The Calm Before the Storm

The obnoxious blare of his alarm clock jolted Hiroki out of a fitful sleep. He groaned, his hand slapping the snooze button with more force than necessary. The room was still steeped in pre-dawn darkness, only faint streaks of neon light seeped through the frayed edges of his threadbare curtains, painting the cracked walls in sickly colors. He lay there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, the plaster chipped and worn, as if the room itself was slowly crumbling around him.His gaze drifted around the small, suffocating space that he called home. The bare essentials littered the room—an old mattress on the floor, a scratched-up desk, and a rickety chair that looked like it could collapse at any moment. Everything he owned, he had bought himself. There were no mementos, no photos of friends or family, no gifts to remind him that he mattered to anyone. The shelves were empty, the walls bare, the closet half-filled with clothes he barely cared to wear. It was as if he was merely passing through, never truly leaving a mark on the place.It was easier that way, he told himself. No need to acknowledge the loneliness gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. If he kept things sparse, if he didn't let himself get too comfortable, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much. Maybe he could pretend he didn't crave more.He let out a slow breath, eyes tracing the cracks above him. But then, as his mind drifted, memories from the night before crashed back into him like a wave.Maybe it was all just a dream, he tried to convince himself. Rogue Wraiths, masked fighters, sarcastic voices in his head…But as if summoned by his doubts, that familiar, grating voice echoed through his mind.Oh, you wish it was a dream, Arkan's voice drawled, dripping with amusement. But lucky for you, kid, I'm very much real. "Up and at 'em, kid," Arkan's voice drawled through Hiroki's mind, laced with its usual condescension. "I didn't sign up to be stuck with a lazy host. You're not planning on sleeping your life away, are you?"Hiroki let out a long, resigned sigh. "Great. You're still here.""Of course I am," Arkan chuckled, the sound both mocking and oddly familiar. "Wouldn't want you to get lonely. Not that anyone else is lining up to keep you company."Hiroki chose to ignore the jab, rolling out of bed with the grace of someone twice his age. He stumbled into the tiny bathroom, the cold linoleum floor sending a shiver up his spine. Leaning over the sink, he splashed icy water on his face, trying to chase away the remnants of exhaustion. When he finally looked up, his reflection in the cracked, yellowing mirror stared back at him: pale skin, dark circles beneath hollow eyes, hair a tangled mess.He looked like someone who hadn't slept properly in weeks. Maybe that was because he hadn't. "All that beauty sleep, and you still look like death warmed over," Arkan quipped, his voice oozing with amusement. "Maybe try a little less brooding and a little more, I don't know... not looking like a zombie.""Shut up," Hiroki muttered under his breath, though it was more for his own sanity than any real attempt to silence the Wraith. He didn't have the energy for their usual back-and-forth. Not today.After a quick breakfast—if scraping together half a bowl of stale cereal counted as that—he pulled on his school uniform, the fabric stiff from too many washes. Slinging his worn-out backpack over one shoulder, he paused at the door. He turned back, taking one last look at his cramped apartment.A part of him wished he could be one of those people who stayed locked away in their rooms, hiding from the world. But there was something about this place—something hollow and weary, like even these four walls were tired of him. It was as if the room itself rejected him, pushing him out every morning. So, with a resigned sigh, he left.Outside, the streets of Neo-Kyoto were already alive despite the early hour. Neon signs flashed in garish colors, competing with the gray dawn. The smell of fried food, exhaust, and wet pavement mixed in the air, the city thrumming with relentless energy.Hiroki walked through it all like a ghost, drifting past bustling crowds and busy shop fronts. The city was alive, vibrant... yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he was nothing more than a shadow passing through it. --- The moment Hiroki stepped through the school gates, he could feel it. That strange shift, like the entire world had snapped back into place, erasing everything that had happened the day before. The students were laughing, gossiping, texting on their phones. It was as if nothing had changed. As Hiroki walked down the crowded hallway, he glanced at the faces of the students who'd been there during the Wraith