ECHOBURN

The walk home was steeped in silence.

Not peace—tension. The kind that buzzes just under the skin.

Aoto's sister didn't speak as they moved through the city's dim streets. Her steps were calm, measured, but her fists were clenched the whole way.

The torn book felt heavier than before, even as what remained of it barely filled half his bag. Its presence lingered in his thoughts like smoke after a fire.

When they reached their apartment, the lights were off.No smell of food. No voice from the kitchen.

Their mother wasn't home.

Aoto stepped in quietly. He turned toward the light switch, but a firm hand caught his wrist.

"Don't touch anything," his sister said flatly.

"…Why?"

"You don't know what's on you."

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, she turned and snapped.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Aoto flinched. It wasn't like her to curse.

"I didn't—"

"You never do," she cut in, voice calm but venomous. "You wander into forbidden places, take things that don't belong to you—and now you've dragged this into our lives."

"I just wanted to understand," he said, jaw clenched. "I didn't even know what it was."

"But you touched it. You opened it. And now it's broken."

She paced the living room like a warning storm."That book was sealed. That book was dangerous. That book was not yours."

Her words came with surgical precision, no shouting, no rage—just truth laid bare.

"And now," she said, "someone's going to come looking for it. And for you."

Aoto didn't argue.

He couldn't.

Because everything she said felt true.

She turned away from him, arms crossed.

"Do you even realize how lucky you are? You'd be in a body bag if I hadn't followed you."

Her words hit harder than any blow.

Aoto stood in the hallway, trembling, long after she had gone to her room.

He didn't sleep.

Not a minute.

The fragments of the book were laid out on the floor, each torn page a question without an answer. He stared at them until the inkless edges began to blur, and the word Echo seemed to shimmer from nowhere—even though it was no longer there.

His body ached, but not from bruises. His skin prickled. His blood felt… wrong. Heavy. Electric.

By the time dawn pushed faint light through his curtains, Aoto hadn't moved. He was still in yesterday's clothes, hair a mess, eyes rimmed with sleepless shadow.

The door opened quietly at 6:34 a.m.

Their mother walked in, briefcase in one hand, the other rubbing her temples. She was still dressed in officewear—white coat slung over one shoulder, ID clipped to her blouse.

She stopped at the entrance, brow furrowed."I'm home," she called softly.

No response.

She found Aoto slumped at the kitchen table, pale and half-conscious.

"What happened to—?"

Then she saw the cracks in the kitchen tiles. The shattered mug. The way the edge of the table looked… warped.

Her eyes widened just as Aoto twitched—his hand jerking against the wood with a loud crack.

It snapped clean through the edge of the table like it was rotted wood.

Aoto gasped, recoiling. "I—I didn't mean to—"

Veins lit under his skin—glowing red-gold threads that pulsed up his forearms, shifting just beneath the surface.

"Aoto?" their mother whispered, stepping closer, eyes wide.

His sister appeared in the hallway, already dressed, hair tied back tight. She saw the broken table, the radiant glow running up Aoto's arms, and sighed through her nose.

"He awakened," she said flatly.

Their mother froze.

Then dropped her briefcase.

"Oh my god," she whispered, hands covering her mouth.

She rushed forward—not with fear, but joy.

"I knew it. I knew it! I always said he had something—"

Aoto stared at her in disbelief.

"You're not… mad?"

"Mad?" she laughed, her voice catching. "Sweetheart, do you know what this means?"

He shook his head.

"It means," she said, eyes shining, "you're not a Zero anymore."

She touched his cheek, gently, trembling.

"You're you."

But across the table, his sister didn't smile.

She stared at the red-gold glow crawling up his veins like a map drawn by something ancient.

And quietly, to herself, she muttered—

"…That's not a normal Blood type."