Kaito Tsukimi slouched in his seat near the back of the classroom, his notebook open but largely ignored. The faint scratch of a pen on paper was the only sound he made as numbers and shapes swirled in his mind. Around him, the chatter of classmates buzzed, a dull hum he paid little attention to.
"Hey, Kaito," someone whispered, tapping his shoulder. He turned to see a boy grinning at him. "You're always off in your own world, huh?"
"Yeah… I guess I am," Kaito replied, offering a faint smile before his gaze drifted back to the window. The sun was climbing slowly over Southfield High, casting long shadows across the lawn. The warmth of the day felt ordinary, safe even, but a subtle tension lingered in the air that Kaito couldn't explain.
He noticed small oddities around him: a flicker in the classroom light, the faint vibration of the floor beneath his desk. His analytical mind registered them as anomalies, but he pushed the thoughts aside. Probably nothing…
The teacher droned on about an upcoming assignment, words flowing into his ears but not sinking in. Kaito's thoughts wandered to numbers, probabilities, and patterns, analyzing the trivial interactions of students with a detached curiosity. A girl near the front whispered to a friend, giggling, and he calculated, almost subconsciously, the likelihood of her getting caught by the teacher.
Then the ground shuddered beneath him. A low rumble, almost imperceptible at first, grew into a violent roar that rattled the windows and shook the floor. Screams erupted, blending with the cracking of glass and the roar of fire. Kaito's notebook flew from his desk as he leapt upright, eyes wide.
Smoke and heat filled the air, twisting around the hallways where students had once been. A wall of fire erupted outside the classroom windows, and Kaito's heart nearly stopped.
"What… what is happening?!" he shouted, his voice breaking.
Before he could react further, a figure appeared beside him, almost impossibly fast. An old man, familiar yet unexpected, grabbed Kaito's arm. "Kaito! We don't have time! Come with me!"
The air warped suddenly. Kaito felt himself being pulled, stretched, and compressed all at once. A burning sensation swept over him, and then, abruptly, everything snapped back into place. He was no longer in the school hall. The world around him was strange, yet quiet. He turned to look behind him.
Southfield High—his school—was gone. In its place, a towering inferno of smoke and debris spiraled into the sky. The screams of friends and classmates had been replaced by the deafening roar of destruction. Kaito's knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, his chest heaving.
Tears streamed down his face as he pressed his hands to his eyes. "No… no… this isn't real. It can't be… everyone… gone…"
Hayato knelt beside him, his hand firm on Kaito's shoulder. "I know it's hard, but you have to listen carefully," he said, his voice calm but urgent. "The Directorate will detect the residual energy from your teleport. They'll come for you if you stay here."
Kaito froze, confusion mixing with grief. "Residual… energy? What are you talking about?"
"Spatial fluctuations," Hayato explained. "Every time you teleported, you left traces behind. Advanced awakeners and the Directorate can detect them. That's how they'll know someone survived. That's why you're alive now—but you are a target. You must leave this area immediately."
His mind raced. I'm being hunted… even now…? The fear clawed at his chest, suffocating and sharp. "Why… why me? Why my school? Why everyone?"
"They were threats," Hayato said softly. "Your friends… your parents… they completed a mission with a 95% death rate. The Directorate considered them too dangerous. And now… you are next if you stay. You survived for a reason. You must grow, learn, and survive."
Kaito's body trembled uncontrollably. The smoke and heat from the ruins behind him burned his eyes, yet even that didn't compare to the fire within his chest—the burning grief and helplessness that threatened to consume him. He wanted to scream, to cry, to fall apart completely. And he did, letting raw, unchecked emotion spill over.
Hayato's grip on his shoulder remained steady, a silent anchor amidst the chaos. "It's okay to be afraid," he said gently. "But right now… we move. You need to survive. You need to understand what you're capable of. And someday, you'll decide how to respond to this."
Kaito looked at him, tears still streaming, and whispered, "I… I don't know if I can… if I'm strong enough…"
"You are," Hayato replied. "Not because you're strong now, but because you will be. You survived this. That alone makes you extraordinary."
The field around them stretched into quiet safety, yet faint ripples in the air—subtle distortions left by Kaito's teleportation—caught his eye. Tiny flickers, almost invisible, dancing across the grass and trees. He didn't understand them yet, but Hayato did.
"You're different," he said. "Stronger than you realize. But for now… rest. You'll need every ounce of your strength. The world you're stepping into… it will test everything about you."
Miles away, hidden among the shadows of the ruined school site, three figures emerged. They moved with precision and intent, eyes fixed on the residual fluctuations in the air.
"This energy… residual spatial fluctuations," one murmured. "Impossible. Someone survived."
"Track him," another ordered. "Do not let him escape again."
Kaito remained unaware. Every heartbeat, every breath, had left a trail. The world had changed, danger was real, and his journey had only just begun.
He sank to the ground once more, exhausted, broken—but within him, a faint spark flickered. A spark that would one day ignite into power, strategy, and resolve. A spark that could never be extinguished by fear or grief alone.
And in that quiet, trembling moment, Kaito Tsukimi's path was set—one of survival, awakening, and the long, perilous climb toward strength and revenge.