Kakine Teitoku didn't know how to feel, actually, he did know how to feel; he just didn't know what to do. He remembered Accelerator making him kiss the pavement in a fierce battle. He remembered the times when people carved away parts of his Dark Matter to harvest regeneration. He remembered Rhinoceros Beetle 05 overtaking his Personal Reality, erasing his physical body, and the hollow sensation of waking again. He remembered being relieved to exist, only for a girl he didn't know to end his life and turn what remained of him into a weapon meant to end everything.
After that, there was nothing. No pain. No thought. No Dark Matter to claw his way back with. He had died. Truly died. And then the light.
Painfully bright, sterile white light scraped against his senses. His vision swam, colors bleeding together before slowly resolving into shapes. A face hovered above him, distorted and enormous.
He tried to move, tried to reach out. His arms didn't obey. No, they were too small. That realization hit harder than any blow Accelerator had ever landed. His chest rose and fell on its own, shallow and unfamiliar. His body felt wrong: light, and fragile. Then a sharp cry tore out of his throat anyway, high-pitched, raw, not his voice at all.
"Healthy lungs," someone said, sounding pleased.
The words were clear, but his brain lagged behind them, like an engine struggling to turn over. He finally took a good look at his surroundings though. He was in a hospital room.
The smell gave it away first: antiseptic, clean fabric, a faint metallic tang. He couldn't turn his head properly, but he caught glimpses of pale curtains, medical equipment, and fluorescent lights humming quietly overhead.
So he wasn't hallucinating. He was alive. That alone should have been impossible. A woman's voice broke through the haze, close and trembling with exhaustion and relief. "Can I hold him?"
"Of course," another voice replied.
He was transferred again, this time into warmer arms. The heartbeat beneath his ear was steady and strong. He could feel the sheer love radiating off this woman he was being held by. He turned his head upwards to see a woman with black eyes and golden hair. The woman holding him shifted slightly, careful, like he might break if she moved too fast. He felt her breath hitch as she looked down at him, and saw it in the way her arms tightened just a fraction.
"He's small," she murmured. "He's fine," someone else said, calm and practiced. "Within normal range." Kakine focused on the voices, filing them away. The language was familiar enough, Japanese was a language he spoke his whole life. So he understood everything they were saying.
His eyes drifted shut, not by choice. Fatigue crashed over him in a way he wasn't used to, it felt heavy, unavoidable. His thoughts dulled, slipping through his grasp like smoke.
Before darkness fully claimed him, one thought lingered, sharp and stubborn: How, and why?
Four years had passed since the day he woke up in a hospital room. Kakine Teitoku was four years old. That fact still felt wrong when he thought about it for too long. His body moved easily enough now. He was still wondering if this was some sick dream that someone was playing on him. He was wondering if he would one day wake up in Academy City on some sort of hospital bed with all sorts of wires connected to him.
The four years of his new peaceful life were pleasant. His father, Kakine Masanori, was an ordinary man by every measurable standard. Mid-thirties, worked in logistics for a mid-sized trading company, the kind of job that required long hours, frequent travel, and a permanently tired look in his eyes. He was patient to a fault, spoke softly, and laughed easily.
His mother, Kakine Izumi, was warmer in a way that felt almost overwhelming. She worked part-time at a local office, but spent most of her time at home. She hummed while she cooked. She worried over scraped knees like they were mortal wounds. She smiled at him like he was something precious.
They loved him. Openly. Casually. As if that were the most natural thing in the world.
Kakine Teitoku didn't know what to do with that.
He remembered being valued for his power, feared for it, hunted for it. Here, he was praised for stacking blocks neatly,
When Izumi hugged him before bed, when Masanori lifted him onto his shoulders during walks, something in his chest twisted in a way Dark Matter never had.
It made him feel happy. The more he clung to this happiness the more he didn't want this to be a sick nightmare or joke he was having someone play on him.
Their apartment was small but clean, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood far removed from anything resembling Academy City. Speaking of the damn city, Kakine Teitoku asked his parents about it earlier. When he asked his parents just stared at him like he was just having childish imaginations. I mean come on? "Mom and Dad, are there any cities in the world where kids can go there to get super powers?" It sounds straight out of a childish fantasy when you really think about it.
With all that he came to a sudden realization. Academy City didn't exist. It was founded in the 1940's, so even if he died and reincarnated he definitely wasn't in his old world.
Life settled into a quiet routine after that. Mornings with Masanori tying his shoes too tightly. Afternoons with Izumi reading to him, even when he could already recognize most of the words himself. Evenings spent watching the sun dip between buildings while sitting on the balcony, legs dangling through the railings.
Then one day everything changed.
"Teitoku-chan," Masanori began, a faint, tired smile on his face as he set down his chopsticks. "Your mother and I have to go on a little trip next week."
