The metallic clanging echoed harshly and relentlessly throughout the laboratory, bouncing off smooth walls and translucent surfaces that pulsed with soft hues of blue and green. It was a vast, fully technological environment where every inch seemed alive—floating panels displayed data in unknown languages, energized cables ran across the ceiling like glowing veins, and the air carried a faint electrical hum, as if the very space itself were in constant operation.
At the center of that controlled chaos, one figure stood out.
A young man.
His movements were sharp, driven by strength and frustration. Attached to his back, multiple cable-like mechanisms extended like living extensions of his body, linking him to surrounding structures in the lab. They twisted and writhed in response to his motions, occasionally sparking whenever pushed beyond their limits.
"Tennyson, stop this immediately!" a sharp yet authoritative voice rang out.
Nearby, standing atop an elevated platform, was a small creature no more than eight centimeters tall. Its gray skin faintly reflected the ambient light, while its yellow-green eyes gleamed with intellectual intensity. Side eyelids blinked rapidly, and the tentacle-like appendages resembling a beard moved restlessly. Its green attire, accented with silver details on the shoulders, only reinforced its unique presence.
Azmuth.
The First Thinker.
But the young man didn't respond right away.
His teeth were clenched, his eyes filled with something unstable—anger, confusion… or something deeper. His muscles tightened as he pulled the cables with even greater force, completely ignoring the warning.
"Tennyson!" Azmuth insisted, now with real urgency.
That was when the young man finally reacted.
"I'M NOT BEN!" he shouted, his voice laced with a desperation that felt like it came from something fractured deep inside him.
With a violent motion, he forced the cables past their limit.
CRACK.
The sound of metal snapping rang loudly through the lab. One, two—several cables broke at once, releasing bursts of sparks and unstable energy that rippled through the environment in visible waves. Metallic fragments crashed to the floor, still vibrating with residual electricity.
For a brief moment… silence.
And then—
CRITICAL ALERT.
Red lights flooded the lab, replacing the earlier calm glow with an urgent, aggressive pulse. Sirens blared, slicing through the air in a relentless rhythm, while panels all around began flashing error messages in rapid succession.
Azmuth's eyes widened.
"No… you—"
But before he could finish—
Something happened.
The young man's body began to distort.
It wasn't a normal transformation. There was no clean light, no controlled energy. It was… unstable. As though his very form was failing to hold itself together.
His silhouette fragmented, rippling like a broken image. His skin seemed to dissolve into something ethereal, while a dark, translucent energy expanded outward. Within seconds, his human shape ceased to exist.
In its place…
Something hovered.
A spectral, cadaver-like entity wrapped in a grayish-purple, shroud-like skin floated slowly above the ground. Its body wasn't fixed—it shifted subtly, like smoke trapped within an incomplete form.
Openings appeared and vanished across its surface.
And then…
An eye.
A single pink eye emerged, sliding between those openings, observing the surroundings with an eerie, almost unnatural awareness.
An Ectonurite.
The air seemed to grow colder.
The alarms continued, but now they felt distant—almost irrelevant in the face of that transformation.
Azmuth remained still for a brief moment, his gaze locked onto the creature before him—not just analyzing… but recognizing.
And perhaps for the first time…
Worried.
The shrill alarms kept echoing through the lab, but they now felt muted compared to the unstable presence hovering at the center of the room. The air itself had changed—colder, heavier—as if reality was reacting to the form that had just manifested.
Azmuth stood firm, even in front of the entity that had replaced the young man. His narrowed eyes examined every detail—each fluctuation in the spectral shape, every irregular pulse of energy radiating from that unstable body. And yet, there was something beyond analysis in his expression.
There was concern.
"Ben…" he called, his voice steady but controlled, cutting through the chaos. "You're confused."
The creature did not respond immediately. Its body drifted unevenly, as though being pulled in opposite directions by invisible forces. The single pink eye moved slowly through the fissures of its form, observing everything… but without clear focus.
"What happened in the Nullifier…" Azmuth continued, taking a small step forward, "affected your mind. The Omnitrix reacted unpredictably, but that doesn't mean—"
"STOP!"
