Hi there, I'm Shiedo Natski.
Yeah, I know—your first thought is probably, "What kind of name is that?"
Well, you can blame my parents for that one.
My mom's Korean, my dad's Japanese, and they wanted my name to reflect both sides of their culture. After what I can only assume was a legendary amount of arguing, debating, researching, arguing again, and maybe a little more arguing… they finally settled on "Shiedo" for my given name, with "Natski" as my surname.
Unique? Yes.
Confusing? Absolutely.
But hey—it's mine.
And for the longest time, I thought my life was supposed to be simple.
Wake up. Hide in my room. Watch anime until my eyes burn.
Sleep. Repeat.
If my grandfather were still alive, he'd probably smack the back of my head with that old wooden fan of his. "A man must polish his soul like a blade, boy!" he used to say.
And he meant it too—he trained me in martial arts from the time I was five. Punches, footwork, breathing technique, even how to keep calm when fear crawls into your bones.
Funny enough, out of everything I inherited, that's the only thing that stuck.
My parents? They're good people. Really good. They just… weren't there. Work, travel, more work—honestly, I barely saw them except for holidays or short weekends.
And as for my grandfather… well, he passed away about three years ago—just like my grandmother. When he left this world, it felt like he took a piece of mine with him.
Because of my parents' constant travels abroad, he was the one who always made time for me. He'd visit just to make sure I was eating properly, staying healthy, and still practicing. I really loved my grandfather. So when he died, everything around me just stopped feeling interesting. The colors drained out of my life, and I became a total shut-in.
Anime, movies—mostly anime—became my escape. Watching characters struggle, fight, lose, grow… it made me realize something: my life was normal. Plain. Simple. And somewhere along the way, I stopped taking that for granted. Being normal wasn't bad. It was safe.
The only thing that really stood out about my life was my grandfather's obsession with making me train Aikido. He was completely crazy about it—but in the kind of way that makes you smile when you think back on it.
So I grew up alone mostly. Alone with anime, games, manga, and my grandfather's worn-out training scrolls.
A shut-in with a black belt and too much free time.
That's me. Or, well… was me.
That morning, everything started like usual.
I was binge-watching one of my favorite anime—though technically it was just a marathon repeat on TV, replaying the entire series from Season 1 to Season 3. It had been so long since I last watched it that rewatching it felt like returning to the moment I first fell in love with anime. Before I knew it, I stayed up way too late… and, of course, overslept.
When I finally opened my eyes and glanced at the clock beside my bed, my heart nearly exploded. 7:40 a.m. School started at 8:00 a.m. It normally takes me thirty minutes to walk there, meaning I was already guaranteed to be ten minutes late if I didn't do something drastic.
And I couldn't afford that.
Even if I was a shut-in, everyone in school knew me as a straight-A student. I was always in the top five in the entire school, and I had never been late—not once. I refused to let today be the first time, all because I binge-watched an anime marathon.
It was one of the rules my parents made when they allowed me to keep living alone after my grandfather died. Instead of sending me to live with relatives like they originally planned, they made one condition: I had to maintain straight A's—no exceptions. If I slipped even once, it wouldn't just cause problems… it would shatter the quiet, detached, shut-in life I'd built for myself.
So I knew one thing with absolute certainty:
I needed to get to school. Fast. No matter what.
I jumped out of bed, rushed to the bathroom, and stared at myself in the mirror. My reflection… well, it was just me. Slightly above-average looks, nothing crazy.
Black hair that always fell downward no matter what I did, black eyes, and facial features that looked like a half-mix of Korean and American—at least based on how actors looked in the movies I'd seen. Strange, I know, but that's how I always described it.
Not ugly, not stunning, just… somewhere comfortably in the middle.
I brushed my teeth at record speed, threw on my uniform, and bolted downstairs.
Thankfully, the toaster my family bought years ago had a timer, so I'd already prepped bread last night for emergencies like this. While running down the steps, I checked the time on my phone—terrible idea, because my stress shot up another level.
Just then, pop!
The toaster launched the bread like it was firing ammunition. I snatched it midair, shoved my feet into my shoes, grabbed my bag from the corridor, and burst out the door.
I munched on the toast as I sprinted down the street, chewing with the skill of someone who had practiced this exact scenario way too many times. But the more I ran, the more reality settled in:
There was no way I was making it on time.
Even at full speed, I'd still arrive three or four minutes late. Unless I suddenly unlocked teleportation, ran like Sonic, or awakened chakra and bent time itself, I was doomed.
…Unless.
There was one option.
I could cut through Largin's territory—and take the infamous shortcut.
Everyone in my neighborhood knew the largin territory was dangerous. The type of place where drug dealers, gangsters and thugs spawned like low-tier mobs.
My parents warned me, teachers warned all students, my dead grandfather probably warned me in spirit form too.
But I had no choice.
"Ah screw it," I muttered, gripped hard on my bag, turned around to my left fast and sprinted.
The reason I turned left was simple—Largin Territory was on that side. If I wanted to make it on time, this was my only shot.
While sprinting, I cut through my neighbors' yards, hopping over low fences and landing in patches of grass one yard at a time. I kept my speed, pushed forward, and soon reached the old construction site that everyone in the neighborhood avoided.
A tall line of wooden barricades blocked the way, but I already knew where the weak spot was. I crouched down, slipped through a broken gap at the bottom, and pushed my way inside.
And just like that…
I had officially entered Largin Territory.
I kept walking, every muscle tight, every sense awake. I was ready to bolt—or fight—if anyone showed up. But even after two whole minutes passed, and something felt wrong.
There was no sound.
No voices, no distant footsteps, not even the chirp of a single bird. It was as if this entire area had been muted by some unseen hand. My stance loosened a little, but my guard stayed high as I continued forward.
Passing by a narrow alley, a harsh smell punched my nose—rust and old beer, thick and sour. The walls were drowned in layers of graffiti, colors clashing violently. Cracks split the concrete below, broken glass scattered everywhere, reflecting the sun like tiny, sharp mirrors.
I stared for just a second… then faced forward again, keeping my pace steady. Breathing the way Grandpa had drilled into me.
Then I heard it.
A scream.
High, sharp, terrified—a girl's voice.
I froze instantly. My whole body locked, coiled like a spring ready to explode.
My thoughts spun into chaos. A storm of fear, logic, instinct.
I already knew what that scream meant. Someone was in trouble. Something bad was happening. But I didn't want anything to do with it. I just wanted to get to school. That was all.
So I lowered my head, stared at the ground, and forced myself to keep walking.
One step.
Two steps.
Three.
…And I stopped.
My human side clawed at me, fighting my logic, refusing to let me leave. I kept thinking, Why was a girl even here? She knew this place was dangerous. It should've been her fault.
But no matter how hard I tried to justify it… I couldn't.