The metallic taste of blood lingered in Haku's mouth as he jolted awake, his dark hair matted with sweat against his forehead. The same nightmare had haunted him for twelve years – the scene of his parents' murder playing like a broken record in his mind. Even now, at twenty-six, he could never make out what that "something" was. Just shadows, writhing and twisting in impossible ways, and his parents' screams echoing through their modest Tokyo apartment.
Haku rubbed his tired eyes and glanced at his phone: 3:33 AM. The witching hour. A bitter smile crossed his face as he remembered his mother's stories about this time of night. She had always been superstitious, burning incense and maintaining a small shrine in their home. Fat lot of good that did them in the end.
The convenience store where he worked the night shift was quiet this time of year. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as he restocked the instant ramen shelves, his movements mechanical and practiced. That's when he first noticed it – a slight distortion in the air near the drink coolers, like heat waves rising from summer asphalt.
"Must be the lack of sleep," he muttered, rubbing his eyes again. But the distortion grew, stretching and warping until it took on an oval shape, roughly the size of a doorway. Through its translucent surface, Haku could make out... something. A landscape that shouldn't exist.
His feet moved before his mind could process what was happening. Years of martial arts training – his way of ensuring he'd never be helpless again – had honed his instincts. Something about this portal called to him, resonated with a part of his soul he didn't know existed.
"Haku Urasashi," a voice whispered, neither male nor female, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. "The time has come."
He reached out, his fingertips just brushing the surface of the portal. It felt like touching liquid mercury – cool and impossible. The store around him began to fade, reality bleeding away like watercolors in the rain.
The last thing Haku saw before the portal pulled him through was his own reflection in the drink cooler's glass: his eyes were glowing with an otherworldly light.
When the vertigo subsided and his vision cleared, Haku found himself standing in a nightmare. The sky above was the color of freshly spilled blood, and the air... the air tasted like copper and ash. In the distance, something that defied description moved between crumbling skyscrapers, its size making a mockery of human architecture.
"Welcome," the same voice from before spoke, "to what remains of your world. The year is 3998, and humanity's time has long since passed."
Haku fell to his knees, retching at the overwhelming stench of decay. But beneath the horror, a small part of him felt something else: purpose. For twelve years, he had been drifting, existing but not living. Now, standing on this ruined earth beneath a crimson sky, he finally understood.
Whatever had killed his parents – it was connected to this place. And somehow, he had been chosen to make things right.
A soft light began to emanate from his chest, spreading through his body like liquid fire. The voice spoke one final time: "You have been chosen, Haku Urasashi. The power to restore or destroy now flows through your veins. The seven rings await. Will you accept your destiny?"
In the distance, something screamed – a sound that should not exist in any sane universe. Haku stood, his eyes blazing with that same otherworldly light.
"I accept."