Next day, the morning sun painted Hiro's room in a golden hue, its warmth gently pulling him from the grip of sleep. His eyelids fluttered open, and the first thing he saw was the ancient, leather-bound book, now mysteriously opened on his desk.
His heart quickened, a mix of curiosity and unease swirling within him. He distinctly remembered struggling to unlock it last night.
"How is this possible?" Hiro murmured, his voice barely a whisper, laden with disbelief. The room felt charged, as if it held secrets just beyond the veil of the ordinary.
Hesitant yet compelled, he stretched out his hand and lifted the book. It felt warm, almost alive, against his skin.
Without warning, the book erupted in a blinding, otherworldly light, engulfing Hiro and his entire room. He tried to shield his eyes, but the light seemed to penetrate his very being.
The air thrummed with ancient power, the atmosphere thickening with a palpable sense of magic and mystery.
Images began to flood his mind, vivid and real, as if he were reliving them. He saw his birth, a scene filled with joy and the soft, loving gaze of his mother.
"No… no… this can't be real," Hiro gasped, clutching his temples, desperately trying to stem the overwhelming flood of images. But the memories kept coming, relentless and unforgiving.
His childhood unraveled before him like a tragic play. He saw himself playing in fields, his laughter pure and untroubled, until the shadows of his past cast a pall over those innocent days. The warmth of his grandmother's embrace brought a fleeting sense of safety, but it was overshadowed by the darkness that followed them.
"Why… why did I forget all this?" Hiro's voice broke, laden with anguish and confusion. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring the images but not the pain.
As the memories flooded Hiro's mind, he delved deeper into the scenes from his past. The courtyard's tranquility shattered as an ominous darkness crept in, casting eerie shadows under the cherry blossom trees. The air, once filled with the gentle hum of cicadas, now carried a chilling stillness. Hiro's parents, usually relaxed in the evening light, tensed with an instinctual fear as they sensed the approaching danger.
A demon emerged stealthily from the shadows, its form a man's with red eyes and hair piercing the gathering dusk. Its movements were swift and unnatural, disturbing the peaceful scene with its malevolent presence. Hiro's father, a man of strength and determination, reacted with a primal urgency, drawing a hidden sword that glimmered faintly with ancient runes.
As the battle unfolded, each clash of steel echoed through the courtyard, mingling with the growls and snarls of the demon. Hiro, only seven years old, watched in wide-eyed horror as his father fought valiantly to protect their family. The sword, a relic passed down through generations, seemed to pulse with a faint, protective aura against the encroaching darkness.
Hiro's mother, normally a pillar of composure and nurture, gripped him tightly, her eyes a storm of fear and unwavering resolve. She ushered him hurriedly into a hidden room beneath the floorboards, the hatch closing with a muffled finality that plunged Hiro into a suffocating darkness.
From his concealed vantage point, Hiro could hear the chaotic symphony of battle: the desperate shouts of his father, the defiant clang of his sword against demonic claws, and the guttural roars of the demon. But amidst the cacophony, one piercing scream cut through the night—his mother's voice, filled with unbearable agony and helplessness.
"No! Please, no!" Hiro whispered, pressing his hands against his ears, trying to block out the nightmarish sounds that threatened to overwhelm him. Yet, the images persisted, searing into his young mind with vivid clarity. He saw his father, bloodied and exhausted but resolute, standing protectively over his fallen wife, battling against impossible odds.
Just as it seemed the demon would overwhelm them, the hidden door above Hiro burst open. His grandmother, an elderly figure with an aura of ancient power, descended into the darkness like a guardian spirit. In that moment, her eyes blazed with a fierce determination that belied her age, and she effortlessly lifted Hiro from his hiding place.
"We must flee," she declared with urgency, her voice a steady anchor amidst the chaos. She began chanting an ancient incantation, her voice resonating with power as she created a protective barrier around them. The demon, frustrated by their inability to breach the mystical shield, roared in fury, its forms twisting and contorting in the dim light.
Guided by his grandmother's unwavering strength, Hiro was led through secret passages that wound through the ancestral home. Her chants grew louder and more fervent, echoing through the narrow corridors like a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. Together, they reached a secluded temple hidden deep within the forest—a place of ancient rituals and arcane knowledge.
Within the temple's sanctified confines, the air was heavy with the scent of incense. Flickering lanterns cast a warm, protective glow across the sacred space, imbuing it with a sense of ancient tranquility. His grandmother knelt before him, her weathered hands gentle yet firm as they rested on his trembling shoulders.
"Hiro," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, "you must forget—for now. Keep this power hidden, safe from those who would seek to exploit it. The time will come when you must remember, but not yet."
"But why, Grandma? Why do I have to forget?" Hiro pleaded, his young voice filled with confusion and fear.
"Because, my dear," she replied softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, "there are forces in this world that would do anything to harness your power. You must be kept safe until you are ready."
With a final, tearful incantation, she sealed his memories and the latent power within him, cocooning him in a comforting embrace of forgetfulness and protection. As his consciousness began to fade, Hiro glimpsed his grandmother's sorrowful smile—a bittersweet expression filled with love and unspoken promises.
The flashback ended abruptly, leaving Hiro gasping for breath, the weight of his rediscovered past pressing down on him like a suffocating cloak. The ancient book in his hands seemed to pulse with an unseen energy, resonating with the memories that had lain dormant within him for so long.
"I remember," Hiro whispered, his voice shaky yet resolute. "I remember everything now."
He looked around his room, the familiar surroundings now tinged with a newfound purpose. "This is just the beginning," he murmured, clutching the book tightly. "I must uncover what happened... and why I was made to forget. Father, Mother, Grandma, your sacrifices won't be in vain."
A knock on his door jolted him from his thoughts. It was his friend, Sasa, her face etched with concern. "Hiro, are you okay? I heard something… and saw light under your door."
Hiro nodded, struggling to steady his breathing. "I'm fine, Sasa. Thanks for checking on me," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
"Alright," Sasa replied, still watching him closely. "By the way, Hiro, Chief Helga has called everyone to gather in the central square this morning."
"Got it," Hiro replied, shaking off the lingering shadows of his past as he prepared to face the new day.