Rain falls.
Not heavy, not light. Just enough to soak the streets, the air, and the hearts of those left behind.
Below, people gather where the monster had been. Some cry. Others stare blankly at the place where death came and went like a passing storm. None of them know his name. Only that he appeared when all seemed lost.
And then… vanished.
Above them, on a rooftop three stories high, Akitaka Rinne sits alone.
One leg hangs off the edge. His back is slouched. The rain darkens his clothes, weighs down his dreads, but he doesn't move.
He stares at the city with a dull eye—the crimson one.
The other… hidden behind wet strands of hair.
His katana rests nearby, blade stabbed into the rooftop like it grew from the concrete. It pulses faintly, like it's breathing. Still alive.
Akitaka leans back on his palms, staring into the cloudy sky.
Akitaka:
"…This is too much work."
Silence answers him. Just rain and distant sirens.
Then—
A voice. Soft. Calm. A little too calm.
Ikari (Echo of Life):
"You handled that creature well."
Akitaka's brow twitches, just slightly.
Akitaka:
"Huh… still hearing voices. Nice."
Another voice joins. Younger. Sharper. Closer to a smirk than a sentence.
Shikaku (Echo of Death):
"You died, y'know. Like… dead-dead."
Akitaka doesn't even look surprised.
Akitaka:
"Figured."
He pulls his knees up slightly, letting the water pool beneath his boots. The wind picks up.
Akitaka:
"So? Who the hell are you?"
Ikari:
"We told you before. I am Ikari. Echo of Life."
Shikaku:
"And I'm Shikaku. Death, obviously. The cooler one."
Akitaka:
"…Echoes."
The word tastes like rust and confusion. It doesn't belong on his tongue, but it lingers anyway.
Akitaka:
"Why are you in my head?"
Shikaku:
"You brought us in."
Ikari:
"When you Awakened, we manifested."
Akitaka:
"Awakened?"
Ikari:
"Yes. A soul pushed to its edge. Life teetering toward death. That moment cracks something open."
Shikaku:
"Sometimes trauma unlocks it. Sometimes it's raw instinct. Sometimes… it's just unfair."
Akitaka:
"So because I got gutted by a freak, now I'm hearing two voices and wielding some cursed concept sword?"
Ikari:
"Correct."
Akitaka:
"…Tch."
He drags a hand down his face, smearing rain and blood across his cheek. Then looks at the sword.
Still humming.
Still alive.
Still his.
Akitaka:
"And this thing?"
Ikari:
"The embodiment of your Awakening. A weapon born of balance. A physical form of your Truth."
Shikaku:
"Not many people get Echoes. Even fewer get two. You're a walking glitch."
Akitaka:
"Great."
He sighs and mutters, half to himself:
Akitaka:
"So what… there's more of me out there?"
Shikaku:
"Some. Not many."
Ikari:
"People who Awaken through trauma often fade away before they understand what they are."
Akitaka:
"Good for them."
Shikaku:
"There's something else. You got both Life and Death. That's not supposed to happen."
Ikari:
"We Echo our respective Concepts. People who Awaken inherit one based on their soul's design. You… inherited Balance. Somehow."
Akitaka:
"And you don't know why."
Shikaku:
"Nope."
Ikari:
"Not yet."
He stands slowly. The city lights blink through the rain like dying stars. The rooftop reflects them in the puddles, distorted and flickering.
He grabs the sword. The hum grows louder, not aggressive—just present. Like it recognizes him.
A few hours later. The rain eases.
Akitaka walks alone, sword slung across his back, eyes half-lidded as he trudges through alleys and cracked roads. He's not going anywhere in particular. Just… moving.
Then he hears it.
Footsteps. Calm. Crisp.
A man steps out from under a broken bus stop, dressed in a long coat, an umbrella over his shoulder, and a satchel in hand. Mid-30s, confident posture, eyes like someone who's seen Awakenings before.
Man:
"You don't look surprised to see me."
Akitaka:
"I don't care."
Man:
"You reek of Concept energy. Fresh too. Raw. Untamed."
Akitaka:
"And?"
Man:
"You don't know what you are. Or what's inside you."
Shikaku (whispers):
"Who is this guy?"
Ikari:
"Unknown. But he sees more than most."
The man holds up a hand, palm empty.
A circle of faint light spins around it—like a spell, but more elegant.
Man:
"I'm not here to fight. I'm from the Academy."
Akitaka raises an eyebrow.
Akitaka:
"The what?"
Man:
"There's a place where people like you go. To learn. To survive. To avoid tearing themselves apart."
Akitaka:
"Pass."
Man:
"You're not listening. When someone Awakens, their Concept can burn them out from the inside. You'll need control—or you'll end up dragging others down with you."
Akitaka:
"Let them burn."
Man (quietly):
"You really don't care, huh."
Akitaka turns to leave.
Man:
"Wait. Do you even know your Concept?"
Akitaka pauses. Just for a moment.
Akitaka:
"No."
Man:
"Then come by when you're ready. The academy doesn't beg."
He tosses a small card at Akitaka's feet. The letters shimmer in gold:
"Veilwake Institute – For the Awakened."
Akitaka doesn't look back. He keeps walking. Rain-soaked. Sword humming. Echoes quiet.
The world ahead is cracked and unknown. But his feet keep moving.
His crimson eye glints under the neon haze. A crooked smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
Akitaka:
"…If this is the start, the world better keep up."