The rain began as a whisper.

  A single drop slipped from the tip of a cedar branch, falling onto a pale camellia petal below. The flower trembled under the weight, its color deepening as water gathered along its edges before sliding quietly into the dark soil.

  Another drop followed.

  Then another.

  Soon the garden of stones was dotted with silver rings where rain touched the ground.

  Rows of weathered graves stretched beneath the quiet sky, their surfaces polished smooth by years of wind and prayer. Between them, a small gathering of people stood dressed in black, their voices low and careful, as though speaking too loudly might disturb the dead resting beneath their feet.

  At the center of them all stood a single grave.

  A framed photograph rested against the polished stone. The woman in the picture smiled gently, her expression warm in a way that made the gray afternoon feel colder by comparison.

  Rain tapped softly against the frame.

  Someone shifted nearby. The faint rustle of fabric broke the silence as the first umbrellas opened with quiet pops, black circles blooming like dark flowers across the crowd.

  The rain began to fall harder.

  More umbrellas opened.

  But one figure remained uncovered.

  A boy stood in front of the gravestone, unmoving.

  His suit clung slightly to his shoulders as the rain soaked through the fabric. Wet strands of dark hair hung across his forehead, droplets sliding slowly down the side of his face.

  He didn’t react.

  He didn’t shiver.

  His eyes remained fixed on the photograph before him.

  Empty.

  Not red.

  Not trembling.

  Just… still.

  As if whatever emotion should have lived behind them had simply vanished.

  The rain grew heavier, the steady drumming filling the quiet cemetery. People shifted uneasily, stepping back beneath their umbrellas.

  Yet the boy did not move.

  Beside him stood a much smaller figure.

  A girl no older than middle school.

  She held a white umbrella.

  The pale canopy stood out among the sea of black ones surrounding them, like a single lantern burning softly in the rain.

  Her hands trembled slightly around the handle.

  Traces of tears still clung to her lashes, though the rain had already begun to wash them away.

  She looked up at the boy beside her.

  “Haruto…”

  Her voice barely rose above the sound of the rain.

  He didn’t answer.

  Water continued to slide down his face, dripping from his chin as he stared silently at the photograph.

  For a moment, the girl hesitated.

  Then she took a small step forward.

  Raising the umbrella, she tilted it carefully until it covered both of them.

  The rain no longer touched him.

  Only the steady tapping against the umbrella remained.

  Haruto blinked once.

  Slowly, his gaze lowered.

  He looked down at the girl standing beside him.

  Her eyes were red, her small shoulders shaking slightly as she tried to keep the umbrella steady.

  Even so, she held it firmly over him.

  As if that small act alone could shield him from the storm.

  For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

  Then Haruto moved.

  He lowered his head slightly and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently into his chest.

  The umbrella wobbled in her grip.

  But she didn’t let go.

  The two of them stood together beneath it, pressed close as the rain fell harder around them.

  A quiet promise passed between them in that silent embrace.

  No words.

  No witnesses.

  Just the unspoken understanding of two children standing before a grave.

  From this day forward…

  They only had each other.

  ---

  The rain continued to fall.

  Across the cemetery, umbrellas formed a dark canopy above the mourners, their quiet murmurs swallowed by the steady rhythm of water against fabric and stone.

  Yet beyond the small gathering, beneath the wide arms of an old zelkova tree, three figures stood apart from the crowd.

  They had not opened umbrellas.

  The man standing at the front was tall, his long red hair tied loosely behind his back. Rain slid across the strands like streaks of dim fire before falling to the ground. A black suit hung neatly from his shoulders, untouched by the restless shifting seen among the mourners.

  His eyes rested on the gravestone through the moving crowd.

  Silent.

  Watching.

  Beside him stood a woman with long blonde hair that flowed down her back like pale silk dampened by rain. Her posture was straight, composed, the expression on her face calm enough to seem cold.

  Yet something beneath that calm betrayed her.

  A faint tightness around her eyes.

  A stillness held too carefully.

  It was the kind of expression worn by someone standing on the edge of grief yet refusing to let it spill.

  The third woman stood slightly behind them.

