Hayato Kuroda woke at dusk, when the light itself had not stirred. The house was quiet- that heavy silence that deafens you, making you feel as if you can't breathe. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, the day ahead whirring through his head, but there was something else-something he could not shake-a dark spot at the edge of his mind. He assured himself it was just nerves for the upcoming Oni-Born ritual and went to get out of bed. That's when he heard a dark rasping voice in his head.
'Three days left.'
Hayato froze.
The voice hadn't come from outside the room.It hadn't come from the corridor.It hadn't even come from behind him.
It had echoed directly inside his skull.
Frantically he assured himself it must have been nothing, but deep down he could not come to believe himself.
Then He slid the door open and stepped into the cold corridor. The wooden floor chilled the soles of his feet, unusual for an Oni-born. Although they rarely get ill, it does occasionally happen, so he assured himself that must be it.
In the kitchen, he found some food his mother had prepared last night and ate it in a defeated silence.
Hayato pushed the last bite of rice into his mouth, his hands trembling slightly. Even now, in the comforting rhythm of his small home, the shadow of the ritual pressed on him. He could hear the wind brushing lightly against the shutters, usually comforting, now annoying.
He remembered the stories his father had told him long ago on a cold winter's night, a few years before he died. Thousands of years ago, a young Oni-the supreme demon race that lived in a separate dimension to humans-fell in love with a young human girl and had a child. Their children became known as Oni-born. These hybrids looked like normal humans, albeit with heightened strength, but were born with an innate Oni which awakens on their sixteenth birthday in the Oni-Born ritual. Each emerged with unique abilities; some awoke with control over elements, while some with strength beyond what was thought humanly possible, but it came with a cost. The Oni is not paired to you in any way in the beginning; it actively fights for control.
Hayato stood and stepped outside. The village lay quiet, nestled between jagged cliffs and dense woods. Smoke curled lazily from the chimneys of his neighbors, all preparing for the same fate he was about to face. He could see other teenagers moving through the streets, practicing their control drills with small Oni manifestations-fists of shadow or sparks of elemental energy that appeared before their full power. Hayato, however, had felt nothing so far, only a persistent, gnawing unease that clung to him like a shadow, reminding him that the ritual was coming and that he had no idea what awaited him.
Hayato stood and began to walk, but his steps faltered almost immediately. A strange tension gripped his chest - the kind that, as much as he told himself otherwise, had nothing to do with the ritual. He had no idea what his Oni would be like - how it would manifest, how it would fight. These questions swirled through his mind as he walked down the road to the training grounds. It dawned on him that every Oni-born had a different path - some were destined to rule, while others remained unnoticed their entire lives - and it was all decided at birth.
He had no idea what his Oni would be like - how it would manifest, how it would think, or how it would fight. Every Oni-born had a different path, and the unpredictability weighed on him. He had never been the kind of boy to wish for raw, overwhelming power; the stories of teens who lost themselves to their Oni haunted him more than any tales of glory. What he wanted - what he desperately wished for - was control. Control, so that no matter how violent or cunning, his Oni could never erase the boy he was beneath it. The thought of being swallowed by a force beyond his own comprehension made his hands tighten into fists. The weight of expectation, both from his family and from the unseen eyes of the Oni that lay dormant within him, pressed down with an almost physical force. Every instinct screamed that today, and the days to come, would demand more of him than he had ever imagined - more than just strength, more than courage, but a steadiness of mind he wasn't sure he had cultivated yet.
Eventually he arrived at the training grounds, the sound of his sandals clicking against the cobblestones echoing in the morning chill. The village elders would be there soon. The stage was set. In three days, everything would change.
Even now, Hayato felt the faint tug of something within him, something ancient and patient, waiting.