The rain hadn't stopped since earlier that night. Thunder rolled across the Tokyo skyline, echoing like a beast's roar through the narrow alleys and high-rising steel. Riku sat near the window of his apartment, his sore arms wrapped around his knees as he stared out into the storm.
His body still ached from the fight—or whatever that was—with the strange man. Taichi had vanished, but the bruises were real. And the weight in Riku's chest had only grown heavier.
A sudden knock startled him.
Knock. Knock.
He stood quickly, almost tripping over the edge of his blanket. Who would be knocking at this hour?
Riku carefully approached the front door and opened it.
No one.
Only the storm.
But something caught his eye—on the ground, soaked in the rain, was a folded piece of paper.
He picked it up, water dripping from the corners, and opened it. The writing was jagged, like it had been written quickly with trembling hands:
"Riku Hayashi. Midnight. District 7—Old Shrine Grounds. I know what's happening to you. Come alone."
There was no signature.
He stood still, the note trembling between his fingers. Old Shrine Grounds? That place had been abandoned for years—most people avoided it. Whispers said it was a Rift hotbed before the barrier stabilized that part of the city.
Riku didn't hesitate. He checked on Yuki, still asleep on the couch, and sat back down. Minutes passed like hours. Just as the clock struck 11:45, the door opened again—his mom stepped in, soaked and tired from work.
"You're still up?" she asked.
"I just needed to think. Can you stay with Yuki tonight?" Riku tried to sound casual, but his voice was tight.
His mother looked at him curiously but nodded. "Of course."
He didn't wait for more. Pulling on his hooded jacket, Riku stepped back into the night, into the storm, the wet city streets reflecting the neon signs and lightning overhead.
District 7 was quieter than usual, unnaturally so. The old shrine stood at the center of a forgotten park, overgrown and weathered by time. The only sound was the soft trickle of rain hitting cracked stone.
Riku arrived just before midnight.
No one was there.
He waited in the dark for several minutes, his heart pounding. Maybe it was a prank. Maybe Taichi was behind it. Or maybe… it was something else.
Suddenly, behind him, a flicker of energy cracked the air like static.
Riku spun around.
A hunched figure stood near the shrine steps, hidden beneath a soaked cloak. The rain didn't seem to touch him. His aura felt ancient—quiet, but heavy.
The man raised his head slowly, revealing deep wrinkles, glowing eyes, and a long white beard that flowed past his chest like mist.
"So…" the old man said, his voice like thunder wrapped in silk, "you're the chosen one."
Riku froze, lips parting but no words forming.
The old man took a step forward, the earth seeming to hush around him.
"Your awakening wasn't an accident. And the power inside you—it's not just yours anymore."
Lightning split the sky behind the shrine, casting the old man's face in pale light.
"Welcome to the path, Riku Hayashi."