Morning light spilled across Earth as the sun rose, bathing the city in a soft glow. Yet outside the entrance of the local hospital, a young man stood in the shade, gripping his phone tightly, his face dark with frustration.
Cars passed by in a steady stream, their engines humming softly, indifferent to the turmoil churning inside him. The automatic doors behind him slid open and shut as patients and nurses came and went, each movement a quiet reminder that time never stopped for anyone.
"What do you mean you can't come? Is work really that important? Hazel's condition flared up again. All she wants is for you to be here. Tell me, how many years has it been since you last visited?"
His fingers tightened around the phone until his knuckles turned white, the plastic creaking faintly under the pressure.
He paused, breathing sharply through his nose.
"Yes, you send money to help treat Hazel, and I won't complain about that, but you haven't come back in three years. One visit. Just one. Is that really so difficult?"
The faint smell of disinfectant drifted from inside the hospital, mixing with the cold morning air. His chest rose and fell unevenly as memories he tried to bury clawed their way back to the surface.
His voice rose sharply, breaking the quiet around the hospital entrance. Anger twisted across his face.
"Honestly, I don't need a father like him. And I don't need a mother like you either. Besides the monthly money, I don't even know what either of you looks like anymore. What kind of parents are you?"
A few pedestrians slowed their steps, glancing in his direction before quickly looking away, unwilling to involve themselves.
Tears slipped silently down his cheeks. He looked exhausted, as if carrying far more weight than a young man should.
The sunlight that once felt warm now seemed painfully bright, exposing every crack in the composure he had forced himself to maintain.
"What's the point of saying all this now? If you had thought about me and Hazel even once back then, we wouldn't be like this. You chose to abandon us. You shouldn't have had us if you never intended to stay."
His voice softened into bitterness.
"Fine. Do whatever you want. I've kept track of every dollar you sent. Someday, I'll pay every cent back. Both of you can live happily with your new families."
The line went dead, leaving behind nothing but a hollow ringing in his ears.
With that, he hung up hard, the phone trembling in his hand before he sank to the cold pavement, shoulders shaking as he cried silently.
For a long moment, he stayed there, crouched low, as if standing back up would cause everything he held together to finally shatter.
When Atticus was six, his parents divorced without hesitation. Neither wanted custody. They sent monthly living expenses, but aside from phone calls, he and Hazel never saw them. Both parents remarried almost immediately afterward.
Legal documents and polite excuses replaced warmth and affection, reducing their existence to numbers on a bank transfer.
If not for the law, Atticus sometimes wondered if he and Hazel would have been fully abandoned. In some ways, they already had been.
That thought lingered like a shadow that followed him no matter where he went.
His resentment never faded. His parents claimed they were working to earn money for Hazel's treatment, but their excuses rang hollow. They never visited. They never cared.
Each unanswered promise became another crack in the fragile bridge connecting them.
The only reason Atticus and his sister survived their childhood was because their grandfather raised them. When he passed away, he left behind a hidden savings stash. Without that, Atticus and Hazel might have ended up on the streets.
Those savings were not just money—they were the last proof that someone had truly loved them.
Hazel was born with a severe congenital heart defect. Her heart was underdeveloped, leaving her weak since infancy. Even walking a bit too fast caused sharp pain that could send her into shock.
Hospitals became as familiar to Atticus as home, their sterile walls bearing witness to countless nights of fear and prayer.
Because of that, Atticus protected her fiercely. She was all he had left.
And in return, she became the reason he woke up every morning and kept moving forward.
Wiping his face, he took a steadying breath, forced a gentle expression, and stepped into the hospital.
The cold air inside immediately washed over him, numbing the lingering ache in his chest.
Inside the quiet ward lay a delicate girl on a white hospital bed. Her pale skin contrasted with her long dark hair. Her slim fingers rested on the blanket, her fragile body as still as porcelain.
The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound filling the room.
Atticus's expression softened. He moved to her side and brushed a hand across her cheek.
Hazel blinked awake, her eyes bright and filled with affection.
"Atticus, you're back."
"Yeah. What happened this time? Why did you faint?" He gently ruffled her hair, unable to hide the worry in his voice.
"It's nothing." She laughed lightly, then pouted. "Atticus, I want to go home."
Her words carried a quiet longing that pierced straight through him.
"Alright. I'll handle the discharge papers. We'll leave soon." He tapped her nose, stood, and headed out.
---
A short while later, Atticus walked down the street with Hazel on his back. Her thin arms rested around his shoulders, her cheek against his neck. To passersby, they looked like a small, warm slice of life on an ordinary day.
The late afternoon breeze brushed past them, carrying the distant sounds of traffic and laughter.
