Volume 0. Beginning

  KURO NO MONOGATARI — VOLUME 0

Chapter 1 — The Night It All Began

I was six years old when I truly disobeyed my mother for the first time.

Not one of those little acts of disobedience a child forgets about the next day.

I hadn't stolen a sweet before dinner. I hadn't pretended not to hear her calling me. I hadn't broken something and hidden the pieces under a piece of furniture.

That night, I yelled at her.

Then I ran away from home.

And all because I wanted to see the stars.

───

In the Dragon World, night never arrived quietly.

The light slowly withdrew from the mountains, leaving a thin golden line along their peaks, while the great shadows of the valleys stretched farther and farther until they swallowed paths, forests, and houses.

One after another, tiny lights began appearing among the buildings.

A warm glow spilled from some windows. From others came the blue or violet light produced by magic.

Voices could still be heard in the distance.

Every now and then, a dragon would fly home over the rooftops. Their wings sent powerful gusts through the air, and when I was a child, I could recognize that sound without even looking outside.

Sometimes I'd run to the window just to see who it was.

That evening, though, I didn't care.

I was already at the window.

With both hands resting on the sill, my face almost pressed against the glass, I stared past the houses.

Much farther away.

Toward the mountains.

The sky above them was growing darker and darker.

And there, one after another, the stars began to appear.

I spotted one.

Then another.

Then three together.

My eyes kept jumping from one point in the sky to another.

Every time I found a new one, I felt that strange satisfaction only a child could feel over discovering something that had actually been there for millions of years.

But to me, it hadn't already been there.

I'd found it.

So it was mine.

"That one's mine..."

I pressed a finger against the glass.

A tiny star was shining just above the outline of the mountain.

"That one too."

I moved my finger.

"Not that one... that one's ugly."

Another.

"That one's mine."

I hadn't yet decided what I was going to do once I became the owner of half the sky.

That was future Kuro's problem.

Six-year-old Kuro had more important matters to deal with.

Like figuring out how to get up there.

I stood on my tiptoes and tried to get a better look at the top of the mountain.

From home, it looked close.

Very close.

Naturally, that was because at six years old, I hadn't yet developed a particularly friendly relationship with the concept of distance.

All I knew was that the sky would look bigger from the mountain.

No rooftops.

No lights.

No adults walking in front of the window.

Just me.

The mountain.

And the stars.

I turned around.

"Mom!"

No answer.

"Mooom!"

I heard something move in the other room.

Then a sigh.

"I can hear you, Kuro."

I smiled.

I ran away from the window.

I found her sitting down.

Shiroha had only recently returned from the Council.

Her long, pale hair fell over her shoulders and down her back, slightly disheveled after an entire day of work. Her horns emerged from between the strands—horns I'd seen practically every day of my life and therefore barely paid any attention to.

As a child, I didn't think my mother was beautiful.

Not because she wasn't.

She was simply Mom.

Mothers weren't beautiful or ugly.

They were mothers.

It wasn't until many years later that I realized how young Shiroha looked despite all the years she carried on her shoulders. Her face had delicate features, almost too gentle for a woman who could make herself heard in the halls of the Council, and that evening exhaustion weighed heavily on her eyes.

Her wings were folded behind her, kept close to her body so they wouldn't take up half the room.

Her tail rested almost motionless beside the chair.

Almost.

The tip moved slightly when she saw me running toward her.

Over time, I'd learn that it was one of those little signs through which she betrayed what she was feeling.

At six years old, naturally, I hadn't learned a thing.

Back then, I didn't really understand what she did at the Council.

All I knew was that it was an important place full of adults who talked too much.

At least, that was the explanation I'd come up with.

Every now and then I'd hear words like decision, territory, clan, agreement.

I didn't understand what half of those things meant.

But I knew perfectly well what they did to my mother.

They made her tired.

Even I could see it that evening.

Shiroha was leaning back in her chair, her eyes closed for a few seconds. One hand rested against her forehead.

She looked like she wanted nothing more than to stay there.

In silence.

Naturally, I chose that exact moment to run up to her.

"Mom."

She opened one eye.

"Hm?"

"I want to go to the mountain."

She opened the other one too.

She looked at me.

Then at the window.

Then back at me.

"No."

I froze.

That wasn't the answer I'd been expecting.

"...Why?"

"Because it's evening."

"But that's the whole point!"

"Kuro."

"You can only see the stars at night!"

"I know."

"Then let's go."

"No."

I frowned.

I couldn't understand which part of my reasoning she'd failed to follow.

It was simple.

Stars meant night.

Night meant mountain.

Therefore, we had to go to the mountain.

"But I want to see them."

"You can look at them from the window."

I immediately turned toward the window.

Then back to her.

"It's not the same."

"For tonight, it'll have to be."

"But you can see them better from the mountain."

"Kuro."

This time, she said my name differently.

That was the tone that meant the discussion, as far as she was concerned, was over.

As far as I was concerned, it hadn't even started.

I moved closer.

"Just for a little while."

"No."

"We'll come right back."

"No."

