Akira's body felt heavy, sinking into an abyss of darkness. Whispers crawled into his ears. Muffled, urgent, desperate.
Then the abyss of darkness changed into a blurry environment; the only thing he could make out was that he was in an ordinary house and was being held by a woman.
The woman's voice. Soft. Trembling. "Please… don't take him."
Then the scenery changed completely; he was seated at a desk with a piece of paper in front of him in a white room.
No one was around, and he couldn't see what was written on the paper. He frantically looked around trying to grasp the situation he was in.
A faceless figure towered over him, eyes like dying stars. "You've failed again."
Akira felt his whole body tense up, and he was about to jump up. But the faceless man went right past him, grabbing what looked like another small kid, and left the room.
Before Akira could grasp what the hell was going on, he felt the whole world spin; losing consciousness, he fell to the ground.
While unconscious, horrifying visions flashed through his mind: blood, gunshots. The scent of ash. Screams.
It was overwhelming; he wished this would stop, but it felt like he had no power or ability at all. Like he was a teenager going through puberty.
It was impossible to avoid it.
Burning pain flares in his chest. He gasps, clutching his hands together in front of his chest. He lay there unconscious in a fetal position.
His childlike body grew rapidly; now he looked to be around twelve years old.
Opening his eyes, all his senses are overwhelmed by the intense stench of blood and sweat.
His ears were ringing from all the shouting and gunshots. But he could barely see anything; nothing made sense. He wanted to scream, but when he tried, nothing came out.
Like he was forced to go through this in silence all alone. He felt utterly helpless.
Blurry faces flickered through his mind; he could hardly differentiate between them, but when he could, he felt like they were all old acquaintances.
Their accusing eyes burning into him, a child's laugh echoed. Then a cry. Then absolute silence.
As if everything that had just happened was a lie, he felt his heart rate calm down, and he could finally catch his breath.
Still, he couldn't make a single noise, nor could he do anything; he sat there staring in front of him. There was nothing but the color black; it was pitch black all around him.
But even that didn't last long; the darkness shattered with no warning, absorbing Akira.
When he opened his eyes again, he was looking down on a burning city. Screams ripped through the air, but Akira was focused on a single point within the city, a young boy that looked exactly like him.
A voice calls out. Cold, ruthless. "No mercy. Leave none alive."
Steel clashes. Flesh rends. Blood sprays hot against the young boy's skin. But he grins, a predator's smile.
Suddenly a flash appears in front of Akira's eyes, his vision blurring.
Rubbing his eyes, he tries to see what happens next, but when he's able to see clearly once more, the scenery has changed completely.
The young boy was lying on a bed with a blurry figure tending to his wounds; Akira couldn't even make out the gender of the person caring for the young boy that looked like his younger self.
He clutches his head, in a rage his deep blue eyes turning crimson. The scene in front of him started shattering, but at the last moment a pitch-black crown made out of nine black horns appeared and completely restored it.
Akira's eyes turn back to their deep blue hue; he scrutinizes the black crown for a moment before focusing on the scene below him once more.
Still unable to do anything except observe, he calms himself down and decides to pay close attention to whatever might come next.
The scene starts distorting. Laughter echoes, then a deep, bone-chilling scream is heard from the young boy as he is seated above the faceless figure who lies there in a pool of their own blood.
It cracks, and Akira is swirled away with all the fragments of the scene, but the look on the young boy's face was etched onto his mind.
His deep blue eyes had turned crimson, and that bone-chilling scream had turned into laughter not long after.
Then a bloodied blade appears in Akira's hand. The ground beneath him quakes. Ash and ruin stretching endlessly. He's surrounded by bodies. Familiar faces with empty eyes.
A woman stands before him. "Will you always run from your past, Akira?"
The woman charges. Metal clashes. Sparks fly. Akira's hand moves on instinct. He counters and slices, but hesitation grips him. The woman's eyes flash; they're full of sorrow. "You've forgotten who you are."
Pain explodes in his side, but Akira lashes out. A fatal blow. The woman crumples, blood pooling beneath him. She whispers, "Remember... who you are."
With that she turns into particles of light, and Akira is left all alone in this ruined landscape; he wanders around for what felt like hours.
But he found nothing but bodies or faceless people calling his name, but the moment he approached one, they turned into dust.
The world fractures after what feels like an eternity; Akira collapses. Visions flood in. But he can't make anything out of them; they're too fragmented or completely black.
Then, as the last vision flashes across his mind, he sees himself. But what he sees leaves him baffled; his eyes looked completely empty, and he was staring at nothing, sitting next to a lake.
Akira wakes up, breathing hard. His clothes are soaked in sweat.
He stays in bed for a good amount of time, slowly absorbing everything that had just happened, and eventually he slowly gets up.
But when he does, he feels his heart ache, as if something important has just vanished.