The streetlights cast long, distorted shadows as Zazm walked, the rhythmic tap of his sneakers the only sound in the pre-dawn stillness.
A cool breeze whispered through the bare branches of the trees lining the avenue, carrying the faint scent of damp earth.
"I didn't see it wrong.....," Zazm's eyes contained a hint of sadness and somewhat guilt, his hands carefully rested in his pockets but his facial expressions betrayed that calm.
"What the? I can't seem to think.....," After a long while something he was trying to bury hit him again, something that made him restless once again.
He clenched his fists and took out his phone from his pocket, "2:39...," it was extremely late but that's something he didn't cared about.
He wasn't worried about being out so late; his parents, wrapped up in their high-stakes business deals, rarely noticed his comings and goings.
He was always a ghost in their opulent mansion, a quiet presence they acknowledged only when convenient. There's no way they would care now.
He reached the wrought-iron gates of his home, the imposing structure looming against the dark sky like a silent sentinel.
The gates swung open at his approach, revealing the long, winding driveway. The house was lit by a soft, amber glow, a beacon in the surrounding darkness.
"Well, the mansion looks straight out of some movie, why do they even need a house this big for 2 people?" He walked inside.
Inside, the grand foyer was cool and echoing. Miranda, her usually vibrant face etched with worry, stood near the foot of the sweeping staircase, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "Zazm," she said, her voice a low, anxious murmur. "It's after two. I was so worried.
Zazm offered her a gentle smile, the kind that always seemed to soften her concern. "I'm sorry, Miranda. I was with Kiyomasa, and we lost track of time."
She sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Just... please be careful. Your parents..." she trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air
He nodded, understanding. "I will. Go to bed, Miranda. You need your rest."
He watched her walk away, her footsteps echoing softly on the marble floor. Then, he ascended the staircase, each step a silent acknowledgement of the isolation that surrounded him.
His room, a sprawling space filled with expensive furniture and untouched books, felt cold and empty. He switched on a bedside lamp, the warm glow barely piercing the shadows.
"I'll need to get up early, I'll see what happens tomorrow." Before he knew it Zazm's eyes started feeling heavy.
He sank into his plush bed, the soft mattress a stark contrast to the hard thoughts swirling in his mind.
He stared at the ceiling, the intricate patterns seeming to shift and morph in the dim light. He closed his eyes, the weight of his solitude pressing down on him, and drifted into a restless sleep, the silence of the mansion amplifying the turmoil within him.
---
The small, cozy apartment was filled with the warm, comforting aroma of herbal tea. Kiyomasa, his eyes sparkling with an innocent enthusiasm, bounced on the worn, floral-patterned couch.
"And then, Grandma, he just… stayed calm! Even when those guys were yelling, he didn't even flinch!"
His grandmother, Haruko, sat in her favorite armchair, her wrinkled hands wrapped around a steaming mug. A gentle smile played on her lips as she listened to her grandson's animated recounting of his day with Zazm. "He sounds… different," she said, her voice soft and slightly raspy.
"He is!" Kiyomasa exclaimed, his voice filled with admiration. "He's really cool! He doesn't go around hurting others and helps others too."
Haruko's smile deepened. "He sounds like a good friend, Kiyomasa. You've always been so kind, so trusting. It's… refreshing to hear you speak of someone who appreciates that."
'He's so naive,' she thought, a flicker of sadness in her heart.
'So easily taken advantage of. But this kid, Zazm… he seems different.'
Kiyomasa quickly put the dishes down and quickly went to her, "But he's also really cold, like he becomes a stone sometimes."
Haruko chuckled, a warm, melodic sound. "Unique is the word, dear. You have a very special way of seeing the world."
'He reminds me so much of his parents', she mused, her gaze drifting to a faded photograph on the mantle. So gentle, so full of light… taken too soon.
The memory of their sudden passing, the raw, aching grief that had consumed her and the small, orphaned Kiyomasa, still lingered like a shadow. She'd raised him, poured all her love into him, trying to shield him from the harsh realities of the world.
Kiyomasa, oblivious to her inner turmoil, continued to chatter about Zazm, his voice filled with a childlike wonder.
Haruko watched him, her smile fading slightly. She noticed how the old clock on the wall was ticking slowly, each tick a silent reminder of time passing. The room's warm glow seemed to dim.
