The wooden floor was hard against his cheek.
Jin opened his eyes. The morning light filtered through the thin curtains of his apartment. Pale. Gray. Dust motes drifted in the cold air.
He didn't sit up. He lay there. The refrigerator hummed in the corner. A low, vibrating sound that scraped against his eardrums.
He tried to move his left arm. A sharp, burning ache shot up from his wrist to his shoulder. The muscles felt pulled apart. Torn and hastily knotted back together.
He pushed himself off the floor with his right hand.
His knees popped in the quiet room. He stood up. The white uniform shirt clung to his skin. The blood had dried into a stiff, dark brown stain on the collar and down his chest.
He walked to the bathroom. Bare feet on cold linoleum. No sound.
The air in the small room was stale. He stood in front of the sink. Looked at the mirror.
His face was pale. Dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes. He leaned closer to the glass. He inspected his left eye. The iris was a dull brown. The crimson was gone. The black comma was gone.
But the heat remained.
Deep behind the pupil, a phantom fire throbbed. In time with his heartbeat. A steady, rhythmic pressure. Like a nail resting against the bone, waiting to be hammered in.
He turned on the cold water. Let it run over his wrists.
He splashed the freezing water onto his face. Rubbed his eyes hard. Grabbed a rough towel and pressed it against his skin until it hurt.
He lowered the towel.
A cold pressure formed at the base of his skull. A jagged intrusion.
Neural pathways burnt.Restoration failed.Permanent degradation.
He gripped the sink tighter. His knuckles turned white.
No interface. No button. The parasite simply stated the invoice. He had traded a piece of his brain for the right to wake up this morning.
He walked into the small kitchen. Opened the refrigerator. The cold air spilled out, raising goosebumps on his arms.
A bottle of water. Half a loaf of bread. An empty space on the middle shelf.
He stared at the empty space.
The space felt wrong.
He tried to see it.
Nothing came.
Just static. White, burning noise where a piece of his memory should have been.
He closed the door.
He went to his closet. Pulled out a clean Kuoh Academy uniform. Stripped off the bloody shirt. It peeled away from his skin with a faint tearing sound. He dropped it into a black plastic trash bag. Tied the bag shut.
Dressing took time. His left hand had a fine tremor. The fingers did not want to close around the small plastic buttons. They felt thick and clumsy. He used his right hand to force his left fingers into position. Button by button.
He picked up his school bag. It felt heavier today. The canvas strap dug into his collarbone.
He locked the door of his apartment. Walked out into the morning.
The walk to the academy was a sensory assault.
The light hit too hard. He kept his head down. Watched the cracked pavement.
A train rushed past on the elevated tracks ahead. The vibration rattled his teeth. The screech of metal on metal pierced his skull.
It hurt to hear.
He kept his breathing steady.
In.
Out.
Students in Kuoh uniforms began to fill the sidewalks. They walked in groups. Laughed. Complained about tests. Shoved each other playfully. Their voices blended into a wall of noise that pressed against his chest. They moved with the careless energy of people who didn't know the dark was watching them.
Jin walked on the edge of the pavement. Close to the brick walls. He kept a precise distance of three feet from anyone else. If someone bumped into his left side, he wasn't sure he could stay standing.
He watched their shadows on the concrete. Made sure his own shadow moved normally.
The wrought-iron gates of Kuoh Academy loomed at the end of the street.
The school was pristine. Manicured lawns. Grand brick buildings with ivy climbing the walls. But the air here was different. The low-frequency hum from the alleyway was present here too. Buried under the noise of hundreds of teenagers. A heavy blanket over the grounds.
He walked through the gates.
"Jin."
The voice cut through the ambient noise. Sharp. Exact.
Jin stopped.
He took a single, shallow breath. The faint taste of copper returned to his throat. He forced the muscles in his jaw to relax.
He turned around.
Sona Sitri stood near the entrance. She held a black clipboard against her chest. Her uniform was immaculate. Black hair cut in a sharp bob.
