Origin of None

“I didn't even think he could do that. In a way… I think I trusted him.” Mamoru's voice was deep, a sound that still felt unfamiliar to him, as if it belonged to someone else.

 A long silence followed, stretching until the only sound filling the once-lively bar was the soft crackle of the fire.

 “We all did, kiddo… But now we know he’s capable of far more than that.” a manly, raspy voice cut through the quiet.

Crowd around the table was too thick to pinpoint the speaker. You'd have to sit among the three men and one woman there to truly see who spoke. Their conversation had been sharp enough to slice the air, and the silence that followed each line felt brutal. It was the kind of quiet she couldn't stand anymore.

 “Well, you were saying?” The girl with her legs kicked up on the table asked, her voice a stark contrast to the oppressive quiet. She was small, so small that even with her feet propped up on the table, she barely took up any space. Her red hair was a mess of sharp angles, tied into twin ponytails high on both sides of her head, and her sharp, flickering hazel eyes were locked onto Mamoru.

 No one in the room had to wait long for his answer.

He took a breath and continued his story — the same story everyone in this room could tell: how they all ended up here.

He used to think his small Japanese town looked peaceful from above. The wind at that altitude must have been wild for normal people, but Mamoru was never normal. He liked sitting at the tallest building in town, just looking down, patrolling the city as the only human with superpowers there — or on the entire planet, for that matter.

But there was that one voice that he couldn't escape, no matter where he was.

“Told you we should ditch the katana. Why keep it if you don't kill? Hell, you don't even cut with it!”

“It’s cool, right?” Mamoru replied with a big smile, looking over his shoulder at a purple cloud of storm trying, and barely succeeding, to keep the shape of a human. A manifestation of his powers, a sarcastic companion who only he could truly perceive.

“It's not a child's toy! Just look at how people see you when we're on the street! A 15-year-old kid in a leather jacket to his feet and a katana doesn't look 'cool' or seem like a superhero! You look like a thug!” exclaimed the cloud, badly attempting to gesticulate as its form wavered.

“I don’t need people to think good about me. I need bad guys to be scared of me."

“That’s also pretty hard to do as a child-“

“Let’s go to see Takeru!” Mamoru interrupted, immediately excited, before shimmering from the surface of Earth. To human eyes, he simply vanished. But what no one could see was the parallel dimension that existed alongside their world, a dimension Mamoru could slip into and travel through unseen, unheard.

“Six years of hard work with you and you still don’t respect me enough to listen! Who do you think gave you those powers?! Who?!”

This time, not even Mamoru could see the cloud, though he felt its exasperated presence inside his head, a presence that sometimes materialized right before his own eyes. Mamoru only laughed as he ran down the wall of the building he'd just been admiring the town from.

Two women shrieked as the boy seemed to appear from thin air, though in truth, he was always there, just… on the other side. Mamoru was used to scaring people or receiving weird looks for his sudden appearances or the way he dressed. He didn't mind. He wanted to be a hero and use his powers for good — to save people, even those who gave him those strange looks. And that's what he was thinking as he strode into the police station, not sparing a glance for the startled women behind him.

It always looked comical when a child entered the police station dressed like that — a leather jacket sweeping to his feet, a katana strapped to his belt. Yet, by now, no one even batted an eye. No one, that is, except the one responsible for him when he entered the building.

“Can you for once not wear this when coming in HERE?!” Mamoru heard the words loud and clear, echoing directly in his left eardrum, right after someone caught him from behind. He knew well enough who it was.

 “Takeru! I’ve heard you got a new lead! Is that true?! Where is it?! What is it?!”

The young policeman could only grimace in the weirdest way possible. Though for Mamoru, it was perfectly normal, a look he saw at least once every time he came here.

“Can we just… Do I need to remind you of the rules you agreed on?…” These were the first words said after the janitor's room door shut with a soft click.

“You text me beforehand once you're outside the station. You don't come in here with that katana, which I should have taken away from you, by the way. And you don't shout about a 'lead' for the whole station to hear!”

“Well, ain’t the prick in the good mood today.” The voice echoed in Mamoru's head, making him giggle.

“That’s funny to you-?!”