"Grandma, are you alright?" Kiyomasa asked, his voice laced with concern. "You look… sad."
Haruko blinked, her eyes focusing on her grandson's worried face
She reached out and gently cupped his cheek, her touch feather-light. "Just… thinking, dear. Thinking about how much you've grown." She paused, her voice taking on a soft, almost wistful tone. "Looks like you have found yourself a good friend."
She stood up, her movements slow and deliberate. A soft, almost melancholy smile touched her lips."Something tells me you'll find more friends and people that'll care about you."
She stood there as lost in thought, Kiyomasa worriely asked her, "A-are you okay, Grandma?"
A soft and mesmerizing smile appeared on her face as she spoke, "You have grown up, Kiyomasa." A simple sentence-A simple statement, but it was far more than that.
She turned and walked towards her bedroom, her footsteps soft and measured. The room seemed to grow colder as she left, the silence heavy and profound.
Kiyomasa watched her go, a strange sense of unease settling in his stomach. 'She stayed up late because of me..... perhaps she's tired.'
He wasn't sure why, but something about her words, her tone, felt… final. He shrugged it off, attributing it to her being tired, but the feeling lingered, a quiet, unsettling premonition.
---
The harsh glare of morning sun sliced through the gap in his curtains, stabbing at his eyes. Zazm groaned, rolling over and fumbling for his phone.
10 a.m. Crap, he was late. He shot upright, the remnants of his restless sleep clinging to him like a damp cloth. "Damn it," he muttered, scrambling out of bed. "I'm late-extremely late."
He threw on a pair of jeans and a dark hoodie, his movements quick and efficient. He barely registered the sprawling luxury of his room, his mind already racing ahead.
He burst out of his room, nearly colliding with Miranda, who was patiently waiting with a tray. "Zazm, you haven't had breakfast," she said, her voice gentle.
"No time, Miranda," he replied, already halfway down the stairs. "I'm late."
"At least have a piece of toast," she insisted, "You need something in your stomach."
He paused, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. "Fine, fine. Just a quick bite." He wolfed down a piece of toast and a glass of juice, his eyes darting towards the door. "Okay, I'm really late now. Gotta go."
"Wait, Zazm," Miranda said, her voice unusually firm. She took his arm and gently steered him towards the garage. "There's something I want to show you."
He frowned, glancing at his watch. "Miranda, I really don't have time for this."
She simply smiled, a knowing look in her eyes, and opened the garage door. Zazm's breath hitched. There, bathed in the soft garage lighting, sat a motorcycle. It was a sleek, matte black machine, its lines sharp and aggressive. It looked like something out of a cyberpunk movie.
"What… what is this?" he stammered, his eyes wide.
"A gift," Miranda said, her voice warm. "From your parents. For your upcoming birthday."
"My… my parents?" Zazm echoed, disbelief coloring his voice. "They got me… this?"
"They did," she confirmed, her smile widening. "They said, 'He'll be turning nineteen soon, he might appreciate something to help him get around.'"
Zazm circled the bike, running a hand over its cool, smooth surface. "This is… incredible," he breathed. "But… why now? They've never given me anything like this before."
"They know you won't be hear by the time of your birthday, they still care about you." Miranda said softly. "They just… express it differently."
"Differently? They practically ignore me!" he retorted, but the anger in his voice was tempered by a strange sense of awe. He couldn't deny the sheer, raw beauty of the machine.
"Maybe this is their way of trying to change that," Miranda suggested. "Besides, it's a beautiful machine."
Zazm stared at the bike, his mind reeling. "It is," he admitted. "It really is." He looked at Miranda, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, Miranda. For… for showing me this."
Zazm's heart was jumping from excitement as he saw the bike Infront of him, he started walking closer to it, when Miranda's voice stopped him, "But you don't know how to drive it..."
Zazm turned his head around and smiled, "You're forgetting I loved to bike around and how good I was at it."
"But these are different things, a motorbike is way heavy and hard to drive, you can't just drive it and I can't let you take it out without a license."
"Miranda.... Pleaseeee... I can drive, I promise." Zazm begged her his voice filled with excitement.
"No, once you have your license you can have it but before that you'll learn to ride it properly." Miranda spoke her voice stern but laced with concern.
