Summon Hero

The street lights flickered overhead, casting pale yellow halos on the empty sidewalks of a quiet Japanese suburb. The world was still, save for the soft crunch of gravel beneath worn shoes. Kaito Minazuki, a high school boy with tired eyes and a mind far older than his age, walked slowly toward the glowing sign of MoriMart — his second home, or perhaps his quiet prison.

A soft breath escaped his lips, curling into mist in the cool night air.

“Living is a blessing,” he muttered, voice heavy with exhaustion, “but lately, I’ve been paying too high a price for it. School fees, bills, this job… I need to figure something out, fast.”

The automatic doors of MoriMart slid open with a mechanical sigh, the fluorescent lights inside washing over him with an artificial brightness that only made his fatigue feel sharper. Behind the counter, his manager stood waiting, arms crossed and face stiff with annoyance.

“Ten minutes late again,” the man snapped, tossing a wrinkled employee coat at him. “That’s a deduction from today’s wages. You’re lucky I don’t fire you on the spot.”

Kaito didn’t respond. He caught the coat mid-air, slipping it on without a word.

“Get to work. No screw-ups tonight. Next time, I won’t be so generous.”

With that, the manager turned and walked out, leaving behind a silence that felt strangely comforting.

Kaito adjusted his collar and glanced around the store. The aisles were dim and still. Empty. Peaceful.

“Years I’ve been here,” he whispered under his breath. “Still can’t tell if this world is better or just quieter. But at least… I can breathe.”

He moved from shelf to shelf, rearranging misplaced cans, picking up trash, straightening labels like muscle memory. When no customers showed up, he stepped outside for a quick break, a cold canned drink in his hand. The chill seeped into his fingers, grounding him in the moment.

The night sky stretched wide above, painted in deep indigo and scattered with distant stars. He lowered himself to the curb, sitting on the cold pavement, back resting against the wall.

“I wonder how they’re doing,” he murmured to the stars. “Did they break their chains… or are they still trapped? Still bleeding for power?”

His gaze lingered on the sky.

“I like this place,” he said softly. “The silence. Here, I only hear wind. But there… it was never quiet. Only screams. Some in rage. Some in pain. Some begging not to die.”

The drink was gone before he realized it. He crushed the can and tossed it into the bin before stepping back inside to wait for customers. The rest of the night passed in monotony. A drunken man stumbled through the door, knocking over a display. A teenager tried to rob the register with a toy knife. A woman whispered sweet lies at the counter, hoping seduction might pay for groceries.

Kaito dealt with them all — with patience, boredom, or sharp silence.

By morning, his manager returned, yawning as he stepped through the door and tossed the coat onto the counter.

“I’m heading to bed. This job is getting boring,” the man mumbled, trying to sound stern but barely awake.

But Kaito didn’t wait to listen. He was already walking away.

The long road home was quiet, birds chirping faintly in the distance, and the faint golden light of morning slipping between the clouds. When he finally reached the small apartment he lived in alone, he kicked off his shoes, dropped his bag, and collapsed face-first into bed.

“Summer break starts today,” he groaned into the pillow. “Which means no school… no work… just sleep. Finally... the life I want.”

He closed his eyes, ready to sink into long-awaited rest.

But the silence broke.

A low hum. A strange, unnatural vibration in the air. His eyes flew open, heart pounding.

Above his bed, a swirling portal hovered — black, red, and gold, like a wound in the fabric of reality. It pulsed with power. Familiar. Hated.

“No…” Kaito’s voice cracked, deeper, darker. “Not again. I’m not going back there.”

He threw himself out of bed, reaching for the door — but the force was too strong. A wind exploded outward as the portal expanded, drawing everything toward it. Papers fluttered through the air like feathers. Books tumbled. Curtains twisted.

“Whoever’s doing this… whoever opened that damned gate again…”

His feet left the floor, drawn upward, body twisting violently toward the vortex.

“You’ll pay with your life.”

And then he was gone.

The portal snapped shut with a sharp crack. Silence returned. The papers settled slowly onto the floor. A breeze passed through the half-open window.

But the boy was no longer there.

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