  Older.

  Her gaze lingered not on the gravestone, but on the two small figures standing before it.

  The boy drenched in rain.

  The girl holding the white umbrella beside him.

  Left alone in a world suddenly too large.

  The older woman watched them quietly, her face carrying the same unreadable calm.

  Then the wind shifted.

  Rain fell harder.

  And the three figures beneath the tree slowly faded into the quiet background of the cemetery, like shadows briefly passing across still water.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Unnoticed.

  Unremembered.

  ---

  But someone else stood there as well.

  Right beside the two children.

  A taller figure.

  He towered slightly over the boy standing beneath the white umbrella, his frame broader, older.

  Yet no one seemed to see him.

  His body was faint.

  Translucent.

  Rain passed through him without resistance, falling silently through the pale outline of his form before touching the ground below.

  Haruto stood beside his younger self.

  His eyes rested on the same gravestone.

  The same photograph.

  The same smile frozen in time.

  For a long moment, he said nothing.

  Then his lips moved slightly.

  “…Sorry, Mom.”

  His voice was quiet, barely more than a breath.

  “…Looks like I’ve failed you again.”

  His teeth clenched.

  Something heavy pressed against his chest, tightening with every passing second.

  Fear.

  Anger.

  Regret.

  They twisted together into a weight that settled deep inside him like a stone sinking beneath dark water.

  And every fragment of that weight was aimed at himself.

  Then something stirred beneath the earth.

  At first, it was faint.

  Small golden lights flickered from the ground between the graves, drifting upward like sparks escaping a dying fire.

  No one else reacted.

  The mourners continued speaking softly.

  The rain continued falling.

  Only Haruto saw them.

  The tiny lights rose slowly into the air, moving without hurry, carried by a quiet rhythm that felt almost… gentle.

  Warm.

  Familiar.

  They floated around him like wandering fireflies, their faint glow reflecting in his hollow eyes as he looked up toward the dim sky.

  For a moment, the rain seemed quieter.

  The cold air softer.

  The lights circled once more.

  Then they gathered.

  Drifting closer together.

  Piece by piece, the golden sparks fused into a single shape floating before his face.

  A small rectangle.

  Thin.

  Fragile.

  Haruto raised his hand.

  His fingers passed through the last traces of light as he touched it.

  The glow faded.

  In its place remained a photograph.

  He stared at it.

  A woman stood in the center of the picture.

  Her long snow-white hair rested gently across her shoulders, bright even beneath the sunlight captured in the image. Her eyes carried an unusual shade, golden red, warm and sharp all at once.

  A snake rested loosely around her neck.

  Yet the creature showed no hostility, its body curled comfortably against her shoulders as if it belonged there.

  She smiled toward the camera.

  A warm smile.

  The kind that made the world feel safe.

  Her hands rested playfully on the heads of two children standing beside her.

  Haruto.

  And Haruki.

  They stood inside a zoo enclosure where a large snake rested behind the glass display.

  Haruki beamed brightly at the camera, her grin wide and unrestrained.

  Young Haruto stood beside her, his expression slightly annoyed, though the corner of his lips betrayed the hint of a reluctant smile.

  A quiet moment frozen in time.

  One of the last days their family had been whole.

  Haruto’s fingers tightened around the photograph.

  His jaw clenched.

  Those memories…

  Those bright fragments of the past…

  Once they had been warmth.

  Now they burned.

  Fuel poured directly into the fire of regret inside his chest.

  He didn’t deserve them.

  In his eyes, every piece of it had been his fault.

  His hand trembled.

  Then he crushed the photograph within his fist.

  The paper crumpled sharply.

  Without another glance, he threw it aside.

  It drifted downward like a discarded leaf, disappearing into the rain-soaked grass.

  Haruto shut his eyes.

  He tried to silence the memories clawing their way back into his mind.

  But a voice reached him before the silence could settle.

  “If only I had power…”

  The words came from behind him.

  Haruto’s eyes opened.

  The cemetery vanished.

  Rain.

  Graves.

  Mourners.

  All of it dissolved like mist under sunlight.

  He now stood in an endless white space.

