The evening air in Hishinawa Village always carried a gentle calm, the kind that made even the wind sound like a whisper. Fireflies drifted lazily above the rice fields, and the distant shrine bell chimed softly whenever the breeze nudged it. The village felt safe—safe enough that children walked home late, farmers lingered at the riverbanks, and elders sat outside telling stories of old days.
But on this particular night, the peace didn't last.
A scream tore through the quiet like a blade through silk. It came from the forest—short, sharp, desperate. Somewhere among the tightly packed trees, a small flashlight beam jolted through the darkness, shaking violently in the trembling hand of a boy running for his life. His breaths were shallow and fast, his steps uneven, as though fear itself was dragging him down.
"H-help… someone…" he cried, voice cracking.
The forest swallowed his words.
The boy slipped, hit the ground hard, and his flashlight rolled away, its beam cutting across the tree roots like a dying spark. Before he could scramble back to his feet, a low mechanical hum resonated through the trees—cold, unnatural, threatening. He gasped, eyes widening.
Then the forest fell silent.
Far away from this terror, Kuroto City burst into another busy morning. Traffic horns blared. Shops opened. Students rushed to school, hips swinging, shoes slapping against pavement. In the middle of this controlled chaos, Riku Takahara sprinted down the street with half a slice of bread in his mouth and his backpack flapping behind him.
He looked like an ordinary teenager running late—except for the way he moved. Even when he weaved through pedestrians or hopped over a puddle, his steps were precise, almost instinctive. His body reacted faster than he seemed to think.
He smirked to himself.
"I swear, Haru's going to tease me again if I'm late for morning calls this weekend."
As if on cue, his phone buzzed.
Riku didn't slow down, simply pulled it out mid-run. One glance at the screen froze him where he stood.
CALL FROM: AUNT MAYA – URGENT
A strange heaviness settled in his chest. He answered.
"Aunt Maya? What's wrong?"
Her voice was trembling, broken—nothing like her usual firm, warm tone.
"R-Riku… it's Haru. He didn't come home last night."
Riku's blood ran cold. The noise of the city blurred. Cars kept moving around him, people brushed past him, but he heard nothing—only her voice shaking on the other end.
"We thought he was with friends," she continued. "But… we found his shoes at the forest edge. Just sitting there."
Riku didn't wait for more.
His backpack swung over his shoulder, and he was already running.
The train ride from the city to Hishinawa felt like an eternity. Riku sat by the window, knuckles white from how tight he held his phone. The further the train traveled, the more the city changed into countryside—skyscrapers melting into wide fields, loud roads turning into quiet dirt paths.
Piece by piece, the truth fell into place.
The police said maybe Haru wandered off. Maybe he went to play with friends. Maybe it was a simple misunderstanding.
But Riku knew his brother. Haru never wandered off. He was responsible, cautious, and never did anything without telling someone.
"Haru wouldn't disappear," Riku muttered. His jaw clenched. "Someone took him."
Memories flooded him—Haru cheering for him at school races, the days they spent catching fish by the river, the times Haru told him proudly, "You're my hero, big bro."
Riku pressed his forehead against the window.
"Just hold on," he whispered. "I'm coming."
Hishinawa Village greeted him with stillness, but not the peaceful kind—this was the heavy silence of fear. Posters with Haru's picture were plastered on walls and notice boards. Villagers whispered behind Riku's back, their eyes filled with pity.
He walked straight home. Aunt Maya hugged him tightly, her tears soaking into his shoulder. Haru's favorite meal sat untouched on the table, now cold. His room was perfectly arranged—the boy was neat, consistent.
But Riku noticed something the police had missed.
The bedroom window was slightly open, its curtains catching the wind gently. On the floor, a smear of forest mud. And beside the desk, a small torn piece of Haru's jacket.
His breath hitched.
He grabbed a flashlight.
He didn't wait for permission.
He didn't tell anyone where he was going.
He went straight to the forest.
People tried to stop him.
"Riku, don't go in there at night!"
"It's dangerous!"
"There have been strange men, strange noises…"
Riku ignored them all.
At the forest's edge, he saw the place where they found Haru's shoes. The ground had deep footprints—some small, some large. Broken branches. Something heavy had been dragged into the trees.
He raised his flashlight and spotted something carved into the bark of a nearby tree.
A strange symbol: a circle with a jagged crack running through it.
It looked burned into the wood, as if from something scorchingly hot.
Riku touched it.
His skin tingled.
Before he could examine it further, a sudden crack echoed behind him—like someone stepping on a branch.
He spun around.
A masked figure stepped out from between the trees. The mask was white, with a single vertical crack down the center. Two more masked figures emerged, forming a triangle around him.
"You shouldn't be here," one said in a calm, chilling voice.
Riku stumbled back.
"Who are you? What did you do to my brother?!"
No answer.
One lunged forward with startling speed. Riku dodged the first hit, but the second masked man struck him hard in the ribs. He hit the ground, gasping.
Two of them grabbed him by the arms, dragging him deeper into the woods.
"Potential subject," one said. "Bring him in."
Riku struggled violently. Their grip tightened.
Suddenly—headlights flashed through the trees. A truck was approaching from the distance. The masked men loosened their hold, debating their next move.
That split second was enough.
Riku pulled free and ran—running like he had never run in his life. He tore through bushes, jumped over roots, stumbled and kept going. Behind him, he heard their footsteps chasing.
He didn't look back.
He slipped down a wet slope, rolled violently, and crashed into a shallow cave entrance.
The masked men stood at the top of the slope, watching.
"He'll die in there," one said.
"He's not worth the risk."
They turned and left.
Riku lay trembling, covered in mud, breathing heavily.
When he finally pushed himself up, he saw it.
A metallic crate.
A broken stretcher.
Straps nailed to a steel bedframe.
It wasn't a cave.
It was a hidden, abandoned lab.
"Haru… are you here?" he whispered.
He stumbled deeper inside, flashlight flickering over chilling details—syringes scattered across the floor, shattered glass, dried blood, and scratched walls. He found Haru's broken wristband lying by a corner, smeared with mud and tears.
Riku fell to his knees.
Before he could even collect himself, a growl echoed from the darkness.
Something moved.
Not walking—crawling.
A pale, twisted figure dragged itself from the shadows, veins dark and pulsing, eyes unfocused and animalistic. A failed experiment. A human broken beyond repair.
Riku stumbled backward, heart racing.
The creature lunged.
It grabbed his leg, jaw stretching unnaturally, ready to bite—
But suddenly, something inside Riku snapped.
A pulse of black, shadow-like energy burst from his body in a shockwave. The creature flew back, smashing against the wall.
Riku stared at his trembling hands.
A faint dark line glowed along his wrist for a few seconds and then vanished.
"What… what was that…?"
The ground began trembling. Sirens inside the deeper tunnels glitched awake. The unstable lab started to collapse.
Riku sprinted out just as the cave crumbled behind him.
He fell face-first onto the forest grass, gasping for air. The first light of dawn touched the treetops.
When he lifted his head, he saw them.
Three masked figures standing at the forest's edge, silently watching him. He blinked—and they vanished like shadows dissolving in the sun.
Riku dragged himself home. Aunt Maya screamed when she saw his dirty clothes, bruises, and shaking hands.
But Riku wasn't focused on any of that.
He looked up, eyes darkened with something new—resolve.
"I found where they took Haru," he said quietly.
His voice trembled.
Not with fear—
But with fury.
"And I'm not stopping," he continued, "until I bring him home."
The camera of this "episode" would zoom into his eyes—determined, scared, awake.
The hunt had begun.