4 years later...
Ever since the test, Rei's life had settled into something resembling peace.
His grades had improved — slowly but steadily. The once-frequent scolding notes from teachers were replaced with the occasional "Great work!" scribbled in red pen. Homework no longer felt like a monster with too many heads, and he even started answering questions in class.
Training with his quirk became easier, more natural. The ghostly hands responded to him now, not perfectly, but with far more consistency than before. He could summon one in under 5 seconds — something that used to take several tries and a whole lot of frustration.
His dad kept a stopwatch, and every time Rei beat his last record, Takashi's proud smirk gave him enough of a boost to keep trying harder.
He laughed more. Slept better. The shadowy thoughts that had haunted him — the presence he could never explain — had faded into memory. Sometimes, he even wondered if he'd imagined the whole thing.
Everything was fine. Normal, even.
But peace like this never lasted forever.
And storms don't announce themselves.
They build slowly.
Quietly.
Until it's far too late to run.
(Rei POV)
"Come on, Dad, hurry up!" I yelled again, bouncing impatiently near the door with my backpack slung over one shoulder.
Takashi's voice floated from down the hall, calm as ever. "You pack your water bottle this time, or am I gonna have to share again?"
"I packed it!" I called back. "And snacks, too! No more energy bar lunches!"
I heard Mom laugh from the kitchen. "Make sure he actually eats and doesn't just train until he forgets."
"Mom, I don't forget. I just… pause eating sometimes."
She peeked her head out the kitchen doorway with that look. "Rei."
"Okay, okay!" I grinned and stuffed a wrapped rice ball deeper into the top pocket of my bag. "See? Priorities."
Takashi finally came around the corner, zipping up his jacket and adjusting the straps of a small hiking pack. "Alright, ready. Let's move out, soldier."
"Yes!" I spun and threw the door open, the late morning sunlight spilling into the house. "We'll be back before dinner, Mom!"
"You'd better! I'm making curry tonight," she called back.
The walk to the forest trail wasn't long. The air was crisp, full of early autumn scents—damp leaves, pine, that earthy smell that clung to your shoes. I loved it out here. It always felt like the world paused for a while. Like I could breathe.
Dad and I chatted as we went, mostly about training stuff. New drills, hero videos we'd seen. He told me a story about one of his classmates back in the day who could grow spikes out of his elbows but always got them stuck in doorways.
"Bet he hated small bathrooms," I snorted.
"He did. Got stuck in a bus once. Took them an hour to get him out."
We both laughed, and I tried not to trip over a tree root as we turned onto the narrower path.
Eventually, we reached the clearing. The sun filtered through the trees, glinting off the metal bars and climbing frames that had been built by locals years ago—some still solid, others half-overgrown. The obstacle course. My favorite.
"Warm-up?" Dad asked, setting his bag down.
I nodded, already stretching. "Let's see if I can beat my last time through the course. And maybe…" I flexed my fingers. "See if the ghost hands can do the monkey bars this time."
He raised a brow. "Only if you don't use them to cheat."
"Define cheat," I smirked.
I was already sweating after the first few laps around the course. The forest air was cool, but the sun was out, and Dad didn't believe in "easy starts."
"Keep your posture up!" he shouted from behind the rope net as I dropped to a low crouch, weaving through a row of balance beams.
"I got it!" I huffed, adjusting my stance and sprinting ahead.
Dad was right behind me, scaling the net like it was nothing. He might be older, but I swear he still moved like he was in his twenties. I leapt over a fallen log and skidded to a stop near the monkey bars, grinning as I looked up at the old metal frame stretching across the gap between two trees.
"Alright," I said to myself, "time for the main event."
"Going to use your quirk?" Dad asked, jogging up beside me and tossing me a bottle of water.
I caught it and nodded. "Yeah. I've been practicing control with more weight support. If I can hold my body up with the ghost hands—" I clapped my hands together "—that's one step closer to using them like actual limbs."
"Just be careful. If it feels off, drop down."
I gave him a thumbs-up and walked to the starting point. My heart was already pumping, more from excitement than nerves. I took a deep breath, feeling the familiar tingle in my chest. It started low, like a pulse under the skin. Then, stretching outward, the translucent shimmer of a ghostly hand emerged from my side. Another followed. Each floated beside me, flickering slightly but solid enough for support.
I jumped.
The ghost hands reached up and grabbed the first bar. My real arms hung at my sides, and for a second, I felt weightless. I shifted one ghost hand to the next bar. Then the other. One at a time, I moved forward—awkwardly, but I was moving.
Dad cheered from below. "There you go! Just like that!"
I grinned. "Told you I've been practicing!"
Another bar. Then another.
I was halfway across when it hit me.
A chill. Sharp and sudden. Like stepping into a cold shadow that wasn't there a second ago. The ghost hands flickered. My grip slipped.
"Wha—?"
The next thing I knew, I was falling. My shoulder hit the ground first, then my hip, and I rolled onto my back with a thud.
"Rei!"
Dad was at my side in a second, crouching down and checking me over. "You okay? What happened?"
I sat up slowly, rubbing my arm. "I dunno… I was fine, but then…" I trailed off, trying to explain the feeling. It was like a flicker in the back of my mind, a moment of noise in a quiet room.
Dad narrowed his eyes. "Did you lose control?"
"I don't think so." I shook my head, brushing dirt from my shirt. "It felt… weird. Like something just knocked my focus off. I guess I got distracted."
Dad watched me for a moment longer, then nodded slowly. "Alright. Could've just been overuse. You've been pushing hard."
"Yeah, probably." I forced a grin. "I'm not made of steel yet."
