Some time, somewhere, Rinkaku Harigane sat on the floor. He was much smaller now: his cheeks somewhat pudgier and his nose more button-shaped. Apart from that, though, he was very much the same Rinkaku Harigane the world would soon come to know and… tolerate. His legs were splayed at right angles, messy black hair bunched around his shoulders, his small face screwed up in concentration.

Where was he? When was he? He didn’t really know.

In front of him were stacks of wooden blocks, but Rin saw skyscrapers! He sat on the living room carpet, but Rin saw the entire world laid out before him, stretching far and wide. The world was his playground. Here, at this moment, he, Rinkaku Harigane, was a god. Right now, a god was doing what a god did best, and creating his own world as he saw fit!

Taking another few blocks, Rin stacked them next to a row of others. This city wouldn’t grow by itself. He then picked up some pencils from elsewhere, laying them out end to end in front of the buildings. This road would carry everyone to their jobs. Marker pens he’d appropriated from his father’s office morphed into beautiful avenues of trees in a park right next to the central district.

Rin smiled. Everything was going according to plan.

That was, however, until he was suddenly swept off his backside and lifted high into the air. Startled, little Rin kicked his feet, inadvertently demolishing the residential district he’d spent what seemed an age meticulously crafting. No! This couldn’t be happening! His city—his incredible design—had been utterly destroyed! Overwhelmed, Rin burst into floods of angry tears.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry—” A soft voice cooed in his ear. A hand, belonging to the same force that had lifted him from his throne, wiped away the tears on his cheek. Hoisting him up to place on her hip, Rin saw the face of his mother smile down at him from her graceful vantage.

“That looks wonderful,” said Kioku Harigane, tickling him under the chin with a finger. “You’re so brilliant at this.”

Rin clung to her. Distraught, he cried some more into her shirt.

“There there, my darling. It’ll be alright.”

She spoke with such conviction, but Rin didn’t understand. The world he built lay in utter ruin! How would it ever be alright?

Rocking him back and forth in her arms, with only the occasional cough, Kioku eventually managed to calm her son back down. The opening of the front door stole away her attention.

“Katsuro—”

The man by the door froze. His stealthy escape attempt had been compromised. “Yes, dear?” He looked back over his shoulder at his wife and son.

“Off again, professor?” The woman said. “Goodness me, you’ve only just come back.”

The man turned away, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “I just received an urgent email from the head of my department…” The volume he spoke at was scarcely louder than a mumble. “I have to go cover a colleague teaching an undergraduate remedial class; I can’t be late.”

“Can’t that wait until tomorrow? Darling, it’s nearly seven in the evening…”

“No, Kioku, you don’t understand—” Katsuro made another attempt to leave, shifting the new leather satchel on his shoulder. “If I do this, it’ll count as extra credit towards my professorship—”

“Come on. Just give it a rest for today,” she pleaded, and set little Rin down on the floor. The boy wobbled for a moment but remained upright, clutching at a nearby table leg.

“I’ve almost finished cooking supper.” Kioku approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Tonkatsu Udon, your favourite. Are you sure you want to miss that?”

Katsuro didn’t look remotely fazed. “It’s okay.” His eyes were glassy, vacant. He wasn’t looking at her, his mind elsewhere. “I’ll get something from the convenience store on the way back.”

“Then go!” She cried, scowling. “Go and teach your class!” She shooed him away. “That’s clearly more important. It—”

She stopped, hand still raised. Without another word, the man had vanished into the night. Kioku gently shut the door in front of her, leaning her forehead against the woodwork.

Rin couldn’t remember what his mother had said after that. As all childhood memories did, this one faded into and out of focus all the time. He couldn’t remember the words, but he could remember her smile, and her tears. He had asked her why she cried, but the answer, if there was one, was lost to the grainy recesses of his subconscious.

* * *

When the picture came back into focus, Rin was older. His hair was thicker now, and no tidier. Many nights spent illicitly sketching into his notebook after his parents had gone to sleep had begun etching the all-too-familiar dark circles under both eyes. Elementary school was proving little challenge to his superior wit. It was all far too easy for him. Rin had been very busy today. It was Sunday. There was no school on Sundays. That was good. Sundays meant a day to himself, a day he could spend on his own, with his plans, and not having to deal with that annoying Bongo.

