The truth wasn't a movie for me. It was a cruel guessing game. I only saw the world's real language in two keywords that floated above people's heads, a brutal warning about their intentions. People lied with their mouths, but the auras surrounding them spoke the truth of their words.
My life, before the catastrophe, was peaceful. My father, Kaito, was my sun: his aura, warm yellow. My mother, Satsuki, was my calm: a tender pink. I had everything I could wish for: [AFFECTION, SAFETY].
One spring night, my life changed.
We were in the house. Dad was laughing out loud at a show, his aura was bright, he was having fun. Meanwhile, Mom was slicing apples for dessert. Tap, tap, tap.
I was distracted from the cartoons because I was looking at her. Her pink aura was normal, but a thread of purple mist connected directly to her phone, which she had left on the table. My ability focused on that dirty mist, and my keywords lit up on it.
[SECRET, LOVER]
I didn't know the real meaning of "Lover," only that it was dangerous and that it broke the peace of the house. Mom turned toward the sink for a second.
Out of curiosity, I stretched out my hand. I grabbed the phone. Just at that moment, the cell phone vibrated violently and emitted an incoming call sound.
"Hello, love. What time should we meet? When are you going to leave your dumb husband?"
The voice of an unknown man, hoarse and confident, filled the silence of the kitchen.
My mother froze, her back to me. My father rose from his seat with a movement so abrupt that he knocked over his cup. The yellow color that was my world faded to an ash gray of horror. Time had broken.
Mom turned slowly, her pale face flaring up into a violent red of fury. The purple aura connecting her cell phone to me swelled.
—Haru! Put that phone down right now! —she screamed.
I backed away, frightened by the scream, but my mouth opened on its own, propelled by the keywords burning in my vision.
—Mom... is that man your Lover? He said my dad is Dumb. Why?
My father collapsed against the wall. The aura of [BETRAYAL, PAIN] pierced his chest.
—Lover, Satsuki?! Are you using the child to cover for you?! Look me in the eyes! —Dad yelled, his voice broken by despair.
Mom didn't look at him. She looked at me. The fury concentrated, and her aura shouted the new keywords at me: [HATE, MONSTER].
—You! Look at the life you've given me! A failure with no ambition who gives me nothing! I hate you for being so incompetent, Kaito! And I hate this strange child, this child is a monster! It's your fault my life is miserable!
Dad's aura shattered. [AGONY, HUMILIATION]. He looked destroyed, without a single living color.
Mom ran toward the door. She grabbed her purse, with an aura of [RESIGNATION, VENGEANCE].
—It's over, Kaito! I'm calling my lawyer. I'm going to leave you destitute! And you'll keep that monster of a son you have and raised! You won't see a single cent from me!
And she left. The slam of the door was thunder.
My father stood there, in the destroyed kitchen, without moving. His aura was the image of [ABSOLUTE DESPAIR].
He looked at me, but he didn't see me. He only saw the reflection of his failure. He ran to the fridge, took out beers and opened them with a violent hiss that sounded like a gas leak to me. He drank, one after another, the [TEMPORARY RELIEF] arriving to drown the pain.
I, Haru, couldn't move. I fell to my knees on the cold kitchen floor. I was the culprit. I had set off the bomb. I had broken my father. My body shook, and I screamed. I cried until my throat burned, until my vision was filled with tears and I couldn't see anything.
The only aura left was mine: [INCURABLE GUILT, ISOLATION].
From that day on, my life became a shadow. Silence was my only rule. If you don't look, if you don't talk, you can't break. If you don't participate, you can't be the monster.
The scream of my mother was still an echo in the empty house. The smell of beer and my father's despair became the air I breathed. Ten years have passed since that night in the kitchen.
At seven years old, my life had broken. I became invisible.
However, there was one single person in this world who refused to treat me like the strange child; she had been there by my side since the beginning.
Yui Tanaka.
We met when we were four years old. We were neighbors, and she was the only one who observed me, without judging, as the smiling child transformed into the distant, silent shadow at seven years old. Her loyalty was incomprehensible; she never left.
For ten years, she was the only one who looked at me, talked to me, and ignored my armor.
Three and a half years ago, when we both turned fourteen, my cynicism was already an unbreakable wall. She cornered me next to my house's door, her big eyes fixed on me. She looked serious, determined.
—Haru, I love you. I don't see you any other way than this. I know you've been rejecting me, but... would you go out with me? —Her voice was soft, but her declaration was a stab of sincerity.
Sincerity was the only thing my system couldn't process without danger. My ability focused on her aura, and I saw what I didn't want to believe: [LOVE, LOYALTY].
But my mind screamed: It's a lie! It's a trap! How could anyone love a monster? My brain distorted the light.
—Leave me alone, Yui. Your declaration disgusts me —I said, using the most hurtful words I could find to force her to leave.
She stood motionless, and her aura broke for a second into [PAIN] before disappearing. The next day, she left for Paris to study modeling. She escaped my cynicism. I returned to my isolation. I was safe.
Today, my routine is unbreakable. I am seventeen years old, a sophomore in high school, skinny, in baggy clothes. I look at myself in the mirror and my own aura confirms it: [CYNICISM, EVASION]. I am nobody. And in this world of lies, that means being invincible.
The bell rings. The routine should continue. Professor Nakamura walks in, his aura screaming [ANNOYANCE, COFFEE].
But then, the door opens, and with it, a completely new aura, a mystery.
A girl walks in: tall, blonde, with incredible blue eyes. It was Liesel Schneider. My ability, infallible for ten years, completely locks up when focusing on her. It's white noise. Interference. And from that static, only two keywords, clear and foreign, manage to filter into my vision.
[NEIN, WUNDERBAR]
I sat up straighter. What the hell was that? The monster in the mirror felt a tremor. My map of intentions, my only safety, was being challenged by a transfer student who, apparently, only spoke in German code.