"Hazel, did you get heavier again?"
"I did not. Maybe just a tiny bit." She pouted and tapped his head lightly.
"It's good if you are. It means you're getting healthier." Atticus held her a little tighter.
For him, even the slightest improvement felt like a miracle.
After a moment, her cheerful expression dimmed.
"Atticus... are they still not coming back?"
His steps slowed before he forced a small smile.
"They're busy. Don't think about them. Let's go home. I'll make something delicious for dinner."
Her eyes brightened immediately.
"Your cooking is my favorite."
That simple praise eased the knot in his chest.
He quickened his pace.
"Home we go."
They reached their small apartment. Hazel suddenly twisted to look toward a nearby stall, eyes widening.
"Wait! Atticus, look at that!"
He followed her gaze to a fruit stand.
"Fruit. What else would they be selling?"
"No. Look at that one. Doesn't that look like a Devil Fruit? Let's go check it out!"
Atticus sighed, adjusting her weight on his back.
Her excitement was contagious, even when he tried to resist it.
"Alright."
At the stand lay a fruit covered in strange swirling patterns. Its unusual shape made Atticus pause.
Something about it felt oddly out of place.
Hazel stared at it with sparkling eyes.
"It really looks like a Devil Fruit!"
"It's probably fake. And what if it's dangerous? What if it's made with chemicals?"
The stall owner quickly waved his hands.
"It's not dangerous. It's approved and completely safe. It's just an apple crafted with a special technique."
Atticus exhaled.
"Fine. We'll buy one."
---
Night came, and stars shimmered across the sky. A meteor streaked overhead, unnoticed by those below.
The city lights flickered on, illuminating countless ordinary lives completely unaware of what was about to unfold.
"Time to eat, Hazel." Atticus placed simple but warm dishes on the table.
"Coming!" she called from upstairs.
Her light footsteps sounded as she bounced down. She reached the table slightly out of breath despite her excitement.
"How many times have I told you not to rush? You walked down one flight of stairs and you're already panting." Atticus grabbed a small towel and gently wiped the sweat from her forehead.
"It smells so good. You're amazing." Hazel ignored the scolding and dug in immediately.
"Slow down. No one's stealing it from you." He smiled and sat beside her.
The quiet clinking of utensils filled the room.
"Atticus, can you watch TV with me after dinner?" she asked through a mouthful of food.
"Tonight? I have work later." He hesitated. Between debts, bills and Hazel's medical needs, he could barely keep up.
Hazel's expression fell.
"You never spend time with me."
Atticus reached over and touched her cheek.
"Alright. Tonight, I'll stay with our little princess."
Her mood instantly brightened.
"Thank you!"
Later, they sat together in Hazel's room, surrounded by plush toys and posters. On the TV, the newest episode of One Piece played.
The familiar opening music filled the room, bringing a sense of comfort.
"It updated already?"
"Yeah. Ace… he died. That terrible Akainu." Hazel frowned at the screen where Akainu struck Ace.
Atticus sighed.
"Ace was a good guy. Too bad it ended like that."
Hazel clenched her little fist.
"If I could go to that world, I'd beat Akainu until he cried for help."
Atticus chuckled and patted her head.
"Silly girl."
Hazel puffed her cheeks.
"This anime is our entire childhood. I still think One Piece is better than Naruto."
"Alright. One Piece is better."
She nodded proudly.
"Oh right! The Devil Fruit we bought. Let's try it."
"You seriously think it's real? The vendor said it was just apples made to look fancy."
"Atticus..." Hazel's voice turned pleading.
He sighed. Her wishes were always his weakness.
"Alright… fine."
He went to get the fruit. They sat back down.
The strange patterns seemed to twist under the room's light.
"I'll try it first." Hazel lifted it.
Atticus quickly stopped her.
"No. I'll eat it first. If it's unsafe, I'm not letting you risk it."
She huffed but didn't resist.
Atticus took a small bite.
Instantly, the most vile taste imaginable exploded in his mouth. His eyes widened, and he choked, nearly collapsing.
It was the worst thing he had ever tasted.
Hazel leaned forward eagerly.
"Is it good?"
Atticus dropped the fruit and gagged violently, sweat appearing on his forehead.
"Atticus… look!" Hazel pointed.
The fruit shimmered, broke apart into glowing particles, and vanished completely.
Atticus stared.
A chill ran down his spine.
Then the television flickered violently.
A low hum deepened into a roar as a swirling vortex burst from the screen. A black hole, large enough to swallow a person whole, expanded rapidly.
Wind howled through the room, pulling at everything in sight.
In a heartbeat, the room, the air, and the siblings themselves were pulled toward it.
The world spun.
And everything disappeared.
---