Rin wished every day could be Sunday.

He made his way down the stairs two at a time, one hand glued to the bannister. Rin clutched under one arm rolls of blueprints, and had his favourite pencil, a rectangular red one, tucked behind one ear. This was his finest work yet! He looked down at the paper and grinned. He could already see it: this building would look amazing. He just needed to take it to the construckers—no, that wasn’t right… Constructors, that was the word! They would build it for him. After all, why wouldn’t they? It would be the best design for a house they had ever seen!

At the foot of the stairs, Rin turned an immediate right and started down a dark corridor. He’d called for his mother, but she was sleeping. Mom had been sleeping a lot lately; he’d been told not to disturb her. Why? He needed her to do things for him! She was grown-up, and so she could do all the things he wasn’t allowed to do. It was so annoying! Rin had to go to school, and waste all his time watching the other children learn how to spell, and how to count. It was so boring!

Faced with no other option, he’d gone to find his father.

“Dad!”

The voice was followed by a series of bangs on the door. Rin didn’t have time to waste. He listened, but no response.

“Dad, come on!”

Another series of bangs. Still, no response. Rin’s brow furrowed. Why wasn’t he answering him? Dad was always in his office. He only ever came out to have dinner. His next instinct was the doorknob. He tried it. The door wasn’t locked. He gave it a push, but the door only moved so far. That door had a habit of being stubborn, like Rin was going to let that stop him. Twisting the doorknob all the way, Rin threw himself against the door. It gave, and the boy went tumbling through into the office.

Katsuro Harigane sat at his desk on the far side, much as always. Several ageing manuscripts, yellowed and crinkly, were open in front of him. The man’s eyes darted fervently between them, as he scribbled furiously into his notebook. For all the reaction he gave to Rin’s bombastic entrance, Rin may as well have never existed.

“Dad! Didn’t you hear me?” Rin waddled up to the desk and prodded his father in the side. “I was calling for ages. I even knocked as well, just like you told me to!”

This, at last, got through to the man. In what was likely the first human interaction he’d had all day, Katsuro set down his pen and removed his glasses, and turned to face his only son.

“Oh, hello Rinkaku. Sorry, I... didn’t hear you come in.” He massaged the back of his neck, sore from craning it all day long.

He sounded wearier than usual. Rin wondered why.

“Yeah, well—” The boy, not quite sure he followed how anyone could have ignored that, took out his blueprints and put them on Katsuro’s desk. “Here. I just finished designing these! New blueprints for the design of Granny’s house! Take a look!”

Katsuro, however, moved them aside with one hand, instead peering back down at his manuscripts. “I will later on, I promise.” He picked his pen back up and continued to write. “I’m just a little busy with work at the moment.”

Rin wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“You’re always busy!” He stamped his foot. “You never spend any time at home with me or mom! You’re always away at work or in your stupid office all day.”

Katsuro grit his teeth at this. “Rinkaku, please—”

“Why won’t you just look at it?” Rin pleaded. To save the man the bother, the boy unfurled one of the blueprints and held it out for Katsuro to see. “Look! I spent all day working on this. Doesn’t it look amazing?”

Katsuro didn’t even spare it a glance. “Looks great,” he said, and kept writing.

Rin’s hands fell down to his sides. “You didn’t even look at it, though.”

“Rinkaku—” Katsuro ran both hands through his hair. “I’m very close to making an important breakthrough with my research. Please just leave me alone for a little while longer.”

“But— But you said you’d take me to the construcking company once I finished my design!” Rin stamped his foot again.

“I will, later.” Katsuro’s jaw clenched a little. “Where’s your mother? Can’t she take you instead?”

“She’s in bed...” Rin stared at the floor. “She’s been in bed all week. You said she was sleeping.”

“Oh—”

A painful silence followed, as neither father nor son looked at one another.

“Dad, what’s happening with mom? She’s been like that for ages…”

“Rinkaku, she’s—” Katsuro hesitated.

Rin held his breath. Was she hurt?

“She’s just… tired. Now, please, leave me alone. Go and—” he waved dismissively off in some other direction— “play with your school friends, or something. I’ll take you to the construction company after I’ve finished my paper.”

