.
When I opened my eyes, a cold breeze brushed against my skin.
It wasn't the gentle kind that brings comfort—this one carried a heavy, distorted noise with it. Thousands of voices seemed to be whispering at once, clashing with the high-pitched laughter of strangers and the low, rhythmic hum of the jet engine vibrating through my very marrow. I slowly panned my gaze around the cabin. Rows upon rows of seats. Strangers everywhere, trapped in their own little worlds. Some leaned toward each other in hushed conversation, while others stared blankly into the void of the aisle.
I realized I was sitting upright, my muscles tensed as if expecting a blow.
"Sir, please take your seat and fasten your seatbelt," the receptionist's voice cut through my trance. I nodded mechanically and sank back into my chair. A window seat—my only portal to the outside world.
Outside, clouds drifted lazily like ghosts in an endless white sea. But inside, the atmosphere felt jagged, sharp, and fundamentally wrong. The wind howling against the pressurized glass sounded less like weather and more like a warning, a frantic whisper trying to tell me a secret I wasn't ready to hear. I glanced at the reflection in the window.
Blue eyes. Blue hair. A face so hauntingly beautiful and unfamiliar that it felt like I was looking at a stranger wearing my skin. The air from the vents brushed my hair gently, almost affectionately, as if the very atmosphere recognized who I truly was. My name is Ayaan Izanami. I was flying to India for my sister's birthday, but the chaotic energy of the crowd was drilling into my skull, making my mind throb with an unspoken dread.
"Sir, would you like something to drink?" the receptionist asked again, her smile not reaching her eyes.
"Cold drink," I replied, my voice sounding like gravel. She handed it to me—it was ice-cold. As the liquid slid down my throat, a shiver raced through my nervous system, momentarily numbing the noise in my head. I looked ahead, and that's when I saw them. A man with jet-black hair and a girl with hair the color of fading cherry blossoms. They felt out of place, like anomalies in a simulation.
Then, the world broke.
A man ran past the aisle, clutching a juice carton like it was a lifeline. He tripped, his body jolting as he hit the floor right beside me. In that split second, my vision exploded into a vivid, agonizing red. My head felt like it was being split open by a hot iron. It wasn't just a headache; it was a premonition—a "Breaking News" flash of my own slaughter.
Instinctively, I reached out to help him. My hand wrapped around his. He was warm. Too warm.
BANG.
A bullet tore through his skull before I could even blink. Hot blood and bone fragments sprayed across my face, stinging my skin. My vision went white. My lungs forgot how to breathe. I stared at the crimson mess on my hands, unable to scream, my vocal cords paralyzed by the sheer impossibility of the moment.
BANG. BANG.
The two people I had noticed—the black-haired man and the pink-haired girl—their heads erupted into red mist one after the other. The cabin transformed into a slaughterhouse. I collapsed back into my seat, my legs shaking with a violence I couldn't control. Every heartbeat was a drum echoing the word: Death. Death. Death.
Four men emerged, their faces hidden behind cold, expressionless masks. Terrorists. One of them stalked toward me, the barrel of his gun smoking. He pressed the cold metal against my forehead.
"Can you hear me, kid?" he hissed, his eyes devoid of humanity. "Sit properly. Do you have a death wish?"
I couldn't answer. I could only watch as they dragged the receptionist from the cockpit and threw her lifeless body aside like a broken doll. My mind went numb. The screams around me felt distant, as if I were already sinking beneath the surface of a dark lake. I watched, heartless and hollow, as another gun was pressed against a girl's temple.
BANG.
She fell. Another life extinguished like a candle in a gale. Then, chaos turned inward. A shot rang out from within the group of terrorists. One fell, then another. They were killing each other. A conspiracy within a massacre. Amidst the madness, a gun was finally pointed at my chest.
Strangely, the terror vanished. It was replaced by a crushing, soul-deep exhaustion. A voice, cold and ancient, echoed in the silent chambers of my mind: Die. Just let go. It's time.
The trigger was pulled.
BANG.
I felt the impact, but no pain. My body slumped, and the world dissolved into a flooded crimson haze before fading into total darkness.
Cold.
That was the rebirth. I opened my eyes to find myself submerged in the crushing depths of the ocean. Above me, the skeletal remains of the airplane were sinking in a halo of fire and bubbles. Below me lay an endless, suffocating abyss. I was drifting downward, weightless and breathless.
Schools of fish swam through me—not around me, but through my chest—as if I were a phantom, a mere memory of a man. I felt no fear of drowning, only the silence of the deep. Then, the water began to pulse.
A shimmering light, woven from threads of gold and sapphire, descended toward me. The light solidified, taking the form of a Being that defied logic. A Sea Princess. Her blue hair flowed like underwater currents, and her eyes held the depth of the entire ocean. A regal crown rested on her head, and the sunlight breaking through the surface behind her made her look like a goddess from a forgotten era.
She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. A dream in a nightmare.
I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I simply watched her as I continued my descent into the dark. Within the silence of my soul, I whispered one final word: Goodbye.
But she didn't let me go. She reached out, her arms wrapping around me in a cold yet strangely comforting embrace. She leaned in, her lips inches from my ear, and her voice—the first clear sound I had heard since the world turned red—whispered:
"Are you alright?"
The words vibrated through my spirit, and then, the world went silent.
[Chapter 1 End]