Side Story I : Only Youthful Scars (I)

“Rise and shine, my little Haru…your breakfast is ready.”

Sunlight seeped into the room as his mother, Ishida Fumi, pulled open the curtains.

Haru, no older than eight, groaned in protest, burying his face deeper into his pillow. His hair, unkempt and sticking up in odd directions, barely moved in the morning breeze.

“Too bright…” he mumbled, pulling the blanket over his head.

Fumi chuckled at the sight. It never failed to amaze her how fast her child had grown. It felt like just yesterday he was a toddler, clinging to her leg, wailing over a lost candy. Now, he was sharper, more vocal—though still as stubborn as ever.

“You might want to eat your omurice before the egg stiffens.”

Haru’s ears perked.

Then, his blanket flew off in an instant.

“Where? Where?! Where?!” he demanded, tugging at Fumi’s uniform sleeve, eyes shining with excitement.

She huffed, feigning exasperation. “So my tricks still work, huh?”

“Mom!” he whined, burying his head into her waist. “Stop joking around!”

Fumi let out a small laugh, running her fingers through his tangled hair. “Mama’s not joking. Go downstairs—Shion already set everything up for you.”

Her voice was like warm tea on a cold morning, like ripples in a quiet river. It had a way of making the world feel softer, calmer. Even when she teased, it never failed to soothe him.

Downstairs was a clatter of kitchen utensils. A youthful girl wearing a maid uniform fumbled with the utensils, her scarlet hair tied to a ponytail waving along with her constant movements.

She was Shion. Sentinel Tag: S-1001N.

“Is that you, Haru-sama?” she asked without turning. “Good morning, our little sunshine.” Her melodious and gentle tune adorned her looks, along with her sharp features and upturned eyes of hazel and red.

“Yes!” Haru beamed. “Do you know where the omurice is?”

“It’s inside the food cover, Haru-sama. I made it just for you.”

Following her instructions, he rushed to the dining table, where a freshly cooked omurice sat beneath a fogged-up glass lid. The scent alone made his stomach growl.

He lifted the cover eagerly, steam curling into the air. His chopsticks sliced through the soft egg, revealing a perfectly seasoned rice filling. The first bite melted on his tongue, a perfect balance of flavors—warm, rich, comforting.

“Delicious!” he mumbled through a mouthful.

Shion stood beside him, arms folded neatly in front of her. “I’m honored by your praise, Haru-sama. Would you like a glass of milk?”

The maid turned swiftly, her movements smooth, mechanical. Cabinets opened and closed with precision as she retrieved a glass, pouring the milk with flawless accuracy. There was never a wasted motion, never a single mistake.

Moments later, footsteps echoed down the stairs.

Fumi and Ishida Kenji, dressed in crisp lab attire, entered the kitchen.

Hearing that, Shion stopped briefly, straightened instantly, and greeted them with a deep bow.

“Good morning, Fumi-sama. Kenji-sama. Are you leaving for work already?”

“Yes,” Kenji replied, adjusting his watch. “Take care of our son while we’re gone.”

Shion nodded. “Understood, Kenji-sama. Please have a safe journey.”

Fumi bent down, pressing a quick kiss to Haru’s temple. “Mama and Papa have to go, sweetheart. Be good, alright?”

Haru nodded, chewing slower now.

A moment later, the door shut behind them.

Then the engine roared to life.

And then they were gone.

“...”

The silence that followed wasn’t unusual. It wasn’t even heavy anymore. It was just there—an unspoken truth, a familiar absence.

Shion placed the glass of milk beside him, the warmth of it barely reaching his fingertips.

“Here is the milk you requested, Haru-sama.”

Haru stared at it. His fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

He stopped chewing and dropped the chopstick.

And his lively grin, gone in an instant.

This was his everyday life.

His parents left before he was even awake. Returning long after he had gone to bed.

Even weekends were stolen away.

He was lucky today—lucky that he woke up early enough to catch a fleeting glimpse of them. But most days, they were only ghosts in his home, names on a work schedule and voices on a distant phone call.

“Are you okay, Haru-sama?” Shion asked gently.

Haru didn’t answer. He let his cheek fall against the table, eyes fixed on the glass of milk as if it held answers.

Did his parents ever think about how little time they had with him?

Would things ever go back to the way they used to be?

Would they ever feel like a real family again?

But the only one here to hear these questions was Shion, who had been with them since before he could even remember.

A personal companion, a family Sentinel. A humanoid with programmed responses, a machine that gives affection but never empathy.

She looked quite human, but not like the advanced models with artificial skin and perfect symmetry. Her eyes aren’t that mobile, and it glowed every time she spoke.

And Haru didn’t trust her enough to answer his lingering questions.

Questions he was afraid to ask his parents directly.

To him, Shion was just another helper Sentinel. The one who carried him back to the bed when he fell asleep at the sofa, who reminded him daily to drink water, one who went to cook every meal, one who waited for him after school, attended parent meetings, told him nighttime stories, and every single duty of a guardian.

And he thought she doesn’t have the capability to do more than that.

To read him, assess him, empathize with him, and give him wisdom.

Haru swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Tell me, Shion.”

She paused. A mechanical whir sounded softly as she turned to him.

“Yes, Haru-sama?”

“Do you ever feel bad for wanting time with someone who doesn’t have the time to give it?”

Shion was still for a moment.

Then, she bowed her head. “Apologies, Haru-sama. As a Sentinel, I do not possess the capability to experience emotions beyond my duty to the Ishida family.”