Rin didn’t have any school friends. He didn’t need any. The only person he talked to was Kinuka, and he didn’t want to talk to her today. He was tired of having to talk to people all week. He wanted to go to the construction company!

“Do you promise?”

Rin looked up, hopeful for even the slightest sign. The seconds passed, and Katsuro said nothing. He had already gone straight back to writing. Rin stared at him for a moment longer, before he lost hope for any kind of response.

Leaving the one on his father’s desk, Rin tucked the rest of the blueprints back under his arm. Dragging his feet across the carpet, he left the room. Once through, he slammed the door as hard as he could behind him. He stood there for a moment more, his little hands clenched into fists. He could feel himself shaking. He wanted to hit something, he wanted to scream. Who would hear him, though? His father wouldn’t even look at his designs, let alone look at him for more than five seconds. As the scene around him began to dissolve into that same grainy static, Rin felt as though sometimes he hardly existed at all.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

* * *

The static lifted on a memory years later. By that time, he was halfway into middle school. It had all come on so suddenly. One moment, Rin was busy idling away the hours in school. The next, he had been taken out of class. The teaching assistant then gave him the news.

“Your mother’s in the hospital.”

The half-hour it took to get there couldn’t have felt any longer. Silent, accompanied by the assistant, it took everything Rin had to stop himself bolting down the corridor towards the intensive care unit. The hospital was quiet and still. There was the little expected bustling of doctors and nurses rushing by, but Rin couldn’t hear them. Perhaps it was quieter than usual, or perhaps it was him. All he could remember was an eerie stillness in those white, sanitised corridors, filled only by that mindless static of fluorescent lights and air conditioners. The stench of rubbing alcohol singed the back of his nose. He stood outside the ward now, but couldn’t say a word.

The woman who opened the door at long last looked old. Her lips and skin were a little too tight, and her brown hair was pulled so taut into a bun it was going grey. Rin remembered the name on her badge, “Dr. Nori.” If she had said anything, Rin hadn’t heard it. She motioned him into the room.

“Mom!”

Kioku lay prone and still, bound in place to the machines nearby. Intravenous tubes protruded from her forearm, and a cannula bringing supplemental oxygen protruded from her nose. Her face, though as kind as he had always known, was pallid and decayed. Her cheeks had since sunk into shallow recesses, and her skin seemed almost translucent. Rin could nearly see the nerves and blood vessels around her eyes. Her black hair had thinned, entire clumps missing. Yet, when the boy cried out and rushed to her side, her eyes—the same eyes that had brought joy and comfort into the world, Rin’s world—opened. For a moment, all he could hear was the sound of the heart monitor.

“Rinkaku, my darling…”

Rin bent close and held her hand. He felt thin fingers gently close around his palm, and he held them for dear life.

“Mom… I’m here.”

“Thank you for coming to see me.”

In the corners of her eyes, Rin could see tears.

“Your illness; why didn’t you tell me that it was this bad?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to worry.” She smiled. “You were so busy with school, all of your projects, the last thing I wanted to do was get in the way.”

“No, don’t say that— Mom, I—”

“You’re doing such a wonderful job, my dear. You always have done. I’m so, so proud of you.”

Releasing his hand, Kioku raised hers to cup his cheek. Rin held it there.

“Is…” She gave a weak cough. “Is your father here?”

Rin looked around. More wishful thinking. He didn’t respond, held onto her hand and lowered his head.

“There there, my dear.” Just as she had done before, Kioku wiped the tears from his eyes. “You’ll be alright. You’re very strong.”

“I wanted you to see it,” Rin said at last. “My dream. I wanted you to be there to see it.”

“I will, my darling.” Kioku smiled. “I’ll always be with you.”

“No, but—” Rin screwed up his eyes and blinked furiously. “I wanted you to be there, I wanted you to see it. The world I had planned; I wanted you to live in it.”

“Rinkaku…” Kioku’s smile only grew. “That’s what’s so wonderful about you. I know you’ll build a great world, just like the one you’ve always told me about. You’re going to make the world a better place for so many people, I just know it.”

“But I— I—” Rin choked, and began sobbing into his mother’s shoulder.

