Something was wrong—terribly wrong.
In 2009, at the Sunflower Children's Welfare Institute, eight-year-old Kamihara Hajime stood alone under a shroud of darkness. What was once filled with laughter and warmth now felt eerily empty.
Everyone—children and staff—had vanished. The buildings, once familiar, seemed twisted and wrong under the dim light, as though corrupted by something sinister.
Hajime stared, frozen. In his past life, he had been an ordinary person—until a terminal illness claimed him early. But death wasn't the end.
He'd opened his eyes in a new body, reborn as a toddler in a foreign land. Since then, he'd lived in this welfare institute. There were no memories of parents, only fragmented glimpses of nurses and kind caretakers. It had always been this place.
And while his memories of that past life faded like a vivid dream, they were undeniably real. This world, however… this world was different. Similar, yet off. A parallel world? Another reality?
The biggest clue came early: he had powers.
He called it telekinesis—though it was more than just mind tricks. It enhanced his body: strength, speed, reflexes, and endurance. He avoided using it excessively, afraid it might hurt his still-growing body. With no mentor, he relied on instinct.
The orphanage life was peaceful. There was never a need to show off. But even minor displays gave him an edge. Among the other kids, he quickly became the one no one dared to challenge. His ability manifested as a pale blue aura, and at times, he could move so fast it felt like the world stood still. At first, it thrilled him. Then it scared him.
Because sometimes, when he moved like that, time itself felt… wrong.
Then came the second clue: ghosts.
He'd seen at least five or six over the years—monstrous, warped beings that no one else could see. Unlike the spooky ghosts from horror films, these were grotesque amalgamations of flesh and shadow. One time, a couple came to adopt a child, and beside them hovered a winged, mosquito-like thing, invisible to all but Hajime.
He began to suspect that whatever power awakened in him also allowed him to see these "things."
And now, the world itself seemed to have changed. The sky outside was wrong. The air was heavy. Something terrible had happened.
Fear clenched at Hajime's heart. Why now? I'm still a kid… I'm not ready!
But panic soon gave way to resolve. No. I was given a second chance at life—and this power. I won't waste it.
He activated his ability. Strength surged into his limbs. His body blurred forward. If something was hunting him, it would learn he wasn't helpless prey.
Elsewhere…
"Mm-hmm, understood. Don't forget our deal. It's a confirmed Grade 1—possibly Special Grade—Cursed Womb. I'll let you know if anything changes. Later, Satoru."
A white-haired woman stood just outside the welfare institute. Cursed Energy thickened around her like a black mist. The aura would've driven most people insane. But her gaze remained steady—curious, almost amused.
"Born from darkness, darkest of the dark… all filth and corruption, be exorcised."
She raised her hand, chanting. A gray-black veil of energy burst outward from the sky, rippling like a curtain. It covered the entire institute in a dome of cursed power.
With calm steps, she walked into the veil and vanished.
"This is bad."
Hajime stared at the creature melting into the ground. It was small, malformed—like a fusion of a dog and a child—and had leapt at him screaming.
He'd fought it on instinct, using his enhanced body. A few blows had been enough.
But the exit was gone.
Every hall he took looped back in on itself. The building had transformed into a maze. No matter how far he ran, the entrance eluded him.
As he explored, more monsters appeared—each one twisted, yet vaguely childlike in shape. Are they spirits of children? he wondered. Born from resentment?
Each one he defeated made him less afraid. Superpowers had a way of making ghosts less scary.
Then he heard it—a soft sobbing.
At the end of a hallway, behind a cabinet.
His body tensed. Another ghost?
No. When he opened the door, two terrified children shrank back—eyes wide with panic.
"Hey!" he whispered. "Stop yelling! Do you want to attract them?!"
The girl clutched the boy and shushed him. Hajime recognized her—Kumiko, a girl who had once been up for adoption but was rejected due to a birthmark. The boy, he didn't know.
They recognized him too. Everyone at the institute knew Kamihara Hajime. He was the kid who scared off bullies and didn't talk much. They used to say he was strange—now, he was all they had.
He questioned them briefly, but they were clueless. They'd seen the monsters too, then hid. They were lucky to survive.
Then—a noise.
A scratching, crawling sound. Getting closer.
Hajime's eyes narrowed. "Back in the cabinet. Stay silent."
Fighting while protecting them was too risky. They had to stay hidden.
The children obeyed. Hajime ran down the corridor, boots slamming against the floor.
Behind him, shrieks rose. Clawed limbs scraped across tile.
Too narrow to fight here. I need space.
The real hunt had begun.