a smooth, silent shift from nothingness to wakefulness, as if he had always been lying there, waiting for awareness to find him.
His eyes opened slowly, not snapping or widening, just parting with a dull calm as he stared up at the alien sky above him. The heavens glowed with layers of shimmering clouds tinted with icy blues and faint golds. They floated like drifting islands of light, pulsing gently as though the sky itself breathed.
He lay still for a long moment, expression neither confused nor curious. He only observed the clouds, their slow graceful movements, and the cold brilliance surrounding him. He did not shiver. He did not tense. He simply existed—quiet and hollow.
Finally, he spoke.
Akuma: "…Where am I?"
His voice was soft and breathless, carrying no weight, no tone, no emotion. It was as if he were reading a line from a book he had never seen before. The sound felt foreign to him, but not strange enough to cause fear. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, his white hair falling against his face as his eyes scanned the crystalline terrain beneath him—smooth, transparent, and glowing faintly with patterns like veins of light running through a gemstone.
He pressed a hand lightly against the surface.
He felt nothing.
No warmth.No cold.No pain.No familiarity.
He stared at his hand for a moment, rotating it slowly as though expecting a sensation to finally appear.
It didn't.
Akuma: "…Who am I?"
He didn't expect an answer. He didn't want one either. His voice remained calm, nearly flat. His own words echoed faintly around the vast floating expanse, disappearing into the thick mist that swirled around the edges of the platform.
He waited for something—any spark inside him that would guide him. A memory, a feeling, an instinct.
Nothing came.
The emptiness inside him was too complete, too still, like a void sealed in human shape.
Then, a faint blue flicker appeared in the corner of his vision. He shifted his gaze lazily toward it. A small, floating wisp of light hovered in the air, shaped like a tiny lantern with a gentle flame swirling inside. It drifted closer, circling him at a cautious distance.
The boy didn't flinch. He simply watched.
The wisp spoke with a voice that sounded like wind brushing against a bell.
Azure Spirit: "𝘠𝘰𝘶… 𝘢𝘰𝘬𝘦."
Akuma blinked once, the only sign of reaction.
The spirit drifted closer, tilting ever so slightly as though examining his expressionless face.
Azure Spirit: "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩… 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺.𝘕𝘰 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦.𝘕𝘰… 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨.𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦… hollow."
The boy looked at the glowing spirit for a long time, his expression unreadable. His breathing was steady, almost unreal in its calmness.
Then he spoke, tone still dull and soft.
Akuma: "If all of that is true… does it matter whether I woke up at all?"
The spirit faltered mid-air, flickering slightly. It wasn't used to responses like that—responses without emotion, without fear, without confusion or anger. The boy gave nothing. No sign of searching for a past. No desire to know his purpose.
Only acceptance.
The wisp circled him again, slower this time.
Azure Spirit: "𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘮… 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘻𝘶𝘳𝘦… 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥.𝘕𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦."
The boy listened silently.
Azure Spirit: "𝘠𝘦𝘵… 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯.𝘖𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳."
Akuma lowered his gaze to the floor beneath him, tracing the glowing cracks of light with his dull eyes.
Akuma: "Human… if that is what this body is, then it is what I am. I don't know enough to disagree."
The spirit hesitated, then spoke again, its flame flickering gently.
Azure Spirit: "𝘈 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦… 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯.𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦."
The boy didn't respond.He didn't look interested.He didn't look disinterested either.
Just neutral.
Azure Spirit: "𝘈𝘬𝘶𝘮𝘢."
The name drifted through the air like a whisper carried by the wind. The boy slowly lifted his head, eyes meeting the spirit's flame.
Akuma: "…Akuma."
He repeated it quietly, not as someone embracing an identity, but as someone acknowledging a fact. He didn't smile. He didn't tighten his fists. He didn't react at all.
It was simply something to remember.
A ripple of wind passed through the clouds, opening a path forward. A glowing rift pulsed at the edge of the platform—an exit to the world below.
The spirit's flame dimmed.
Azure Spirit: "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦.𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸… 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶."
Akuma stood up slowly, dusting off his clothes though no dust existed.
Akuma: "Meaning…?"
The spirit flickered again, drifting backward.