The voice came abruptly.
It wasn't human.
It was distorted, layered, as if multiple versions of the same voice were speaking out of sync. The spectral form contracted briefly, and the pink eye snapped directly toward Azmuth.
"BEN TENNYSON DIED THERE!" the entity roared, its intensity causing nearby panels to flicker and fail for a moment.
The energy around it surged violently, as though its very existence was reacting to that declaration.
"MY NAME IS—"
And then…
Something broke.
Not in the lab.
But in reality itself.
The exact moment it tried to say its name, a deafening noise erupted. Not a normal sound—something warped, like pure interference, like static tearing through the fabric of the world. The audio simply… failed.
The voice was swallowed.
Distorted.
Erased.
As if it could not exist.
As if that name… was not meant to be heard.
The lab lights flickered violently, and for a brief instant, everything around seemed to lose definition—like a corrupted image struggling to stabilize.
The creature froze midair for a second.
The pink eye trembled.
"…gh—…!"
No words came out.
Only fragments of sound… broken, incomprehensible.
The silence that followed was even more disturbing than the scream.
Azmuth didn't move.
But his eyes… narrowed.
This wasn't just instability.
It was something far worse.
"…I see…" he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.
If even the name itself had been rejected…
Then the being before him was not merely someone lost.
It was something that… should not exist like this.
The unsettling silence still lingered throughout the laboratory, as if the very space itself was struggling to recover from the distortion that had just taken place. Red lights continued to flash, reflecting unevenly across the spectral surface of the entity, which now floated with even greater instability.
Azmuth took a slow breath, his eyes never leaving that form.
"Your memories are disordered…" he began again, his voice steady despite the rising tension. "After merging with the Omnitrix, your mind couldn't—"
He didn't finish.
The entity moved.
Without warning.
Without a sound.
Its body simply… sank.
As though matter no longer applied to it, the spectral form passed straight through the metallic floor of the lab without resistance, slipping through the solid surface like a shadow being swallowed by darkness itself.
"No!" Azmuth stepped forward instinctively, but it was already too late.
The presence was gone.
All that remained… was the echo. And the alarm.
For a second, Azmuth stood still, his gaze fixed on the spot where the entity had vanished. His mind raced—processing variables, risks, outcomes… yet there was something here even he could not fully calculate.
Then, without wasting another moment, he turned sharply and rushed toward one of the lab's central panels.
His small feet moved with unusual urgency, while his nimble hands were already interacting with the holographic interface. Symbols and code reorganized rapidly under his command, lights flickering in response to his speed of thought.
"Activate immediate containment protocol," he ordered, his voice now carrying absolute authority.
The system responded at once.
"Identification: Ben Tennyson."
There was a brief pause.
Azmuth hesitated for less than a second… before continuing.
"Classification: potential threat."
The command was accepted.
"Maximum priority. Authorization granted for tracking and capture."
Streams of data spread across the displays, systems activating one after another—drones and tracking mechanisms deploying across multiple sectors.
"He's unstable…" Azmuth murmured, quieter now, his eyes following the incoming data. "Physically… and mentally."
His hands stopped for a moment above the panel.
The frantic pace ceased.
And then… slowly… he clenched one hand tightly.
His small fingers curled inward until they trembled faintly.
His gaze dropped.
"…I failed…" he whispered, barely audible.
There was no anger in his voice.
Only… weight.
"Again."
The creator of the Omnitrix—the greatest mind of his era—stood there, surrounded by technology beyond most beings' comprehension.
And yet…
Unable to stop what he had just unleashed.
/
Air rushed violently into my lungs as my body jerked upright all at once, as if I had been pulled out from somewhere deep and unseen.
"HAAH—!"
My breathing was heavy, uneven, my chest rising and falling sharply while my mind remained trapped in fragmented images.
Galvan Prime… cold corridors… flashing red lights… alarms blaring… Azmuth… me running, phasing through everything without looking back… and that voice… always that voice calling me by a name that wasn't mine. Ben Tennyson.
"No…" I muttered, pressing a hand to my head, trying to force it all out.