Zazm put his hands in his pockets and kicked an imaginary rock, he spoke in a disappointed tone, "Fine.... But I'll have it sooner or later."
A smile appeared on his face as he rushed outside of the house, still happy and excited about the bike. He always wanted a heavy bike and he always wanted to wander off at high speed at night.
"Not anymore," he cleched his fists in happiness, he was jumping around the streets when he suddenly stopped.
He quickly started rammaging through the streets, he remembered his way, it took him a few minutes but he found himself standing on the same place where yesterday he met Kiyomasa.
'There it is,' The reason Zazm came here was to track Kiyomasa's threads, so he can follow them. He started following those threads and soon found himself standing Infront of a huge school building.
The building stood tall, surrounded by walls, he stood in front of the closed iron gate carefully observing his surroundings. He shook his watch on his hand, "1:40."
He spoke his tone low barely above a whisper, his smile got lingering on his lips and his eyes held a containment of sadness.
He put his hands in his pockets and leaned on the wall beside the iron gate, his gaze directed to the ground, his slightly long hair fell on his eyes hiding them.
The ochre brick of the school wall, rough against Zazm's lean frame, seemed to absorb the last vestiges of warmth from the fading afternoon.
A melancholic twilight painted the sky in bruised purples and greys, mirroring the tempest within him. He leaned, not with casual ease, but with the weary surrender of a soul burdened beyond its years.
His hair, the color of deep night sky, cascaded over his eyes, a curtain drawn against the world's harsh glare. He didn't bother to brush it away, the shadow it cast a welcome, if fleeting, refuge.
His hands, usually animated with a youthful exuberance, were buried deep in the pockets of his jeans, as if trying to anchor himself to the earth, to prevent himself from drifting away on a tide of sorrow.
Below, at the wall's base, a black river of ants flowed, their tiny bodies a relentless, unwavering current.
They navigated the uneven ground, their purpose clear, their path defined. Zazm's gaze, usually bright and filled with a forced, almost painful cheer, was now a dull, haunted reflection of the dying light.
A tremor ran through him, a subtle shiver that betrayed the carefully constructed facade of indifference. His lips, usually curved in a gentle, almost mocking smile, were now a thin, tight line.
A whisper, barely audible, escaped him, a fragile question lost in the growing silence: "Why… why does their lifes seem so simple?"
He lifted his head, slowly, as if the weight of his grief was a physical burden. The school gate, a wrought-iron sentinel against the encroaching darkness, stood before him.
He was waiting, yes, for his new friend. But the anticipation was a hollow ache, overshadowed by the knowledge that hung heavy in the air, a death knell tolling in his soul.
Yesterday's visit, a supposed act of friendship, had become a cruel revelation. He had seen the fragile flicker of life within the old woman, the grandmother, and the chilling certainty of its imminent extinction.
The gift, or curse, that had bestowed upon him the knowledge of impending death, was a constant, agonizing torment.
His smile, the trademark of his persona, was a lie, a desperate attempt to mask the raw, bleeding wound of guilt that festered within him.
Each death he foresaw, each life he couldn't save, chipped away at his spirit. The forced lightness, the careless laughter, were merely the frantic attempts of a drowning man to grasp at the surface, to pretend he wasn't sinking into the abyss.
"How... can people act like they are fine? A life's a life no matter how insignificant. It doesn't matter whether, they had anything to do with me or not. They have people close to them too."
He whispered to himself, still staring at the ants, A man passed by and felt awkward and weird seeing Zazm talk to himself like that.
The sharp, insistent clang of the school bell shattered the twilight's fragile peace, a jarring intrusion into Zazm's silent world. The sound, usually a welcome herald of freedom, felt like a cruel reminder of the normalcy he could no longer truly share.
He blinked, the haunted look in his eyes momentarily obscured by the sudden shift in his demeanor.
With a practiced motion, he swept his storm-cloud hair back from his face, the gesture almost casual, almost practiced. The weight of his grief, the crushing knowledge of impending loss, seemed to recede, pushed back by sheer force of will.
A smile, bright and seemingly genuine, bloomed on his lips. It was a familiar smile, the one that had become his signature, a mask of carefree indifference. But beneath its surface, a subtle tremor lingered, a faint echo of the pain that gnawed at his soul.
