6 0 8

⋯⋯ ┇ ♝ ┇ ⋯⋯

p r o l o g u e

the birth of a hero

⋯⋯ ┇ ♝ ┇ ⋯⋯

The world was on fire, and he could do nothing to stop it.

His chest burned from exhaustion as he tumbled off his bike, scrambling to his feet and looking out at the endless destruction before him. Buildings crumbled like sand castles, metal foundations jutting out like shattered bones. The air around him was thick with smoke, and he pulled up the collar of his black gakuran to keep himself from choking on it. 

His eyes were quick to water, heart thudding in his chest as he was frozen in place. His white-blond hair was blown back by waves of heat, his face pasty as he stared at the warzone that had been his house less than three hours ago.

Flames raged around him, and he heard sirens wailing, his head twitching towards the sound, something like shock blanketing his entire body, leaving a dull ringing in his ears. The sirens were getting further away. Why weren’t they coming closer? Where were the heroes?

A single word broke through the haze, sharp like a blade. Mom. 

His entire body jolted forwards, his mouth splitting open, dry as a desert as he called out. “Mom?! Mom!”

He staggered towards the wreckage of the apartment complex, seeing a flickering sign from a convenience store in the distance. It, too, was crumpled inwards from a massive, unknown impact. Tobi came to a stop in front of a wall that was still somewhat standing, with drab gray wallpaper and a shattered photo frame with a woman and a young boy.

Him. His mother. Their first trip to the beaches of Okinawa. He was holding a cup of red shaved ice, not that it was discernible beneath the fractured glass.

Just below the photo was a massive splatter of blood. Bigger than he was, still fresh and dripping crimson. He stood before it as his heartbeat got louder and louder, his head beginning to pound. 

“M-Mom?” He whimpered, looking down at the rubble in front of him. 

And there it was, amongst all the ashes. A hand, pale and covered with concrete dust and dried blood. Tobi lurched forwards, his legs giving way as he collapsed in front of the pile and began to tear pieces of rock and drywall away.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

The skin of his hands began to split open from his frenzied efforts, breaths harsh and quickening as his fingernails began to rip and bleed freely, sobs tearing through his throat. The hand was limp. It looked like that of a cadaver, like one of the ones his mom had worked on. As he uncovered the forearm, the upper arm and the shoulder, he managed to lift a massive piece of rock off to reveal his mother’s face.

Peaceful, serene, as if she was asleep. He could’ve believed that she was just taking a nap if it wasn’t for the massive splatter of blood across the left side of her face. Her ear was hanging off the side of her head by sinews and flaps of skin, and her other arm, the one that hadn’t been dangling out of the rubble, was slashed up and down with massive, bleeding injuries that lanced across her torso.

Her legs, as Tobi soon found, were fractured and blotched purple and red, the left side of her stomach impaled on a riveted steel pole. Once her entire body was uncovered, Tobi knelt in front of her, calling her name. “Mom. Wake up. Mom!”

He reached out and grabbed the uninjured side of her face, patting it lightly. “Mom, please wake up.” His voice began to quaver as his other arm reached for her unblemished shoulder, shaking it more aggressively. “Mom! Please! It’s me, Tobi! Please wake up!”

Then, he saw it. Her eyelids fluttered, showing golden irises beneath. With a sharp intake of breath, she jolted awake, leaning forward and then shrieking in pain as a broken rib punctured her lung. She immediately laid back down, and Tobi caught her head with his hands, sobbing openly.

“Mom,” he whispered again, his tears falling onto her bloody face. “You’re okay. Mom…”

She looked at him for a moment, and relief softened her pained expression as one of her hands reached up and ran through his hair. She managed a weak smile, caressing his cheek and wincing in pain. “Tobi…”

“You’re okay,” he repeated, grabbing her hand like she might slip away from him. “Don’t close your eyes. The heroes will be here soon.”

She shook her head minutely. “Tobi… please…” She took another deep breath, stopped halfway by her ribs. “We need…”

Tobi blinked, his gray eyes widening slightly. “A doctor.” His nine-year-old brain managed to hold tight to that thought as his hand moved for her pants pocket, searching for a phone.

Lightning quick, she grabbed his wrist and held it in a vice grip. He paused for a moment, confused, before slowly looking her in the eyes.

“No, Tobi,” she said, strength returning to her voice as her knuckles whitened around his arm. “We need… to run.”

Tobi stared at her for a moment, before her grip loosened and she fell back onto his hands, eyes closed. His hand went to her chest, but he couldn’t feel a pulse, fear being injected into his bloodstream at the notion. He screamed again.

“Somebody help us! Please!”

His voice was drowned out by the sounds of flames flickering, and the droning of helicopters closing in, cop cars swerving down the streets and ambulances speeding down empty roads as they approached the scene of the destruction.

When the paramedics and the pro heroes arrived, they would only find dead bodies. And beneath a broken photo of a mother and her son, there would be nothing more than tattered wallpaper and crumbling rubble.