"I'm really looking forward to the Blood Demon Arts I’ll gain in the future, How cool it will be to use ice like Doma or use spatial power like Nakime"

Haruto murmured, the corner of his mouth curling into a faint smile. His voice carried a peculiar blend of excitement and anticipation, as though the thought of acquiring more powers was a distant, yet undeniable certainty.

While he was busy imagining his grand future suddenly he felt like he was forgetting something important. Then he turned his head abruptly, his golden pupils narrowing as he scanned the ruined street.

And then, he saw her.

Huddled in a dark corner, a small figure sat curled into herself, knees drawn tightly to her chest. The dim light barely illuminated her thin frame, but it was enough for him to see the faint sign of fear etched into her every movement.

She flinched slightly under his gaze, retreating further into the corner as if she could meld into the walls and disappear altogether.

Haruto stepped forward, his movements measured and slow. Like approaching a wounded cat. The closer he got, the clearer her fragile appearance became.

Her large, purple eyes were filled with exhaustion, their once vibrant hue dulled by despair. Her thin, uneven black hair fell limply over her face, streaked with hints of yellow—a sign of prolonged malnutrition. Her pale, dust-smudged skin clung to her fragile bones, a clear indication of years of neglect and hardship.

For a moment, Haruto simply stood there, his gaze filled with complex emotion of shame and guilt, as he studied her face. Despite the dirt and gauntness, her features retained a faint trace of innocence, a childlike softness that the world hadn’t fully stripped away.

Recognition struck him like a blow and his breath hitched. It's fully confirmed now. This girl…

"I guess it's true, my only friend in this world is Tsuyuri kanao." he whispered, the words barely audible, meant for his ears alone.

But this wasn’t the Kanao he knew from the future. This girl had no name, no identity. She was a shadow, a ghost of what she would become in the future.

Her parents had never cared enough to name her and the original Haruto had been no better. He had avoided her, ignored her suffering, and treated her as though she were a burden—a curse to be avoided.

The regret in his chest deepened, weighing heavily as he knelt before her. He can't help but scoff at how every version of him seems to have the habit of ignoring their childhood friend's suffering.

"Kanao," The name slipping from his lips as naturally as breathing.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

I guess I will have the honor of naming you this time.

Her head lifted slightly, her empty eyes locking onto his. She didn’t speak or move, but she didn’t look away, either. The silence between them was deafening, yet it spoke volumes.

Haruto reached out, hesitating for just a moment before resting his hand gently on her head. Her hair felt brittle under his fingers and the thought made his chest tighten.

"Let's get out of here." he asked gently, his voice carrying an unfamiliar warmth.

He waited, giving her time to respond, but she said nothing. Her silence wasn’t surprising. Haruto knew her well enough to understand that she had likely forgotten how to speak. How long had it been since anyone had asked her a question? Since anyone had cared enough to listen?

Her gaze flickered, and for the briefest moment, Haruto thought he saw something—a spark, a glimmer of emotion buried deep within the void of her expression.

For Kanao, the world had always been dark and painful. From a young age, her parents had beaten her and she learned quickly that the only way to survive was to stay quiet and obedient.

Sometimes, she thought about dying, but she didn’t have the courage. Her suffering felt endless and she had no hope that it would ever stop. She didn’t cry anymore because crying only made things worse. She had to numb herself, push away any feelings, because emotions were a luxury she couldn’t afford.

As time passed, the pain became something she simply endured. She stopped expecting things to get better, stopped hoping for kindness. She didn’t understand what she had done wrong, why all this suffering seemed to fall on her.

Now, the boy carrying her—Haruto—was someone she knew, but he hadn’t cared about her before. He had avoided her, treated her like she wasn’t even there.

So why was he holding her now? Why was he being gentle with her?

His warmth confused her. She had long forgotten what it felt like to be cared for, but now, she could feel it. She didn’t know why he was doing this, but it felt so different from anything she had known. So she didn't resist his touch.

When she didn’t resist, Haruto made his decision. With slow, deliberate movements, he wrapped his arms around her small frame, lifting her with care.

The moment his arms encircled her, her body tensed, trembling with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. Haruto paused, holding her close but not too tightly, waiting for her trembling to subside. Slowly, she relaxed—just slightly—as if testing the waters of this unfamiliar warmth.

Her small hands hesitated before clutching weakly at the fabric of his clothing, a gesture so faint it was almost imperceptible.

"Don’t worry," Haruto said softly, his voice a low murmur as he started walking. "We’ll be home soon."

At the mention of "home" Kanao’s body stiffened again. Her grip on his clothing faltered and Haruto felt a faint tremor run through her. He grimaced, his steps faltering briefly. To her, the word "home" didn’t mean safety or comfort. It was a place of torment, pain and hopelessness.

Kanao had spent her entire life enduring cruelty. Her parents had beaten her into submission, stripping her of the will to resist or hope. Over time, she had learned to numb herself to the pain, to bury her emotions so deeply that they no longer surfaced.

She had stopped expecting warmth or kindness from the world. But now, something was changing. Haruto could feel it in the way her small fingers clung to him, in the way her trembling had lessened. It wasn’t much, but it was a start—a fragile seed of trust that had taken root in her otherwise barren soul.

The weight of the girl in his arms felt heavier than it should have, though she was light as a feather. It wasn’t just her physical weight—it was the weight of her pain, her despair, and the silent plea she didn’t even realize she was making.

Haruto tightened his hold slightly, his golden eyes hardening with resolve. He would protect her. He would show her that the world wasn’t entirely cruel. That she didn’t have to face it alone.

And for the first time in a long while, Haruto felt a sense of purpose. This time he will make sure not fail yet another friend.