The storm and the past.
Chapter 28: The storm and the past.
The day had started like any other. The streets of Osaka were alive with the usual hum of city life-cars honking, shopkeepers chatting, the rhythmic steps of office workers lost in their morning routines. It was the kind of normalcy people took for granted, the kind they assumed would last forever.
Takeshi was 17. He walked the same path to school, hands buried in his pockets, eyes scanning the crowd as he always did. Watching. Noticing. He had always been good at that. A woman struggling to hold onto her groceries, a businessman distractedly checking his watch, a group of kids laughing over something meaningless but important to them. He observed, but he never intervened.
Because that wasn't his place.
That morning, the sky had been clear. A soft autumn breeze carried the scent of freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery. The sun shone through the gaps between towering buildings, casting long shadows onto the pavement.
And then-
*BAM!*
A sound that didn't belong. A low, guttural roar that sent a ripple of unnatural silence through the streets.
Then came the screams.
Takeshi turned. A shape-a thing-stood in the middle of the intersection, its form shifting like ink in water, a grotesque mockery of a human outline. A moment ago, the traffic lights had dictated the flow of movement. Now, cars were overturned, glass shattered across the asphalt, and people ran, pushing and shoving in a desperate attempt to escape.
The first real wave of panic hit.
Takeshi didn't run.
Not because he wasn't afraid. He was. But fear was just another thing to understand, to observe. It was never what killed people in moments like this. It was what they did because of it.
A woman tripped. No one stopped to help her. A father grabbed his child and sprinted without looking back. A man locked himself inside his car, thinking the thin layer of metal and glass would keep him safe.
They weren't thinking. They were reacting.
Takeshi inhaled deeply, steadying himself as the ground trembled beneath his feet. Another roar. More screams.
And then the sky changed.
Violet clouds rolled in unnaturally fast, swallowing the sunlight whole. The scent of ozone and something sickly sweet filled the air. The buildings around him, once symbols of human accomplishment, now seemed fragile -like toys waiting to be crushed.
The world had flipped upside down.
He heard it before he saw it.
A child crying.
His gaze snapped to the sound. Near the wreckage of a fallen street lamp, a boy-no older than five-sat frozen, his tiny hands gripping a stuffed rabbit. His parents were gone, lost in the chaos, and his sobs barely rose above the madness.
No one stopped for him.
Takeshi moved before he could think better of it.
He wove through the chaos, his steps controlled, calculated. The creature hadn't noticed him yet-it was too busy ripping into a man who had been too slow to run. Takeshi didn't let himself look at the carnage. Not yet.
The boy was shaking, his small frame trembling with hiccupped sobs. Takeshi crouched in front of him, meeting his wide, tear-filled eyes.
"Can you stand?" Takeshi asked, his voice even.
The boy whimpered but nodded.
"Good. We're going to walk, okay? Just walk. Not run."
The boy clutched his stuffed rabbit tighter.
Takeshi took his hand.
And they walked.
Every step was calculated. The trick was to move like you belonged. To not draw attention. Fear made people erratic. It made them sprint when they should've stayed still. It made them scream when silence could have saved them.
Takeshi had learned this long ago-watching people, understanding them.
The creature was distracted, tearing into another body. Its limbs twitched unnaturally, its elongated fingers flexing as if savoring the feeling of warm flesh.
They moved past it.
Takeshi didn't let himself sigh in relief. Not yet.
They turned a corner-only to find another.
This one was smaller but no less grotesque. Its skin was stretched too tightly over its misshapen body, its jaw unhinged, revealing a mouth filled with too many teeth.
Its head snapped toward them.
The boy gasped.
Takeshi didn't think. He acted.
With one swift motion, he pulled the boy into a doorway, pressing them both against the cold brick wall. He clamped a hand over the child's mouth just as he was about to scream.
The creature's breath rattled.
It sniffed the air.
Takeshi held his own breath, counting the seconds. One. Two. Three.
The creature twitched, its gaze flickering toward the chaos down the street. It let out a low growl-then scuttled away.
Takeshi didn't move until it was gone.
Then, carefully, he lowered his hand from the boy's mouth.
"Stay quiet," he murmured. "We keep moving."
The boy nodded, still shaking.
They walked again. Through the broken streets, past the remnants of what had once been a city untouched by nightmares.
Somewhere in the distance, Takeshi could hear sirens. The military would come. The government would step in. Maybe they'd fight back. Maybe they'd win.
Or maybe-this was just the beginning.
Eventually, they found shelter. An abandoned convenience store, its glass doors shattered. Inside, a few other survivors huddled together, eyes hollow with shock.
Takeshi knelt beside the boy.
"Stay here," he said. "Your parents might come looking."
