The final bell shrieked, a liberating sound for most, but for me, it was merely a countdown. Sixteen. The age of revelation. The day of the Soul Lens. I gathered my things with practiced calm, ignoring the internal tremor that made my fingers subtly stiff.
"Akira! Hold up, genius!" Kaito's voice boomed, followed by the familiar thud of his hand on my back. Beside him, Emi offered a soft smile, her amber eyes catching the afternoon light filtering through the classroom window.
"Happy birthday, Akira," Emi said, her voice gentle, as she delivered a sharp, affectionate elbow to Kaito's side. "Though I guess 'happy' might be pushing it today, with this idiot making such a ruckus."
Kaito just grinned, unearthing a small, sleek box from his bag. "Nah, it's a double celebration! Birthday and the big reveal! We got you something to commemorate the occasion."
"Thank you," I said, a small, genuine smile touching my lips. "This is really thoughtful." I took the slim, dark band he offered. It felt surprisingly light, cool against my skin. Kaito slid his own onto his wrist, and Emi did the same.
"They're called Synchronicity Bands!" Kaito crowed. "Best tech money can buy, almost. Watch this!" He tapped a small, almost invisible button on his band. A faint hum, then a shimmering, miniature hologram projected above his wrist. It showed a distorted, goofy image of the three of us from a few years back: Kaito with his tongue sticking out, Emi mid-laugh, and me, uncharacteristically, with a wide, genuine grin. The mini-me in the hologram looked startled by its own appearance.
Kaito cackled, jiggling his wrist to make the hologram wobble. "See? For those moments when you need a good laugh, or just to remember what dorks we are!" Emi rolled her eyes, a fond smile softening her expression. "Only you, dummy, would pick that picture. You always manage to drag us into your chaos."
I felt a genuine ripple of amusement break through my carefully constructed calm. It was a memory I cherished, a rare lapse in my constant vigilance. I tapped my own button. The same goofy, smiling hologram popped up above my wrist. A good laugh, indeed.
"And they're not just for showing off embarrassing photos," Emi added, activating her own band, which began to emit a faint amber glow. "They've got a vitals monitor too, syncs straight to an app on your comms-slate. Super useful for when you're in the field. Oh, and see the glow?" She held up her wrist, the amber light pulsing softly. "Each band emits your natural eye color when activated. It's a subtle personal touch."
"That's genuinely brilliant for the field," I remarked, my eyes on the subtle glow of her band. A personalized glow, tied to eye color. A unique identifier, almost. This comms-slate, their equivalent of the smartphones from my world, was clearly far more integrated and intuitive. And these bands... like smartwatches, but so much more advanced, woven seamlessly into life rather than just held in the hand. No one here relied on inefficient projectile weapons anymore; combat was about quick bursts of Spectra, precise energy manipulation, and amplified physical prowess. I'd never seen a 'firearm' outside of museum data-scrolls, and while bows still existed for sport, they certainly weren't standard issue for serious operations. The technology here was subtle, elegant, but profoundly different.
"Speaking of practical, you ready for the big test, Akira?" Kaito asked, his tone shifting slightly, becoming more earnest. "It's wild in there. They really try to push your limits."
My internal tremor intensified, but my voice remained steady. "I've heard. Emi, yours was... a life-or-death scenario, right?"
Emi nodded, her gaze distant for a moment. "Yeah. It was intense. They put me in a simulated collapse – debris everywhere, people trapped. You had to instinctively protect the most vulnerable, choose who to save. It felt so real, Akira. My Green just... surged. I moved without thinking. It's terrifying, but also exhilarating, knowing you can act when others freeze. Like you, with your instincts." She gave my arm a gentle, encouraging squeeze.
Protect. Instincts. Danger. It's exactly what I did. What Renji did. A cold knot formed in my stomach. If it's that real, will it pull me back to that moment? Will it know? Will it see Renji?
"Mine wasn't as dramatic as Emi's," Kaito chuckled, clapping me on the shoulder again, "but it was still wild. They threw me back to that time I bombed the regional tactical simulation last year. Remember? Felt like I was actually there again, frozen. But then... my Blue kicked in. Suddenly, I saw all the angles, all the weaknesses. It wasn't just reliving a frustrating memory; it was mastering it. Felt awesome, knowing my Blue could do that!"
