Himaki had learned one thing early in life.
If you didn't move, the world wouldn't notice you.
That truth had kept him alive longer than hunger ever could.
He sat quietly near the edge of the trade road, knees pulled tight to his chest, thin arms wrapped around himself as if that alone could keep him from falling apart. Dust clung to his worn clothes, and the fabric on his sleeves had been patched so many times that the original color no longer mattered.
Merchants passed by in slow, steady lines.
Wooden carts creaked under the weight of grain, cloth, metal goods things Himaki had only seen from a distance. The smell of dried meat, fresh bread, and oil drifted through the air, teasing his empty stomach.
People rarely looked down.
And when they did, they looked away just as quickly.
That was fine.
He wasn't waiting for charity.
He had learned long ago that hoping for kindness only made disappointment hurt more.
He was waiting for the moment when the road became careless.
When the sun dipped low and shadows stretched long, people forgot things. Coins slipped from loose pockets. Bread was left unattended. Scraps became survival.
That was how he lived.
That was how he endured.
Yet today
Something felt wrong.
The afternoon air was heavy, thick enough to press against his skin. Even the wind seemed hesitant, as if holding its breath.
Too still.
Himaki stood slowly, brushing dust from his knees, adjusting the worn cloth around his shoulders. He had been moving between towns for days now, guided by nothing but instinct. No destination. No plan.
Just walking.
Just existing.
And then
Hands grabbed him.
Rough.
Fast.
There was no warning.
No time to react.
A sack dropped over his head, swallowing light and sound in an instant. The smell of old cloth and sweat filled his lungs.
He kicked.
Flung his arms wildly.
Bit down hard on something that might have been a hand.
But it didn't matter.
Strong arms pinned him down.
"Got another one," a voice said casually, as if they were talking about livestock.
Himaki tried to scream
But the sound died in his throat.
The world lurched violently.
---
When the sack was torn away, the afternoon sun blinded him.
Light stabbed into his eyes as dust swirled through the air, kicked up by boots dragging people across the road.
His wrists screamed in pain.
The rope was tight.
Too tight.
His fingers had already begun to tingle, numbness creeping in like frost.
He sat with his back against a broken cart wheel, surrounded by others tied just like him. Children. Adults. Some were shaking. Some were crying quietly, trying not to draw attention.
Others simply stared.
Their eyes empty.
Already tired of fighting.
Himaki couldn't remember the exact moment they were caught.
Only fragments remained.
One second he was walking with a group of travelers
The next, everything turned loud.
Shouting.
Steel flashing.
Fear crashing down like a wave.
Bandits moved freely around them, laughing, arguing, kicking stones along the road. To them, this was routine. A normal afternoon's work.
"Carriage should pass soon," one said lazily, leaning on his blade.
"Rich route," another replied with a grin. "We sell the kids, keep the adults. Easy."
The words settled deep in Himaki's chest.
Sell.
He lowered his head.
He didn't cry.
Crying didn't help.
---
The sound of wheels broke the air.
Slow.
Heavy.
A carriage rolled into view, large and dark, reinforced with metal bands along its sides. Symbols were etched faintly into the wood not flashy, but deliberate.
It slowed as it approached.
Too slowly.
The bandits straightened, hands drifting toward their weapons.
The carriage stopped.
The door creaked open.
A man stepped out first.
Tall.
Calm.
His presence alone made the air feel heavier, sharper. His gaze swept across the road—the ropes, the children, the bloodstains half-hidden in the dust.
Then a woman followed.
Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes missed nothing.
Neither spoke at first.
And somehow, that silence was worse.
"Turn around," one bandit sneered, forcing bravado into his voice. "This road's closed."
The man exhaled slowly.
The woman raised her hand.
And the world shattered.
Wind roared through the clearing, lifting bodies from the ground and slamming them into trees like broken dolls. Fire crashed into the dirt, scorching earth and steel alike. Water surged violently, coiling around weapons and ripping them from hands.
The ground trembled.