  A vast empty void stretching in every direction.

  He turned slowly.

  Someone stood a few steps away.

  A boy.

  His uniform soaked from rain that no longer existed.

  Water dripped from dark strands of hair clinging to his forehead.

  And his eyes…

  They carried the same emptiness Haruto had seen in the cemetery.

  The same emptiness Haruto himself carried now.

  It was him.

  His past self.

  The boy studied him quietly.

  Then he spoke.

  “…You.”

  His voice was calm.

  “You’re us… right?”

  Haruto said nothing.

  The boy took a step closer.

  “…Are we strong now?”

  His gaze sharpened slightly.

  “…Could we protect them?”

  The question cut deep.

  Haruto’s chest tightened.

  The boy continued staring at him.

  Waiting.

  But Haruto couldn’t answer.

  What could he possibly say?

  That he had failed?

  That everything they once hoped for had slipped through his hands?

  Why did this happen…

  Why…

  “I know the answer.”

  The boy spoke before Haruto could respond.

  His empty eyes locked onto Haruto’s.

  “Why did that happen?”

  “Aren’t we supposed to be able to do anything if we had power?”

  “Then why couldn’t we do it?”

  “The one thing we wanted.”

  His voice remained steady.

  But each word struck like a blade.

  “…To protect them.”

  Haruto lowered his gaze.

  Silence filled the endless white space.

  Their mother had been the kindest person he had ever known.

  Yet even she had fallen victim to the cruelty of the world.

  Killed before his eyes.

  And he had done nothing.

  He couldn’t.

  Fear had frozen his body where he stood.

  A worthless psychopath had taken her life while he remained helpless.

  That truth never left him.

  Every ounce of pain he carried afterward felt deserved.

  A punishment he inflicted upon himself.

  And when the news came…

  When he learned her killer had been released because of mental illness…

  The rage inside him had nearly consumed him.

  For a time, he had even considered finding the man.

  Ending him.

  But he never moved.

  Because in the end…

  The only things he had left were the two fragile pieces of his world.

  His little sister.

  And the life his mother had hoped he would build.

  And now…

  Even those things had slipped through his hands.

  Haruto stood silently in the white void.

  The weight of that realization pressed down on him.

  What was he?

  In his own eyes…

  Nothing more than a failure that continued to fail.

  ---

  The boy’s shoulders trembled.

  For a moment he said nothing, his gaze fixed on the empty white ground beneath his feet. Then he slowly clenched his fists.

  “We didn’t have power back then.”

  His voice shook, fragile and raw.

  “But now we do.”

  He lifted his head slightly.

  “We were given another chance… a second life. Power. The ability to gain even more power.”

  His voice rose, cracking under the weight of years buried beneath it.

  “So why…?”

  His eyes burned as he stared at Haruto.

  “Why are you still so scared?”

  The question echoed through the endless white void.

  “We promised Mom we’d cherish what she left behind for us.”

  His fingers dug into his palms.

  “And we failed.”

  Silence followed.

  Then the boy’s composure finally began to fracture.

  “Why can’t you stop resisting?” he demanded. “We can become stronger. Strong enough to protect them.”

  His voice grew louder, desperation clawing its way out.

  “If we had power… we wouldn’t have to worry about losing them ever again.”

  The words came faster now, like water breaking through a cracked dam.

  “Ever since that day… we regretted it.”

  His voice trembled.

  “Our stupid, naive selves… we hated how powerless we were.”

  His head lowered.

  “But now we have power.”

  His shoulders shook.

  “I don’t want to be weak again.”

  His fists tightened.

  “I don’t want to risk losing them again.”

  His voice hardened.

  “With this power, we can change everything. We can become so strong that the world itself won’t dare test us like that ever again.”

  For a moment the void remained silent.

  Then Haruto spoke.

  “…You’re right.”

  The boy’s body stiffened.

  “We could.”

  For a brief second hope flickered across his face.

  Then it twisted into rage.

  “THEN WHY?!” he shouted.

  The echo rippled through the endless white space.

  “WHY CAN’T YOU JUST DESTROY THEM ALL?!”

  His voice cracked with fury.

