Season of Change

Atsunori goes down the stairs to the living room. On the low table, a steaming bowl of white rice, a freshly grilled mackerel, and a cup of miso soup wait for him. Among the side dishes, the pickled plum catches his eye.

—Great morning for a trek, don't you think?

A man's voice comes from the radio.

—Sure.

Another voice replies as Atsunori takes his seat.

With only the radio filling the silence, the man across the table could very well be a bronze statue.

—The air is really fresh in Kurozaka today. You can feel the Autumn coming. Last autumn of the millennium, huh? Hard to believe we're alive at such a time.

—I could change that any moment, you know?

—Oi!

A barely audible snicker makes Atsunori glance up. But the man remains expressionless, eating with one hand while working with a pen in the other.

—Oh, and if you like your early exercise like me, do be careful. After last night's rain, landslides are likely. So resist the temptation to climb our good old Mount Iwa.

—You won't need to worry about landslides if you steal my yogurt again.

—That was only once, six years ago!

This time, Atsunori catches a brief smile before it vanishes, and can't help a momentary smug grin. Finishing his green tea and offering his thanks, he leaves as the two voices continue their banter.

"I'm off," he says.

"Take care," his father replies—enough words for the whole morning.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

As he exits the estate and heads down the hill, the clear sky gradually fades behind the city's modern monoliths.

Kurozaka could become the most prosperous place in the world, and he'd still rather live in the humble town he grew up in almost thirty years ago—the one now buried beneath the relentless hunger of progress.

Yet he keeps working, telling himself it's for the family's sake. Surely they know better than he does.

Even on his days off, when he trades his uniform for something less intimidating, he wanders the city as if on patrol, ready to get involved at the first sign of trouble.

Not that it happens often—the Munakata keep the city spotless. Lowlifes like that debtor from the other day are just a small, contained fraction of the population. Pathetic as they are, they still make up part of the foundation that lets the rest of the city stand tall.

So when the kids have other duties and can't play around the estate, he's usually left with little to do outside his training routine—just wishing some fool would cause enough trouble to keep him busy.

.

.

BOOOOM.

"No way…" he murmurs, then sprints towards the noise, already cursing his own dumb thinking.

The final section of the building collapses just as he arrives. What was a towering colossus is now a heap of rubble. Around him, people scream, edge closer, or ask for answers.

"WHO DID THIS!?" Everyone nearby steps away from Atsunori.

This is no accident.

And worse, this isn't just any random building—it's one of the Munakata's real-estate agencies. A direct hit on their finances.

I'm going to find the culprit and break them into pieces. I don't care if they are one, many, women or elderly.

He scans the crowd. Most meet his gaze, then look away the moment he passes over them.

Except one: a hooded figure leaving the scene, slipping away from the press of people.

That's all the evidence he needs—he'll seize them first, ask questions later.

"Out of my way!" he shouts, tearing his sleeves as he lunges towards the suspect. People part, making a path.

As he closes the distance, he eases his pace, trying to reach their back before they notice.

No luck.

The crowd's murmurs grab the stranger's attention—they turn while Atsunori is still several meters off. Beneath a mask that hides most of their face, a pair of golden eyes snap wide as they lock onto him.

Shit!

The stranger bolts, the gap between them widening fast.

Forcing a partial transformation, Atsunori's legs flood with strength and his speed matches the runner's.

"You're not getting away!"

People scatter, but not fast enough. Several bystanders go sprawling as he collides with them.

The culprit darts into an alley. By the time Atsunori reaches it, they're already scrambling up the building wall, grabbing a window frame, and swinging over a fence topped with barbed wire.

Atsunori just crashes through it.

They're now weaving between the narrow lanes of an apartment complex. Everything the stranger passes is knocked over—a garbage can, a pile of old crates, even a wall-mounted air conditioner. None of it slows Atsunori down.

But the mess is getting on his nerves. Someone's going to have to clean this up, you idiot.

The passage opens into a courtyard and the fugitive vaults over a brick wall back into the streets. Losing precious seconds, Atsunori fumbles with the door.

He spots the culprit turning the corner of a building. As he follows, he collides with a passing girl, sending her tumbling.

Dammit.

That must've hurt. With a quick apology, he tosses her a few bills and speeds off.

"Wait, mister! You dropped your…" Doesn't matter. Whatever she's saying can't be more important than catching this bastard.

And they've gained a lot of distance.

Still aware of the pursuit, the coward ducks into a convenience store. They tear through aisles to make obstacles. Atsunori dodges shelves, wrenches carts aside, shoves away shouting customers.

As he bursts out the other exit, he throws his wallet toward the clerk.

"Keep the change."

Now the fugitive is sprinting across a red light, vaulting over moving cars like nothing.

Atsunori can't power through that—unless…

Screw it.

In full view of dozens, he transforms and charges on—a car crashes into him, hurling him sideways, but he recovers without breaking stride. Honking horns and terrified screams fade behind him, and he realizes just how much he'll have to answer for.

Fortunately, the chase is finally leading them out of the city.

The paved road gives way to muddy slopes—feet sinking into the earth, his pace falters as the humid air presses down on him. Fatigue gnaws at his every muscle, and while the other is slowing too, Atsunori doubts he can outlast them.

His transformation drains too much stamina.

Still, the extra power of his Oni form lets him close the gap. Mustering every ounce of strength, he pushes forward. Just need to reach them before he collapses. Hand stretched out, his fingers nearly grazing the hood…

Got you!

Mud splatters into his eyes—flung by the asshole.

"You son of a—"

BOOOOM.

Another explosion? How?

Beneath him, the ground shakes. Above, nature roars.

Wiping his eyes, he realizes he's clutching only the empty hoodie.

From the corner of his vision, a wall of earth, rocks, and trees hurtles towards him.

Atsunori is swallowed by a landslide.