Kioku began to stroke the back of his head. “It’s alright, it’s alright. Shh…”

How long he stayed like that, Rin didn’t know. He held her, and she, him. Eventually, her hand came to rest on the back of his head, and didn’t move.

* * *

What was left of the picture frame lay shattered across the floor, fragments of dusty glass scattered across the fading carpet. The nearby wall had a sizeable dent from the impact. Rin stood still for a moment longer. He gazed up, eyes closed, at the solitary bulb in the ceiling in hopes the light would cauterise his tear ducts. No matter how hard he tensed his face, the tears found their way through, trickling pathetically down the sides of his cheeks. Every breath came in a series of choppy hiccups from his diaphragm.

Tiptoeing over the broken glass as best he could, he bent down and shifted the debris aside. Pinching the print between two fingers, he extracted it from the wreckage and, using a frame of his own, stored that, too, inside his wallet, along with everything else he owned. It was strange. Even after he’d flatpacked all his possessions and stuffed them inside, weighing the object in hand now, it barely felt any heavier.

He’d allowed himself to linger too long.

“I had a feeling it was you, that noise upstairs.”

Rin whipped around like he’d been stung. A man in an untidy suit stood leaning against the door frame. Middle-aged was being a little harsh—maybe late thirties. The man had a lazy stubble and short, limp hair—the kind that grew under too much stress.

“Who are you?” Rin asked.

“Police Detective Ibuse.” The man flashed his badge. “I’ve been looking for you, Harigane.”

“Yeah.” Rin rolled his eyes. “You and the rest of the damn country. What else is new?”

Ibuse sighed and scratched his neck.

“I can’t imagine you coming down to the station quietly,” he said, “so I’ll keep this brief. I’m the only one on the police force who doesn’t think you’re responsible for the attack on Senketsu.”

Rin’s eyes widened.

“The attack at the school, the destruction of that café, and the commotion in the park last night.” Ibuse listed the three events off his fingers. “Sound familiar? I saw those monsters too that day too, you know.”

There was no third eye on his forehead, Rin noticed. This Ibuse wasn’t from JPRO, but he had seen the Rejected. Something was up with one of his eyes, though he was too far away to tell what it was.

“What do you want with me?”

“I want to know the truth.” Ibuse met Rin’s glare, unflinching.

“Kind of in a hurry right now.” Rin chewed on his lip a little.

“Got somewhere to be?”

“I’m already wanted for terrorism and manslaughter. I’m not going to answer you just because you’re an officer of the law.”

Ibuse sighed, and took his hands out of his pockets.

“I’m afraid I’m not let you out of here unless you tell me what I need to know. There’s about twenty men with guns trained on the entrance. My way is much easier than theirs.”

At this, Rin grinned. “You really think you can stop me?”

Ibuse narrowed his eyes. “I’m on your side, Harigane. Let’s—”

Too late. Rin had lunged at him, eyes wide. Energy crackled in the space between them, pulsing through the boy’s veins as he drew back a fist.

For just a moment, Ibuse felt time slow down around him. He saw himself from that same third person perspective. Rin fist would connect with his own cheek, sending him crashing through the office door and into the corridor.

Ibuse caught the boy’s fist in an open palm and stepped forward. Rin’s momentum carried him forward, and Ibuse’s outstretched arm caught his neck in a clothesline. He brought the boy down hard onto the floor. The impact send scattered papers, dust, and fragments of glass everywhere.

Rin gasped for air, winded. It wasn’t over yet. He followed with a sweeping kick aimed at Ibuse’s ankles. The boy’s legs as he swung them exuded that same strange energy coursing through and around them, and it all seemed to come from that eye in the centre of his forehead—just like Dentaku Bango had described. That eye was the locus for this strange energy.

Ibuse raised one foot and stamped down onto Rin’s knee before the kick could connect. The boy yelled, and scrambled backwards to safety.

“How the hell did you do that?”

This Detective Ibuse had the most insane reflexes Rin had ever seen.

“Let me finish my sentence, kid, jeez.” Ibuse pulled up a battered-looking chair from one side of the room and sat down. “I’m on your side. Don’t you want to get your false charges dropped?”

