[Third Person's PoV]
5 years later…
Clark groaned as he stirred awake, his eyes fluttering open—only to be greeted by an unexpected sight: a vast stretch of clear blue sky above him. He froze, blinking in disbelief. That... shouldn't have been possible. His bedroom ceiling was definitely not made of open sky. Confused, he glanced downward and immediately recoiled in discomfort.
He could see through his own skin—through the layers of muscle, organs, and tissue—right down to his bones.
"Ugh... that's disgusting," Clark muttered, his nose wrinkling. "Unlocking X-ray vision first thing in the morning? Not exactly the morning gift I wanted." He sighed heavily as he sat up in bed, sunlight streaming in aggressively through the wide-open window, painting golden lines across his floor.
"So loud…" he mumbled, wincing. The chirping birds, distant cars, and even the creaking of floorboards upstairs echoed like thunder in his ears. His enhanced senses had been out of control ever since they awakened a week ago, and he was still struggling to rein them in.
Clark pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to center himself. A wide yawn escaped his lips as he absently scratched his stomach—his abs unusually defined for a ten-year-old, a feature he hadn't quite gotten used to yet. Another reminder that he was anything but normal.
He grabbed a towel, slinging it over his shoulder, and headed for the bathroom. As he reached for the door, he barely brushed the handle when the entire door ripped free of its hinges and clattered to the floor with a loud crack.
"God damn it, not again," he groaned, eyes twitching in annoyance.
Rather than fussing over it, he simply propped the broken door back against the frame with an exasperated grunt. He had more important things to worry about—like not accidentally shattering the bathroom sink this time. His strength kept increasing in unpredictable surges, and each day was a new lesson in control.
By the time he made it downstairs, Clark's dark hair was still a tousled mess, hanging just slightly over his eyes. His blue irises were shut tight in an attempt to mute his vision, but even with his eyes closed, he could still see outlines and heat signatures through his lids. Only once his vision faded to something manageable did he allow himself to open them.
In the kitchen, breakfast was already underway. As he dug into his food, he glanced at Momo, who sat across from him at the table. She wasn't eating, instead poking at her eggs with her fork while wearing a gloomy expression.
"Can I really not come with you?" she asked sadly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Seiko, who was at the stove, turned to face her granddaughter with a gentle smile. She walked over and patted Momo's head softly.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Seiko said kindly. "This trip is going to be dangerous. Clark's gifts give him a certain level of protection, and I'll be focusing on keeping us both safe. I just can't guarantee your safety if things go wrong."
Momo pouted, her eyes glossy with disappointment.
Seeing this, Seiko knelt beside her and offered a smile. "How about this: after this trip, you and I will take a little adventure of our own. Just the two of us. A grandma-daughter day, no Clark. Sound good?"
Momo looked up, hopeful. "Really? You promise?"
"Of course! Have I ever lied to you?" Seiko said with a playful scoff.
"Yes," Clark and Momo said in unison without hesitation.
Seiko sighed dramatically but chuckled. "Well, I do promise this time. It's a date."
Momo grinned and nodded enthusiastically. With that settled, the trio finished up breakfast and began preparing to head out. Momo needed to be dropped off at a friend's house before Seiko and Clark caught their train.
Just before leaving, Momo approached Clark. She reached out and placed a camera into his hands.
Clark blinked, puzzled. "What's this?"
"I want pictures," Momo declared firmly, placing her hands on her hips. "Lots of them. You're going to Kyoto without me, so it's the least you can do."
Clark smirked. "Fair enough. But hey, you know you could come too if you just unlock your spiritual powers, right?"
"I know," Momo huffed in frustration. "I've been trying! It's just... it's not working. I can't figure it out." Her voice cracked, clearly annoyed with herself more than anyone else.
Clark ruffled her hair, making her squirm. "Relax. When I get back, I'll help you figure it out. Deal?"
She looked up at him, eyes gleaming. "Deal. But don't forget! I want to go with you guys next time."
