Origin: Hinato

Hinato had always been an intelligent kid. He knew, even at a young age, that when his father walked out the door with a suitcase in hand, he wasn’t coming back. And he knew, too, that as much as his mother loved him, she was lonely, heartbroken, and overwhelmed. So he tried to make things easier for her—taking on more chores around the house, learning to read her moods before she spoke, and always being on his best behavior, if only to lighten her load.

As the years passed, life seemed to improve. His mother smiled more, laughed more, and Hinato allowed himself to believe she was healing. He got a job at the store, began socializing, even made a few close friends. Maybe that was why he didn’t notice the truth: his mother hadn’t really gotten better. She had only grown better at hiding it.

The day he lost her still haunts him.

It began like any other morning. They always do.

Hinato had just returned from a sleepover at a friend’s house when he heard a heavy thud from the bathroom.

His blood turned cold. Mom.

He sprinted down the hall, dropped to his knees, and found her collapsed on the floor, her skin deathly pale. A pill bottle lay beside her. His heart plummeted.

“Mom?” His voice cracked as he whispered.

Her body jolted violently. Her eyes rolled back as a seizure overtook her, and Hinato—who had always prided himself on taking care of both himself and his mother—could only stand frozen, helpless, paralyzed with fear.

The moment stretched into eternity. The world seemed to stop moving, every sound, every thought, every breath suspended. And then, all at once, the weight of his emotions surged, swelling until it dwarfed him, until he felt small, insignificant, crushed beneath the immensity of it. When reality snapped back into place, it tore into him, burning away what little strength he had left.

She was all I had.

Later, he learned what he already suspected: it was no accident. The amount of pills in her system left no doubt. His mother, always meticulous about such things, had chosen this. And he wasn’t there. He told himself that if he had been, if he’d been there to greet her in the morning, she might have stayed.

Hinato never liked to dwell on regret. His rule had always been simple: live as you want, do what you want—within reason. But the decision to stay at Alex’s house instead of going home was the one choice he could never forgive himself for.

That day, he made a promise. To always show up for others. To never let someone down the way he had let down his mom.

He stood at the podium, staring out at a sea of black-clad faces. Some were people who had offered condolences. Some barely knew her. Some had whispered behind her back. None of them had ever loved her the way he did.

But worst of all was the look in their eyes—pity.

An orphan. No father… no mother.

Something inside him broke then. It hit him all at once. He had been abandoned. Again.

Four years passed. He had been living with his neighbors since that day. They had taken him in, cared for him as if he were their own. They made him breakfast, nagged him about sleep and homework, and never made him feel like a burden. And Alex their daughter —she had been with him through everything. Through the guilt that told him he didn’t deserve kindness. Through the waves of grief that threatened to drown him.

He wasn’t who he once was. But he was better than he would have been without her.

That night, he sat by her window, gazing at the moon as it spilled silver light across the floor. His mind drifted, heavy with memories.

—

He woke up on the ground, fire lighting up the sky, smoke curling from the ruins of broken buildings. His vision blurred as he wheezed, lungs catching on the polluted air. He turned toward the rubble—must’ve come from there.

And then, as if the world had been holding its breath, sound crashed in.

Screams. Sharp, fear-filled. Shoes slapping against pavement, pounding closer. The noise of crashing, glass, metal, more screams. Hinato coughed again, the air thick with terror.

Terror of what?

He turned. People ran past him, eyes wild. Then—only a few feet away—he saw it. Something inhuman sank its teeth into a very human girl. Her guttural scream tore through the chaos, her eyes locking on him. Pleading. Begging.

The creature released her. She convulsed, body twisting. Her skin turned ashen, eyes rolling back until only the whites remained. Her humanity—just gone.

Bones cracked as she rose on trembling knees, movements wrong, broken.

And Hinato ran. Just another body in the flood of terrified people. Nothing special. Nothing remarkable.

“Wake up, Hinato.”

Two voices pierced through the fear. One unfamiliar, heavy with urgency. The other light, normal—blind to the storm about to break.

His heart hammered as he bolted upright. A wide grin and wild eyes hovered above him.

“AGH! Dammit, Alex! Don’t scare me like that!”

Alex only laughed. “But it’s funny.”

He groaned, falling back onto the bed.

“What were you dreaming about, anyway? You looked… troubled.” Her tone softened with concern.

“Ahh…” Hinato hesitated, the memory of screams and blood lingering. “I think I’ve been watching too many horror movies.” He let out a shaky laugh.

“I told you to stop watching those at night,” Alex teased, though her smile faltered.

“Yeah, whatever. What time is it?”

“Four in the morning.”

“Alex,” Hinato sighed, “the next time you wake me before six, you’re dead.”

“Hey! I was helping. You were having a—”

“Did you know I was having one when you barged in?” he cut in.

Her face fell.

He stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. “Ugh. I’m going for a walk.”

“Wait!” Alex reached out, but stopped herself.

“I’m not mad,” he said, softer this time. “I just need to clear my head.”

She nodded. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

Hinato slipped out, running through the quiet streets, trying to shake the lingering dread. But maybe running at four in the morning wasn’t the best way to do that. Usually, he waited until the sun was high.

Today was different.