"I promise."

"Kuro, I said no."

Something tightened in my chest.

Not sadness.

Not yet.

It was that hot, irritating feeling I got whenever something didn't go the way I wanted.

"Why?"

Shiroha sighed.

"Because it's late, because it's dangerous up there in the dark, and because I'm tired today."

That was the part I couldn't accept.

I'm tired.

To me, it meant only one thing.

She didn't want to come with me.

"But I want to go."

"And you'll go another night."

"When?"

"Another night."

"When?"

"Kuro..."

"Tomorrow?"

She hesitated.

Just barely.

The tiniest hesitation.

But I saw it.

"We'll see."

That was it.

At least in my head.

We'll see was what adults said when they didn't want to say no right away.

"You always say that."

Shiroha looked up at me.

"Say what?"

"You always say later."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is!"

"Kuro, lower your voice."

"You're always at the Council!"

Her expression changed.

Only a little.

But I kept going.

"Always! Always! Always!"

"I'm working."

"I don't care!"

Silence.

This time, even I realized I'd said something wrong.

But I was angry.

And when I was six, admitting I'd done something wrong while I was still angry seemed like a particularly cruel form of torture.

So I did the worst possible thing.

I kept going.

"I just want to go see the stars, and you never want to do anything!"

Shiroha stared at me.

The exhaustion on her face suddenly seemed much more obvious.

"Kuro, enough."

"No!"

"I said enough."

"If you don't want to come, I'll go by myself!"

She immediately straightened up.

"No, you're not going by yourself."

"Yes, I am!"

"Kuro."

"You can't boss me around all the time!"

I was six.

Of course she could boss me around.

It was literally one of the main features of being my mother.

But at that moment, it felt like a monstrous injustice.

"Go to your room."

I stared at her in disbelief.

"What?!"

"Your room. Now."

"But I didn't do anything!"

"You yelled at me, and you're still doing it."

"Because you're not listening to me!"

"I am listening. The answer is still no."

"I HATE YOU!"

The words came out before I could even think about them.

The silence that followed was different from all the others.

I don't remember every detail of that evening.

Too many years have passed.

There are childhood memories whose edges are worn away by time, leaving behind only a few images, a few sounds, a few sensations.

But I remember my mother's eyes.

Those, I remember.

Shiroha didn't yell.

Maybe it would've been easier if she had.

She simply stood there.

She looked at me for a few seconds.

"Go to your room, Kuro."

Her voice was low.

She didn't sound angry anymore.

And for some reason, that only made me angrier.

I clenched my fists.

My eyes were burning.

I didn't want to cry.

If I cried, it would mean I'd lost.

I had no idea who I was fighting against.

But that didn't matter.

I turned around and ran.

"Kuro."

I didn't stop.

"Kuro!"

I opened the door.

The cold evening air struck my face.

And I ran.

───

At first, I wasn't really planning to run away from home.

I just wanted her to understand that I was angry.

Maybe I imagined she'd come outside immediately.

That she'd chase after me.

That she'd say she'd changed her mind.

That we'd go to the mountain together.

I took a few steps.

Then a few more.

No one stopped me.

I looked back at the house.

The door was still open.

For a moment, I was afraid.

A small fear.

Small enough to hide behind my pride.

Fine.

If she didn't want to come...

...then I'd really go by myself.

I turned around again.

The mountain was there.

I looked up.

The first thing I saw was the stars.

There were far more of them than before.

The sky seemed to have been waiting just for me.

And that stupid thought was enough.

I started walking.

I was six years old, I hadn't eaten dinner, I hadn't told anyone where I was going, and I had absolutely no idea how far away the mountain actually was.

My plan was perfect.

───

The farther I got from home, the quieter the streets became.

I knew that part of the territory.

Or at least, I thought I did.

It was different during the day.

There were people.

Voices.

Movement.

Dragons flying overhead, their shadows passing over the road for a moment.

At night, everything seemed bigger.

The houses were taller.

The trees darker.

Even the sound of my footsteps seemed too loud.

Every now and then, I'd hear the beating of wings above me and immediately look up.

For a few seconds, I'd be afraid it was Shiroha.

Then, when I saw a silhouette continuing into the distance, I'd feel relieved and disappointed at the same time.

I kept going.

I wasn't going back.

Not yet.

I had to at least reach the mountain.

Otherwise, that whole argument would've been for nothing.

That was when my stomach growled.

I stopped.

I looked down at my belly.

"...Be quiet."

It growled again.

"I said be quiet."

It didn't work.

I'd skipped dinner.

Not intentionally.

When I'd left the house, I hadn't thought about food.

I hadn't thought about water either.

Or the cold.

Or how I was going to get back.

Actually, the more time passed, the more obvious it became that I hadn't thought about anything.

I looked at the mountain again.

It seemed...

...far away.

Much farther than it had looked from the window.

"Stupid mountain..."

I started walking again.

Then I saw it.

At first, I thought it was a light.

Something was glowing among the trees, not far from the path.

I stopped.

It wasn't the warm glow of a house.

