The train rocked gently as it sped toward Shinjuku, the city skyline unfolding like a wall of steel and glass. Kazuki sat in the corner seat, eyes fixed on the passing blur of the suburbs, though he barely saw any of it.
The uniform felt tighter than usual. Or maybe it was his skin. Bandages wrapped beneath his shirt itched against the healing wound across his shoulder. A dull ache reminded him of the Phantom Beast's claws with every breath he took. Yet it wasn't the pain that unsettled him.
It was the silence.
No whispering flames. No haunting voice.
Just his own thoughts.
The city grew louder with every stop. Noise, movement, crowds. The clamor of a thousand people living lives he no longer felt part of. Students boarded with bags slung lazily over their shoulders, some in his school uniform, others in rival colors. Laughter, chatter, the light hum of gossip. He used to blend into it—perfectly forgettable.
Now, even sitting still, he felt out of place. Like something broken in a showroom.
The train hissed to a stop at his station. Shinjuku South. A flood of commuters spilled onto the platform, and Kazuki moved with them, head low, hands in his pockets.
The walk to school was short. Familiar.
Too familiar.
Same bakery. Same vending machine. Same cracked sidewalk slab near the traffic light that always made him glance down.
Except now, every step felt heavier.
He reached the school gate just as the bell echoed across the courtyard. Students streamed in like rivers converging on a central tide. Laughter echoed. Soccer balls bounced. Teachers barked from the open doors. Uniforms rustled in the wind.
Kazuki stood at the gate for a moment too long.
"You gonna move or just brood there? "
The voice snapped him out of it.
He turned.
It was Hasegawa, one of the class clowns. Always loud. Always chewing gum, even when warned not to.
Kazuki gave a small nod. "Morning. "
Hasegawa narrowed his eyes, then grinned. "You look like you walked out of a horror movie. What happened, get into a fight with a bear? "
Kazuki forced a laugh. "Something like that. "
The hallway smelled like floor polish and teenage sweat. Posters lined the bulletin boards: cultural festival prep, lost-and-found notices, a flyer for kendo tryouts.
Every pair of eyes that met Kazuki's seemed to pause. Briefly. Then move on.
But not unnoticed.
Something had changed.
Even if they couldn't name it, they felt it.
In Class 2-A, he took his usual seat—third row from the window. The sunlight poured across his desk, warm and indifferent. He reached into his bag and pulled out his notebook. Mechanical.
Then the door slid open.
And she walked in.
Aoi.
Her presence didn't announce itself like some girls'. No chatter. No swirl of perfume. Just a quiet grace—dark navy hair falling over one shoulder, eyes calm, almost too calm for someone her age.
She moved past him, their eyes meeting for the briefest second.
And stopped.
Just a flicker.
But in that glance, Kazuki saw it.
Recognition?
No. Curiosity.
As if she had expected him to look… different. Or maybe she sensed something beneath the surface, something she couldn't place.
She sat two seats ahead of him, near the window. Her gaze lingered outside, but once—just once—it returned to him.
Kazuki's fingers curled slightly on the desk.
The class filled in. Noise rose. The teacher entered, rapping a book against the podium.
But Kazuki didn't hear the words.
He only heard the sound of nothing between them.
And for the first time… he wondered what Aoi would say if she knew the truth.
The lecture had barely begun, and already Kazuki could feel the shift.
It wasn't in the lesson — the teacher was droning on about classical literature, something about epics and flawed heroes. No, the shift came from the small, silent war unfolding two rows ahead and all around him.
Whispers. Glances. A subtle change in posture.
He didn't even need to look to know it.
Girls who had never spared him more than a passing word were suddenly interested. Their eyes lingered longer. Their movements became intentional — a tilt of the head, a tug at the collar to reveal just a little more skin, fingers trailing pens across lips as if lost in thought.
But they weren't thinking.
They were calculating.
Yui, the outspoken volleyball captain with a voice that could cut glass, turned around under the pretense of asking a question about the reading. Her uniform was slightly untucked, shirt riding just above her waistband as she leaned across her desk, just enough to draw the eye.
Kazuki didn't flinch.
He kept his gaze on the book.
"Oh, Kazuki, " she said, dragging out the syllables like sugar. "You read this one already, right? What was the theme again? Something tragic… or noble? " Her voice had a lilting curiosity, feigned innocence wrapping sharp edges.
He glanced at her, expression unreadable. "Flawed choices. Consequences. Same as always. "
Yui smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
Another girl, Mio — always quiet, always near the windows — dropped her pen on purpose. It landed near Kazuki's chair. She stood slowly, letting her skirt sway just enough, and bent at the waist without a second thought.