attack. They looked normal—unconcerned, unaware. No signs of panic, no whispers about monsters or shadows. It was like the whole thing had been wiped from their minds. "Looks like they don't remember a thing," Arkan whispered in his ear. "Typical Crimson Hand trick. They're good at cleaning up their messes." Hiroki's grip tightened on the strap of his backpack. Part of him was relieved. If no one remembered, then maybe he could pretend yesterday never happened. Maybe he could go back to being invisible. But another part of him—a part he didn't want to acknowledge—felt a pang of sadness. So no one noticed? he thought. Not even after all that? For once, he'd done something. He'd tried to help. And yet… nothing. "Aw, is someone feeling a little lonely?" Arkan teased, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "I thought you liked being a wallflower." "Yeah, well, screw you," Hiroki muttered under his breath. He kept his head down, making his way to his first class. --- Hiroki sank into his seat in the back corner of the classroom, pulling out his notebook more out of habit than actual intent to use it. The teacher droned on about something—history, maybe? He didn't care. His mind kept drifting back to the events of yesterday. The Wraiths. The masked figures. The fight that felt more real than anything he'd experienced in years. Arkan would talk, about things, his powers, what thinks they are and Hiroki, absorbed in the conversation, and no longer freaked out about his constant companion would discuss with them as well. The whispers started not long after he sat down. Snide comments from the students sitting a few rows ahead, just loud enough for him to hear. "Hey, why is the freak whispering to himself?" "Yeah, I heard he never talks to anyone. Guess he finally found a friend" "Yeah about time, lol." Hiroki clenched his teeth, pretending to take notes. He wasn't stupid. He knew the drill. There was always someone making a joke, and there was always a group laughing along. It wasn't the direct insults that hurt. It was the way they drew a circle around themselves, making sure he was on the outside. Arkan's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. "Why do you let them get to you? You could crush these losers if you wanted to." "I don't want to crush anyone," Hiroki hissed back under his breath. "I just want to be left alone." "Yeah, sure," Arkan replied, his tone dripping with skepticism. "You keep telling yourself that." The rest of the day passed in a blur of monotony. Classes he didn't care about. Lunch alone on the rooftop where no one bothered him. More whispers, more laughter that cut into him even though he tried to pretend it didn't. --- By the time the final bell rang, Hiroki was ready to bolt. He slipped out of the school, avoiding eye contact with everyone, and made his way back to his apartment. The tiny, dingy place he called home was as empty as ever. No parents waiting for him, no siblings to bicker with. Just silence. He dropped his bag on the floor and collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. For a moment, he could almost convince himself that everything was normal. That he was just another tired high school student with nothing to worry about. But then Arkan's voice came back, softer this time. "You know, you really ought to find a hobby. Something to distract you from all that existential dread." "Shut up, besides I have a job. Just haven't been to in a while" Hiroki muttered, but there was no heat behind his words. He was too tired to argue. Too tired to pretend that he was fine when he clearly wasn't. "You can lie to everyone else," Arkan said, almost gently. "But you can't lie to me, kid. I'm in here," he added, tapping into Hiroki's mind with a flicker of energy. "I know you better than anyone else ever could." Hiroki closed his eyes, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in his chest. Maybe Arkan was right. Maybe he was just lying to himself. But then, somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach, he felt it again—the simmering anger that had been with him for as long as he could remember. He was angry. Angry at everyone who ignored him, at the people who laughed, at the world that had pushed him into this corner. And now, angry at himself. Because despite everything, despite how much he claimed to like being alone, deep down, all he wanted was for someone—anyone—to see him. But in this city, in this school, it was like he didn't even exist. Arkan simmered by the pillow he laid on, a smile on his little face that Hiroki could see through half open eyes. The little red fire that emanated from the tiny wraith provided a kind of warmth that the apartment heater could not. He closed his eyes. There was one person now. And that should be enough.