Himaki shielded his face, heart pounding as screams filled the air.
Magic collided.
Power clashed.
It was too much.
Too fast.
Too overwhelming to understand.
Then
Silence.
Smoke drifted lazily through the clearing.
Bandits lay scattered across the road, unconscious or fleeing into the trees without a backward glance.
The woman moved immediately, cutting ropes, helping the fallen with practiced hands.
The man remained still.
Watching.
When his gaze passed over Himaki
It paused.
Just for a moment.
But that moment felt heavy.
Like being weighed.
Measured.
Then the man looked away.
---
Before anyone could speak
More footsteps echoed along the road.
Shouts rang out.
Armored figures rushed in, surrounding the area with practiced precision.
"The Guild of Lapryth!" someone cried.
Mages and swordsmen assessed the scene quickly, moving to help the injured and secure the survivors. Healers knelt beside the fallen, murmuring spells.
"You're safe now," a guild healer said gently as she lifted Himaki into her arms.
Safe.
The word felt strange.
Foreign.
They were loaded together children, adults, survivors onto wagons and carriages. The road began to move again.
As Himaki sat quietly, wrapped in a borrowed cloak
He heard it.
Not loud.
Not spoken.
> *Listen.*
His breath caught.
No one else reacted.
> *Not here.*
> *Below.*
His hands clenched tightly in the fabric around him.
The world continued voices, wheels, orders shouted back and forth.
But the voice remained.
Calm.
Patient.
Waiting.
This rescue wasn't the end.
It was the beginning of something watching him.
---
The carriage rolled on.
Wood creaked beneath iron wheels, and the road stretched endlessly forward. The rescued children were packed close together, wrapped in borrowed cloaks and blankets, some asleep from exhaustion, others staring blankly at the passing trees.
Himaki sat near the edge.
Quiet.
Still.
Safe so they said.
But safety felt wrong.
The moment the word had been spoken, something inside him recoiled.
He pressed his fingers into the fabric of the cloak around his shoulders, grounding himself. The events replayed over and over in his mind the ropes, the fear, the battle that erupted without warning. The man and woman who stepped from the carriage had moved like forces of nature, not people.
Power without hesitation.
Power without mercy.
And yet… they had saved him.
Saved all of them.
That alone made his chest feel tight.
As the carriage swayed gently, voices murmured around him guards coordinating, healers whispering reassurances, guild members discussing routes and supplies. Normal sounds.
Ordinary sounds.
Then
> *Listen.*
Himaki stiffened.
The word did not come from outside.
It slid into his mind like a breath against his ear.
His heart slammed violently against his ribs.
He scanned the carriage.
No one else reacted.
Children slept.
Adults stared ahead.
Guards spoke among themselves.
No one had heard it.
> *Not here.*
The air felt heavier.
> *Below.*
Himaki pressed his palms against his ears, nails digging into his skin. His breath grew shallow.
*I'm tired,* he told himself. *I hit my head. I'm scared.*
But the voice did not fade.
It waited.
Patient.
Unmoving.
Like it had all the time in the world.
Himaki slowly lowered his hands.
The carriage floor.
Below.
His gaze drifted downward, toward the wooden planks beneath his feet. There was nothing there just reinforced boards, worn smooth by years of travel.
And yet…
Something beneath them felt hollow.
Calling.
The carriage jolted forward.
The moment broke.
Himaki sucked in a sharp breath and leaned back, forcing himself to look away. Whatever that voice was it wasn't something he could understand yet.
But it had found him.
And it would not forget.
---
Far away, in a quiet town untouched by bandits or war, Hikaru sat alone. (In present)
The wooden bench outside his home creaked softly beneath his weight. Sunlight filtered through the leaves overhead, painting shifting patterns across the ground. In his lap rested the book his mother had given him the summoning book she herself once used.
Or so she said.
I turned the pages slowly, careful not to tear them.
Something was wrong.
I had felt it the moment I opened it.
The spells were intact. The diagrams precise. The ink unbroken.
And yet
Incomplete.