Then… silence.
No alarms.
No metallic noise.
Nothing.
My breathing gradually slowed, still unsteady, as my eyes moved cautiously, trying to understand where I was. Above me… a ceiling. Simple. Wooden. No artificial lights, no panels, nothing advanced—just a soft glow filtering in from somewhere, probably a window.
I blinked a few times, trying to adjust, as if my mind was lagging behind my body.
The smell… was different.
No ozone. No machinery.
It was… wood. Maybe herbs.
My fingers moved slowly, brushing against the surface beneath me, expecting the cold of metal… but no. It was soft. Roughly made. A bed.
"…This isn't the lab."
My body was still tense, but for a different reason now. Slowly, I brought a hand to my chest, as if I needed to confirm I was still… whole. Everything felt normal on the outside. No fractures. No visible damage.
But inside…
Nothing was right.
The memories still came in pieces. The escape. The transformation. That feeling… of no longer being just myself. My eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment, I sensed something… like a reflection… red. It vanished quickly. Too quickly.
"…I escaped…"
I turned my head slightly, observing the surroundings more carefully. The walls were plain, only a few objects, everything arranged with practical simplicity. Nothing looked technological. Nothing advanced.
This wasn't Galvan Prime.
This wasn't a laboratory.
It was… too simple.
Almost primitive.
And yet… unfamiliar.
I stayed silent for a few seconds, just breathing, trying to organize my thoughts—which felt like they were breaking apart every time I pushed too far.
"…Where am I?"
I tried to get up, bracing one hand against the makeshift bed. My body still felt heavy, as though every muscle was readjusting to existence itself. A wave of dizziness followed the movement, but I ignored it, forcing myself to move—until a voice interrupted me before I could even rise fully.
"You shouldn't get up just yet…" the voice was calm, steady, but not commanding. "You need rest."
My body froze for a moment.
Unknown voice.
Nearby presence.
My eyes snapped toward the source, still carrying a trace of instinctive alertness—almost aggressive—but what I found wasn't an immediate threat.
A man.
Older. Clearly older than me. He wore a white coat resembling medical attire, though far simpler than anything on Galvan Prime. His features were Asian, his expression carried an unusual calm, and a pair of black glasses rested on his nose, faintly reflecting the soft light in the room.
"You've been in that bed for an entire day…" he continued, observing me carefully, but without intrusion. "And your eyes were… red."
A brief silence settled.
A day…?
My mind tried to process it, but the information still felt misaligned—like pieces of a system that refused to fit together properly.
My eyes narrowed slightly, now focused on him, analyzing every detail, every movement, every possible threat… but there was no hostility there. No aggression.
Only… concern.
Strange.
"I am Ishida…" he said, maintaining the same calm tone as before. "Dr. Ishida."
Doctor.
A physician.
That made sense… to a degree.
Even so, I didn't fully lower my guard. My body remained on edge, even if I wasn't showing it outright.
My voice took a moment to come out, as if I had to remember how to use it.
"…You…" I began quietly, still watching him. "…were you the one who brought me here?"
The question came out directly, without hesitation—but there was something deeper beneath it.
Distrust.
And an urgent need to understand… what exactly had happened to me.
Dr. Ishida looked away briefly, picking up a sheet of paper beside the bed while adjusting his glasses with a calm, habitual motion. His eyes scanned the notes, but soon he let out a heavier sigh, as if still trying to piece everything together.
"You fell from the sky…" he said at last, far too naturally for something so absurd. "Literally. Like a shooting star."
I fell silent.
He continued, lifting his gaze slightly toward me, carefully observing my reaction.
"That… frightened the villagers quite a bit. It's not something you see every day."
A short pause followed, and then a faint trace of humor touched his tired expression.
"Well… except for the children. They seemed more curious than anything else."
My mind stalled for a moment at that information.
Falling… from the sky.
So… that wasn't just an escape.
I really… crossed something.
Dimensions? Space? No… it still didn't fully make sense.
