ECHOBURN

Ren opened his eyes.

The ceiling above him was white. Padded, clean, forgettable. The sheets were tucked too tightly around his body. The pillow smelled of antiseptic and plastic. 

His arms were wrapped in gauze. Faint bruises along his neck. Dull pain in his ribs.

He was alive.

The door to the hospital room creaked open. Footsteps.

Torin entered. He wore a black turtleneck and a smooth silver-gray jacket. His long silver hair was tied back. No presence. No theatrics.

He looked… ordinary.

"You're awake," he said calmly.

Ren sat up slowly. His voice rasped out dry:

"Where is she?"

Torin set a cup of tea down on the bedside table. The steam curled into the silence.

"She's gone. Moved to another continent. Under surveillance. Treatment."

"Why?" Ren's fists tightened under the sheet.

"Because she's unstable. And the world isn't kind to things it doesn't understand.""If you want to protect her," Torin said, "you need to learn how to survive here first."

Ren didn't respond.

Torin glanced at his watch.

"You're being transferred. You'll be enrolled to an institution outside the city.""They won't know what you've been through. And they won't care."

He moved to the door.

"Learn. Don't cause problems. Don't fight."(a pause)"And don't kill anyone."

He left. The door clicked softly shut behind him.

The ride through Tokyo passed like a dream.

Ren sat in the back of a sleek black car, city lights streaking by like distant fireflies. Skyscrapers, alleyways, overpasses — all blurred into colorless shapes.

Then came trees. Hills. Quiet roads. And finally… isolation.

The academy grounds looked like an abandoned corporate retreat — concrete buildings nestled into slopes, metal doors, long dormitory wings. Surveillance poles. Training yards. No grand towers or shimmering symbols. Just function.

No one greeted them.

Torin led Ren down a side path toward a low rectangular building.

"This is Dorm Seven. Your cohort."

"They won't care about you," he added. "Not until they're given a reason to."

They stepped inside.

The central common room was warm, well-lit — couches in a ring, shelves lined with books and practice gear. A wall-screen was on, muted. A soft buzz of conversation drifted across the space.

Five other teens were there, lounging or half-focused on their own things.

A tall boy leaned against the window, fingers spinning a training knife.

A girl with curly hair sat cross-legged on the couch, watching a video on her phone.

Another girl scribbled notes in a notebook, headphones in.

A boy sprawled on the floor doing lazy sit-ups, counting under his breath.

And one girl stood pouring tea into two cups, humming to herself.

None of them looked up.

Torin didn't announce him. Didn't slow his step.

He simply gestured toward the hallway door on the left side of the common space.

"That one's yours," he said.

"No introductions?" Ren asked quietly.

"You don't need one," Torin replied.

He started walking back toward the exit.

"And …" he added without looking back,

The door closed behind him.

Ren walked down the hall. The door to his assigned room was already open.

Inside: a bed, desk, closet, lamp. Clean. Sparse. Lifeless.

He stepped in and closed the door behind him.

There was no bag to unpack. No clothes to fold. Nothing personal.

He sat on the edge of the bed.

His arms hung loose. His back ached. His mind kept circling — not the academy, not Torin, not the others.

Just her.

The way she looked at him. The way she reached for him in the dark. The way her body felt — too light — as he carried her through a world of screams and silence.

Where is she now?

He stared at the wall for a long time.

Outside the door, the others were laughing at something. A game, maybe. Or a story.

Not a single one had asked his name.

Not one had even acknowledged he existed.

He lay back slowly onto the mattress. The ceiling was off-white. The lights hummed faintly.

"I survived," he whispered.

And for a moment, it felt like that was the most invisible thing in the world.