Kiyotakan's childhood was quiet, but his adolescence was anything but. As he grew older, strange phenomena began to surround him. Objects moved without touch. Animals paused in his presence, as if sensing something divine. His dreams became vivid and prophetic, filled with planets he'd never seen and voices he didn't recognize. Hana, his adoptive mother, watched with growing concern, unsure whether to protect him or prepare him for something greater.
One morning, Kiyotakan woke to find himself floating above his bed. His body glowed faintly, and the air around him shimmered. Hana rushed in, gasping, but didn't scream. She simply placed her hand on his shoulder and whispered, "You're changing, aren't you?" He nodded, tears in his eyes. "I don't know what's happening to me."
Over the next few weeks, his powers multiplied. He could hear thoughts — not just whispers, but full conversations from people across the forest. He could teleport short distances, vanishing from one room and appearing in another. He mimicked voices perfectly, even those he'd only heard once. His eyes occasionally flashed with light, and his skin pulsed with energy when he was angry or afraid.
Hana tried to keep him grounded. She taught him meditation, gave him books on philosophy and mythology, and reminded him daily that love was stronger than power. But Kiyotakan felt torn. The more he learned about his abilities, the more he felt like a stranger in his own home. "I'm not normal," he said one night. "I'm not even human."
"You're mine," Hana replied. "And that's enough."
But the world outside was changing. Rumors spread of a "floating boy" seen near the forest. Drones captured blurry footage of Kiyotakan phasing through trees. News outlets speculated about alien life, divine intervention, and government experiments. Hana begged him to stay hidden, but Kiyotakan felt the pull of something larger — a cosmic thread tugging at his soul.
One day, while walking through town, Kiyotakan accidentally phased through a wall in front of a crowd. Panic erupted. People screamed. Phones recorded. Within hours, his face was on every screen. "Cosmic anomaly discovered in Florida," the headlines read. Scientists speculated. Governments mobilized. Satellites tracked his movements.
Kiyotakan fled to the forest, overwhelmed. Hana found him curled beneath a tree, shaking. "They're afraid of me," he whispered. "They should be," Hana said softly. "But that doesn't mean you have to be afraid of yourself."
That night, Kiyotakan stood on a cliff overlooking the city. He closed his eyes and let the wind carry him upward. He flew for the first time, soaring above rooftops and rivers, his body glowing like a comet. People below watched in awe and fear. Some prayed. Others ran. But Kiyotakan felt free — for the first time, he wasn't hiding.
As he hovered above the clouds, he heard a voice in his mind. Deep, ancient, familiar. "You are awakening," it said. "But you are not alone." He turned, and for a moment, saw a tear in the sky — a shimmering rift pulsing with energy. Then it vanished.
The next morning, Hana found him silent and distant. "What did you see?" she asked. "A door," he replied. "And something waiting behind it." She didn't press further. She simply held him close and whispered, "Whatever comes, we face it together."
But Kiyotakan knew the door wouldn't stay closed forever. His powers were growing. His dreams were intensifying. And somewhere beyond the stars, something — or someone — was watching.
Days turned into weeks, and the phenomena escalated. Rivers froze when he walked past, then thawed instantly. Birds circled him in perfect spirals, refusing to break formation. Entire villages reported losing hours, waking to find the sun in the wrong place. Some called him a miracle. Others called him a curse.
Governments sent emissaries, scientists, even soldiers. They demanded Hana surrender the boy. She refused. "He is not yours to take," she said. But Kiyotakan knew they would not stop. He saw their satellites, their drones, their weapons. He felt their fear pressing against him like a storm.
One evening, a group of villagers gathered outside Hana's home. Some carried candles, others carried stones. "Show us the boy," they demanded. "If he is divine, let him bless us. If he is cursed, let him leave." Hana stood firm, shielding him. "He is my son," she said. "And he will not be paraded for your fear." The crowd dispersed, but whispers grew louder.
Kiyotakan's dreams became unbearable. He saw galaxies burning, gods falling, shadows rising. He saw himself standing at the center of it all, torn between light and darkness. He woke screaming, his aura shaking the house. Hana held him, whispering lullabies, but even her love could not silence destiny.
The rift returned. This time, it did not vanish. It hovered above the forest, shimmering like a wound in the sky. Kiyotakan felt its pull, stronger than gravity. He stepped toward it, trembling. Voices echoed from within — some pleading, some commanding. "Come," they said. "Come and see."
Hana grabbed his hand. "Don't," she begged. "You're not ready." He looked at her, eyes glowing. "I may never be ready. But it's waiting." She shook her head, tears streaming. "Then let it wait. Let me have you a little longer." He hesitated, then stepped back. The rift pulsed once, then faded. But he knew it would return.
That night, he stood alone beneath the stars. He whispered to the sky, "Who am I?" The wind answered with silence. But deep in the void, Vakalagua stirred. He watched his son from afar, rage and pride burning in equal measure. "You are mine," he growled. "And soon, you will know it."
The cosmos trembled. Ancient beings whispered in hidden places. The balance tipped, slow but sure. Earth lay quiet under its night sky, but destiny was no longer hidden. Kiyotakan's adolescence was ending. His first true trial was about to begin.