The tall officer didn't even finish. He ran a hand through his short chestnut hair, taking a few deep breaths.

“Listen, it’s nothing big this time. A group of local thugs taking an abandoned place for themselves to use as a drinking spot. Thing is — which place. And that’s why I got you for it.”

He shifted his weight from one leg to another and took a breath.
“Sunday's warehouse. Thought you’d be the best for the job.”

Takeru thought he understood how much that place meant to Mamoru. But in reality, only Mamoru could truly grasp its significance. No one but him could know how important a place where he trained his powers so often, it practically became home, truly was.

“I’ll handle the thugs,” he said, hopping down from the crate he was sitting on. “You just wait for my call and be ready.”

Mamoru let out a chuckle and gave Takeru a playful tap as he walked past.

“Mamoru.”

He stopped mid-step and glanced over his shoulder at the officer.

“Once you’re back home I have something to give you. And...Just… Be safe out there.”

Mamoru just smiled and giggled in response. By now, that was all the answer Takeru needed. After all, that was his role as a big brother.

The warehouse was so loud, it was hard to believe only four thugs were inside. The clinking of beer bottles, coarse laughter, and rough banter echoed off the walls. That gave Mamoru an advantage, but for him, it was never about waiting or sneaking around. He preferred confrontation.

“Yo, guys… Would you look at that!”

He welcomed the challenge at this point. That was just who he was. After all, for the past six years, he was the only human with powers in the world. He'd never lost or had trouble with any kind of enemy. So why would this time be any different?
“Listen shrimp, this ain’t a place for you. Screw off somewhere else,” one of the thugs grunted as they all rose from their crates, turning to face Mamoru.

“Great… Four drunkards. That’s what the powers I gave you should be used for. Well, go get ‘em.” Mamoru wasn’t really listening to him at that point, his mind already sharp, focused on how to approach the confrontation.

“As far as I know, we’re on a private property that isn’t mine or yours.” His hand slid instinctively to the shaft of his katana, readying for any potential danger. One didn't have to be a genius to notice he was slowly being circled.

“So what you’re saying is… we have to leave, and you’re the one wanting to make us?” The thug sneered, his body language clearly dismissive.

“It doesn’t need to get ugly, y’know-“ If not for years of mastering his abilities, he might have had a hard time dodging a steel pipe flying right at his head from behind. But he did, sidestepping with a practiced ease, then swiftly countering with a right hook. His fist flew, aimed for a knockout. CRUNCH. The impact jarred him to the shoulder, a dull, grinding pain he hadn't felt in years. The thug just staggered back, grunting. That should have sent him flying. Where was the strength that Echo granted him?

“Nice punch for a kid.” The thug exclaimed, clutching his jaw, his voice laced with surprise rather than pain. ‘It should have knocked him out. Why isn't he down? Echo?’ A frantic thought pulsed through Mamoru's head during the brief moment he could snatch a breath. But it didn't last. The other three thugs quickly rushed in to flank their dazed friend. Mamoru didn't panic; why would he? He was a superhuman, capable of simply disappearing. Or so he thought, until a sudden, bone-jarring kick sent him sprawling to the ground. In an instant where he was supposed to be in a parallel dimension, hidden, in a quiet, safe space, he was instead lying on the cold, hard ground but the searing agony in his side was the real revelation. ‘This is what it feels like? This is pain? Echo…?’'

Where was that sarcastic, ever-present voice he'd heard for the past six years since the awakening? The same voice that had bestowed upon him powers that… weren't with him anymore. Had it bailed? Had it died? There was so little he knew about it. But it didn't matter now. Nothing did. This felt like the absolute end.

Or so he thought, before being hit by something he couldn't see, in a place he couldn't feel anymore. And then, there was only emptiness. Nothing. Death. Or so he thought, before waking up like a storm, a sudden, frantic surge of life.
He gasped, maniacally checking his face, his head, his entire body that just seconds ago felt like it was going to shatter. The jawline felt wrong; sharper. His fingers, long and calloused, were not his own. He scrambled to his feet, his balance completely off. He was taller. He looked down and saw a chest broader than he remembered, limbs thicker with muscle he'd never earned. A wave of nausea washed over him. This wasn't just a lack of pain. This wasn't his body.