Kazuki shifted slightly away, pretending not to notice. But he did. Everyone did.
Across the room, one of the boys let out a low whistle under his breath. Another elbowed his friend. And then came the murmurs.
"What's up with him lately? "
"Did he get taller? "
"Nah, something else… darker. "
"Yui never even looked at him before. Now she's playing nice? "
The teacher turned to the board, unaware of the electricity buzzing beneath the surface. But Aoi… Aoi saw everything.
From her seat, she didn't speak. Didn't turn.
But her eyes flicked toward Kazuki more than once. Just a moment too long.
And once — only once — when Yui giggled a little too loudly, Aoi's lips twitched. Not a frown. Not a smile.
Something colder.
Kazuki felt the tension coil in his chest.
He hadn't asked for this. Whatever this was.
He wanted to disappear, to be invisible again.
But the fire inside him refused.
It pulsed quietly beneath his skin, and for the first time, he realized something cruel:
Even silence can draw attention.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the windows as Kazuki descended the stairwell alone. His bag felt heavier than it should have. Not from books—but from thoughts.
He moved slowly, blending into the silence, preferring it over the buzz that usually accompanied dismissal.
But then he heard footsteps behind him. Light. Deliberate.
He turned his head.
Aoi.
She was two steps behind, her expression neutral, but her presence unmistakable.
They walked in silence for a moment, side by side. It wasn't awkward. It wasn't comfortable either. It simply… was.
"I didn't expect to see you still here, " Aoi said finally.
Kazuki kept his gaze ahead. "I was going to head out the back. Less crowded. "
Aoi nodded. "Makes sense. "
Another silence.
Then, near the base of the stairs, they both slowed, as if the corridor itself urged them to stop. A vending machine buzzed softly to their right. The hallway was empty, the rest of the school already bled into the streets.
Aoi looked at him then.
Really looked.
"What happened to you? " she asked, voice quiet, but not hesitant.
Kazuki didn't answer right away. He studied her face — the calm in her gaze, the way her hair shimmered faintly in the orange light. She wasn't prying. She wasn't mocking him. She was simply asking.
"I got into something I didn't understand, " he said at last.
"And now you do? "
"Not yet, " he replied. "But I think I'm starting to. "
Aoi's lips curved — not into a smile, but into something softer. Something like understanding.
Then: "You've changed. "
It wasn't a question.
Kazuki exhaled. "I know. "
Their eyes locked for a moment. Something passed between them. Not words. Not yet.
But before either could say more—
"Oh, wow, what a coincidence! "
A bubbly voice cut through the air.
Yui.
Followed by Mio and a third girl, Reina — the flirtatious one from class 2-B, known more for her looks than her grades.
All three appeared from the corridor as if summoned by fate — or more likely, by curiosity and spite.
"Oh, Kazuki, we were just talking about you! " Yui said, swaying closer, her smile too wide, her tone too loud. "And here you are, alone with Aoi. Isn't that sweet? "
Mio gave Aoi a look so sharp it could've drawn blood.
Reina stepped in next, brushing past Aoi with a little too much shoulder. She leaned near the vending machine, popping a coin into it with exaggerated grace.
"Kazuki, " she purred, "want something to drink? My treat. "
Kazuki's eyes flicked toward Aoi.
She hadn't moved.
But her fingers curled tightly around the strap of her bag.
"No, thanks, " Kazuki said flatly.
Reina raised an eyebrow. "Playing hard to get? "
Yui laughed.
Kazuki took a step back. "I should go. "
He looked at Aoi again. Her gaze was still on him—but colder now. Not toward him. Toward them.
But she said nothing.
He turned and walked away, the echo of the vending machine clinking behind him.
The hallway felt smaller now. Too loud. Too crowded.
He didn't look back.
But he could feel it.
Her eyes, still following him.
And something darker growing beneath the surface.
Aoi sat by the window, chin resting lightly on her hand, as the wind teased strands of her dark hair across her face. The classroom buzzed around her — whispers, shifting chairs, footsteps passing the hallway — but it all blurred into a quiet hum she barely registered.
Her eyes, however, were fixed on one person.
Kazuki.
He sat near the back of the room, flipping through his textbook with that same distant focus. His posture relaxed but vigilant, like someone ready to move the moment the world tilted sideways again.
And the world had tilted. Aoi could feel it.
She'd seen it in the stairwell, in the way girls circled him like moths to flame. In the way he didn't flinch, didn't play along — but still, somehow, made them linger.
