"Max."
A voice called out. Soft, yet firm.
"Max, wake up."
My eyelids fluttered open, the familiar hum of a household greeting me. A ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, the golden morning light filtering through my curtains, casting warm patterns onto my sheets.
"Huh…?" My voice came out groggy, my thoughts sluggish. "What's going on?"
"You've overslept," a familiar voice chirped. "We've been waiting for you to wake up so we can eat breakfast together. But Dad doesn't want to wait any longer, so get your lazy ass out of bed!"
A boy stood in my doorway, arms crossed, a toothy grin plastered on his face.
My brother.
For a moment, my mind blanked. I could only stare at him, drinking in the sight of his messy blond hair, the mischievous glint in his blue eyes. My heart pounded—not in fear, but in disbelief.
Had I… been dreaming all this time? Was I really home?
The room smelled the same—faint traces of fabric softener and the lingering scent of last night's dinner. My bed, though slightly unkempt, felt exactly as I remembered. My brother's grin, once an annoyance, now felt like an anchor, steadying my frantic heart.
I was back.
I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to stay even. "Tell Dad to give me five minutes to get ready."
"Alright, but don't take longer than that, or I'll eat your breakfast." He snickered before skipping out of my room.
A small smile tugged at my lips. Falling into routine, I dressed quickly—brown jogging pants, white socks, and my usual blue shirt, now worn thin with a small hole under the left armpit.
Descending the stairs, I nearly tripped over a dog toy left behind by my overly energetic pets. Steadying myself, I stepped into the living room.
My family was already gathered at the table.
Laughter echoed through the space, my father's deep chuckles blending with my mother's exasperated sighs as she scolded my brother for skipping school to play volleyball. My dogs lay beneath the table, their tails wagging lazily, waiting for scraps to fall.
I took a slow breath.
The vase in the center of the table overflowed with white, violet, and pink flowers. The scent of fresh toast and eggs filled the air. Everything was… perfect.
"Max?" My mother's voice pulled me from my daze.
I blinked. "Sorry… what did you say?"
She frowned slightly, tilting her head. "I asked if you slept well."
Her voice was so clear, so warm.
"I… I slept alright, I guess."
Seemingly satisfied, she returned to scolding my brother, allowing me another moment to take it all in.
I didn't want to blink. I wanted to memorize every detail—my brother's golden hair and beaming grin, my mother's soft features, my father's teasing smirk. Even the slight mess on the table, the clatter of silverware, the warm hum of home.
But then…
Something was wrong.
There was someone else sitting at the table.
A pale child.
Black hair. Hollow, milky eyes staring into nothingness.
A chill crawled down my spine. My throat tightened.
I should get my food before it gets cold…
I muttered the thought to myself, pushing back from my chair. But as I turned toward the kitchen—
I froze.
No.
No, this can't be.
Slowly, I turned back to the table.
The child's lifeless gaze was locked onto mine.
And then—
My mother. My father. My brother.
All of them.
The warmth of their laughter was gone, replaced by an eerie, frozen stillness. Their eyes—empty. Hollow.
A weight pressed onto my chest, suffocating. My hands trembled at my sides. My heart pounded against my ribs, each beat louder than the last.
I tried to speak—to say something, anything—but my body refused to move.
Then, in perfect unison, they opened their mouths.
And called my name.
"Max."
Their voices layered over each other, hollow and unnatural.
Before I could react—
THUNK.
Kunai and shuriken pierced their bodies in an instant.
The sound of metal slicing through flesh, the sickening squelch of punctured organs.
Their bodies slumped.
Like puppets with severed strings.
The table, once lively, was now a scene of slaughter.
A strangled sound caught in my throat. I wanted to scream—to reach for them—but my body was paralyzed.
Laughter.
Low. Mocking.
Two figures materialized from the shadows. Their expressions twisted with cruel amusement, their eyes gleaming as they stepped over the corpses of my family.
Their voices cut through the thick air, cruel and taunting.
"Did you really think you could escape us?"
The scent of blood, smoke, and burning flesh filled my lungs.
Terror clamped around my throat, an invisible vice crushing my ability to breathe.
No.
No, no, no, no-
Not again.
---
Kaiza never expected to find a bloodied, dirtied child lying in the forest.
He and his two sons, Renji and Souta, had fled the village after witnessing the lengths Kirigakure was willing to go to eliminate innocent people. The Kaguya clan's attack had sealed the fate of every bloodline wielder—the village's paranoia had turned into outright genocide.
And now, they had stumbled upon a survivor.
A part of him wanted to walk away.
He could feel the bloodlust of the Hunters still lingering in the mist. If they found him helping this child, it wouldn't just be him who died—Renji and Souta would die too.
Family came first.
"Tou-san, look." Renji pointed toward the unconscious boy.
Kaiza clenched his jaw. "I know. But we can't help him. If the Hunters see us with him, we'll be executed for treason."
"But we can't just leave him behind to die!" Souta protested.
"We have no choice." His voice was barely above a whisper.
"What would Mom say if she saw you leaving a child behind?" Renji's voice cut deep.
Kaiza closed his eyes, his wife's voice echoing in his mind.
'Do not let fear make you forget your humanity.'
He exhaled sharply.
Damn it.
"Fine. We'll take him to the harbor with us. But once we get there, he leaves."
Approaching the sleeping child, Kaiza reached out, hesitating before placing a hand on his shoulder.
The second his fingers touched the boy's skin—
The child jolted awake.
A choked gasp, wild frantic eyes darting around, his breath coming in ragged bursts. He pressed himself against the tree bark, trapped in a terror only he could see.
Kaiza immediately stepped back, raising his hands in surrender. "I won't hurt you. I promise."
The boy's body remained tense, his bruised hands clenched into trembling fists.
"What do you want?" he rasped out, his voice raw and defensive.
"To help." Kaiza met his gaze steadily. "You can travel with me and my sons—if you want."
A long pause. Then—slowly—the boy nodded.
Kaiza extended a hand.
The child hesitated… then took it.
"My name is Kaiza. Those two are Renji and Souta."
A pause.
"...My name is Hyouketsu."