Hyazo Anaka's life began in silence.
Not the gentle silence of comfort, but the kind that lingered in abandoned places—where dust settled undisturbed and memories clung to cracked wooden walls. He had been found years ago in an old, decaying house at the edge of Kyoto's quieter district. No one knew who left him there or why. There was no note, no name, no explanation—only a crying infant wrapped in a thin blanket and placed beside a broken window.
The owner of the house was an old woman named Hana. She lived alone, surviving on a small pension and the kindness of neighbors who occasionally checked on her. When she found Hyazo, she did not hesitate. Despite her frail body and failing health, she took the child in as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She never searched for his parents, nor did she curse them. Instead, she raised him with quiet patience, gentle discipline, and an unshakable belief that kindness mattered—even when the world was cruel.
Hana passed away years later, leaving behind the old house… and Hyazo.
By the time he reached eighth grade, Hyazo was already living on his own.
Each morning began the same way. Before the sun fully rose, Hyazo would wake up to the sound of creaking floorboards and the distant hum of the city. The house groaned as if alive, its wooden beams tired from decades of standing. He folded his thin futon, washed his face using cold water from the sink, and tied his unkempt hair back neatly. The mirror reflected a boy with tired eyes, narrow shoulders, and a physique that looked far too fragile for the weight he carried.
Breakfast was simple—usually rice, sometimes an egg if he had enough money. He cooked carefully, just as Hana had taught him, cleaning the pan afterward until it shone. Waste was a luxury he could not afford.
After locking the door, Hyazo walked to school.
He kept his head down most of the way, blending into the morning crowd. At school, Hyazo existed on the edges—never fully noticed unless someone chose to make him a target. His uniform was old but clean, his shoes worn thin at the soles. He sat near the back of the classroom, listening attentively, answering questions when called upon but never raising his hand.
The teasing came daily.
"Hey, orphan," someone would whisper.
"Still living in that haunted house?"
Laughter followed him like a shadow. Sometimes they shoved him in the hallway, sometimes they knocked his books from his hands. Once, a group of boys cornered him behind the gym, demanding lunch money he didn't have. Hyazo never fought back. He never cursed them, never plotted revenge. He simply endured.
It wasn't weakness—it was restraint.
Hana's words echoed in his mind whenever anger threatened to surface.
'Hate is heavy, child. Don't carry what you cannot afford.'
After school, while others laughed and rushed home, Hyazo headed to the nearby parking lots. The air there smelled of oil and dust. He waved politely at drivers, helping guide cars into narrow spaces, offering to wipe windows or sweep debris. Some ignored him. Some scolded him. But enough people dropped a few coins into his palm to keep him going.
He thanked everyone, even those who barely acknowledged him.
By evening, he returned home, counted his coins carefully, and prepared another simple meal. Then he studied by dim light, surrounded by the quiet ghosts of the house. This was his life—a cycle repeated every day without complaint.
Hyazo helped wherever he could. He fed stray cats, assisted elderly neighbors with groceries, and picked up trash along the street. It wasn't heroism. It was instinct.
One afternoon, as the sky began to darken with gathering clouds, Hyazo was heading toward the parking lot when a thunderous explosion ripped through the air.
The ground shook.
Glass shattered somewhere nearby. Hyazo froze, his heart pounding. Curiosity battled fear—and curiosity won.
He followed the sound, turning down an alley that opened onto a devastated street. Smoke rose from cracked pavement. At the center of it all lay an elderly woman, collapsed on the ground, bleeding.
"M-Ma'am!" Hyazo rushed to her side, skidding across the broken pavement as he dropped to his knees. His hands trembled as he reached for her shoulders, feeling the warmth of blood seeping through her clothes. "Please—can you hear me? Stay with me!" His voice cracked, panic tightening his chest.
The woman's eyes fluttered weakly, her lips parting as if to speak.
Before a single sound could escape her, the air above them screamed.
A violent pressure crushed downward, as if the sky itself had torn open. Hyazo looked up just in time to see a massive shadow eclipse the fading light.
Something enormous descended.
The impact was catastrophic.