"That'll depend on you," Clark said with a teasing grin.
Seiko watched the exchange with a soft smile, then clapped her hands to get their attention. "Alright, time to go. Let's drop off our little bossy one first."
…
The bullet train hummed steadily as it cut across the countryside toward Kyoto. Clark sat beside Seiko, his chin resting in his palm as he stared out the window. The scenery rushed past in a blur of greens and grays. Seiko leaned back in her seat, dressed comfortably in a long cardigan and fitted jeans, her hair pulled into a neat bun.
She looked over at Clark, raising an eyebrow when she noticed the thick, black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.
"Changing up your look already? Are you that excited for this little excursion?" she asked with a smirk.
Clark shrugged casually. "Not really. I just figured it's smart to start building a second identity early—helps to keep things separate down the line. But I'll admit... I am kind of excited to meet my first yokai."
His eyes sparkled with anticipation. "So, what are we up against? Any idea?"
"Not a clear one," Seiko admitted. "The other spirit mediums who contacted me were pretty vague. They just said something strange is happening and that they needed my help. They promised to explain everything once we arrived."
Clark nodded, thoughtful. "So we're heading in blind."
"More or less," Seiko confirmed. "But that's half the thrill, isn't it?"
As the train sped onward toward Kyoto, Clark continued to pepper Seiko with questions—about yokai, spirit mediums, and the nature of spiritual power. She answered as best she could, occasionally reaching out to ruffle his hair in that affectionate, grandmotherly way that made him grumble, even if he secretly appreciated it.
…
They both soon arrived in Kyoto, the bustling station filled with the hum of travelers and the occasional melodic announcement echoing across the platform. Seiko moved with practiced ease, weaving through the crowd until she reached the exit. From there, she led Clark through narrow, charming streets until they arrived at a modest inn nestled between two storefronts, its wooden frame giving off a comforting, traditional vibe.
After checking in and booking a room, unsure of how long their stay would last, Seiko handed her own bags to Clark and gave him a stern look.
"I'm going to be gone for a while gathering information. Take these to our room," she instructed, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You're allowed to explore Kyoto, take in the sights, be a tourist or whatever, but make sure you're back by eight. That's the absolute latest I should be gone."
"Got it," Clark replied easily, taking the bags with one hand as if they weighed nothing. Luckily, no one around seemed to notice the unnatural show of strength.
Seiko sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Clark, stay out of trouble. I'd take you with me, but knowing you, you'd get bored, wander off, and do something stupid. Just behave, alright?"
Clark smirked, lifting an eyebrow. "And what if trouble finds me?"
Her eye twitched slightly as she exhaled in visible exasperation. "Then try not to invite it in for tea, okay? That's all I ask." She reached out to ruffle his already messy hair and turned to leave, her steps quickening with purpose. Within seconds, she was gone, disappearing into the crowd as though she'd never been there.
Clark watched her go, shrugged to himself, then glanced around to make sure no one was paying too much attention before lifting their luggage with ease and carrying it to the room.
Once everything was set down neatly, he picked up the camera Momo had given him before he left. He scoffed quietly to himself.
"I really do feel bad for leaving her behind. Guess the least I can do is fulfill her one request," he muttered, slinging the camera's strap around his neck.
Just as he was about to head out, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He stopped. Tilted his head.
Then groaned.
There he was: tousled dark hair, casual clothes, a camera slung around his neck, and the finishing touch—those non-prescription black-framed glasses he'd picked out for his 'secondary identity.'
"…I look like a reporter," he mumbled in disbelief. "A literal, walking, accidental cosplay of Clark Kent."
He fell to his knees in mock despair, throwing his head back. "Why?! This wasn't supposed to happen! I told myself I wouldn't follow in his footsteps—I was supposed to be my own person!"
He dropped to the floor, dramatically clutching his head. 'Is this the universe giving me a sign? God, please no! It was bad enough that Granny divined my name to be Clark, but now this? This is just cruel!'
He sighed deeply, getting back up and dusting himself off.
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