The air was sharp with autumn chill, the moon half-hidden by clouds that dragged their bellies across the sky. In the alley behind their building, Hayato stood barefoot on the cracked pavement, sweat rolling down his brow despite the cold.
He was taller now, wiry muscle stretched across thin bones, hair hanging unkempt into his eyes. His shirt was ripped down the back where his kagune had burst free, jagged crystalline wings glowing faintly red in the dark.
"Again," his father ordered, voice steady, arms crossed.
Hayato grit his teeth, forcing his breathing to slow. He slashed the air, his shards carving into the alley wall with a sound like glass tearing steel. Sparks danced across the bricks.
"Too wide," his father barked. "Tighter. Faster."
Hayato hissed, adjusting his stance. He drove the shards forward again — this time sharper, more controlled. One shard sliced through a pipe, hissing steam filling the air.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his father's lips. "Better."
But Hayato's arms shook with strain. He clenched his fists, panting. Every time feels like fire under my skin. But if I stop… if I give in… then they win.
He braced himself, forcing the kagune back into his body. The retraction hurt more than the release — like the shards were scraping bone on their way in. Blood seeped down his back, staining the waistband of his pants.
He staggered, knees buckling.
His father didn't move to help him. "On your feet."
Hayato sucked in a shaky breath and pushed himself upright, chest heaving. His pride wouldn't let him fall in front of him. Not anymore.
[October 4, 2004 — 1:06 A.M.]
Later, inside the dim apartment, his mother cleaned the wounds on his back. She dabbed carefully with a damp cloth, each touch making him flinch.
"You're pushing too hard," she whispered to her husband, who stood at the table sharpening a knife. "He's only ten."
"He won't stay ten forever," his father said flatly. "Better he breaks here, where we can pick him up, than out there where no one will."
His mother's hand trembled, but she didn't argue further. She pressed a kiss to Hayato's damp hair, whispering so only he could hear: "You don't have to be what they want you to be."
Hayato stared at the candle flame flickering on the table. His thoughts burned darker. Then what do I become? If I'm not theirs… if I'm not human… what's left for me?
[October 11, 2004 — 11:48 P.M. | An Abandoned Factory]
They'd chosen the factory because it was quiet, long since stripped bare of machines. The concrete floor was wide and open, perfect for practice. Tonight, however, they weren't alone.
The midwife stood at the far end of the floor, her shawl drawn tight, eyes like chips of glass. Beside her stood another figure from the clan — not the Rinkaku man from before, but a woman this time. Tall, lean, with long black hair and eyes glowing faint scarlet. Her kagune unfurled as soon as she entered: a pair of sleek Ukaku wings, shimmering with crystalline edges like a hawk's feathers.
Hayato froze, his stomach knotting. Another test.
The midwife's voice carried, thin but sharp. "The family wishes to see if the boy has grown. He will spar with her."
His mother's hand clamped down on his shoulder. "No. He's not ready."
The woman smiled faintly, cruelly. "He doesn't need to win. He only needs to bleed."
His father's jaw tightened. He looked at Hayato, eyes hard. "…You can do this."
Hayato's chest pounded. Fear clawed at him, but pride screamed louder. If I run now, I'm nothing. If I stand, even if I lose… at least I'm mine.
He stepped forward, fists clenched. "Fine."
The woman's wings spread wide, catching the moonlight through the broken factory windows. "Good boy. Show me."
Hayato grit his teeth. Fire surged through his veins. The crystalline shards tore free from his back with a hiss of blood and light. His jagged wings unfurled, uneven but sharper than before, glowing faintly like embers in the dark.
His body screamed at him to stop, but his pride forced him forward.
The test had begun.
[October 11, 2004 — 11:59 P.M. | Abandoned Factory, 19th Ward]
The air in the factory was damp with mildew, the walls lined with rusted beams where machines had once stood. Moonlight spilled through shattered windows, cutting pale shapes across the concrete floor.
Hayato stood in the middle, barefoot, fists clenched. His back ached with anticipation, the ache that always came before his kagune tore free. He could feel the eyes on him: his father's, sharp and tense; his mother's, full of fear she tried to hide; the midwife's, cold and expectant.