My fingers tightened slightly against the fabric of the bed as I looked away for a second, trying to connect the fragments. The light. The fall. The loss of control. The void between one point and another…
"…Tch…"
I looked back at Ishida, my expression now more serious, more focused.
"And… you just brought me here?" I asked, my voice low, laced with doubt. "Even after seeing… that?"
Because if they had seen me arrive… then they had seen something.
Something not normal.
Something not… human.
And even so… here I was.
On a bed.
Being taken care of.
It didn't make sense.
Before I could continue organizing my thoughts, the sound of paper being set down drew my attention. Ishida no longer seemed distracted by his notes—when I looked up, I realized he was now staring directly at me. The lighter air from before was gone. He was still calm… but now there was something more.
Seriousness.
He adjusted his posture slightly, crossing his arms for a brief moment before speaking, like someone who had thought long and hard before asking.
"I tried everything…" he said, his voice firm but not aggressive. "I looked for signs of illness, infection… anything that could explain your condition. I attempted to administer medication intravenously…"
He paused briefly.
"But nothing worked."
My eyes narrowed slightly.
"The needles didn't penetrate your skin…" he continued, not looking away. "In fact… they broke. As if they were trying to pierce… something indestructible."
Silence.
Heavy.
My body didn't move, but something inside me reacted. That information wasn't surprising… not entirely. It felt more like a quiet confirmation of something I already suspected—but hadn't wanted to face.
Ishida then took a step forward, enough to make it clear he wasn't just curious anymore.
He needed answers.
"So tell me…" his voice came out more direct now, carrying the weight of the moment. "What are you?"
My eyes met his.
No hesitation.
No distraction.
The question hung in the air for a few seconds, as if even the room itself was waiting.
"…I…"
The words caught in my throat.
What was I?
My mind tried to answer… but all it found were fragments.
Ben.
Omnitrix.
Fusion.
Failure.
Something else.
Something… beyond.
My expression shifted, almost imperceptibly, as I looked away for a brief moment—as if facing that answer was harder than facing any external threat.
"…I'm not what you think…" I murmured quietly, more to myself than to him.
But that… wasn't an answer.
And we both knew it.
Dr. Ishida let out a long breath, bringing a hand to his forehead for a moment, as if trying to organize his thoughts in the face of something completely beyond his understanding.
"Amnesia…?" he muttered, more to himself than to me, his gaze drifting briefly. "But… would that even apply to…"
He hesitated, as if the word itself was too unnatural to say casually.
"…an extraterrestrial being?"
The silence that followed felt heavier than any direct question.
I lowered my gaze.
Amnesia.
The word echoed in my mind—distant… familiar… but incomplete.
"…I…"
I closed my eyes.
Forcing it.
Trying.
Searching for anything that could answer that.
And then… they came.
Fragments.
Not clear memories—but sharp cuts, disconnected flashes that appeared and vanished before I could hold onto them.
An open field… no, a road… someone laughing…
"…man, that was awesome!"
The voice… was close.
Important.
But the face… didn't exist.
Gone.
Another fragment.
Green lights.
A device.
A pulse running through my body.
Pain.
"…Ben, watch out!"
The name.
Again.
Always that name.
But it didn't feel… like mine.
My breath faltered for a moment.
Another cut.
Arguments.
Anger.
A small voice, firm, filled with authority.
"…you don't understand what you're doing!"
Azmuth.
I knew that.
But how?
The feeling came before certainty.
Another memory.
Silence.
Darkness.
And then… me.
Or… something that should have been me.
Reflected in a surface that showed no face… only eyes… red.
Not human.
Not stable.
I opened my eyes abruptly, drawing in a sharp breath, as if I had gone too deep inside myself.
"…Tch—!"
I brought a hand to my head, pressing lightly, trying to stop those fragments from continuing to surface in chaos. There was no sequence. No logic.
Sensations… emotions… broken connections.
Frustration.
Anger.
Confusion.
And something deeper.
Loss.
But loss of what?
Of who?
My gaze stayed fixed on the floor for a few seconds, while my breathing struggled to steady itself.
"…I… remember things…" I said at last, my voice quieter, unsteady. "But not… myself."