Concrete exploded outward, shockwaves rippling through the street as the creature slammed into the ground. The old woman was crushed beneath its weight in an instant—her body disappearing under mangled flesh and shattered stone. Blood splattered across the pavement and onto Hyazo's hands, the warmth searing into his skin as reality finally caught up to him.
Blood sprayed across the concrete. Hyazo screamed, stumbling backward as a towering monster rose before him. Its body was grotesque—twisted muscles, burning eyes, jagged claws scraping the ground.
Hyazo's breath caught in his throat, sharp and shallow, as if the air itself had grown heavy. His legs refused to move, rooted to the bloodstained ground no matter how desperately his mind screamed at them to run. His heart pounded so violently he thought it might burst through his chest.
I'm going to die.
The thought came uninvited, cold and absolute. Images flashed through his mind—Hana's gentle smile, the creaking house, quiet mornings that would never come again. His hands trembled, slick with sweat and blood that was not his own.
Slowly, deliberately, the monster turned its head.
Its burning eyes locked onto him.
In that instant, something primal snapped inside Hyazo. Fear overwhelmed shock. Survival drowned out every other thought. His legs finally obeyed.
Hyazo ran.
He sprinted through alleys, vaulting over trash bins, skidding across wet pavement. The monster followed, smashing through walls and cars as if they were paper. Hyazo ducked into narrow passages, climbed fences, crawled beneath collapsed scaffolding—every escape driven by pure instinct.
His lungs burned. His legs screamed.
Through the chaos of his ragged breathing and pounding footsteps, Hyazo suddenly heard a man's voice echoing from above—calm, amused, and completely out of place amid the destruction. The sound came from the rooftops, carried by the wind, sharp enough to cut through the monster's roars. For a split second, Hyazo felt the strange urge to look up, to seek the owner of that voice, as if it might offer answers or salvation.
But fear was faster than curiosity.
He didn't dare turn his head. He didn't dare slow down. Every instinct screamed at him to keep moving. He focused only on the path ahead, on the burning pain in his legs, on the desperate rhythm of survival, forcing himself to run harder as the monster's heavy footsteps thundered closer behind him.
He burst into an open construction zone, leapt across gaps, and slid beneath steel beams, then in a closed alley. The monster roared, closing in.
Then—dead end.
A towering concrete wall blocked his path.
Hyazo turned, shaking, fists clenched. The monster advanced, claws raised.
And then— his fists starts emitting energy colored in black and cyan, waving like eerie shadows.
Everything went black.
Kira witnessed the moment everything changed.
From the rooftop above, his sharp eyes caught the surge of familiar energy erupting from the boy's fists—dark and cyan - it is Aether, twisting together like living shadows. It pulsed erratically, raw and unrefined, spilling into the air with violent intensity. Kira's smile faded, replaced by something rare: genuine surprise.
Hyazo moved without awareness, his body acting on instinct alone. He lunged at the monster, fists swinging wildly, each strike trailing unstable waves of Aether that distorted the air on impact. There was no technique, no control—only desperation. Some blows missed entirely, cracking walls and shattering concrete. Others connected, forcing the monster to stagger back, snarling in confusion at the sudden resistance.
But the imbalance was obvious. If it continued, the boy would destroy himself long before the monster fell.
"That's enough," Kira muttered.
In a single motion, he leapt from the rooftop. The distance vanished beneath him as gravity bent to his will. He descended like a falling star and drove his heel straight into the monster's skull. The impact detonated with a thunderous shockwave, pulverizing flesh and bone alike. The creature didn't even have time to scream.
Its body shattered, dissolving into fragments of dark ash that scattered and evaporated into nothingness.
Hyazo staggered forward, the Aether around his fists flickering violently. Before he could throw another punch, Kira appeared behind him and struck the back of his neck with precise force. Hyazo collapsed instantly, his body finally giving in.
As he fell, the energy around his hands dimmed, then faded completely—leaving only silence in its wake.
This was the moment his life collided with something far greater than himself.
This was the day Hyazo Anaka stepped into a world he was never meant to see.
ee.