Like listening to a song that stopped just before the final note.
My fingers traced the strange symbol on the cover.
A dragon wing.
Only half of one.
My breath hitched.
I reached into my bag and pulled out the other book the one that never opened no matter how much mana I poured into it. When I placed them side by side, the symbols aligned seamlessly.
Two halves.
One whole.
The air shifted.
The pages trembled.
Words rearranged themselves, glowing faintly before settling into unfamiliar patterns. My heart pounded as I realized the truth.
The missing part wasn't lost.
It was split.
I swallowed hard.
One book opened easily.
The other resisted completely.
Japanese.
That alone made my hands shake.
*This is dangerous.*
I knew that.
I also knew I wouldn't stop.
The instructions were simple.
Too simple.
*Blood binds what worlds divide.*
I hesitated.
Mother and Father were inside.
Nina and Sakari were nearby.
If I messed up
I clenched my jaw and brought my thumb to my mouth.
Pain exploded as my teeth cut deep.
Warm blood welled instantly.
I pressed it onto the page.
The reaction was violent.
Light burst upward, ripping the words free from the paper as glowing letters spiraled into the air above the books.
"The blood between different worlds…"
The ground vibrated.
"…though divided, shall now be one…"
My heart raced uncontrollably.
Mana surged through my veins like a flood breaking through a dam.
"…let convergence awaken what sleeps…"
The magic circle slammed into existence, ancient symbols rotating faster and faster, carving glowing lines into the ground itself.
I slammed my bloodied palm down.
"…Summoning."
The world shattered.
Smoke exploded outward, swallowing the yard in blinding white. Pressure crashed down on my body, forcing me to my knees. My lungs burned.
Something answered.
Not gently.
Not cautiously.
A presence descended vast, ancient, overwhelming.
Blue light tore through the fog.
Wings unfurled.
Scales shimmered like flowing rivers beneath sunlight.
A dragon.
Legendary.
My body locked.
I couldn't look.
Couldn't breathe.
But I *knew*.
The sheer pressure of its existence made my vision blur.
Then
A violent disruption.
"No!" Sakari's voice cut through the chaos.
The magic circle cracked violently, symbols shattering like glass. Wind tore through the smoke as Nina slammed her staff into the ground, forcibly severing the spell.
The presence vanished.
Just gone.
The pressure lifted instantly, and I collapsed forward, gasping for air.
The fog thinned.
Nina and Sakari stood rigid before me.
Silent.
Their faces pale.
Eyes wide.
Neither spoke for several heartbeats.
Behind them
Nothing remained.
Father's footsteps thundered from the house.
"Hikaru!" Mother's voice cracked with panic.
They rushed forward, searching frantically through the fading fog.
"What was that?!" Mihatu demanded.
I tried to sit up.
"I—I tried the summoning spell and it turned out"
Sakari moved instantly.
A wave of dense fog surged outward again, blanketing the area completely.
"There was nothing," he said firmly.
Mother froze.
"What do you mean nothing?"
"Just unstable mana," Nina added smoothly, though her grip on her staff was tight enough to whiten her knuckles. "A miscast spell. No summon. No entity."
I looked up sharply.
They were lying.
I could feel it.
Mother knelt and pulled me into her arms, trembling.
"Thank goodness you're safe," Yare whispered. "Never scare me like that again, my Hikaru."
I nodded weakly.
But inside—
I knew.
They knew.
They had seen it.
When Mother asked about the book, I reached for it
And froze.
It was gone.
Vanished without a trace.
As if it had never existed.
Little did I realize
The moment I spoke the summoning words, my item box had activated unconsciously, swallowing both books whole, merging them silently among the others just as it had done before.
"Enough magic for today," Father said finally. "Let's eat. Warm food."
Everyone went inside.
Laughing.
Talking.
As if nothing had happened.
But as Nina and Sakari walked behind us, neither spoke.
Neither looked back.
Because they both knew the truth.
A Legendary Water Dragon had answered a child's call.
And the world had almost noticed.