Slowly, I lifted my eyes, meeting Ishida's gaze again—no longer as rigidly defensive as before… but still without answers.
"There's no face… no name…" I continued, the words coming out with difficulty. "Just… voices… fragments… sensations…"
My hand dropped slowly to my side.
"It's like… I'm made of pieces… that don't fit together."
Silence filled the space between us once more.
And for the first time… this didn't feel like just a problem.
It felt… wrong.
Deeply wrong.
Dr. Ishida studied me in silence for a few more seconds, his eyes scanning every detail as if searching for some hidden logic within me. Then, once again, he let out a long, audible sigh, bringing a hand to his face with a faint hint of self-annoyance.
"I really am sighing too much…" he muttered aloud, almost like a personal complaint, before lightly shaking his head.
Without saying anything else, he simply turned and left the room.
I remained there, sitting on the makeshift bed, still trying to process everything… or at least what I could. The silence returned, but now it wasn't empty—it was heavy, filled with unanswered questions and sensations I couldn't even name.
Not long after, footsteps approached again.
The door opened, and Ishida returned, carrying a set of neatly folded clothes in his arms. He walked in with the same calm demeanor as before, as if this were just another ordinary task amid an entirely abnormal situation.
He stepped closer and held the clothes out toward me.
"Put these on."
My gaze dropped automatically to what he was offering.
A beige sweater, leaning toward a soft cream tone, loose-fitting for a typical body, with long sleeves that would likely cover part of the hands. The fabric looked comfortable, simple… human. Along with it, a pair of well-structured black pants and plain black shoes.
Normal clothes.
Ordinary.
Almost… strangely ordinary.
"They're mine… from when I was younger," he explained casually, crossing his arms afterward. "They should fit."
Then he paused slightly, his gaze lowering briefly to my body… or rather, to what I was wearing.
My "clothes."
That thing.
Alive.
The lines… the material… the way it seemed less like something I wore and more like something that was part of me.
"Because… that…" he continued, choosing his words carefully, "might be… a bit unusual for the rest of the village."
Silence.
My eyes remained on the clothes for a few seconds.
Unusual.
The word echoed differently now.
Then I looked down at myself.
At what covered me.
At what… reacted.
Pulsed.
Existed with me.
My hand moved slowly, touching the surface of that "suit"… feeling a texture that wasn't quite fabric… nor anything I could properly define.
"…I see…"
My voice came out low.
There was something about the situation that felt… almost ironic.
I didn't know who I was.
But I knew that this… wasn't normal.
After a few seconds, I reached out and took the clothes he offered.
The fabric felt light.
Simple.
Real.
Different from me.
Or… from what I had become.
I lifted my gaze slightly toward Ishida.
"…Thank you."
It was simple.
Direct.
But genuine… even if I didn't fully understand why.
As soon as Dr. Ishida left the room, the soft sound of the door closing marked the beginning of a nearly suffocating silence. I stayed still for a few seconds, the clothes still in my hands, staring into nothing as if expecting an answer to simply appear. But nothing came.
Only me.
And my thoughts.
Slowly, I lowered my gaze to my own body… or rather, to what I was wearing. That "thing" didn't feel like real clothing. It wasn't fabric. It wasn't separate from me. It was… part of me. The green lines pulsed faintly, almost imperceptibly, as if syncing with something internal—something I couldn't control or fully understand.
My hand rose slowly, touching that surface again.
Alive.
"…What… did I become…?"
The question came out in a near-silent whisper.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to organize my thoughts… but instead, I sank deeper into them.
Ben Tennyson.
The name came again.
Strong.
Insistent.
But… it wasn't mine.
It wasn't.
"…Was I… placed into his body…?"
The idea formed slowly—something I didn't want to accept, yet made too much sense to ignore. My breathing grew heavier as I brought a hand to my face, pressing lightly against my eyes.
But… how?
How would that even be possible?
Ben 10…
It was just a cartoon.
A show I used to watch.
Games I used to play.
None of it was real.
It wasn't supposed to be.
"…Then why…?"
My voice came out more tense now.
"Why am I here…?"
