The wooden boat floated in the middle of a quiet lake, swaying ever so slightly with the rhythm of the morning. Mist crawled low over the surface, threading through reeds and curling around the boat like a living veil.
He sat at the stern, back straight, eyes half-lidded. One hand rested on the fishing rod, the other tucked beneath his coat, fingers absently tapping against a metal bolt he'd forgotten in his pocket.
The line in the water hadn't twitched in over an hour. He preferred it that way.
The lake had no name. He'd chosen it for that reason.
Somewhere beneath the silence, something shifted.
Not the water. Not the wind. A change deeper than either.
Then, without fanfare, it appeared.
Not from the sky. Not from any direction the human mind could track. One moment, the lake was whole—undisturbed. The next, a shape hovered inches above its surface.
A wound of light, vertical and silent, like the seam of a curtain drawn back by invisible fingers. The water beneath it did not stir. The reflection it cast was incomplete, as though the lake itself refused to acknowledge it.
His gaze rose, but he did not recoil.
The air thickened. Each breath tasted different—charged, sweet, metallic.
Then, from within the portal, a figure emerged.
It moved with deliberate grace, limbs long and fluid, trailing strands of something that wasn't fabric, wasn't smoke, but shimmered like both. The light bent around her—if her was the right word. There was no face. No skin. Only suggestion: the tilt of a shoulder, the arc of hips, the sway of something like hair.
He did not speak.
The air between them vibrated. Not with sound—but thought.
And in that instant, the young man saw everything.
Not in images. Not in words. But in designs—flashes of metal, fire, and silence. Machines that thought. Systems that felt. A future wrapped in tragedy and purpose.
His lips parted. A breath escaped.
"...Fascinating."
The being tilted—not a nod, not a bow, but something between. The light around her pulsed once, like a heartbeat through the mist.
The lake held its breath.
And in the center of it, the boat floated motionless, carrying two shadows that did not belong to the same world
Present Day – Ryoukuu High School Dormitory
The room was quiet, save for the soft whirring of the ceiling fan and the rhythmic ticking of the analog clock above the door. Outside, night had blanketed the campus. Dorm windows flickered with the pale glow of late-night cram sessions, and the scent of warmed convenience store meals lingered faintly in the air.
Heero Yuy sat at his desk, hands folded, laptop open and waiting. The glow of the monitor outlined the hard lines of his face, unmoving. His duffel bag lay untouched in the corner—packed but never used.
The school trip had departed four days ago. A luxury liner. Destination: Hawaii. Four days of "fun in the sun," as the student council rep had put it. Mandatory for most. Optional for Heero.
He had chosen not to go.
Something in the itinerary hadn't felt right.
The connection buzzed, screen flickering once before stabilizing. Doctor J appeared—grizzled, mechanical hand tapping the edge of his chin, eyes still sharp beneath the weight of age.
"You're looking pale. Too much indoor time?"
"Observation takes priority."
The old man in his 60s offered a soft metallic chuckle, though his eyes were already scanning.
"So. The trip. I assume you didn't experience any last-minute guilt?"
"No." Heero replied flatly.
"And your excuse?"
"Medical documentation. Mild arrhythmia. Forged records passed inspection."
"Of course. Classic." Doctor J chuckled slightly. "And the others?"
"Left four days ago. Two hundred thirty-three students. Twenty-four faculty members. Two unknowns boarding off-manifest at Kyoto Port."
Doctor J raised an eyebrow.
"Unregistered passengers?"
"Too clean. Too confident. The male wore what appeared to be a charm embedded into his collar. High-concentration spiritual suppression. The girl was harder to track—illusion field over her features."
Heero replied as his fingertips were busy typing on his laptop's keyboard while his eyes were roaming on the screen of another one.
"Students notice anything?"
"One did; Natsume Minagawa. She reported headaches and fever-like symptoms hours before boarding. The nurse dismissed it as exhaustion, but her energy signature fluctuated in proximity to the unknown male. Brief spike—then suppression."
Doctor J's expression shifted slightly, intrigued.
"Spiritual resonance? Latent sensitivity?"
"No conscious awareness. No defensive posture. Just confusion. She believed it was illness."
Doctor J mused, fingers of his prosthetic arm stroking several strands of his grayish moustache.
"A candle flickers hardest before it catches fire."
Heero said nothing.
The old man in a white lab coat leaned forward on the screen.
"Keep her name close. If anything survives that trip, she'll be a thread to pull."
Heero's gaze flicked to the side as a corner notification blinked silently on his screen. A passive feed. News alert.
His fingers tapped the touchpad. The headline loaded with a slow, deliberate scroll.
[BREAKING] – CONTACT LOST WITH JAPANESE STUDENT LINER EN ROUTE TO HAWAIISearch underway. 233 students and 24 staff presumed missing.
Muted video footage played on loop—coast guard vessels slicing through clouded waters, a luxury liner nowhere in sight. Emergency buoys floated uselessly on the surface. No distress signal had been sent. No wreckage recovered.
Doctor J leaned back in his chair, mechanical hand tapping softly against his desk.
"So it begins."
The old man muttered quietly, his tone laced with edge.
The laptop screen dimmed as Heero closed the feed. His eyes, cold and focused, stayed fixed on the void just beyond the monitor's glow.
Somewhere out there, the sea had swallowed a secret.
And Heero Yuy was already preparing to retrieve it.