“No,” Rin deadpanned. “I’d love to be locked up for crimes I didn’t commit.”

Ibuse pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just tell me what happened, from the time of the attack until now.”

Rin sighed, and sat back down on his ankles. What followed for the next however long was as good a recount as Ibuse could have ever hoped for, including a large surplus of Rin’s internal monologue that provided a concerning amount of insight into the kind of person he really was.

That aside, Rin had given him what he’d asked for.

Ibuse took a deep breath. “If I hadn’t just met a blond guy who could stop time and give me visions of an apocalyptic future,” he said, “I’d call you insane.”

Stopping time? Rin was enthralled. Slightly terrified, too. With everything that had happened so far, an encounter with DIO wouldn’t be too far out of the question.

“Never mind that,” Ibuse continued. “Thanks for doing what I asked. My turn to help you now.”

“Wait. First, tell me more about the time-stopping blond guy.”

Rin had to know.

“Later.” Ibuse kneaded his forehead a little. “I have the feeling you’ll come across him sooner or later. He seemed… suspiciously familiar with your situation.”

Rin sighed. “What did you have in mind?”

Ibuse pulled a mobile phone out of his pocket. “This is a burner. It’s got my number and that’s about it. No other tracking capabilities, no internet, nothing. I carry a spare in case I need to put someone in witness protection for a while.”

He handed it to Rin.

“Man, this thing is ancient…” Rin mumbled, examining the relic in awe. He pocketed the phone.

“I’ll call you with any developments I make, given what you’ve just told me.” Ibuse said, trying to ignore how old Rin’s comment had just made him feel. “You do the same, understand?”

Rin nodded.

“I said I’d try and get your charges dropped, but it won’t be easy. My director’s shut down any further discussion on your warrant, and I’ve got reason to suspect he’s authorised the doctoring of witness reports from your fellow classmates.”

Rin looked appalled. “Have the police always been this corrupt?”

Ibuse laughed without a shred of mirth.

Rin inhaled through his teeth.

“He also said they received new intel from a reliable third party confirming their suspicions about you, thus the disregarding of eyewitness accounts.”

“JPRO,” Rin growled.

“The psychomedical research firm?”

How long had it been? Ibuse hadn’t heard that name since...

“Oh, they’re a lot more than just that.” Now it was Rin’s turn to laugh. “Those people who came to kill us? I guess I didn’t mention: they all worked for JPRO. They’re the fuckers who kidnapped my dad and shot me in the head. They’re who we’re trying to destroy.”

Ibuse ran a hand through his hair. Strings were connecting in places he really didn’t want them to. In the span of the past half an hour, the complexity of this situation had jumped exponentially. He was starting to dread what else he didn’t yet know.

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’ve got… contacts who might know a thing or two about JPRO. I’ll get in touch and see if I can relay anything useful.”

Rin nodded. “Thanks.”

Then, he asked, “What’s the time?”

Ibuse pulled back his sleeve. “Almost eleven thirty.”

Rin started. “I’ve got to go; promised someone I’d be somewhere by noon.”

Ibuse nodded. “Guess I can’t stop you anymore. I’m taking a big risk here, but I think you’re telling the truth. I profiled you back when this whole incident first happened; there’s no motive. None. Whoever’s behind this wants you whatever the cost. I’m going to find out why.”

Rin rose to his feet and shook bits of plaster off his clothes. “Er—” He began, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry about, y’know—”

Ibuse waved it off. “Forget about it. You were cornered. I should be the one apologising.”

“Don’t.” Rin shook his head. “I hate it when people apologise.”

He turned away to face one of the walls, forming a cube in both hands. Shaping and enlarging the frame, soon it outlined the size of a small door. Ibuse watched in amazement.

“Capture,” Rin commanded, and the frame cut the wall perfectly. Moving it forward and out of the way, he revealed the opening he’d just made. “You said the armed police are on the other side of the street only, right?” He pointed behind them with a thumb.

“That’s right. Be careful.”

Rin gave Ibuse a thumbs-up as that purple energy started to crackle around him, coalescing around his legs. Then, he took off, sprinting down a side street and out of sight. Ibuse watched him go, still a little stunned, before he remembered he also had somewhere to be.