The first light of dawn spilled over Hishinawa Village, painting the quiet fields in soft gold and mist. But the calm of the morning could not reach Riku. His mind was racing, pulse sharp as the chill wind brushed against his skin. He could still feel the tremor of last night—the abandoned lab, the glowing lines along his wrist, the monstrous figure that had lunged at him. And most of all, the thought of Haru, his younger brother, somewhere trapped and in danger.
Riku's shoes crunched against the frost-tipped grass as he approached the forest's edge. The police had cordoned off parts of the area with yellow tape, but he ignored it, slipping past quietly while officers and villagers murmured warnings from a distance. The deeper he went, the more the forest seemed to grow tense, almost alive with anticipation. Even the birds kept silent, as if waiting for something to happen.
He came to the spot where Haru's shoes had been found. Muddy prints were pressed into the earth, some small and light—clearly Haru's—others deeper, heavier, and deliberate. Riku crouched, tracing the marks with his fingers. Something else caught his eye: a carved symbol in the bark of a nearby tree. A circle split by a jagged vertical line. The edges were clean, almost burned into the wood. Riku's stomach twisted.
His thoughts drifted to the weeks before. Haru had seemed nervous lately, glancing over his shoulder when he wandered near the forest, and refusing to go alone at night. Riku had brushed it off, assuming his brother was overthinking, but now he couldn't shake the feeling that Haru had sensed danger—real danger—long before the disappearance.
Riku's heart pounded. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The forest stretched endlessly, shadowed and ominous. The footprints continued further in, leading toward a slope where the trees grew denser. He followed carefully, scanning for any sign of movement. Every snapped twig made him flinch. Every shadow seemed to pulse, as though watching him. He remembered last night—the masked figures, the monster, the black surge of energy that had erupted from his body. Something is not right here, he thought. And I can't waste any time.
Suddenly, the air shifted. A faint hum resonated through the forest, metallic and low, almost imperceptible. Riku froze. From between the trees, movement flickered—shadows blending with the forest floor. He ducked instinctively as a branch snapped nearby. A figure emerged: tall, masked, clad in black. Riku's breath caught. His instincts screamed run, but he also knew he had to push forward—Haru could be just ahead.
The masked figure spoke, voice calm, chilling: "You shouldn't be here."
Riku swallowed hard. "Who are you? What did you do to my brother?!" His voice cracked with desperation.
The figure didn't answer. Instead, it stepped aside briefly, and Riku caught a glimpse of more figures emerging, silent and precise, circling him. Fear surged. His fists clenched. Memories of Haru flashed before his eyes: laughing, teasing, trusting him implicitly. I won't lose him, Riku thought. Not now. Not ever.
He darted forward, moving faster than he thought possible. The masked figures lunged, but Riku's newly awakened reflexes instinctively guided him. He dodged, weaved, and fell to the ground to avoid a swing. He felt the black energy pulse within him, a strange warmth coursing through his body. For the first time, he realized this power could be his weapon, but he still didn't understand its limits.
Riku plunged deeper into the forest, branches whipping at his face, roots tangling his feet. The figures chased, silent except for the crunch of leaves underfoot. He stumbled down a steep slope, rolled through brush, and fell into the opening of a shallow cave hidden beneath the overgrowth. He lay there, chest heaving, barely daring to breathe. When he looked back toward the forest edge, the masked figures had stopped, watching silently before disappearing like shadows into the trees.
Inside the cave, his flashlight flickered across the walls. Dusty crates, old equipment, straps nailed to beds—it looked like an abandoned laboratory. Riku's stomach churned as he realized this could be where Haru had been taken. He moved cautiously, scanning the room, and then spotted it: a broken wristband, unmistakably Haru's. He knelt, picking it up with trembling hands, and felt a surge of guilt and rage. His brother had been here, in this hellish place, and he hadn't known. I should have been there to protect you, he thought, teeth clenched.
Then came a faint growl. Something moved in the shadows. A pale, twisted figure crawled into view, veins dark, eyes unseeing yet filled with malice. Riku froze. This was one of the failed experiments—human, but not human. It lunged, and Riku's instincts reacted before he even thought. Black energy erupted from him in a sudden pulse, sending the creature crashing into the wall. His hands trembled, the faint glowing lines on his wrist fading as quickly as they appeared.
The cave trembled, alarms faintly ringing in the distance as old machinery triggered. Dust fell from the ceiling. Riku knew he had only seconds. He sprinted toward the exit as the structure shuddered behind him. Branches tore at his skin, rocks scraped his hands, but he didn't stop. He burst into the morning light, the dawn breaking across the forest like a promise. Behind him, the cave collapsed entirely.
Riku lay on the forest floor, catching his breath. His body ached, but his eyes burned with determination. Somewhere out there, Haru was waiting. And Riku would stop at nothing to bring him back.
As he made his way home, bruised and covered in dirt, Aunt Maya ran to him. Her hands shook as she tried to wipe the mud from his clothes, her voice trembling with relief. But Riku didn't look at her. He looked at the horizon where the forest met the rising sun, eyes sharp and unwavering.
"I know where they took him," he said quietly.
And for the first time since Haru disappeared, Riku's voice carried not fear, but resolve.
"I'm going to bring him home."