The air was thick with smoke, heavy and suffocating, as it wrapped around Hayato like a noose. His senses were assaulted by the acrid, stinging smell of burning wood and flesh, making his stomach churn and his throat tighten. His lungs burned with every breath, but he could endure it. The fire had no power over him—his body, hardened by years of torment and battle, had become a shield against the world's cruelties. His skin, blackened and seared by countless battles, remained untouched by the flames.
But there was something else. A smell—something unmistakable.
The smell of burning meat.
His heart stopped for a moment, his pulse stuttering in his chest. His eyes darted to the source, the flickering shadows casting ominous shapes as they danced across the smoldering ruins. His heart twisted in his chest as he saw her—a crumpled, unmoving figure among the flames. His mother. The woman who had borne him, loved him, and nurtured him through the darkest parts of his life.
She lay there, lifeless. The fire had claimed her far too quickly. The woman who had once cradled him in her arms, the woman who had been his anchor in a world that had constantly tried to break him—now nothing more than a burnt husk. The vibrant warmth of her love, the soft embrace of her gentle hands, was gone. All that remained was the stench of charred flesh and the echoes of the woman who had once been his everything.
"Mother..." His voice cracked, barely audible above the roar of the fire. His heart twisted in agony, and his legs moved of their own accord. He staggered forward, his body heavy, weighed down by a grief he had never known how to carry.
But then, the ground beneath him trembled. The laughter came—a low, twisted, guttural sound that scraped against his soul. It was a laugh Hayato knew all too well, one that sent chills down his spine and made his blood run cold. A laugh that heralded the presence of the very person who had tortured him for years.
"I see you've survived, little demon," the voice of his father slithered through the smoke, cold and cutting. The words made Hayato's blood boil. The voice of the one man who had spent a lifetime trying to break him, to mold him into a tool of destruction. The man who had destroyed everything he had ever loved.
The figure of Hayato's father emerged from the swirling smoke like a shadow taking shape—a tall, imposing figure, cloaked in darkness, his form twisted and unnatural. His presence was suffocating, like an oppressive weight hanging over everything. The man who had torn Hayato's life apart stood before him once more, his face a mask of contempt.
"You've failed again, little demon," his father sneered, stepping closer, the flames flickering in the air around him. His eyes glinted with cold malice. "Your mother was weak. She always was. She couldn't protect you from me. And you—" His father looked Hayato up and down, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "You were always a failure, weren't you?"
Hayato's fists clenched involuntarily, the words cutting into him like knives. His hands trembled with barely contained fury, the memories of his father's cruelty flooding his mind like a storm. This man had never been a father to him. He had never been a protector, a guide. He was just a monster—one that had wanted nothing more than to break Hayato, to turn him into something he was never meant to be.
"You were never a father to me," Hayato spat, his voice low and filled with venom. "You were just a monster. And now you're nothing but a memory. A shadow I will burn from existence."
His father's laugh echoed in the flames, a sound of pure, twisted amusement. "Such defiance. How fitting. But you're still a child, Hayato. You still don't understand what you are. What you were always meant to be."
Hayato's stomach churned with the weight of those words. His father's words were always the same. Always cruel. Always meant to break him. But this time, Hayato wouldn't break. He wouldn't bend. He had already been broken long ago, and now he was something different. Something stronger.
"Shut up," Hayato growled, his voice thick with rage. His hands tightened into fists, his nails digging into his palms, as if he could crush the pain that had festered within him for so long. "You don't get to talk to me like that anymore."
His father raised a hand, and the air around them seemed to grow heavier, charged with the dark energy that his father controlled. "You'll always be my weapon. Nothing more. You were never meant for anything else." The words hung in the air, heavy with contempt.
Hayato's wings unfurled behind him, massive, black, and jagged, their edges burning with the same dark fire that swirled inside of him. His demonic power surged, flooding his body, filling him with an overwhelming sense of strength. His eyes burned with molten gold, glowing fiercely as he stared his father down. This time, he wasn't the scared, helpless boy from his past. This time, he was a force of nature. A storm waiting to be unleashed.
"You've made one mistake, Father," Hayato said, his voice icy and calm, a stark contrast to the fury building inside him. "You underestimated me. Again."
His father's eyes narrowed, and for a split second, Hayato saw something that resembled fear flicker across the older demon's face. It was fleeting, gone as quickly as it appeared. But it was enough. Hayato was no longer a child to be toyed with. He was a being of unimaginable power, and no one—least of all his father—was going to control him ever again.
With a scream of fury, Hayato surged forward. His claws tore through the air as his body collided with his father's, sending the older demon flying backward. The ground beneath them shattered as the force of their clash sent shockwaves through the burning remnants of the house. Hayato didn't hesitate. He didn't give his father a chance to react. With one fluid motion, his claws raked across his father's chest, and the older demon was sent tumbling through the flames.
His father groaned in pain, but there was no time for mercy. The rage that had simmered inside Hayato for years now boiled over, and his fists clenched tighter, glowing with the intensity of the dark energy he controlled. His father was a reflection of everything that had ever tried to break him. But Hayato wasn't that broken boy anymore. He was far beyond the man his father had hoped to mold.
"You were never my father," Hayato muttered, his voice cold, like the steel of a blade. "And I was never your weapon."
He stood tall over his father, who was struggling to rise from the flames. The inferno raged around them, but Hayato's eyes never left the man who had twisted his life. The flames could not burn him. Not anymore. He had become something stronger. Something that the fire could never touch.
"You think you can break me," Hayato said, his voice low and filled with contempt. "But you can't. Not anymore."
His father's face twisted with anger as he tried to rise, his hands crackling with dark energy. "You'll never be more than a tool," his father snarled. "Do you hear me? You will always be a weapon. Nothing more."
But Hayato didn't flinch. He didn't back down. "I'm not your weapon," he said, his voice steady. "I'm my own person. And you—" He raised his hand, summoning his power, the dark fire coiling around him. "You're nothing."
With a final, sweeping motion, Hayato unleashed a wave of dark energy that consumed his father entirely, throwing him back into the inferno that had once been his home. The flames roared louder, almost as if they were cheering him on. His father's screams were drowned out by the fire's roar, and as Hayato turned away, he didn't look back. He couldn't. Not after everything.
His mother's body lay there, a tragic reminder of everything he had lost. But Hayato had no time to mourn her. She was gone, and this world was no place for weakness. His heart ached, but he didn't allow himself the luxury of grief—not yet. He had a long road ahead of him, one that was filled with pain, vengeance, and—perhaps—redemption.
As he turned away from the wreckage, his wings beat the air, lifting him into the sky. The world was waiting for him. But this time, he wouldn't be the same. He was a demon, yes—but he was also something more. Something that would change the world. And nothing, not even his father, could stop him now.