Only then after the shock did he take a moment to look around, truly absorbing his surroundings. He wasn't in Sunday's warehouse anymore. He was on a beach, yet there was no ocean or sea. It stretched further than the eye could see… a vast, endless desert. But this was no desert. Instead, colossal skyscrapers and towering buildings rose eerily from the sand a few kilometers away, demolished, some half-standing, others tilted at impossible angles, monuments to a forgotten world.

A post-apocalyptic landscape, he thought, or perhaps a vivid dream, an afterlife? The sand he felt beneath his hand was undeniably real. It wasn't smooth, it didn't sift through his fingers like water. It was packed with dust and grit, almost muddy. It held its shape in his hand, solid enough to walk on, surprisingly heavy in his palm.

"Where am I…?" he thought, as he tried to get up, stumbling and falling back onto his ass. He was taller, he felt it significantly, a new awkwardness in his limbs. But with no other choice than walking, after a few more failed attempts, he finally steadied himself and began to venture forward.

 All he could see ahead was the broken city in the distance, a sprawling, ruined metropolis, or what’s left of it, far grander than his hometown. It was impossible to see its full extent, given how quickly darkness was descending with the setting sun.
There was almost no light anymore, yet it felt as if a second sun, hidden amongst the tilted and broken buildings of the city before him was beginning to rise. But when he looked closer, it wasn't a sun at all. It was a tower, a golden, impossibly beautiful and impossibly long tower, reaching heights he didn't know were possible.

Mamoru was so mesmerized by that impossible sight that he didn't even notice a small building as he walked down what he now realized was a road that hadn't been under his feet moments before. The building was small, wooden, not unlike some he'd seen in his own world, but it wasn't abandoned or old. It was lively, with music playing loudly and the distinct sounds of laughter drifting from within. It had a sign… a bar: "The Chosen One." Mamoru could only sigh, a sound of weary resignation, as he decided to go inside.

“And that’s how I got here.”

As if the silence couldn't have been deafening before, now it was even worse, a heavy, tangible presence in the air. No one was surprised or excited by his tale… rather, their faces were etched with concern, anger, and deep sadness.
The old man, seated at the table with Mamoru and the two others, could only look down, lost deep in his thoughts. Meanwhile, both the short girl with her legs still propped on the table, and the young blonde man next to her, pierced Mamoru with angry, unyielding gazes.
It was the girl who broke the quiet, letting out a bitter little laugh.

 "What's wrong?" All confused Mamoru could mumble.

'What's wrong?' she scoffed, finally taking her feet off the table. "You still think your story is special. We all made that mistake."

 The man who looked old only in his face, a stark contrast to his surprisingly muscular frame, spoke out with eyes full of sadness. "That voice… 'Echo'… it told you that you were the only one, didn't it? That its power was yours and yours alone."

Mamoru's eyes widened. "How did you know…?" He looked from the old man to the girl, to the man next to her, seeing the same dark knowledge in all their eyes. The air left his lungs as the thought hit him. "Wait. You… you all have powers?"

The blonde man leaned forward, his voice flat and intense. "It told all of us we were the 'only one.' In our own worlds."

The words hung in the air. Our own worlds.

Mamoru felt a cold dread creep up his spine. He pieced it together, the memory of the fight, the sudden loss of his powers. "And it… it took them away? Right before…?"

The girl nodded, her expression grim. "He needed you to die. It's the only way to get here."

"Die…?" That word felt wrong in his mouth. "But why? Why would he do all this?!"

The girl looked past him, her gaze distant, fixed on something unseen. "It's been happening for countless years. He sends a part of himself to other worlds, targeting vulnerable people with no big attachment to their life, so they won't feel the need to escape once they're here. We get the power, we get better at it, we get stripped of it during the worst possible moment, and then we die, ending up right here where we can be used as his army."

All Mamoru could do was listen, shaking his head in disbelief. It was all so surreal to hear. "Why would he need an army?"

The looks on their faces told Mamoru the answer would be bad, but nothing could have prepared him for the truth.

"He's this world's king."