The park was almost empty.
Night had fallen, yet the park lights glowed pale yellow, stretching across the ground and casting long shadows beneath the swings. The rides stood motionless, as if exhausted from the day. A thin breeze whispered through the trees, making the leaves shiver.
A small boy sat alone on a bench. His feet didn't reach the ground. His hands rested on the cold metal beside him as he scanned the park—quietly, carefully. His wide eyes held curiosity… and a flicker of unease.
Then… he saw it.
Between two lamps, where the light thinned, the air rippled like heat over asphalt. A faint black mist curled upward, bending the glow. Shadows deepened unnaturally, almost crawling along the ground. From that distortion, a figure slowly emerged.
Not fully human… not fully anything. Strange. Yet oddly beautiful—like darkness given gentle shape. Its presence pressed against the air, heavy and tangible.
Kaito's breath caught. His small hands trembled, but he didn't step back. Curiosity pushed him forward.
"Hey… I haven't seen you here before," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
The figure didn't answer.
"Uh… what's your name?" he added, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I'm Kaito."
The black figure stayed silent. Its form rippled, smoke drifting lazily, testing him. The air seemed to thrum. Kaito's lips quivered.
"Will… you play with me?" he asked, hope threading through the fear.
For a moment—everything froze.
The leaves paused mid-shiver. The pale lights flickered faintly.
Then—
A sonic wave erupted.
It wasn't sound.
It wasn't visible.
It was pure, searing pain.
Kaito staggered. His vision blurred, colors smearing together. The world tilted, and his knees buckled. A thousand needles scraped his ears from the inside out. He gasped silently, hands clutching his head, panic coursing through him. Swings rattled. Shadows stretched unnaturally.
And then—he collapsed.
Silence returned. Heavy. Complete.
But that night… everything changed.
Kaito opened his eyes. Shapes smeared like wet paint, refusing to make sense. His hands shook as he rubbed his eyes. Slowly, the world began to form.
White ceiling.
Harsh lights.
Sterile smell.
Hospital.
Beside his bed, his mother spoke rapidly to his father, hands trembling. His father stood stiff, pale.
Kaito tried to hear—but there was nothing. No voices. Not hers. Not his father's. Not even his own breathing.
His mother noticed his movement and rushed to his side, placing a gentle hand on his head. Lips moved words meant only for him. Kaito tried to read them—but the shapes refused to settle.
Tears filled her eyes. His father held her tightly. Kaito clutched the blanket, trembling hands wrapping around it. Without hearing a single word, he understood loss.
Moments later, doctors entered. One spoke carefully, weighing every word.
"Mr. and Mrs. Arashi," the doctor said, "Kaito was exposed to an extremely high-frequency sound wave. The intensity caused internal bleeding in his ears. His eardrums were severely damaged. We've checked every possible treatment… but I'm afraid he will never hear again."
Kaito heard nothing. The world made sense only in shapes now, but the sound was gone.
His mother crumpled, covering her mouth. His father held her tightly.
Yet in the back of his mind, a strange pulse lingered. A shadow curled at the edge of his vision, black smoke almost imperceptible. Watching. Waiting.
Something inside him stirred—a whisper of power, dark and alive.