I opened my eyes suddenly, staring at the floor as if it might offer something concrete.
"And why… can't I remember…?"
My memories…
Were flawed.
Broken.
Incomplete.
I had no face to recall.
No name.
Nothing.
Nothing but scattered fragments… and some of them weren't even mine.
Because, even without wanting to…
I remembered things.
His things.
Moments.
Voices.
Feelings that didn't belong to me… yet were there, mixed together as if they did.
"…Damn it…"
My hand clenched tightly.
"Damn it…"
My breath faltered for a moment.
"DAMN IT!"
This time my voice rose, filled with raw frustration, as I squeezed my eyes shut harder, as if I could force an answer out of nothing.
But nothing came.
Nothing but that hollow emptiness…
And the growing sense that I wasn't whole.
That I wasn't complete.
And that somehow…
I was never meant to exist like this.
I took a deep breath, trying to contain the storm inside my head, then forced my body to move. My legs were still slightly unsteady as they touched the floor, as if they weren't fully used to supporting me yet—but I stood anyway. Every movement felt… strange. Familiar and foreign at the same time.
My eyes wandered across the room until they landed on… a mirror.
It was almost instinctive.
My body stopped.
For a moment, I hesitated.
But even so… I looked.
And there it was.
Reflected in front of me… a face.
Not just any face.
The face.
Brown hair, slightly messy, falling naturally over the forehead… youthful features, still caught in that transition between adolescence and something beyond… eyes that, at that exact moment, stared back at me with an intensity that didn't seem to belong to that image.
Ben Tennyson.
There was no doubt.
None.
My stomach twisted slightly.
"…It's him…"
The confirmation didn't bring clarity.
It only made everything worse.
My gaze lingered for another second, analyzing every detail as if there were still a chance it was wrong. But it wasn't. The way my body responded, the rhythm of my breathing aligning with that reflection… everything pointed to the same truth.
I was there.
Inside him.
My expression tightened slightly.
No… that wasn't mine.
It wasn't.
I looked away almost abruptly, as if continuing to stare would only worsen that suffocating feeling. My hand ran quickly across my face, as though trying to erase that image from my mind.
"…Damn…"
I muttered under my breath, trying to regain control.
Without thinking much further, I glanced at the clothes still in my hands and began changing. My movements were quick—almost too rushed—as if I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. I removed that living "thing" with a certain discomfort—or at least tried to ignore how unnatural it felt—and put on the beige sweater.
The fabric fell loosely over my body, oversized, covering more than it should. The sleeves extended slightly past my wrists, hiding part of my hands. It was… comfortable. Strangely comfortable.
Human.
Next, I put on the black pants, adjusting them more easily than I expected, and finished with the shoes. Each piece seemed to distance me, little by little, from that sense of… abnormality.
But only on the outside.
Because inside…
Nothing changed.
I took a deep breath again, running a hand through my hair while avoiding looking back at the mirror.
"…I need to get out…"
Staying there would only make everything worse.
My mind.
My memories.
All of it.
I needed air.
Space.
Maybe… walking would help.
Even without fully understanding why, I walked toward the door, my hand pausing briefly on the handle. There was a slight hesitation there… as if opening that door meant fully accepting this reality.
But I didn't have a choice.
With a slow movement, I opened it.
And stepped out.
The moment I opened the door and took my first step outside, I was immediately met with an unexpected sight. A boy—probably around ten or twelve—was there, practically glued near the doorway, glancing around frantically as if trying to catch even the smallest glimpse inside. His eyes darted too quickly, filled with restless curiosity, while his body could barely stay still.
"But I just want to see!" he said, his voice full of childish impatience, almost pleading as he leaned forward a bit more.
Beside him, Dr. Ishida seemed to be in the middle of a patient—and clearly repeated—attempt to calm him down. "I already told you, he's still recovering," he replied calmly, though there was a faint trace of fatigue in his tone, like someone dealing with something predictable but persistent. "You need to give him space."
The boy, however, didn't seem convinced. His feet shifted restlessly, and his eyes kept searching for an opening to peek inside the room… until—
He saw me.
