Tadashi never believed in miracles.
Miracles were for the lucky, the special—the ones born with power or granted it through sheer dumb luck. He was neither. For nineteen years, Tadashi had lived an average life, in an average city, surrounded by people who had already outgrown him.
But today, he was here.
The Awakened Evaluation Center.
The room was as cold and sterile as the white walls that boxed it in. Holographic screens floated above desks, displaying charts, diagrams, and pulses of light that reminded Tadashi of hospital monitors.
He sat quietly in the corner, his fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of his jacket. Around him, others chatted nervously—students hoping for flashy abilities, salarymen desperate for an edge in their careers, and older folks praying for a late bloom before their bodies gave out.
Tadashi wasn't nervous. He just wanted answers.
For the last month, something had felt… off. Dreams he couldn't explain. Whispers in the back of his mind. And an itch in his chest that wouldn't go away.
The door to the evaluation room slid open.
"Next!"
Tadashi stood and stepped inside.
.…
The chamber was circular, lined with glowing patterns that pulsed in shades of blue. At its center stood a platform surrounded by floating monitors. A technician in a white lab coat greeted him without looking up.
"Name?"
"Tadashi Kurose."
"Age?"
"Nineteen."
"First evaluation?"
"Yeah."
"Step onto the platform."
Tadashi obeyed. The platform hummed beneath his feet as symbols lit up along the floor, spiraling outward like ripples on water.
"Scan starting," the technician said. "You might feel a slight tingling sensation."
Tadashi barely noticed. The hum grew louder, vibrating through his bones as the light reached its peak—and then, as quickly as it started, it stopped.
The technician froze.
Tadashi stepped down. "Well? What is it?"
The screen flickered, displaying a single word:
[CLONING].
Tadashi blinked. "You're kidding."
"It's… functional," the technician said, clearly unimpressed. "Cloning abilities are fairly common. Great for multitasking, scouting, or menial labor."
Tadashi's stomach sank. After all the build-up, all the hype, this was it? He wasn't hoping for godlike powers, but something—anything—more than this.
"Here's your registration card," the technician said, handing him a small holographic ID. "Work with it. Abilities can evolve over time."
Tadashi stared at the card.
Cloning. Ordinary. Average.
For a moment, he almost laughed. Of course this would happen to him.
But as Tadashi walked out of the center, something gnawed at the edge of his thoughts.
The hum of the machine. The ache in his chest.
And the feeling that the scan hadn't just looked at him—it had changed something inside him.
He didn't know it yet, but this wasn't the end.
It was the beginning.