He helped me up and brushed my back off. "Take five. Then we'll hit the climbing wall. No quirks for now."
"Got it."
I walked over to the bench and took a seat, sipping from my water bottle and trying to shake off the feeling. It had been a long time since I felt anything like that. Back when I was a kid, things used to feel off all the time—like my quirk had a mind of its own. But that was before. Things were normal now. Peaceful.
Probably just a fluke.
Still… I glanced over my shoulder at the forest beyond the obstacle course. Something about the trees felt a little too quiet all of a sudden.
I stretched and sat up, brushing dirt and pine needles off my hoodie. The weird moment from earlier still lingered in the back of my mind, but the fall had knocked it loose enough to forget—mostly.
Dad stood a few feet away, staring down at his phone with a slight crease between his brows. The usual easygoing look he carried was still there, but I could tell something was tugging at his attention.
"Rei?" he said again, this time more distracted than concerned.
"Yeah?" I replied, pushing myself fully upright.
He lowered the phone a little. "Your mom's not answering."
I blinked, then shrugged. "She's probably making dinner. Or maybe she's talking to one of her friends again."
Dad let out a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah… we know how lost she gets with talking to those friends of hers. Always twenty-minute goodbyes and still texting after."
"She's probably not even near her phone," I added, standing and slinging my backpack over one shoulder. "Maybe she's got music playing and didn't hear it ring."
"True," he nodded, but I saw him glance at the screen one more time before locking it and slipping the phone into his pocket.
We began walking back toward the car, our footsteps crunching lightly over the dirt path. The trees swayed in the breeze, their rustling leaves whispering just above our heads. The sun was beginning to dip behind the treetops, casting long shadows over the trail. The air had cooled down from earlier, and the forest smelled of moss and pine.
"I think you're getting stronger," Dad said after a moment, his tone casual. "That grab on the bars? That was clean. You're way ahead of where I was at your age."
"Yeah?" I tried to smile, still shaking off the weirdness from earlier. "Felt pretty good… up until I slammed into the ground."
He laughed. "That's part of it. Falling means you're trying. What matters is getting up and figuring out why it happened."
I nodded, letting the conversation pull me back to normal. "I guess I'll need to push the control side harder again. Maybe try holding objects for longer?"
"Not a bad idea. We'll adjust the drills tomorrow."
We were just about done packing up. The last bit of gear was being zipped into a side pocket when I noticed Dad had stopped moving.
He was standing by the back of the car, half-turned toward the woods. His body was still, too still, like he was listening for something I couldn't hear.
"Dad?" I asked, brushing dirt off my pants. "You good?"
He didn't answer right away. His eyes scanned the tree line, sharp and focused. Not the usual joking, laid-back look—this one was serious. Alert.
"I thought I heard something," he muttered after a second, barely loud enough for me to catch.
I followed his gaze, but all I saw were trees swaying gently in the evening breeze. Nothing looked out of place. The birds had quieted, though. I hadn't even noticed that until just now.
My stomach tightened.
Dad stepped forward slowly, putting himself slightly in front of me. His hand was near his waist, where his phone—and a folding knife—usually were.
"I don't see anything," I whispered.
"That's what's bothering me," he said.
I felt it then.
That feeling.
The tingling in my chest, that low buzz under my skin like a warning bell. It was different from before—not just nerves or pressure. It felt wrong. Familiar and wrong.
My breath caught. "Dad…"
He turned back toward me, just for a second. "Stay behind me."
And then the forest shifted.
No wind. No footsteps. Just... presence.
From the shadow between two tall trees, something moved. A shape stepped forward, cloaked in darkness so thick the evening light couldn't seem to touch it.
He was tall. Calm. Hands behind his back, like he was out for a walk in a garden. His face—if he had one—was hidden in deep shadow, and yet I felt him looking directly at me.
"Who—?" I started, but the word stuck in my throat.
Dad moved in front of me completely, one arm extended slightly as if shielding me. His voice was low and firm, steady despite the obvious tension in his shoulders.
"Rei. Take my phone. Call you teh police. Now."
I fumbled with the zipper pocket, my hands suddenly clumsy, and pulled out the phone. My fingers shook as I tapped the screen and pressed 1-1-0 (Japan equivalent of 911).
Ringing.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
No answer.
"C'mon, c'mon," I whispered.
Still nothing. Its like the phone stopped working suddenly
I looked up. The man hadn't moved, but the air around him felt heavier by the second. It pressed down like a storm cloud ready to crack open.
Then everything happened too fast.
Dad stepped forward. "Who are you?" he demanded.
The man tilted his head, just slightly. "No need for names," he said, his voice smooth and cold, like oil over steel. "I've only come for the boy."
My heart dropped.
"What?" I whispered. "No, wait—"
Dad didn't wait. He moved.
Fast.
I saw his arm go for the knife. Saw his stance shift into something I'd only ever seen during training—tight, controlled, deadly serious.
But it wasn't enough.
The man raised a single hand. Darkness moved.
It didn't make a sound, didn't flash or spark like quirks usually did. It just was. A wave of black, like thick liquid shadow, shot out and hit Dad square in the chest.
"DAD!"
He flew back. Slammed into a tree with a sickening crack.
Time stopped.
"No…" I breathed. "No no no—"
I ran to him, but his eyes weren't open. His chest wasn't moving.
I shook him. "Dad?!"
The phone slipped from my hand. Behind me, footsteps approached.
"You've grown well," the man said, as calm as before. "Just like I hoped."
I turned slowly, my hands trembling. My legs frozen.
He was looking right at me now.
And I was alone.