He didn't chase attention.
That only made it worse.
Aoi hated herself for noticing it all. For caring. For remembering how he looked at her before walking away — like he wanted to say something more, but didn't know how.
She shifted in her seat.
At the front of the room, the teacher continued the lecture. Something about social constructs in literature. But Aoi wasn't listening. Her thoughts spiraled.
Why did it matter?
Why did it matter?
Kazuki was just… another student.
Wasn't he?
From the corner of her vision, movement.
Yui again — slipping into the seat just one desk away from Kazuki's. That seat was always empty. Always left open. But not today.
"Morning, " she chirped, voice just a bit too bright.
Kazuki gave a nod. Nothing more.
Yui leaned in, whispering something only he could hear. Kazuki didn't respond. But his eyes narrowed slightly.
Mio entered next, pretending to be surprised.
"Oh, you're here too, Kazuki? Wow, everyone's in the mood to study today, huh? "
He said nothing.
But Aoi saw the tension in his jaw.
She hated the feeling in her chest — like something raw was scraping against her ribs. She didn't like being part of this silent game. Didn't want to compete.
But when Reina passed by and winked at him — actually winked — Aoi's hand curled so tightly around her pen that it cracked.
No one noticed.
Except one person.
Haruki.
He sat on the other side of the room, always surrounded by friends, always the center of laughter.
But not now.
He was watching her.
And when their eyes met — just for a second — there was no smirk, no teasing glint.
Only curiosity.
And something like… concern.
Aoi looked away.
At the back, Kazuki stood up, closing his book.
The bell hadn't rung yet.
He simply… left.
No one stopped him.
No one dared.
Not even Yui.
Aoi watched the door close behind him.
And for the first time in a very long time, she didn't know what she was supposed to feel.
But she knew one thing for certain:
Kazuki wasn't like the others.
And the more people saw that — the less they'd understand him.
Even her.
The hallway was alive.
Not just with footsteps and voices — but with something else. A pressure. A low, electric hum beneath the normal rhythm of school life. Something had shifted. Everyone felt it.
Kazuki felt it most.
He walked slowly, his hands in his pockets, trying to blend in. Trying, and failing.
Because now, no matter where he went — he was seen.
"Hey, Kazuki! "
A voice rang out as he turned the corner.
Reina again — leaning against the lockers, legs crossed just enough to catch the eye, her skirt suspiciously short, her lips glossed and ready.
She reached out, brushing a stray leaf off his shoulder. "Must've walked under the sakura again, " she said, her voice soft, teasing. "Want me to help next time? "
Before he could reply, another girl — Yuna from class 1-C — stepped in.
"Careful, Reina. You're not the only one with eyes. "
Yuna's fingers grazed Kazuki's arm as if by accident, her smile feigning innocence.
Reina's eyes narrowed. "He doesn't seem to mind. "
Kazuki stepped back, his voice quiet. "I'm heading to the library. "
He turned, but before he could move, Yui blocked the way.
"You've been avoiding us, " she said with a pout. "That's not very nice. We were thinking—maybe you could join us for lunch today? "
Kazuki looked from one to the other.
Eyes full of expectation. Hunger, even.
It wasn't affection.
It was possession.
He stepped past them without answering, brushing shoulders with Reina — who stiffened for a moment before smiling again, as if nothing had happened.
Behind him, their voices faded into murmurs.
But the stares didn't.
From across the hall, boys leaned against the lockers, watching with scowls and narrowed eyes.
"Unbelievable, " one muttered. "What does he even do? "
"Brooding in the corner, and suddenly he's a rockstar, " another grumbled.
"Girls love a mystery, " a third added bitterly.
They didn't approach.
But the tension lingered — thick and palpable.
Haruki passed them without slowing down, his usual grin absent. He wasn't angry. He wasn't jealous.
He was curious.
Kazuki reached the end of the corridor, pushing open the door to the staircase. It slammed shut behind him with a sharp echo that cut through the buzzing air like a blade.
He paused halfway up the steps.
His heart beat faster.
Not from embarrassment.
Not from attention.
But from pressure — the pressure of being watched, of eyes tracking his every step, every breath.
This wasn't normal anymore.
This wasn't school anymore.
It was a stage.
And he…?
He had never asked for a spotlight.
Aoi hadn't said a word all morning.
She sat in her usual spot, third row by the window, sunlight catching the edge of her notebook but leaving her expression in quiet shadow. Her pen moved across the page, but she wasn't writing. Not really.
Her eyes, when they weren't on the teacher, flicked toward the back of the room.
