At a small, weathered roadside eatery, the owner sat in silence upon a worn wooden stool, his gaze fixed on the desolate road ahead. The shop was empty; not a single soul was in sight.
Suddenly, a young boy wandered past. The owner followed him with a lingering look before turning back to the empty street, resuming his patient vigil for a customer.
Minutes later, the boy passed by again. He was Shinji.
With nowhere to go, he found himself pacing the area in aimless loops. Once, twice, then a third, fourth, and fifth time… that small, frail silhouette appeared before the owner like clockwork. Finally, driven by curiosity, the man stood up and stepped outside, intent on seeing who was haunting his storefront.
The sixth time.
The owner ducked behind a corner, waiting. As Shinji approached, the man suddenly lunged out.
Shinji recoiled in terror, his face draining of color as he bowed frantically. "I… I'm so sorry, sir! I didn't mean to cause any trouble!"
But the man wasn't angry. His voice was low and gentle as he studied the boy. "Wandering around forever like that… Don't you have a home to go to?"
Shinji hesitated, then gave a small, barely perceptible nod.
"I don't..."
The owner fell silent for a moment. He turned back toward the shop and called out over his shoulder,
"You've been walking for too long; you must be hungry. Come on, get in here and eat something."
Shinji waved his hands dismissively, his voice panicked.
"Oh! No, thank you, I'm not hungry at all!"
Right then, his stomach betrayed him with a loud, cavernous growl. Shinji's face turned red, and he hung his head in shame.
The owner let out a short laugh. Without another word, he pulled Shinji inside and sat him down. Before long, he set a plate of sizzling, aromatic grilled meat before the boy, the steam still rising in thick curls.
Shinji tried to resist, but the scent was overwhelming. He took a tentative bite.
Flavor exploded across his palate. Within minutes, the entire plate was licked clean.
The owner leaned his chin on his hand, watching him.
"Well? How was it?"
Shinji nodded vigorously.
"It was amazing!"
The man laughed heartily, but then his expression shifted as he looked closer at Shinji's face.
"Hey, kid… why have you kept your eyes shut this whole time?"
Indeed, Shinji's eyes were tightly closed and had been since the moment they met—yet he moved as if he could see perfectly. The owner reached out, intending to peel an eyelid back to check, but Shinji quickly caught his hand.
"That's strange,"
the man muttered, surprised.
"How do you find your way around with your eyes shut?"
He held up two fingers in front of the boy's face.
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
Shinji answered instantly, without a hint of hesitation.
"I don't really know how, but I can sense everything around me clearly. You're holding up two fingers, aren't you?"
The owner's eyes widened.
"Oho… truly? That's quite a trick." He scrutinized the boy further.
"So, kid, what's your name?"
"I'm Shinji."
"Well, hi Shinji. I'm Vuri, the owner of this establishment."
Vuri was an elderly man wearing a frayed chef's hat, distinguished by two long tufts of green beard tied neatly to either side of his chin.
"So, Shinji," Vuri continued, "where do you come from?"
Shinji faltered.
"To be honest… I don't remember anything about myself."
"Eh? You're senile already? I'm an old man and my memory is better than yours!"
Vuri teased.
Shinji looked down at the empty plate, his voice small.
"Um… Mr. Vuri… is it rude of me to eat all this when I can't pay?"
Vuri arched an eyebrow.
"Huh? Who said this was free?" He gave a mischievous grin.
"You're staying here as my handyman. Consider it payment for the meal."
And so, Shinji remained at Vuri's eatery. Day after day, he performed every task imaginable: waiting tables, sweeping floors, washing dishes, and eventually assisting in the kitchen. The work was grueling, but Shinji never uttered a single complaint.
Time blurred together. On the morning of the third day, as the two sat down to rest, Vuri turned to him.
"Hey kid, you mentioned you lost your memory, right? Do you even know what kind of world we're living in right now?"
Shinji shook his head.
"No, sir."
Vuri let out a dry chuckle, his tone hovering between a joke and a warning.
"Well, I'll tell you, though you might just wet your pants. Want to hear it?"
Shinji hesitated, then nodded.
"Yes!"
Vuri stood up and walked to the grill. He picked up a fresh cut of meat, his hands moving with practiced precision as his voice dropped an octave.
"Twenty years ago, the Demon King Kronos risen. They say his seal was shattered, and in a mere two months, he laid waste to nearly the entire continent."
At the mention of the name Kronos, Shinji felt a sharp pang in his chest. A flicker of familiarity brushed against his mind, but the void of his memory remained empty.
"He possessed a terrifying power,"
Vuri continued.
"But for reasons no one understands, he suddenly vanished. Odin—who fought him directly—built this place deep underground so we could hide. Believe me, kid, the surface is no place for the living anymore."
Vuri laid the meat on the grates, the fat hissing and spitting.
"Under Kronos were high-ranking demons. Each one of them possessed strength equal to a Grand Commander."
Shinji swallowed hard.
"A Grand Commander… like Ares?"