1956
"I don't love him. Can't you see? He's not a normal child."
"I..."
"Let's just leave him somewhere. Far away. So he doesn't bring the curse upon us. Don't you remember? The gardener started laughing uncontrollably the other day, and before that, Rika suddenly began crying for no reason. Don't you see? He's not normal."
"He's our child."
"He isn't. He was left at our doorstep. Just because he's lived with us for the past ten years doesn't make him our son."
"..."
"We've already done more than enough. Given him a life most children could only dream of. He should be grateful. But now, it's time. He needs to go."
"But—"
"Akihira, I'm pregnant."
"You..."
"Yes. I've already seen the doctor. It's been two months. I want my child to have a good life. I won't risk it. Take him away. Somewhere far. As soon as possible."
—
Standing just outside the door, the boy froze, then ran.
He bolted through the corridor, ignoring the servants who looked at him with a mixture of pity and thinly veiled disgust.
He was used to it by now. The whispered slurs, the mocking laughter, the looks that lingered too long on his foreign features. A child of mixed heritage. A stray picked off the street.
He had always known he wasn't theirs by blood. He had accepted his mother's coldness, her distant gaze, the way she looked at him as if he were something cursed. People around him did act strangely sometimes—fits of laughter, sudden weeping, eerie silences—but he knew he wasn't the cause. He knew it.
But now… now they wanted to abandon him.
He couldn't take it anymore.
Bursting through the front gates, he barely noticed the Nissan Bluebird pulling in. The guard moved to stop him, but the boy ducked and slipped past. He had done it before. The path was familiar.
With tears spilling down his cheeks, he ran past the hedges and the iron boundary walls, heading toward the mountains looming outside the city.
Why me?
I didn't do anything.
Why don't they love me?
Why didn't Father say anything?
The questions spun inside his head, echoing with each desperate footfall.
Then his foot caught.
He stumbled, tumbling down the slope. Rolling, bouncing, crashing.
His head struck a stone.
"A-ahh..." he gasped, clutching his skull.
Something wet.
He raised his hand and stared.
Blood.
"Ahhhhh…"
The pain intensified, but not from the wound.
Something deeper. Inside his head. Like a storm breaking open.
He screamed, clutching his temples as the memories came flooding in.
"No… no! This isn't real. This can't be!"
The pain seared through his mind. Memories unraveling like threads pulled taut and snapping.
Until, at last, silence.
The pain ebbed.
And he lay still.
"So… it's real," he mumbled.
Then suddenly, he laughed.
A broken, bitter laugh that echoed through the trees.
"Hahaha… these memories… my memories…"
His voice cracked.
"Is this fate? In my last life, I was an orphan. And now, in this life, even my parents—no, the people who raised me—don't want me. Not even after ten years."
His fists trembled. His nails dug into his palms.
"It hurts," he whispered. "I want to cry. To scream."
His lips quivered. But then he stopped himself.
"...But no. Not now. Not here."
Drawing in a shaky breath, he slowly pushed himself up. Blood still ran down the side of his face, but his legs held firm.
He turned his gaze uphill toward the peak.
Each step forward felt heavier, but his heart beat lighter.
"Who would've guessed..." he muttered, a strange grin creeping onto his face. "I'd be reincarnated as his son."
Memories flickered—names, panels, faces from the comics of his past life.
Logan. Wolverine. The clawed mutant with a healing factor and a haunted past.
And now… his father.
The truth settled in his chest like a quiet storm.
Logan. The Wolverine. The animal. The legend.
And him?
His name, Akihiro, was given to him by his adoptive father.
But in the comics he used to read in his past life, the world knew him by another name.
Daken.
A cold wind blew across the mountain path, but he didn't flinch.
"If I remember right..." he muttered, eyes narrowing, "it was Romulus who placed me with them."
A shadow passed through his mind. The name alone brought a sour taste to his mouth. Romulus. The manipulator. The ancient hand behind countless tragedies in Wolverine's life.
A deep frown creased his face.
"That bastard's been observing me since I was a child..." he muttered, his fingers curling into fists. "So that's why. That's why I can't stay still. He'll come after me soon."
The urge to scream returned, but he held it down.
In the comics, Daken was trained by Romulus. Molded into a living weapon. Twisted, broken, turned into a predator with no leash and no past.
But that's not what he wanted.
Not anymore.
He wasn't interested in Romulus. Not his plans. Not his manipulations.
That Daken—the one he remembered—had killed his adoptive mother, murdered his own brother, and drove his father, Wolverine, to suicide.
And Romulus?
He only appeared after all of that. After there was nothing left to save.
But here…
In this life…
They were still alive.
And he had walked away.
"They don't want me," he whispered to himself, eyes fixed on the horizon. "That's fine."
"I've left them behind. And I won't kill them. They let me live for ten years. That counts for something."
"I'll help them someday… if they truly need me. If I'm able. But beyond that..."
His voice grew quieter.
"...There's nothing between us."
The wind rustled the trees gently, carrying away the last of his words.
But his mind didn't slow down. It was racing—thoughts tumbling over one another like dominoes. Lives, regrets, memories both real and borrowed. His old world. This one. The faces he had left behind. The names he could no longer say without bitterness.
And then—
He paused mid-step.
His eyes widened slightly.
"...Oh, right."
He smacked his forehead lightly, a dry chuckle escaping his lips.
"Before I forget—System, are you there?"
For a brief moment, nothing happened.
Just the sound of rustling leaves, a bird call in the distance, and the soft buzz of cicadas hiding in the brush.
Then—
DING!
[Initializing…]
He froze.
Oh.
Oh, hell yes.
A floating HUD? Step one of every good isekai protagonist's journey? Check.
Now let's see what kind of nonsense I'm working with.
************
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