Hachi woke up with a start.
The morning sun spilled through the slats in his blinds, casting long bars of gold across his desk. His heart was already pounding, not from a nightmare, but from the weight of the day.
Today was the day.
Thread Manifestation Day.
At thirteen, every student received their supernatural ability. Some threads bent fire. Others controlled shadows or sound. Some granted brute strength. Others finesse, speed, or subtlety.
Whatever shape it took, it always arrived on the first day of high school.
Hachi rolled out of bed, barely pausing to run a hand through his unkempt black hair. His uniform hung crisply from his door, a symbol of change, of the climb ahead. He dressed quickly, stuffing toast into his mouth while zipping up his jacket.
He paused only once, by the cracked mirror on the wall. His brown eyes stared back, unassuming. He couldn't help wondering: What kind of thread would I get?
Maybe fire. Something flashy. Or wind—his mom had wind. Or maybe something rare, like spatial fold. He allowed himself a smile.
He just wanted a thread.
Everyone did. The threads were how you entered the Tower.
The Tower loomed beyond the city skyline, a colossal structure of steel and mystic alloy that pierced the clouds. Inside it waited trials, treasure, glory, even the chance to reshape the world. Climbing it wasn't mandatory—but everyone wanted to. Some for riches. Some for purpose. Some… just to not feel left behind.
Hachi walked to school with a spring in his step, joining a river of students flowing toward their future.
Thread Manifestation took place in the Auditorium.
The walls buzzed with energy—literal and emotional. Every thirteen-year-old in the district sat in uniform rows, eyes wide with anticipation, hands clutched tight.
One by one, names were called. Students stepped forward, palms placed into the glowing Thread Arc. The Arc pulsed, a color flared, and an ability was born.
"Kaede Himura—Pyrothread: Ember Vein!"
The girl beside Hachi clapped giddily as flames wreathed Kaede's hands.
"Riku Tenma—Chronothread: Blink Delay!"
A boy behind him gasped. "Time type? Lucky bastard."
Then: "Hachi Kurobane."
His heart skipped.
He stood and walked slowly to the arc.
Hand trembling, he placed it into the groove.
The light flared—
Then dimmed.
Silence.
The room stayed still. A faint mechanical hum from the Arc continued… but nothing else.
An operator stepped forward, eyes narrowing.
"Strange. No response. Let's try again."
They reset the panel. Recalibrated. Whispered.
Hachi's throat went dry.
One more scan.
Still nothing.
Finally, the operator straightened, looking uncomfortable.
"No Thread detected."
Gasps. Awkward glances. A few snickers in the back.
Hachi didn't move.
"…It happens sometimes," the operator added quickly. "Dormant Thread. Maybe a late manifestation."
He was ushered back to his seat. The next name was called. The process went on.
Hachi barely heard the rest.
Threadless.
No one said it aloud. They didn't have to.
After school, Hachi walked home slowly. He passed groups of students testing out their new powers—one boy floating rocks around his fingers, two girls tossing mini shockwaves back and forth.
He didn't look at them long.
The walk felt longer than usual. The Tower in the distance looked taller than ever.
He cut through the alley behind the noodle shop, a shortcut he took often.
Then it happened.
A sharp ringing. Like a pin striking glass.
Then something inside his left eye ticked.
tick
He gasped, clutching his face. The world shifted—not physically, but perceptually. He stumbled, blinking rapidly. His left eye burned like cold flame.
He leaned against the alley wall, breathing hard.
His reflection shimmered faintly in the nearby window.
And that's when he saw it.
His left iris no longer looked human.
At its center, a black core pulsed like a singularity. Surrounding it, a single radiant ring turned slowly, etched with faint, alien symbols. The ring wasn't decorative—it moved. Clockwise. With purpose. Four small points arched inward toward the iris, like compass needles always finding center.
He stumbled back.
"What the hell…?"
As quickly as it came, the pain dulled. He blinked again—and the eye returned to normal. Brown. Mundane.
He reached up. Touched his temple. Nothing.
But he'd seen it.
He wasn't threadless.
Whatever this was… it wasn't a normal Thread either.
He couldn't feel energy in his hands. Couldn't summon fire or wind.
But he'd seen something else.
The tick in his eye hadn't been noise. It had been function.
That night, he couldn't sleep.
He sat at his desk, flicking on a desk lamp and peering into the mirror again. Nothing strange.
Until he focused.
Then, faintly, like tuning a radio to a quiet signal—the ring reappeared. Turning. Slowly. Gently.
tick
A flash of data crossed his vision.
[Observer Thread… initializing][Level 1: CoreView Activated][Passive Analysis: Structural Perception, Threadline Trace, Predictive Overlay – Locked][Compatibility: 0.3% Manifested]
The text wasn't in any language he knew—but he understood it perfectly.
He sat frozen.
What was CoreView?
Why didn't it show up in the Arc?
Was it broken? Hidden?
Or was it something more?
The ring in his eye rotated again, clockwise, then stopped.
tick
Just once.