Azure Spirit: "𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵… 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥…𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦."
Akuma looked at the rift for a long while, expression never changing.
Akuma: "I see."
He took one step forward.Then another.Each movement slow, steady, without fear or anticipation.
As he reached the rift, he paused—not because he hesitated, but because he wanted to observe the swirling energy inside it.
Akuma: "…I wonder why I feel nothing."
He said it casually, almost carelessly, as though commenting on the temperature. And after a brief silence, he stepped into the rift without another word.
The Clouds of Azure closed behind him, sealing the realm as the boy vanished from the sky.
A blank soulentering a world unprepared for what he truly was.
⟢ The Mortal World Below the Azure ⟣
The world he stepped into was nothing like the sky he had come from.
The air was heavier here—cold, wet, and filled with the earthy scent of pine and damp soil. The ground beneath him was uneven, covered in patches of frost and thin needles from towering trees. He stood still for a moment, watching how the mist clung to the forest floor, drifting around his legs like sluggish serpents.
His breathing stayed even.His expression empty.His presence silent.
Only one thing shifted in him: his eyes quietly scanned his surroundings, taking in every detail without forming any emotion to match it—no relief of finding land, no fear of danger, no awe at the unfamiliar.
Just observation.
After several minutes, he turned and began walking. His footsteps were soft on the wet earth, the only sound in the stillness of the trees. The forest felt abandoned, untouched… or perhaps avoided. Yet Akuma felt no discomfort. The silence suited him.
Eventually, between the trees, he spotted a faint shape—something small, wooden, and leaning slightly as though age had bent its spine.
A cabin.
The structure was cramped and crooked, the wood darkened from years of rain and frost. Smoke did not rise from the chimney. No footprints dented the soil around it.
Akuma: "…Someone once lived here."
The statement came out flat, almost mechanical, as if he were simply labeling an object rather than commenting on a life. He approached the door and pushed it open. The hinges creaked weakly, but he didn't react to the sound.
Inside, the cabin was sparse—an old cot, a table, a rusted iron pot, and a small shelf of fishing tools. A thin draft seeped through cracks in the walls.
On the table lay a freshly caught fish.Not rotten.Not frozen.Fresh.
Akuma: "…Strange."
He stepped closer, examining the fish without caution. Someone had caught it recently, yet the cabin seemed abandoned. He lifted the fish gently, as though testing its weight.
The moment his fingers brushed its cold scales—
His flesh shimmered.His skin rippled like water struck by the wind.His bones shifted with a whisper of cracking ice.The world twisted in his vision, shrinking, stretching, warping—
And suddenly the floor was enormous.
The cabin was enormous.
The world was enormous.
His body was no longer human.
It was a fish.
The same fish he had touched.
He flopped against the wooden table, but not in panic—just in a dull, confused motion, eyes staring blankly with the same emptiness as before despite being on a fish's face.
A few strains of thought drifted through his mind, unbothered, calm despite the transformation:
Akuma (thinking):"…My form changed.How inconvenient."
He didn't feel fear. Or desperation. Or curiosity.Just a distant acknowledgment.
With a faint ripple of light, his body shifted again. Bones reformed. Organs realigned. Flesh reshaped. And within seconds, he stood once more in his human form, hair falling over his emotionless eyes as if nothing had happened.
He looked down at his hands for a long moment.
Akuma: "So… touching a living creature alters my form."
He flexed his fingers slowly, watching how the light from the cabin window slid across his skin.
Akuma: "Is it a gift? Or a curse?"
He said it without emotion, simply voicing the thought as naturally as he breathed.
His gaze drifted to the fish again.
Akuma: "…More information is needed."
He placed the fish back onto the table gently. His face remained still, but something about the way he stared at it—steady, detached—felt eerie, like a scientist watching a specimen rather than a boy reacting to a supernatural ability he didn't understand.
Then he turned toward the cabin entrance.
A cold breeze rushed in.
He stepped outside, eyes lifting to the pale sky through the trees.
Akuma: "If this body reacts to touch… I must be careful."
The forest wind brushed his face, but he didn't shiver.
He simply walked forward, into the trees again—blank, emotionless, taking step after quiet step toward a world that had no idea what had just arrived in it.