Kakine looked up from his rice, a kernel of cold logic piercing the warm, domestic haze. A trip. Without him.
"It's for work, sweetie," Izumi added, her voice a practiced melody of reassurance. She reached over to smooth his hair, a gesture he had learned to tolerate, even secretly crave. "Papa's company has a very important partner in Fuyuki City. They're having a big anniversary celebration, and Papa needs to be there to represent his department. They even said he could bring a guest!"
"A… business trip?" Kakine echoed, the term feeling oddly clinical in the cozy kitchen.
"That's right!" Masanori said, his enthusiasm a touch forced. "It's only for three weeks. We'll be back before you know it. You'll stay with Grandpa Sougen. You remember him from New Year's, don't you?"
A memory surfaced: an old, stern man with eyes like flint, who had visited once. "He lives in a big, old house in Mifune City," Izumi said, her tone striving for excitement. "It'll be an adventure! Like a samurai castle!"
Kakine just deadpanned at his mom's attempt at being funny, but then just shook his head in exasperation. He decided to just roll his eyes and continue the conversation.
For 3 weeks, it was manageable.
The week passed faster than he expected. Boxes appeared in the apartment, clothes folded and refolded, Izumi double-checking lists she'd already memorized. Masanori's phone rang more often than usual, his voice low and professional whenever he answered.
On the morning they left, the apartment felt… thinner.
Less lived-in.
They walked together to the station, Kakine's small hand wrapped in Izumi, Masanori carrying the luggage. The city moved around them as it always did, commuters rushing past, announcements echoing overhead, the smell of metal and oil hanging in the air.
Izumi knelt in front of him just before the car door, straightening his collar for the third time. "You'll listen to Grandpa, okay? And eat properly. We'll call every night."
"I know," Kakine said. He'd heard the instructions already. Twice.
Masanori crouched as well, resting a hand on his shoulder. "We'll be back before you know it. Be good."
Kakine nodded.
He didn't cry. He definitely didn't cry and anyone who told you he did is lying. He slowly approached his grandpa's car and was let in by a servant. The servant didn't even speak to him, just looked at him impassively before driving off.
When he approached the abode his grandpa didn't so much as speak to him before he was led to his room. Something Kakine Teitoku never liked about his grandpa's place was how old it looked. The technology was minimal at best. His dad convinced his grandpa to let him at least keep a tv in one of the guest rooms so he wouldn't be bored all day.
Kakine pulled out his gameboy from his suitcase and decided to play on it to pass the time. He was bored and had nothing better to do, so he decided to just indulge in simple pleasures like video games.
The days slowly went by and day by day he called his parents before he went to sleep. They asked what he did and most of the time his reply was nothing, or they would talk on the phone until midnight about random things. His parents mainly do the talking and him just listening.
It was fine for two weeks.
Then his parents stopped calling.
It wasn't gradual. There was no warning, no missed promise, no awkward explanation about bad reception. One night passed without a call. Kakine waited anyway, sitting on the edge of the bed long after the hour they usually called. He told himself they were busy. Tomorrow, then.
Tomorrow came. And went.
On the third night, he asked one of the servants if the phone was broken. The man checked it, made a call of his own, and handed it back without a word.
"Working fine," he said, eyes already elsewhere.
Kakine stopped asking after that. He figured there might be some complications in Fuyuki and that he might just be overthinking things.
On the eighth night without a call, he heard the doorbell ring. Grandpa Sougen opened the door. Kakine couldn't see who stood on the other side, only heard their voices.
"I see," Sougen said after a moment. "…Yes." Another pause. Longer this time. "…Thank you for informing me." The door closed with a soft, final sound.
"I know you're there brat, come out."
Kakine thought he could hide from his grandfather but it turns out he wasn't as stealthy as he thought he was. With that he came out of his hiding spot and approached his grandfather.
They sat across from each other in the sitting room. The lights were dim. The television was off. No servants lingered nearby.
Sougen folded his hands. "There was an incident in Fuyuki City." Kakine said nothing. "A large fire killed about 500 people and 134 buildings burned down." Sougen continued. "An accident during a public event." The words landed with weight, each one deliberate. "Your parents were there." Silence stretched. "They won't be coming back."
Kakine felt his stomach jump in his throat. He tried his best to deny everything his grandpa told him. He didn't like it at all. Was this some sick joke? He went to sleep hoping it would be a lie. Maybe just a bad dream or a figment of his imagination. But it was real, all of it was real.
Their funeral took place a month afterwards, all their wealth was given to him since he was an only child. He moved in with his grandfather as a result of their deaths. Kakine had no uncles that wanted to take him in so it was the only solution he had. He spent weeks sulking over his parents' passing.