It didn't look like any of the normal magical lights I'd seen countless times before, either.

It was strange.

Silent.

Almost suspended in the air.

I took a step toward it.

Then another.

I should've turned back.

Any adult with even the slightest amount of common sense would've done exactly that.

I was six.

And there was a mysterious glowing thing in the forest.

It never stood a chance against my curiosity.

I moved closer.

Between two trees, I finally saw its shape.

It looked like...

a door.

No.

Not exactly.

There were no walls.

There was no house.

There was only that strange opening in the air.

Its surface trembled slightly, like water standing vertically, and I couldn't make out what was on the other side.

I moved closer again.

"What is that...?"

No answer.

Obviously.

I looked behind me.

The path was empty.

Then I looked at that thing again.

I brought one hand closer.

I hesitated.

Mom had told me many times not to touch things I didn't know.

But that evening, I was angry with Mom.

So, according to the flawless logic of a six-year-old, that probably meant I was allowed to do it.

I reached out a finger.

The surface brushed against it.

It was cold.

I immediately pulled my hand back.

"Ah!"

I looked at my finger.

Nothing.

I moved it.

Still nothing.

I stepped closer again.

This time, I placed my entire palm against it.

The surface gave way.

My hand disappeared beyond the light.

My eyes widened.

"WOAH..."

That woah was probably what ruined my life.

Because instead of backing away, I stuck my other arm in too.

Then my head.

I could barely see anything.

A moment later, I felt something pull me.

"Huh?"

I lost my balance.

"WAI—"

The world disappeared.

───

I fell.

That was the first thing I understood.

The second was that the ground was hard.

"Ouch..."

I stayed there for a few seconds.

Then I slowly pushed myself up.

I rubbed my knee.

"Stupid door..."

I turned around.

There was no door.

I froze.

I looked again.

Nothing.

"...Huh?"

I stood up.

"Hey."

Silence.

"Door?"

Nothing.

That was the moment I stopped being angry with Shiroha.

Because I finally realized I had a problem.

A very, very big problem.

I looked around.

I'd ended up somewhere I'd never seen before.

In front of me stood a dark wooden structure, completely different from the homes I was used to. Its broad roof curved upward at the edges, supported by beams worn down by time. Lanterns stood on either side of a long stone staircase, their flickering light leaving wide patches of darkness between the trees.

A little farther ahead stood a tall structure made of two pillars with a beam across the top.

I didn't know what it was.

I didn't know that place was a temple.

I didn't even know that strange structure in front of me had a name.

To me, they were simply things I'd never seen before.

I turned around quickly.

"Mom?"

No answer.

"Mom!"

My voice echoed between the trees and buildings.

My heart began beating faster.

I ran back to the spot where I thought I'd appeared.

I reached out with both hands.

Nothing.

Just air.

"No, no, no..."

I tried again.

"Come on..."

Nothing.

"Open."

Nothing.

"I SAID OPEN!"

I punched the air.

Naturally, the air didn't feel particularly threatened.

The portal didn't return.

I felt my eyes filling with tears.

I immediately wiped them with my arm.

"I'm not crying."

There was no one there I needed to prove it to.

But I said it anyway.

I took a deep breath.

Then I turned around.

I had to figure out where I was.

I slowly made my way along the stone steps.

That was when I started noticing all the strange things.

I didn't recognize anything.

Not the buildings.

Not the symbols.

Not the way the lanterns were arranged.

Even the smells were different.

The Dragon World was gone.

I didn't yet have a name for the place I'd ended up in.

Much later, I would learn that the building was a temple.

And that the world I'd found myself in was the Human World.

That night, though, to me it was simply:

a place where Mom wasn't.

And suddenly, I would've given anything to go home.

I'd even give up on the mountain.

I'd even look at the stars from the window.

I'd even go to my room without complaining.

My stomach growled again.

I lowered my head.

"Not now..."

I was hungry.

I was cold.

And I didn't know where I was.

I walked between those strange wooden buildings, not knowing I was crossing the grounds of a temple.

Every shadow seemed to move.

Every sound made me turn around.

Then I heard something.

Footsteps.

I froze.

Someone was coming.

My heart started beating so hard that, for a moment, I thought whoever was approaching might be able to hear it.

I took half a step back.

A figure appeared between the lantern lights.

Small.

Much smaller than I'd imagined.

It was a girl.

She looked about my age.

She had black hair.

She looked at me.

I looked at her.

Neither of us said anything.

Then my eyes slowly dropped to her hands.

She was holding a sandwich.

My stomach chose that exact moment to make the loudest noise it had made all evening.

The girl looked down at my stomach.

Then back at me.

I wanted to disappear.

She looked at the sandwich.

For a few seconds, she said nothing.

Then she broke it in half.

She kept one half for herself.

And held the other out to me.

"Want some?"

I looked at the sandwich.

Then at her.

Then back at the sandwich.

I didn't know that girl.

I didn't know that place.

I didn't even know what world I'd ended up in.

But I was six years old.

And I was starving.

Slowly, I reached out my hand.

That was how I met Yozora.