[July 26, 2005 — 7:09 A.M. | Seno Apartment, 19th Ward]
The morning light seeped weakly through the curtains, painting the room in dull gray. The apartment smelled faintly of boiled rice left untouched, the silence thick enough to choke.
Hayato sat on the futon, his knees pulled tight to his chest. His mask lay shattered in pieces on the floor. His clothes were stiff with dried blood, and his fingers wouldn't stop trembling no matter how hard he pressed them together.
His mother knelt in front of him. She looked tired, pale, but her eyes were sharp — demanding answers he didn't want to give.
"Hayato." Her voice was quiet but firm. "Tell me what happened."
He shook his head, gaze fixed on the floor. His throat burned, words caught somewhere deep inside.
Her hands gripped his shoulders, stronger than her frame suggested. "Don't hide. I need to know."
His chest tightened. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the memories tore through anyway: the floodlights, the roar of gunfire, the clash of steel against crimson plates. His father's voice. His father's blood.
"D-Doves," he whispered, his voice breaking. "They came in numbers. More than I'd ever seen. He fought them. He fought them all."
Her breath trembled, but she didn't interrupt.
Hayato's hands dug into his knees. "There was one Dove… the one with the jagged blade. Stronger than the rest. Tou-san tried, but—" His words faltered. The image of that blade sinking deep replayed behind his eyes. "I saw him fall."
The last word came out broken, and then the sobs followed, raw and shuddering. He buried his face in his hands. "He told me to run. He made me. And I… I left him there."
His mother pulled him into her arms, holding him against her chest as her own tears slipped free. She whispered into his hair, voice shaking.
"You did what he wanted. You lived. That's all that matters now."
But the words, soft as they were, couldn't wash away the truth pressing on Hayato's chest: his father's voice telling him he was weak, that he was only making things worse. That the wall had fallen, and nothing was left to shield them.
[Seno Apartment — Evening]
The day dragged on, heavy with silence. Hayato sat by the window, staring at the patrols sweeping the streets below. The white coats of the Doves flashed against the gray alleys, their rifles catching the weak sunlight. His stomach cramped from hunger, but he didn't move. He couldn't.
Behind him, his mother moved like a shadow. She packed in silence — a small bag of clothes, nothing more. Each fold of cloth seemed to weigh a hundred pounds.
Finally, she stopped. She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white. Her lips trembled before she bit them hard.
"We can't stay," she whispered. "The Doves won't leave until they sweep every street. And if they don't find us first…"
Her voice faltered. She looked at Hayato, her eyes wet but burning.
"…the clan will."
Hayato froze. The word cut sharper than steel. "…Them?"
She nodded, jaw clenched. "Yes. I swore I would never return to them, but—" Her hands shook, then tightened into fists. "They'll take you, Hayato. You carry their blood, whether I want it or not. And after what happened last night… they won't wait much longer."
Hayato's stomach twisted. He remembered the midwife's cold voice, the pale-eyed man's stare, the words they left hanging in the air: blood doesn't forget.
His mother came closer, kneeling in front of him. Her voice cracked. "I hate them. I hate everything about them. But they are strong. Strong enough to shield you from the Doves. Strong enough to claim you before anyone else can."
Her hands gripped his. "I would rather burn than go back, but you… you have no choice. If you stay here, you'll die. If we run alone, we'll be hunted down. With them, at least…" She swallowed hard. "…at least you'll live."
The silence between them pressed like stone.
Hayato's fists clenched. His father's voice echoed in his head — you're weak, you're making this worse — but beneath it, another voice whispered: the boy's blood will call to us.
He hated it. Every part of him hated it. But his mother's eyes told him what he already knew: there was no other road left.
"…Then let's go," he whispered.
His mother's breath shuddered out. She rose, shouldered the bag, and looked toward the ward's outer streets.
"Tonight," she said. "We go to the clan."
[Seno Apartment — Midnight]
The apartment was dark, stripped bare of everything but silence. Hayato stood at the doorway, his cracked mask tied loosely to his belt. His mother pulled the bag tight across her shoulders, her hand resting briefly against the doorframe. She didn't look back.
"Stay close," she whispered.
Hayato nodded. His shards twitched faintly under his skin, restless, but he forced them down. They'd draw eyes in the dark.
The door closed behind them with the faintest click.
[19th Ward Streets]
The ward felt different at night. Floodlights still burned in patches, casting wide circles of white across alleys and streets. The sound of boots echoed faintly, squads of Doves sweeping methodically, rifles slung at the ready.
Hayato and his mother moved through the shadows, sticking to the narrowest passages where the lights couldn't reach. Every few steps, they froze — listening. Waiting.
Once, a patrol passed so close Hayato could see the sweat on the man's temple, hear the crackle of his radio.
"…no sign. Orders are to sweep sector nine again. Command wants Black Dragon alive if possible."
Hayato's chest clenched. His mother's hand pressed against his shoulder, grounding him, holding him still. Neither moved until the voices faded, boots carrying them away.
They slipped on, through alleys that smelled of rust and rot, past broken fences and shuttered shops. Each corner felt like it might bloom with floodlight at any moment.
[Back Alley, Near Ward Perimeter]
Hayato's legs burned, but he kept pace. His mother stopped at an old fence, pulling him down low. Across the street, two Doves leaned against a truck, smoking, their rifles hanging loose.
"We wait," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear.
Minutes passed like hours. Hayato's hunger gnawed at him, but he clenched his fists tight until his nails bit into his palms. He thought of his father's voice, sharp and commanding: control it.
Finally, the Doves flicked their cigarettes to the ground and moved on.
Hayato's mother gripped his hand and pulled him through the gap in the fence.
[Ward's Edge, Old Service Road]
The city thinned here. The buildings slouched, half-abandoned, the roads cracked and overgrown. It was quieter — not free of Doves, but easier to slip through.
Hayato's mother pulled him close, her eyes flicking constantly to every shadow. Her hand was tight around his, almost painful.
"Not much farther," she whispered.
Hayato nodded, his chest heavy. Every step away from their apartment felt like leaving his father behind all over again. But he kept moving, his mother's grip the only steady thing left in the world.
And together, silent as ghosts, they left the home they had once built — heading toward the clan waiting in the dark.