A smile forms on Haru’s lips, forced and bitter.

“Right.”

But just as he stood up, ready to leave, Shion cut in. “But,” she trailed off a bit. “If you’re talking about Fumi-sama and Kenji-sama’s constant absence doesn’t mean no harm or ill purpose. I do believe that they do feel the same as yours, wanting more time, but unable to do it because of inevitable circumstances.”

“Circumstances?” Haru echoed with a questioning look.

“Yes, Haru-sama. They do it because they have to, and because they don't have a choice either. To make it simple, Fumi-sama and Kenji-sama are doing it all for you, to secure your future, to provide, to create a place where you will thrive. And for me, that is the sacrifice they are willing to take.”

Haru sank to his seat, hesitating. “That’s not something they told you, isn’t it?”

“No.” Shion simply admitted. “It’s simply my own assessment as someone that was with them for 15 years.”

“But I want them to be around me often. I want us to go to parks, to award me medals and to eat dinner together.”

Then he buried his palm to his cheek. “I just want…a family.”

“I know they will make time.”

“When would it be?”

But the question remained in the air between them, heavy and unanswered.

***

Days of craving turned to weeks.

Weeks to months.

Slowly and silently, the longing hardened into something else.

Haru was too young, but he knew the exact words that described that feeling.

Resentment.

Disappointment.

Scars turned into rifts, making an invisible wall between them.

Until he felt nothing at all.

If he could not have his parents' time, he would take what he could.

Anything to feel something, anything to feel noticed and taken care of.

Vices.

Conflict.

His first fight happened before he realized it.

The older boy was five years his senior—bigger and stronger. Haru didn’t stand a chance.

He should’ve been scared.

But as fists collided, as pain spread through his bruised body, he found himself grinning through bloody lips.

It was unusual. The look on his opponent’s face said it all.

“You fucking masochist!” the older boy raised his fist before everything turned black.

And Haru fell down with a smile.

Because for the first time in a long time…he felt something.

The itch for violence numbed his longings temporarily.

At last, he didn't think about his parents. All he ever thought was how to crush the enemy in front of him and survive the next.

At such a young age, he turned his life upside down.

He didn’t care if Fumi cried in worry, Kenji scolding him.

He was thrilled, relished and distracted from it.

And the best part?

He started winning. One by one, his opponents fell down in front of him.

And they are finally together. His parents finally looked at him.

He was being reckless. He knew that.

But if destruction was the only way to grasp their attention—

Then so be it.

***

“Apologies, Haru-sama. Your injuries may hinder you from going outside.”

“I’ll just visit the convenience store,” he replied with a flat tone.

Shion protests with a mechanical whir.

“I’ll go instead. Please take your rest.”

But Haru, face and limbs covered in bandages, casted aside the android that stood between him and the exit.

“This injury is nothing,” he responded. “I can even walk with one leg. I’ve done it before.”

Shion steps in front of him, hesitates, then tells the truth.

“Apologies, Haru-sama.” Shion admitted simply. “Fumi-sama and Kenji-sama told me to forbid you from going outside.”

Hearing that, Haru broke down in a condescending laughter, as if he heard the most hilarious joke of his life.

“Are your masters even here?” he argued. “Being trapped here with you bores me. If your duty is to make Ishida family happy, then you should let me chase my happiness too as their son.”

Shion’s structure shook, her head turning side to side in confusion. The air between them warmed up, so Haru took a step back.

“Overheating?” he remarked, glancing at her curiously. “Just let me slip off this time, so you don’t have to stress over that decision.”

“Fumi-sama and Kenji-sama will not approve this action.”

Haru put a finger in front of his lips. “If no one tells, then no one knows.”

Silence descended between them, and Haru finally turned his back.

As he stepped out of their door, a platoon of hooded men huddled behind their main gate.

Shion followed him, and all of them turned their heads to the unusual figure of his caretaker.

Their puffy eyes sparked red, full of the weight of adversity.

Some faces are covered in a myriad of tattoos. Some had scars, some fresh bruises—all trophies of battle.

Any person would’ve been intimidated.

But Haru didn’t. He looked at them as if they were part of him, his family, his brothers.

“You cannot be inju—”

“I will not be injured.” he replied with a flat tone. He headed straight to the gate without hesitation.

The hooded men followed his steps away from his home, cautious and distant. Some of their glances lingered on Shion, who stood there frozen in position.

***

After a few hours, he returned.

Unscathed.

Face beamed with a grin of pride, a stark contrast to his earlier gloom.

As Shion arranged the cutlery in the kitchen, Haru threw himself down on the sofa, heaving a long groan.

“See?” he scoffed, both of bandaged arms raised. “No signs of fresh injuries. I beat up the gang’s bet in no time by the riverside.”

The clatter in the kitchen briefly paused.

“I’m—” Shion trailed off, “I’m glad…Haru-sama…”

Haru snapped from his seat and headed straight to the fridge.

“But I’m definitely drained and hungry after the fight! Did you already prepare our meal?”

“Yes, Haru-sama.”

With a quick succession of movements, he already landed on the table with the dinner well-prepared.

Even back in bed, he carried that smile—that smile of pride and victory.

The scent of blood, the groans of fallen enemies. The sound of fists connecting—the rush and the thrill.

In his hand lay countless hits, a testament of his growing passion for fighting at such a young age.

At just 8 years old, he already won. He felt like he’s on top of the world.

But what he didn’t know was that victories like this never meant to last for long.