Haruaki's body ached like he'd been hit by a truck. The stabilizer Rina had given him dulled the sharp pain in his chest, but every muscle screamed from the strain of stepping into the Veil. He sat on the creaky stool in her safehouse, the air thick with the scent of incense and something metallic, like old blood. The cracked crystal ball on the table flickered faintly, its swirling colors taunting him with half-seen images—his own face, older, broken, staring back like a warning. Rina was across the room, sorting through a pile of artifacts that looked like they belonged in a museum, or a horror movie. Kuro, the talking crow, perched on a shelf, his golden eyes glinting as he watched Haruaki like a judge.
"You look like death warmed over," Kuro said, his gravelly voice dripping with amusement. "Veil's not kind to newbies, kid. Better toughen up."
Haruaki shot him a glare. "Thanks for the pep talk." His voice was rough, his throat raw from the green liquid Rina had forced down him. The key—Gatekey, Rina had called it—sat heavy in his pocket, its faint pulse a constant reminder of the mess he'd stumbled into. Fractureborn. Time manipulation. A hidden world that could kill him. He wanted to laugh at how absurd it all sounded, but the memory of the Veilspawn's ember eyes and Rina's flames kept him quiet.
Rina glanced over, her red-streaked hair falling into her face. "Stop whining," she said, tossing a small, rune-etched stone onto the table. "You survived your first day in the Veil. Most don't. Now, let's see if you can handle a real test."
"Test?" Haruaki's stomach twisted. "I barely survived that monster. What's next, fighting a dragon?"
Rina's smirk was sharp enough to cut. "No dragons. Yet. We're starting small—getting you to feel the Veil's time zones. If you're Fractureborn, you need to sense them before you can bend them. Otherwise, you'll fracture again, and I'm not wasting another stabilizer on you."
Kuro cawed, hopping onto the table. "She's right. You're a walking disaster right now. One wrong move, and you'll rip a hole in reality. Or turn yourself into an old man. Either way, messy."
Haruaki's hand tightened around the Gatekey through his jacket. "Fine. How do I do it?"
Rina gestured to the crystal ball. "Focus on that. The Veil's time zones are like currents—always moving, always shifting. You've got to feel them, like a pulse under your skin. Close your eyes, clear your mind, and don't screw it up."
He wanted to snap back, but the weight of her words—and the memory of that chest-searing pain—kept him quiet. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the safehouse's hum, Kuro's occasional caw, the city's distant rumble filtering through the Veil. At first, there was nothing but his own uneven breathing. Then, faintly, he felt it—a rhythm, not unlike the key's pulse, but deeper, like the heartbeat of the world itself. It was erratic, jagged, like a song played out of tune. His chest tightened, and the air grew heavy, pressing against his skin.
"Good," Rina said, her voice low. "You're touching it. Now, don't push. Just let it flow."
He tried, but the rhythm slipped, and a sharp pain stabbed through his temples. His eyes flew open, and the crystal ball flared, showing a flicker of something—a street, a girl with long dark hair, her face blurred but familiar. The image vanished as quickly as it came, leaving him gasping. "What was that?" he asked, his voice shaking.
Rina frowned, glancing at the ball. "Echoes. The Veil holds memories, pieces of time. Sometimes they leak through. What'd you see?"
"A girl," Haruaki said, his mind racing. "I… I think I know her."
Before Rina could respond, a sharp knock echoed from the metal door. Haruaki tensed, his hand going to the key. Rina grabbed her staff, its tip sparking faintly. "Stay put," she hissed, moving toward the door. Kuro's feathers ruffled, his eyes narrowing.
The door swung open, revealing a girl no older than Haruaki, her long dark hair falling over a worn jacket. Her eyes were sharp, a deep brown that seemed to carry too much weight for someone so young. She stepped inside, ignoring Rina's raised staff, her gaze locking onto Haruaki. "You," she said, her voice soft but certain. "You're alive."
Haruaki's breath caught. Her face—it was the one from the crystal ball, the one that felt like a memory he couldn't place. "Do I know you?" he asked, standing despite Rina's warning look.
The girl's expression flickered—relief, pain, something else. "Yumi," she said. "My name's Yumi. And you… you're Haruaki Asahi."
Rina lowered her staff slightly, her eyes darting between them. "You two know each other? How?"
Yumi ignored her, stepping closer to Haruaki. "We were kids together. Before… before you disappeared." Her voice cracked, and she looked away, her hands clenching into fists. "I thought you were dead."