And hers.
The woman from the clan stood across from him, wings unfurled — two vast crystalline Ukaku appendages that shimmered like blades of ice. They shifted with every breath she took, catching the faint light, each movement precise and deadly.
"Ready, boy?" she asked, her tone smooth, mocking.
Hayato's chest tightened. His pride answered before his fear could. "…Yes."
She smiled faintly. "Then call it."
Hayato grit his teeth. Fire bloomed under his ribs, crawling up his spine. His body arched as the shards ripped through his back with a wet hiss. His kagune burst forth — two jagged, uneven wings of crystal, denser than most Ukaku, their edges gleaming like broken glass. Along his right arm, the shards fused tighter, forming into a crude gauntlet of crimson and black crystal.
The factory echoed with the sound of his breath as he steadied himself. His small frame shook, but his eyes glowed faintly red.
Don't show fear. Not to her. Not to anyone.
The woman tilted her head, studying him. "Interesting. Koukaku density in an Ukaku frame. A messy bloodline… but perhaps useful."
Her wings twitched, and then the air split — a hail of crystalline shards fired toward him with the speed of bullets.
Hayato's body reacted before his mind — his right arm raised, the crude Koukaku plating catching the barrage. The shards ricocheted with sharp cracks, sparks flashing as they scraped across the dense crystal. The impact rattled his bones, forcing him back a step, but he didn't fall.
Heavy… so heavy… it feels like blocking with my whole body.
The woman's smile sharpened. "Not bad."
She blurred forward, Ukaku wings propelling her with a burst of speed. A crystalline blade sliced for his chest. Hayato twisted, bringing his gauntlet-arm up — the strike screeched against his armor, throwing sparks, but he staggered under the force.
Pain shot through his side. He gasped, swinging his jagged wing blindly. The shard-edge grazed her arm, leaving a shallow cut.
Her eyes gleamed. "So you can cut."
Hayato panted, chest heaving. His shards trembled. I can't match her speed. She's faster, sharper. But my kagune… it's thicker. Stronger. I just need one opening.
Another hail of projectiles whistled through the air. This time, Hayato didn't block — he jumped sideways, shards tearing past his shoulder, slicing the concrete wall behind him. His arm burned where one grazed him, but he forced himself forward.
With a cry, he swung his shard-arm wide, the jagged Koukaku plating slamming against her wing. The impact cracked the air like stone against steel. For a moment, she was pushed back.
His heart leapt. I can push her—!
Her other wing struck like a whip, slamming into his ribs. The breath ripped out of him as he flew across the floor, skidding against the concrete. His vision swam, pain screaming through his body.
"Get up," the woman said coldly. "Or don't. Either way, I'll know what you are."
Hayato's hands shook as he pushed himself to his knees. Blood dripped from his mouth. He tasted iron, thick and bitter.
His father's voice rang in his head: On your feet.
His mother's: You don't have to be what they want you to be.
And his own, burning louder than both: I won't let them break me.
He screamed, shards bursting forth brighter, jagged wings flaring uneven but wild. The glow lit the factory walls crimson. He charged, arm raised, shards firing wildly in a desperate spray.
The woman's eyes widened — not in fear, but in interest. She deflected most, but one shard sliced across her cheek, a thin line of blood trailing down.
Hayato slammed his gauntlet-arm into her chest. She skidded back, boots screeching against the concrete, wings flaring to balance her. For the first time, she looked at him not with mockery, but with calculation.
"…Good." She retracted her wings, the glow fading. "Enough."
Hayato collapsed to his knees, kagune retracting with a wet hiss. His small frame shook violently, blood soaking his shirt. He could barely breathe.
The midwife's voice carried through the silence. "The blood runs true."
The woman wiped the blood from her cheek, her expression unreadable. "He's not ready… but he will be."
They turned, leaving without another word.
Hayato's mother rushed to him, pulling him into her arms, whispering his name over and over. His father crouched beside them, jaw tight, eyes burning with pride and fury both.
Hayato's vision blurred, but one thought burned through the pain, clear and sharp:
If this is what they call a test… then one day, I'll test them. And they'll bleed more than I did tonight.