He straightened, his posture regaining its usual easygoing slouch. He waited there and finally he saw Kiyomasa walking outside, he waved his hand and shouted, "YOO, KIYOMASA."
Kiyomasa moved his head left to right trying to find the source of the voice. He looked Infront of the school gate and saw Zazm standing there.
Zazm stood there with his casual smile, his right hand rested in his pocket while he waved him with the left.
Kiyomasa quickly walked towards him, "Hey, Zazm. What brings you here?"
Zazm tilted his head as if looking confused, "Why else? I thought we would practice your powers."
Kiyomasa's eyes shot open,for a moment he had forgotten that he had supernatural powers. "You're right, we need to get stronger. So we can save the multiverse."
A soft chuckle escaped Zazm's lips, "I don't know how you can keep saying that but well, we do have to get stronger."
Kiyomasa nodded and started walking Zazm followed him from behind. "Zazm, can you give me 10 mins?"
"For what?" He asked Kiyo.
"I was thinking to visit grandma before going to train." Zazm didn't replied for a while and his fists clenched slightly at the mention.
He knew what was coming and he had already prepared himself but it was not as easy as it looked, his jaw tighted as well but since Kiyomasa was walking infront of him, he didn't notice any of it.
They continued to walk through the streets, "Zazm how did you know where my school was?" Kiyomasa asked Zazm while still walking forward.
A smile appeared on Zazm's lips, he had told Kiyomasa everything-or that's what Kiyomasa thaught, Zazm kept several details to himself. He didn't revealed the full extent of his powers, nor did he told him Jahanox's fill abilities.
What he did told him was he had powers and he wants to save multiverse etc etc and how he got these powers.
"Well you remember I told you, I can see threads?" Kiyomasa nodded at his statement.
"Well threads naturally flow out of every human being. Millions of threads flow out every second but they don't travel that far, they vanishes into the thin air replaced by new threads."
Zazm looked at Kiyomasa who....looked completely lost but he decided to continue explaining anyways, "A normal human's threads are connected in a line comprised of different times, it's like several cloth pieces tied together."
Kiyomasa raised his hands, "wait wait wait you're going too fast.. umm... So normal people have like different threads... Okay?" He put his hands on his head trying to understand what he just heard.
Zazm nodded his head, "While our threads don't do that, they continue to endlessly flow and that's how I can teleport. My threads have gone all across the earth. So, I can instantly teleport myself anywhere on this planet."
Kiyomasa's eyes shot open, Zazm said a lot of stuff but the only thing he understood was how Zazm can teleport through entire world. He spoke in an excited tone, "So, you can take anyone with you wherever you want?"
Zazm soon his head, "To teleport someone other than myself over long distance, I need to open a portal and opening a portal is way harder It requires me to arrange my threads in a special order on the fabric bending a hole in it."
"There you lost me again." Kiyomasa tilted his head in confusion once again and Zazm couldn't help but smile. He knew these things weren't easy to understand especially for someone who just got to know about them.
But his friend Jahanox was different, no matter what he told him he would eventually get it, his ability to understand and adapt to the knowledge was simply outstanding, 'Guess that's how smart people are.'
Kiyomasa continued, "So, you can't teleport others to long distance without a portal but why?"
"Well in order to teleport others without a portal I'll have to carefully calculate stuff like distance of thier threads and I'll have to align them closer to mine too, which is extremely hard at small levels and currently impossible for even half a city."
"What would happen if you tried to teleport someone like that through huge distance."
A menacing smile appeared on Zazm's face, "well then I would teleport their head and their body would stay here, or I would teleport their legs and hands but everything would fell down, so in simple words they'll die a gruesome death."
A sweat tickled down Kiyomasa's spine, "DONT SAY THAT WITH A SMILE, AND YOU WERE RISKING MY LIFE LIKE THAT?
Zazm chuckled and spoke, "No through short distances I can easily teleport them but the more distance increases the harder the teleportation becomes."
Kiyomasa quickly nodded his head in understanding, "Ok I understand half-I think."
"You don't need to understand this stuff, they aren't related to your abilities, your's are quite simple they just require you to use your surroundings and train them."
"Well, it never hurts to know." A smile appeared on Kiyomasa's lips as he continued to walk forward and Zazm quickly followed him from behind. They finally reached Kiyomasa's house but all the smiling and laughter was now nowhere to be seen....
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