Jin looked at her. He waited.
Sona adjusted her thin-rimmed glasses. Her violet eyes locked onto his face. Cold.
"You are early." Sona said.
"I walk fast." Jin said.
His voice was flat. Quiet.
Sona stepped closer. The chatter of the students around them dulled. The air grew a fraction colder.
She did not look at his face. She looked at the space above his shoulders. She frowned slightly.
"There was a severe disturbance last night." Sona said. Conversational. "In the old commercial district. A massive spike of unregistered energy. Violent."
Jin looked at the metal clip on her board.
"Did you hear anything." Sona asked.
The heavy pressure flared at the back of Jin's skull. The parasite woke up. It sensed the energy radiating from the girl. It recognized a predator.
Hostile entity.Dangerous.Sharingan: Stage One.
A spike of heat drove into his left eye. A dull, throbbing pain. The parasite wanted out. It demanded the transaction. It wanted to drown the courtyard in pressure.
Jin bit the inside of his cheek. Hard. He tasted blood.
The physical pain grounded him. He forced the parasite back down into the dark. He locked the door on it.
He looked directly into Sona's violet eyes.
"I was asleep." Jin said.
He gave her nothing. No defensive posture. No nervous shifting.
Sona stared at him.
One second.
Two.
Three.
She was trying to read the void. There was nothing there. Just a human boy with dark circles under his eyes.
"You look pale." Sona said. Her voice dropped. A test.
Jin did not blink. He kept his hands loose at his sides.
"I am fine."
The silence dragged out again.
Students walked past them. They gave the Student Council President a wide berth. The morning bell rang across the courtyard. A sharp electronic tone.
Neither of them moved.
Sona's grip on her clipboard tightened slightly. Her knuckles paled.
She looked down. Pulled a pen from her pocket. Made a small, precise checkmark on the paper.
"The council is organizing a cleaning drive for the old school building next week." Sona said. She looked back up. The cold calculation was back. "We will need volunteers."
"I have a part-time job." Jin said.
Sona tilted her head. "I see. Have a good day in class, Jin."
She turned. Her black shoes clicked against the stone pavement.
Jin stood perfectly still.
He watched her until she disappeared into the building.
When the courtyard was mostly empty, he put his left hand into his trouser pocket. The fine tremor had returned. Violent. Uncontrollable. He curled his fingers into a tight fist. He dug his fingernails deep into his own palm.
He walked toward his classroom building.
The stairs were steep. He kept his right hand on the railing. His legs felt heavy. The muscle fibers protested every step.
He reached his classroom on the second floor. Slid the door open.
The room was loud. Desks pushed together. Students throwing crumpled paper. Someone was drawing on the chalkboard. The smell of chalk dust and cheap cologne hung in the air.
Jin walked to his desk at the back of the room. Near the window. He sat down.
He kept his left hand in his pocket.
He looked out the window. The sky was completely grey. The sun had vanished behind thick clouds. It looked like it was going to rain again.
He slowly opened his fist inside his pocket. His palm was wet.
He pulled his hand out just enough to see it under the desk.
Four small, crescent-shaped cuts were dug into his skin. Blood pooled in the deep marks. Dark and thick.
He looked at the blood.
He reached into his bag with his right hand. Pulled out a blank notebook and a pen. Put them on the desk. Put his bleeding hand back into his pocket.
He opened the notebook.
He looked at the page.
It stayed empty.
The classroom door slid open.
The noise in the room died. Instantly. The laughter stopped mid-sentence.
A new pressure flooded the air. Heavy. Sweet. Suffocating. Not the cold, calculating weight of Sona Sitri. This was raw, overwhelming power. It coated the back of the throat like thick honey.
Jin didn't look up. He stared at the blank paper. He forced his breathing to remain shallow.
Footsteps walked down the aisle. Slow.
They stopped right next to his desk.
A lock of crimson hair fell across his blank page.
"You're bleeding." A girl's voice said.
Too close.