Old trauma memory. This hit closest to home, a jarring echo of Renji. My oldest trauma memory is Renji Kazama. Dying. What if the machine tries to 'fix' that? What if it peels back all my layers? What if it shows the real old trauma, the one where I didn't save my father, or the one where I became Renji Kazama, the empty shell? I forced a polite smile, "So your Blue allowed you to re-evaluate and adapt your strategy. That's a unique application for something so personal, Kaito."
"You'll be fine, Akira," Emi reassured me, sensing my subtle tension. "You're brilliant, and your instincts are sharper than anyone's. Just trust yourself."
"Yeah!" Kaito pumped a fist. "And just think, after this, we can really start training for the Elite. We'll be unstoppable! You're gonna get something amazing, I know it." He clapped my back one last time. "My parents are probably waiting at the facility already. Let's go!"
I nodded, taking a deep, almost imperceptible breath. Outwardly, I was ready. Internally, I was a tightly wound spring, bracing for a revelation that could either solidify my new purpose or shatter my meticulously constructed new life.
The Soul Lens facility was exactly as I'd imagined, or perhaps as my memories from Renji's life had constructed it. An imposing, sleek tower of polished chrome and reinforced glass rose against the late afternoon sky, its design minimalist yet radiating immense power. Inside, the vast lobby felt both sterile and awe-inspiring, echoing with hushed whispers and the soft hum of unseen machinery. Technicians, all wearing crisp, dark uniforms, moved with an almost ethereal silence, their faces professional and unreadable.
My parents, Kiyo and Masato, were indeed waiting. Their faces were a mix of barely contained excitement and overwhelming pride.
"Our prodigy!" my father boomed softly, catching my arm, his eyes shining. "You'll do brilliantly, Akira. We know it."
My mother squeezed my hand, her smile wide. "Just do your best, darling. Whatever color it is, we'll be so proud."
I forced a reassuring smile, but my jaw ached from clenching my teeth. My stomach churned. This is it. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a frantic drum against the calm facade I wore. The Synchronicity Band felt cool on my wrist, a faint, familiar weight. The real test wasn't just my power; it was whether this machine, this invasive probe into my very soul, would unearth the ghost of Renji Kazama. Can it really see my previous life? The thought was a cold dread twisting in my gut. What memory would it force me to relive?
A calm, professional technician in a stark white lab coat gestured me forward. The testing chamber was a circular room, dimly lit by a soft, blue glow emanating from recessed panels. In the center lay the apparatus: a pristine white, ergonomic bed-like structure, curving comfortably to support the body. Above it, suspended by an intricate array of almost invisible arms, hovered the Soul Lens itself – a sleek, dark VR headset, its surface gleaming.
I lay down, the material cool and firm beneath me. Another technician adjusted the device over my head. It was surprisingly light, but once it settled, it pressed ever so slightly against my temples, a subtle hum beginning to resonate.
"Relax, Akira-kun," a gentle voice instructed from behind the device. "Just let go. The Soul Lens will guide you."
I closed my eyes, a final, desperate plea echoing in my mind: Don't see him. Don't see Renji. Don't see that life. The hum deepened, vibrating through my bones, and then the world dissolved into a soft, warm darkness.
When my vision cleared, the clinical white was gone, replaced by the grimy, familiar glow of distant city lights reflecting off wet pavement. Cold air bit at my skin. The distinct scent of exhaust fumes and damp asphalt filled my nostrils. I pushed myself up from the sidewalk, my muscles feeling… different. Older. Heavier.
I scanned my surroundings, my breath catching in my throat. This wasn't the clean, ordered city I'd lived in for sixteen years. This was… Tokyo. The Tokyo of my past. My stomach plummeted. I frantically searched for any sign, any anomaly, anything to confirm this was just a simulation, a trick of the light. But the cracked pavement, the flickering neon sign of the convenience store across the street, the worn-down apartment buildings… it was all terrifyingly real.
Then, a voice. A voice I hadn't heard in sixteen years. A voice that had haunted my every waking moment, every empty step of Renji Kazama's life.
"Renji? What are you doing? Let's get home."
My father.
He stood a few paces ahead, his face turned towards me, a gentle smile on his lips. The sight of him, whole and alive, after sixteen years, was an unbearable ache in my chest, a wound I hadn't realized was still bleeding. The weight of groceries in my hand was suddenly agonizingly real, digging into my palm. Tears, hot and stinging, sprang to my eyes, blurring his beloved face. Every muscle in my body screamed to run, to embrace him, to just be there in his presence again. I couldn't hold myself back. The carefully maintained composure of Akira Ramou shattered, splintering into a million pieces, revealing the raw, broken boy beneath.