Kazuki sat there — unmoving, unreadable, and distant, even in a crowded classroom.
Everyone else had something to say about him now.
Rumors. Whispers. Obsessions.
But not her.
She said nothing.
Because what she felt didn't belong in gossip.
She remembered the way he'd looked at her in the hallway — not nervous, not proud — just… open. For a split second. Then closed off again, like a door slammed in a storm.
He wasn't arrogant. He wasn't flirting. He wasn't trying.
That, perhaps, was the most confusing part.
Aoi wasn't like the others. She didn't chase what was popular. She didn't fawn over boys for attention. And yet, for some reason, her thoughts kept circling back to him.
To Kazuki.
She didn't understand why.
But it unsettled her.
The lunch bell rang.
Voices erupted. Chairs scraped back.
But Aoi didn't move.
Not until someone tapped her desk.
"Earth to Aoi? "
Yui.
A forced smile. Oversized earrings. Nails painted too bright for school.
"You spacing out, or just daydreaming? " she asked, glancing toward the back of the class where Kazuki had already vanished.
"I'm fine, " Aoi replied.
Yui leaned closer, lowering her voice. "He's weird, you know. Kinda hot, but definitely weird. "
Aoi didn't respond.
Yui's eyes narrowed. "Whatever. Just don't fall for the mystery-boy act. He's probably just broody because he failed a test or something. "
Then she was gone — off with Mio and Reina, giggling down the hallway like they owned it.
Aoi stood slowly, gathering her things, her hand brushing the windowsill as she looked outside.
The courtyard was calm.
But in the sky above — clouds had begun to gather.
Something heavy.
Dark.
Kazuki sat beneath a tree, alone, his eyes tilted upward.
She could see it in his posture. Something was wrong.
He wasn't just different.
He was… burdened.
And somehow, she knew — whatever he was carrying, it wasn't human.
Inside her chest, something tightened.
She didn't understand it.
But she felt it.
More than anything, she wanted to ask him what he was seeing.
But when she stepped outside…
He was already gone.
The mist rolled in faster than it should have.
Kazuki stood just beyond the school's rear courtyard, staring toward the treeline of the woods that bordered the old perimeter fence. It had been clear just minutes ago — sun filtering through the leaves, the rustle of branches soft and familiar.
Now?
It was as if the forest exhaled… and the world forgot to breathe.
He narrowed his eyes.
Something wasn't right.
The trees — still.
The birds — silent.
The wind — gone.
But he felt it.
Pressure.
Like a weight pressing against his ribs from the inside. His heartbeat slowed — not out of calm, but because his body was listening to something his ears couldn't hear.
And then—
A flicker.
Between two trees.
Not movement exactly… more like an absence of light.
Kazuki stepped forward. Just one step. And the runic mark on his arm — the blackened tendrils usually dormant beneath his sleeve — pulsed.
Not glowing.
Breathing.
He pulled back his sleeve.
The lines weren't just spreading. They were reacting — like a beast tasting the air for the first time in centuries.
Kazuki swallowed hard.
A memory — or maybe not a memory — flashed across his mind. Fire. Screams. A battlefield under crimson skies. A dying god roaring into eternity, casting his final breath into the world below.
He stumbled back.
What the hell was that?
"Kazuki? "
Aoi's voice.
He turned — too sharply — and found her standing a few meters behind, her bag slung over one shoulder, her brows knitted with worry.
"What are you doing here? " she asked.
Kazuki's mouth opened — but nothing came out. Not at first.
"I… thought I saw something, " he muttered.
"In the forest? "
She stepped closer, glancing behind him.
But the mist was already retreating — like it had never been there.
Only Kazuki still felt it. Like something had looked at him. And recognized him.
Aoi tilted her head. "Are you okay? "
He looked at her.
For a second, he wanted to tell her everything — the vision, the pressure, the black marks crawling across his skin.
But he didn't.
He nodded. "Yeah. Just tired. "
She didn't believe him.
But she didn't push.
As they walked back toward the building, Kazuki glanced once more at the trees.
And there — just for a heartbeat — he saw it.
A shape.
Tall. Twisted. Eyes like dying stars.
Watching.
Waiting.
Kazuki couldn't sleep.
He lay in his narrow bed above the flower shop, the ceiling fan creaking overhead, shadows from the city lights dancing across the walls. His window was open, letting in the humid night air… but it didn't help.
His skin burned.
Not like a fever.
More like… static.
The mark on his arm — once dormant, a faint remnant of something ancient — now ached. It pulsed in slow waves, like a second heartbeat, irregular and wrong. Every few minutes, it would flare beneath the skin, as though it were trying to reach the surface.