  “KILL EVERY ONE OF THEM!”

  “DESTROY THE WORLDS THAT DARED TO TEST US IN SUCH UNFAIR WAYS!”

  His breathing grew ragged.

  His eyes burned with something dangerously close to madness.

  Haruto watched him quietly.

  Then he spoke.

  “No.”

  Just one word.

  The boy froze.

  “You…”

  His jaw tightened.

  He turned away sharply, anger boiling over.

  But Haruto’s voice stopped him.

  “We can become as strong as we want.”

  His tone was calm.

  “But then what?”

  The boy paused.

  Haruto continued.

  “…Would that bring Mom back?”

  Silence.

  “Would she be proud of us?”

  His eyes sharpened.

  “If we started killing everything and calling it ‘protection’?”

  The words hung in the air.

  “Would they accept that version of us?”

  The boy’s shoulders stiffened.

  Haruto’s voice grew quieter.

  “…If we did that…”

  “…wouldn’t we end up the same as the trash who killed her?”

  The boy stopped moving.

  The question lingered like a blade pressed against his back.

  After a moment he spoke again, his voice much quieter.

  “…Then what are you going to do?”

  He didn’t turn around.

  “Without power… there’s nothing we can do against that thing.”

  His voice trembled slightly.

  “It will kill them again.”

  “And it will be our fault.”

  Haruto lowered his gaze.

  For a long moment he remained silent.

  Then he lifted his head again.

  “…Don’t you think we should at least try?”

  A small smile touched his lips.

  The boy didn’t react.

  “You don’t even have a plan,” he muttered.

  “And you don’t have the strength to keep going.”

  Haruto glanced at his clenched fist.

  “You’re right.”

  He exhaled softly.

  “Giving up would probably be the smartest move.”

  He looked up again.

  “But…”

  A faint spark returned to his eyes.

  “That wasn’t the Kanzaki way, was it?”

  The boy slowly looked over his shoulder.

  Haruto extended his hand toward him.

  “Why don’t we try one more time?”

  His smile deepened slightly.

  “After all…”

  “Learning from your mistakes and trying again…”

  “…that’s part of being a true author, isn’t it?”

  The boy stared at him.

  For a moment his expression remained unreadable.

  Then slowly…

  A grin spread across his face.

  A proud one.

  The kind their mother used to praise.

  “…Why not.”

  He stepped forward and grasped Haruto’s hand.

  Warmth spread through the empty space.

  Haruto smiled.

  Something inside him shifted.

  For years grief had twisted his mind into something unstable, something bitter and broken.

  But now…

  That fog was lifting.

  This was who he truly was.

  The boy their mother had raised.

  The ideals she nurtured.

  The stubborn hope she refused to let him lose.

  For the first time in years…

  Haruto felt whole.

  Then the boy closed his eyes.

  Golden light began to glow from his body.

  His form slowly dissolved into drifting particles, carried away like dust in sunlight.

  Before he vanished completely, his voice echoed one final time.

  “Don’t forget…”

  “This world isn’t fair.”

  “It never will be.”

  His figure faded further.

  “It’s always…”

  “…survival of the fittest.”

  The golden particles scattered into the endless white.

  Silence followed.

  Haruto looked down at his hand.

  Something rested in his palm.

  A pen.

  A fountain pen with a smooth black body and a golden nib.

  ---

  ---

  He recognized it instantly.

  His mother had given it to him on his birthday.

  The year he began writing novels.

  He had treasured it like a sacred relic.

  And now…

  It was here again.

  Haruto held it gently, as if afraid it might disappear.

  “…I think…”

  His voice softened.

  “…I’m ready now.”

  He looked upward into the endless void.

  “…to write my own story.”

  His grip tightened slightly around the pen.

  “What should I call it…?”

  The white world around him began to crack.

  Thin fractures spread through the empty space like glass breaking under pressure.

  Haruto smiled.

  A confident smile.

  “…by Zero, the author.”

  His vision shattered into fragments of light.

  “…my greatest masterpiece.”

  His voice echoed as the world collapsed around him.

  “Origin: Zero.”

  ...