The boy's lip trembled. "What if they don't?"
Takeshi hesitated. He had no answer for that.
So he did what he always did.
He didn't lie.
"Then you survive," he said simply. "You keep walking."
The boy didn't understand yet. Maybe he never would.
But later-when the storm had passed, when the dust had settled-he would remember.
Takeshi stood, stepping away before the boy could say anything else.
He didn't wait for thanks.
He never did.
.
.
.
.
.
The rooftop was quiet.
Takeshi leaned against the ledge, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. The city sprawled beneath him-lights flickering, streets stretching into the distance, tiny specks of life moving as if nothing had ever changed.
But things had changed.
He exhaled, watching the smoke curl upward, dissolving into the night sky. He liked it up here. The rooftop was a place of distance, of observation. Up here, he didn't have to interfere. He didn't have to act. He could just watch.
That was how it had always been.
People lived. People struggled. People made the same mistakes over and over again, and he stood at the edges of it all, a silent witness. Sometimes, if it was convenient, he nudged things a certain way. A conversation here. A warning there. But never more than that.
Because he wasn't a hero.
He never had been.
But then-Tarazune Akeshi.
Takeshi took another drag from his cigarette, remembering the first time he met the kid.
He had gone to collect money that day. The kind of business he had long since become numb to. The parents -Akeshi's parents-were the usual type. The kind that borrowed and promised but never paid. Liars, cowards, people who thought empty words could buy them time.
He had known the moment he stepped into that house that they weren't going to pay.
But it wasn't them that caught his attention.
It was the boy.
Lying on the ground, staring at the ceiling. Unmoving. Silent.
Something about him made Takeshi pause. The emptiness in those leaf-green eyes-it wasn't fear. It wasn't even resignation. It was something else. Something that made Takeshi turn to Koutarou, the man who had lent the money, and ask a question he never usually asked.
"What's with the kid?"
Koutarou barely glanced over. "Ah, him? That's my son. Don't bother. He just sits there."
Takeshi frowned. He crouched beside the boy, his voice calm, measured.
"What grade are you in?"
Akeshi's gaze flickered toward him.
"I don't go to school."
A 12-year-old. Not in school. Not even reacting to the fact that a stranger was in his home, discussing debts and payments with his parents. Just existing.
Takeshi studied him for a moment before saying, "Do you want to?"
Akeshi blinked. Then, slowly, he nodded.
That was how it started.
Koutarou, of course, kept borrowing. Making promises. But the debt only ballooned. And Takeshi already knew how that story would end.
But what he didn't expect-what genuinely surprised him -was the kid himself.
Calm. Always. Almost unnervingly so.
There had been a moment, weeks later, when Takeshi truly noticed him for the first time.
A group of them had been eating at a small restaurant, the kind where everything smelled like soy sauce and grease. One of the waiters, nervous and in a rush, nearly spilled an entire cup of steaming tea toward Takeshi.
But before a drop could land-Akeshi caught it.
Effortless. Smooth. A movement that barely disrupted the air. And then, just as casually, he handed the cup back to the trembling waiter.
"It's fine," Akeshi had said, his voice light, reassuring.
And just like that, the waiter-who had been pale with fear, probably worried about being screamed at-relaxed.
That was when Takeshi realized it.
The kid had charisma.
Not the loud, boastful kind. Not the kind that demanded attention. But something quieter. Something dangerous.
People listened to him. Even when they didn't want to.
So Takeshi made a decision.
He placed the kid at Kakeru's café-Okushaki Café. Not as a favor, not as charity, but just to see. To watch.
And sure enough-
A 12-year-old working in a café should have been an issue. Should have caused complaints. But Akeshi handled it so well that even the ones who had initially grumbled about it changed their tune.
The way he spoke. The way he smiled.
It was like he belonged.
And then? The exams.
Akeshi passed every single one. Aced them. Teachers barely knew what to do with him. They wanted to place him in middle school year one, but he didn't stop there.
He took the entrance exams for multiple elite schools.
And he passed.
All of them.
Takeshi had thought he would choose the safest, most convenient option. But no-Akeshi had looked him dead in the eye and said, "I'm going to Roward."
Roward. One of the most prestigious institutions in the country.
And now?
The kid was practically a king there.
Three years. Maybe four. Student Council President. The kind of person who turned heads the moment he walked into a room.
All from a boy who had once just lain on the floor, staring at the ceiling with hollow eyes.
Takeshi let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.
This was why things had changed.
Because he was no longer just an observer.
Because, whether he wanted to or not, he had interfered.
And now, Tarazune Akeshi was out there, standing at the top.
A storm waiting to happen—and Takeshi wasn't sure if he had created it or merely set it free.