He sat up, pulling his shirt sleeve back.
The tendrils of blackened energy had spread. Not wildly — but intentionally. Like vines following invisible paths up his shoulder.
His fingers trembled.
"What are you? " he whispered.
But there was no answer.
Only a sharp sting — just beneath the collarbone.
He gasped, clutching at it — and saw, for the briefest moment, a flicker in the corner of his vision.
Not a memory.
Not a dream.
A face.
Not human.
Eyes like obsidian voids.
A voice like thunder, broken and scattered.
"You were chosen…"
Kazuki fell back against the wall, panting.
Chosen?
The word rang through his mind like a bell struck too hard.
Downstairs, the old wooden floor creaked.
He froze.
It was late.
Yurika wouldn't be home yet. She always stayed late at the night market on Fridays.
He grabbed the small metal bat he kept by the bed — just in case — and crept down the narrow staircase.
The flower shop was dark. Moonlight filtered through the front windows, casting long shadows across the glass counters and hanging vines.
He stepped slowly.
Then he saw it.
A shape — just beyond the far window.
Tall.
Still.
Watching.
Not a person. Not fully. Its body was hunched, distorted. Skin—or maybe carapace—gleaming faintly, like wet stone. It had too many limbs. Or none at all. The form shifted in the shadows, never fully revealing itself.
And its eyes—
They locked on him.
The mark on Kazuki's arm flared — burning — and he dropped the bat, clutching his shoulder.
The shape tilted its head.
And vanished.
No sound.
No movement.
Just gone.
Kazuki stumbled backward, hitting the glass display.
His breath came in ragged gasps.
He looked down.
The black veins had spread to his chest.
Not chaotic.
Deliberate.
Like a mark.
A symbol.
A warning.
Or an invitation.
It came at dusk.
The sun dipped behind the rooftops, casting long shadows across the narrow alley behind the flower shop. Kazuki stood by the dumpster, a bag of wilted stems in hand, when the silence hit.
No birds.
No wind.
No sound.
Only breath.
His own.
And then—another.
Behind him.
He turned fast.
Too fast.
And saw it.
[Beast Classification: Class C – Hollow Maw]
Approximate Height: 2. 1 meters
Skin: Translucent grey, stretched tight over bone
Limbs: Four — elongated, insectoid structure
Eyes: None
Mouth: Massive, circular, lined with rows of inward-facing teeth
Behavior: Silent ambusher. Drawn to residual divine energy.
It lunged.
Kazuki dropped the bag and rolled sideways, barely avoiding the snap of its gaping maw. The creature's breath stank of rot and rust. Its movements were erratic, legs clicking against concrete as it recalibrated.
Kazuki's heart pounded.
His body moved on instinct.
Run.
But his legs didn't move.
The mark on his chest seared like fire. Something inside him twisted, surged.
The monster lunged again—
Kazuki threw up his arm—
And it happened.
A flash of black.
Like oil exploding into flame.
Darkness erupted from his shoulder, wrapping down his arm like living armor. His right hand vanished beneath it, becoming something else — sharper, denser.
His eye burned.
He screamed.
But not in fear.
In release.
The Hollow Maw struck—
And Kazuki struck back.
Fist to mandible.
Bone shattered.
The creature howled — no sound, just vibration — as Kazuki's arm tore through its exoskeleton. Dark ichor sprayed the wall. The beast reeled, limbs flailing.
Kazuki stepped forward — not backing down, not running — hunting.
He slammed into it again, this time driving his blackened fist through its gut. The creature convulsed.
Collapsed.
Twitching.
Dead.
Silence returned.
Except for Kazuki's breath.
Ragged.
Shaken.
Alive.
He staggered back, staring at his arm. The darkness receded slowly, like a tide drawing inward. His eye dimmed, returning to normal. Sweat clung to his face. His knees buckled. He dropped to the ground.
Then—
Footsteps.
He looked up.
Aoi stood at the mouth of the alley.
Frozen.
Eyes wide.
Hand over her mouth.
She had seen it all.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Kazuki spoke, voice hoarse. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. "
Aoi didn't answer.
Tears welled in her eyes.
But not from fear.
Not entirely.
"I'm sorry, " he whispered.
He turned his face away.
But didn't hear footsteps retreating.
Only approaching.
Then—
Her arms around him.
Warm.
Shaking.
Real.
"I don't know what this is, " she said quietly, "but I'm not afraid of you. "
And just like that—
Kazuki's world cracked open.