The dream returned on the first night of winter.
Kanji stood in an endless field of darkness, stars scattered beneath his feet like broken glass. He didn't know how he got there. He only knew the feeling—
Loneliness.
A soft hum echoed through the void.
Not a voice.
Not yet.
He looked down at his hands.
For a heartbeat—just one—faint golden lines pulsed beneath his skin, like veins of light trying to wake.
Kanji gasped and jolted awake.
He sat upright in bed, breath sharp, heart pounding.
The moonlight spilled through the wooden window, pale and calm. The village was asleep. No alarms. No screams.
Still… something felt wrong.
"Just a dream," he whispered.
But his chest felt warm.
Too warm.
---
A Crack in the Quiet
The next morning, Rin noticed it first.
Kanji was lifting water buckets from the well—three at once.
"That's… heavier than usual," she said carefully.
Kanji blinked, confused. "Is it?"
The wooden rope creaked violently.
Rin's eyes narrowed.
"Kanji. Put them down."
He obeyed. The buckets hit the ground with a thud that cracked the stone.
They stared at it.
Neither spoke.
Later that day, a child slipped near the ravine. Kanji reacted without thinking—moving faster than should have been possible. He caught the child mid-fall, feet skidding inches from the edge.
The villagers cheered.
Rin didn't.
That night, she confronted him beneath the stars.
"Kanji," she said quietly, "do you feel… different?"
He hesitated.
"…Sometimes," he admitted. "Like I'm remembering something my mind can't reach."
The wind shifted.
Above them, one star flickered—then went dark.
Rin's blood ran cold.
---
The Ones Who Shouldn't Remember
Far beyond the mortal sky, in the place where erased gods go to fade—
Something moved.
A fragment.
Not power.
Not form.
Memory.
A ripple passed through the cosmic sea.
One of the Thirteen Guardians opened his eyes.
"That's impossible," he whispered.
Another turned sharply.
"The Core was removed."
"Yes," the first replied slowly.
"But not all crowns are worn."
A massive star-map ignited between them.
At its center—
Kanji's name glowed faintly.
"He chose mortality," one Guardian said.
"But the universe never agreed."
---
The First Sign
Three nights later, the stars screamed.
No sound reached the ground—but sensitive souls felt it. Monks collapsed. Animals fled. Old demons woke in terror.
Kanji fell to his knees in the village square, clutching his chest.
Rin ran to him.
"Kanji! What's happening?!"
His eyes reflected the sky.
Not fear.
Recognition.
"I hear them," he whispered.
"Hear who?"
"The stars," Kanji said softly