The day began like any other.
Sunlight pooled across the pavement in dappled patches. A quiet chill threaded through the early air, enough for Satoru to tug his sleeves down over his hands as he walked.
He had the morning off school—some exam had been delayed—and his mother had asked him to pick up medicine and tea leaves from town. Keiko had insisted on coming with him.
"For backup," she said with a smirk, "in case you get mugged by a butterfly."
She walked half a step ahead, her usual slouch disguised by the light breeze, hands deep in her hoodie pockets. One headphone hung loose at her collar, swaying with each step.
Satoru didn't mind the silence. He liked the way the city looked in the morning—soft and not too loud yet, like everything hadn't quite woken up.
---
They moved from shop to shop in comfortable rhythm. At the corner pharmacy, Keiko argued with the old man behind the counter about expiry dates. At the fruit stand, she stole a grape and pretended it was a sample.
Satoru didn't laugh out loud, but his eyes warmed.
Their last stop was the convenience store beside the train station.
He pushed the glass door open, the chime overhead soft and familiar.
"Snacks?" Keiko asked.
"Tea and cold compresses," he replied.
"Same thing."
She disappeared down the aisles.
Satoru moved slowly, gathering the items from the list. The store was quiet—an older woman browsed instant ramen, a man in work clothes yawned at the drinks cooler. The air smelled like floor wax and microwaved pork buns.
He reached the register just as it began.
---
At first, it was just a rumble.
Low. Distant. Like a truck a few blocks away.
People glanced toward the window, but no one reacted. Nothing moved.
Satoru paused, a small spike of unease crawling up his spine.
Then the second impact hit—louder, sharper, close enough to make the glass tremble in its frame.
A soft alarm beeped somewhere behind the counter.
Someone outside screamed.
Then another.
The street, seconds ago calm, erupted with motion—pedestrians running, cars screeching to a halt, smoke spilling from somewhere near the intersection.
Keiko reappeared at his side in an instant, already scanning the windows.
"Satoru. Stay behind me."
Her voice had dropped an octave. It wasn't teasing anymore.
He barely had time to nod before—
BOOM.
A shockwave cracked through the block like a hammer. The windows exploded. Glass shattered and rained down in sharp, glittering fragments. The floor buckled under his feet. Shelves collapsed. A magazine rack went flying.
Satoru hit the ground hard. The wind knocked out of him.
His ears rang.
Dust filled his mouth and nose. His heartbeat pounded against his ribs, wild and uneven.
He blinked up.
Smoke.
Fire.
And then—he saw him.
---
A figure emerged from the chaos outside.
A tall man, shirtless, his torso streaked with ash and scars. His skin shimmered with heat, veins pulsing like molten glass. Flames curled lazily from his fingertips, licking the air with unnatural rhythm.
He wasn't running. He wasn't shouting.
He was strolling.
Slow. Casual.
Like he had all the time in the world.
People screamed and scattered in every direction. Some fled into alleyways. Others ducked into shops. Satoru's fingers scraped at the floor, trying to push himself up—but his limbs weren't responding right.
The man stopped in the middle of the street, head turning side to side as if bored.
He raised a hand. A small fireball crackled to life in his palm.
Keiko was already in front of him.
---
"Stay down," she ordered sharply.
Satoru looked up at her. She was standing between him and the entrance—arms raised, knees bent, like a shield about to break.
And for the first time in his life—he saw her scared.
Not the usual annoyed or tired or overconfident. Scared.
Her hands trembled. Not from hesitation. From instinct. From fear.
Her voice didn't shake—but her shoulders did.
She knew she couldn't stop this man.
She was just trying to buy a few more seconds.
Satoru's mouth opened, but no sound came out. He felt small. Pathetic. His heart screamed move—but his limbs stayed frozen.
The villain's eyes settled on them.
He took a single step forward.
The fire in his hand flared brighter.