By the time dawn painted the sky, he was circling back through the park. His foot caught on something, and he fell hard, pain shooting through his ankle.

“Dammit.” He hissed, sitting up to see what he’d tripped on.

Two hammers. Just lying in the middle of the path.

“What kind of psychopath leaves these out here?” he muttered, picking them up to move under a bench.

But before he could take a step, his vision swam. The world tilted. He stumbled back

—and everything went black.

—

Hinato wakes up slowly.

He hears the whispers first. They echo around him like they were meant for only him. Voices of people he’s known well. Voices of people he’s only met once. Screeching his name like it’s the only word they know.

And distinct in the chaos of them all—Alex’s.

His eyes snap open. The grass around him is blackened, charred like fire had swallowed the ground. The sky burns a smoky red.

He shoots up too fast, his breath jagged. The weight in his hand is real—the hammer he’d picked up at the park. He grips it like it’s the only thing keeping him steady.

Across the way, the play structure sits crooked, warped and rotting in ways it hadn’t been before. He stares at it, at the way the metal groans against itself, at how wrong it all feels.

That’s when he hears his name again.

A voice—familiar, but cracked.

“Hinato.”

He turns. His class rep is standing there, watching him. Unblinking.

“You’re late, Hinato.”

“What’s… what’s going on—what’s wrong with this place?!” Hinato’s voice shakes.

The classmate tilts their head. The words that come out don’t sound human. They bend, jagged and broken, soaked in something older than time.

“We’ve been waiting for you. She’s been waiting for you.”

“Wha—?”

The rep lunges. A screech splits from his throat, teeth streaked in blood.

Hinato barely dodges. The thing snaps at his arm, twisting its body unnaturally before leaping again. Instinct takes over—Hinato swings the hammer into its shoulder.

It collapses, writhing on the ground, its face twitching up at him.

And then it changes.

One blink—it’s his classmate.

Another—it’s Alex.

And then—

His stomach drops.

It’s his mother.

“You let me die,” the face hisses.

“Why couldn’t you save me?”

“Why are you even here?”

His chest caves in, every breath ragged and shallow. His lungs burn as if the very air is poison. None of this makes sense—the park, the monsters, the familiar faces. Why them? Why her?

The figure steps forward, her eyes glinting with a warmth that should have been comforting, but wasn’t. The way she tilted her head, the shape of her smile—every detail screamed his mother. His vision blurred with tears, his heart clawing at his ribs, desperate to believe.

But then—something was wrong. Too smooth. Too empty. A hollow echo wrapped in her skin.

“No…” His voice cracks as he stumbles backward. “No, you can’t—”

She takes another step toward him.

His hands shake. His knees threaten to give. He wants to reach out, to close the gap, to pretend, even for one second, that she’s really here. But the truth claws at him, tearing the hope from his chest until all that’s left is pain.

His scream rips out of him, raw and jagged, tearing his throat.

“YOU’RE NOT HER!”

The words shatter the silence like glass. His whole body convulses with them—rage, grief, denial flooding together in one violent outburst. His voice breaks, choking on the tears, his eyes burning with a fire that is equal parts fury and despair.

“She’s gone!” He gasps it more than says it, as though forcing the words out is a battle all its own. “She’s gone…”

The doppelgänger only tilts her head, that same too-perfect smile plastered on her face.

And for the first time, Hinato realizes—

This fight won’t just be against the monsters outside.

It will be against the ghosts of everything he’s lost.

The doppelgänger surges to its feet and lunges, rage spilling off it like fire. Panic drives his arm. The hammer slams against its head.

This time, it doesn’t get back up.

It just lies there—her face, her face, her face—still.

It’s been so long since he’d seen her.

Hinato runs.

The air tastes like smoke. Every step hits the ground too loud, echoing like something chasing him. And always, the voices follow.

“Hinato.”

“Hinato.”

“Hinato.”

He clamps his hands over his ears. Scrunches his eyes shut. It doesn’t help. The voices aren’t outside anymore. They’ve wormed their way into him.

When he bursts out of the park, his stomach sinks again.

The neighborhood—his neighborhood—isn’t his anymore.

The convenience store that should’ve sat on the corner is slumped in shadow. The row of apartments looks hollowed out, sagging like rotting teeth. Color has been drained from everything.

And the signs—Japanese, but not. Warped. Curling into symbols he can’t read.

This isn’t home. It can’t be.

Then—Alex’s voice. Inside his head.

This way, Hinato. 

His eyes snap to an alley. Something in him tells him not to trust it. Not after the class rep. Not after his mom’s face. This could be another trick, another trap to tear him apart.

And yet—his feet move.

The alley is darker than it should be. His hammer feels too small in his grip. That’s when he notices it.

A figure.

Tall. Too tall. Its head nearly scrapes the fire escape above. Its arms are stretched long, skin splitting like paper too thin.

It turns its head.

And Hinato sees.

His favorite shopkeeper.

His boss.

His mom.

Alex.

All of them. All at once. One shifting, writhing face.

He can’t breathe. He can’t move.

The thing doesn’t step toward him—it just is. Projecting. Drowning him in it.

And then—clear, sharp, like glass cutting through the fog—Alex’s voice.

“Hinato. Don’t let it touch you.”

The doppelganger lurches.