The moment our eyes met was instant.
His body froze.
His eyes widened.
And for a brief second… silence took over.
I stopped too.
My hand still near the door, my body partially turned outward, as I looked at that small figure in front of me. There was something in his gaze… something different from what I expected.
It wasn't fear.
It was… pure curiosity.
Almost shining.
"…Whoa…"
The word slipped from his mouth without any filter, quiet but filled with genuine awe, as if he were looking at something extraordinary.
Dr. Ishida noticed immediately and turned toward me, letting out a small sigh as he realized there was no avoiding this encounter anymore. "I told you he was awake…" he commented, more to himself than anyone else.
The boy took a small step forward, still staring at me as if trying to absorb every detail.
"You're the one who fell from the sky… right?" he asked without hesitation, his voice now full of excitement.
I remained silent for a second.
Observing.
Analyzing.
But… without that immediate tension from before.
Still… something felt strange.
Because, for the first time since I woke up…
Someone was looking at me…
Without any fear at all.
Before I could say anything, the boy stepped closer again, his eyes shining even brighter, as if he had just reached a very important conclusion.
"Aoi Tenshi!" he suddenly blurted out, pointing slightly at me with an almost proud smile.
I blinked.
"…What…?"
The word came out automatically, filled with genuine confusion. My mind tried to process it, but there was no immediate reference that made sense. It wasn't a name I recognized… it didn't connect to any of the fragments I had.
Beside him, Dr. Ishida brought a hand to his face, letting out a long, tired sigh—the kind that already carried resignation.
"Kaito…" he began, lightly shaking his head, "you really have quite the imagination when it comes to naming things."
The boy—Kaito—didn't seem bothered at all. On the contrary, his smile only grew, as if he had just been praised instead of lightly scolded.
"But it makes sense!" he insisted, looking straight at me. "You fell from the sky, everything glowed green and blue… you looked like an angel!"
Angel.
The word echoed strangely in my mind.
Aoi Tenshi.
Blue angel.
My gaze drifted for a moment, as if trying to fit that somewhere… but there was no place for it.
There wasn't enough of me to accept something like that.
"…I'm not an angel…" I murmured quietly, almost instinctively.
But my own voice sounded… uncertain.
Because deep down…
I couldn't even say what I was.
Before I could properly react, Kaito completely brushed off my denial. It was as if my words carried no weight against his certainty.
"Come on, Aoi!" he said excitedly, already closing the distance without a hint of hesitation.
And then—
He grabbed my hand.
The touch was… unexpected.
Warm.
Gentle.
Human.
My body froze for a brief moment—not out of fear… but surprise. I wasn't ready for that. For contact. For the sheer normality of it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
And before I could say anything, he was already pulling me along.
"Hey—!" My voice came out, but weak—too late to match his movement.
Kaito started leading me out of the house, practically dragging me forward with an energy that clashed completely with my still-fragile state. My steps lagged for a second, but when I realized it, I was already following—being guided by that small, overly enthusiastic figure.
Behind us, I heard the hurried footsteps of Dr. Ishida.
"Kaito, slow down!" he called out, real concern now evident in his voice. "He still needs time to process all of this!"
But Kaito didn't seem to hear—or simply didn't care.
"It'll be quick!" he replied over his shoulder, still pulling me along. "I just want to show him something!"
The air outside hit me differently.
More open.
More alive.
But I barely had time to process it before Ishida's voice came again, sharper this time.
"And most importantly…" he continued, picking up his pace to catch up, "you need to be careful! Your father and your sister won't react well if they see you with him like this!"
That made Kaito slow down—for a moment.
Just a moment.
"They won't do anything!" he shot back, with a childlike confidence that completely ignored any possibility otherwise.
Meanwhile…
I stayed silent.
Being pulled.
Being led.
My hand still held in his.
My gaze dropped briefly to that contact.
Simple.
Natural.
Something so… ordinary.
But for me…
It felt completely out of place.
And yet…
I didn't pull away.
Even without understanding why.
Maybe…
Because, in that moment…
It was the only thing that felt… real.