Haruaki's head throbbed, fragments of memory stirring—laughter, a playground, a girl with pigtails and a bright smile. But it was like trying to hold water in his hands; the harder he grasped, the more it slipped away. "I don't remember," he admitted, hating how helpless he sounded. "My parents… they vanished when I was thirteen. Everything before that's a blur."
Yumi's eyes softened, but there was something guarded there, too. "You're here now. That's what matters. But you shouldn't be in the Veil. It's dangerous, Haruaki. Especially for you."
Kuro cawed, hopping onto Haruaki's shoulder, his claws digging in. "She's not wrong, kid. You're a magnet for trouble. And she smells like secrets."
"Back off, bird," Yumi snapped, her tone sharper than Haruaki expected. She turned to Rina. "You're training him? You know what he is, don't you?"
Rina's grip on her staff tightened. "Fractureborn. Yeah, I know. What's it to you?"
Yumi's jaw clenched, but she didn't answer. Instead, she looked at Haruaki, her eyes searching his face. "You need to be careful. The Veil's not just monsters. There are people—powerful people—who'll want what you have. That key, your power… they'll kill for it."
Haruaki's hand went to his pocket, the Gatekey's warmth grounding him. "What do you know about it?"
"Enough," Yumi said, her voice low. "I've been in the Veil longer than you. I've seen what they do to Fractureborn. You're not just a threat to them—you're a prize."
Rina stepped forward, her staff sparking. "Enough cryptic bullshit. If you've got answers, spit them out. Who's 'they'?"
Yumi hesitated, then shook her head. "Not here. Not now. Just… keep him alive, fire-witch. He's more important than you know."
Kuro squawked, his wings flaring. "Oh, I like her. She's got drama. But she's right about one thing, kid—you're in deep."
Haruaki's head spun. Yumi's presence, her words, the fragments of memory—they were too much. He wanted to demand answers, to shake her until she explained everything, but the pain in his chest flared again, sharper this time. The room shimmered, the Veil's strange sky visible through the walls for a split second. He gasped, clutching the table, and the crystal ball flared again, showing that same street, Yumi's younger face laughing, a younger Haruaki beside her.
"Focus!" Rina grabbed his arm, her voice cutting through the haze. "You're fracturing again. Pull it back."
He tried, reaching for that rhythm he'd felt before, the Veil's pulse. It was there, jagged and wild, but when he touched it, pain lanced through him, like his bones were cracking. His vision blurred, and he saw Eldridge City—his city—layered over the Veil, its neon signs flickering in sync with the pain. He heard Yumi's voice, distant, calling his name, and Kuro's caw, sharp and urgent.
Then, something snapped. The pain vanished, replaced by a rush of power, like a dam breaking. Time slowed—or he thought it did. Rina's hand on his arm was frozen, Yumi's mouth half-open in a shout, Kuro's wings caught mid-flap. The crystal ball glowed brighter, its colors swirling faster. Haruaki's heart pounded, but he felt alive, electric, like he could rewrite the world.
And then it hurt. His chest burned, his skin tightened, and he felt years slip away, his body aging in seconds. He screamed, and time snapped back, the room returning to normal. He collapsed to his knees, gasping, his hands shaking. Rina was at his side, cursing under her breath. "Told you," she said, her voice tight. "You push too hard, you pay."
Yumi knelt beside him, her hand hovering over his shoulder. "You can't keep doing that, Haruaki. Your power—it's not just dangerous. It's killing you."
Kuro landed on the table, his eyes glinting. "Listen to the girl, kid. You're a Fractureborn, alright. But you're raw. Untrained. You need to learn control, or you'll burn out before you figure out why you're here."
Haruaki's breath came in ragged gasps. He looked at Yumi, her face a mix of worry and something deeper, something hidden. "Why am I here?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "What do you know?"
Yumi's lips parted, but she hesitated, her eyes darting to Rina, then back to him. "I know you're not just a delivery boy," she said finally. "And I know the Veil's elite are watching. They'll come for you, Haruaki. Soon."
The room fell silent, the weight of her words settling like a storm cloud. Haruaki's hand closed around the Gatekey, its pulse steady now, almost comforting. He didn't know Yumi, not really, but her presence felt like a piece of his past clicking into place. The Veil, the key, his powers—it was all connected, and he was caught in the middle.
Rina stood, her staff sparking. "Enough talk. We need to move. If she's right, this place isn't safe anymore." She looked at Haruaki, her expression hard but not unkind. "You ready to run, rookie?"
He nodded, though his body screamed in protest. Yumi's hand brushed his, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt through him—not pain, but something else, something warm. "I'll help you," she said softly. "But you have to trust me."
Haruaki didn't know if he could, but as the Veil's pulse thrummed in his chest, he knew one thing: there was no going back.