"Dad…" I managed to rasp, the single word a raw, broken whisper, thick with sixteen years of unshed grief and regret. Before he could react, I launched myself forward, a desperate, frantic need driving me. I didn't care if it was a dream, a trick; I needed that embrace, needed his warmth, his love, his very existence. My head buried itself in his chest, burying my face in the familiar scent of his worn jacket, clutching at the fabric as if he might vanish.
For a long, agonizing moment, he froze, caught off guard by the sheer force of my desperation. But then, his arms slowly, finally, wrapped around me, a familiar, comforting strength enveloping me. He held me tight, stroking my hair, his initial surprise melting into a profound, paternal affection. He didn't understand the depth of my tears, the sixteen years of loss packed into that desperate hug, but he felt my pain.
"Whoa there, kiddo," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble against my ear, laced with concern. He gently pulled back just enough to look at my face, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. His eyes, so familiar and kind, searched mine. "If something happened, Renji, just relax and tell your old man about it. We'll solve it together, okay?" His voice was a lifeline, a promise from a past that felt so agonizingly real.
My voice was still thick with emotion, but I managed, "There's… there's so much to talk about, Dad. So much..." I couldn't explain it, not here, not now. But the words, the desperate yearning, spilled out anyway.
He offered a reassuring smile, a quiet comfort that permeated my very soul, and gently squeezed my arm, letting go slowly. "I know, son. We'll have plenty of time. But right now," he said, turning, taking a step forward down the familiar street, "let's get dinner."
I watched him go, every instinct screaming at me to stop him, to tell him everything, but I remained rooted to the spot, my heart still aching from the intensity of the reunion. And then, as my gaze followed his retreating back, I heard it. The rising growl of an engine. The high-pitched screech that tore through the night. The blinding, predatory glare of headlights.
My breath hitched. The scene replayed in my mind with horrifying clarity: that massive truck, speeding, uncontrollable. My father, oblivious, stepping into its path. Renji's desperate lunge, fueled by a sudden, desperate purpose. The sickening crunch that followed. The utter, devastating failure.
No. The single thought detonated in my mind, echoing with a force that shook the very foundations of my being. Every fiber of Renji's past failure, every moment of subsequent apathy, every quiet regret, condensed into a burning, white-hot resolve. My clenched fists tightened, my knuckles turning white.
I will not fail this time. I will not.
My feet were already moving, a primal roar building in my chest, threatening to escape. The truck's roar intensified, closer now, the air vibrating with its destructive power. My father was still walking, unknowingly drawing closer to the point of no return.
This time… I WILL SAVE YOU, DAD!
A profound, impossible warmth erupted within me. It wasn't the gentle hum of the Soul Lens, nor the familiar warmth of my current life. This was something else. Raw, elemental. It exploded outwards from my very core, a searing, emerald green light. Every nerve ending sang with incredible, impossible power. My vision sharpened, the world stretching, distorting. Time itself seemed to slow, the truck's approach crawling, the distance to my father shrinking at an impossible rate. My legs pumped, muscles coiling, unleashing a speed that defied logic. This wasn't just Spectra; this was my second chance, distilled into pure, unadulterated green energy. As I lunged, a vibrant emerald green light flared, dancing and lingering around my outstretched hands, pulsating with the force of my will. I reached him, a desperate surge of strength propelling my arm, and with a guttural grunt, I shoved him clear, sending him sprawling to the side.
The truck roared past, a terrifying blur, missing us both by mere inches. The wind from its passage whipped my hair, and the screech of its tires faded into the distance. My father lay on the ground, startled but alive, looking up at me with wide, confused eyes.
Relief, so overwhelming it threatened to buckle my knees, surged through me. I had done it. I had saved him. The regret, the lingering emptiness of Renji's greatest failure, finally, irrevocably, began to mend. The emerald green light around my hands slowly faded, though the green light in my eyes still pulsed with power.
Suddenly, the world fractured. The asphalt, the flickering neon, my father's face – it all dissolved into swirling colors and then, a familiar, comforting darkness.
I gasped, my eyes snapping open. The sterile blue glow of the Soul Lens chamber was back, the soft hum of the device still resonating. My body felt… invigorated, yet strangely drained, as if I'd run a marathon, but my heart was soaring.
My eyes, I knew, were burning. A rapid, intense emerald green pulsed within them, a color far more vibrant, more profound than any standard Green Spectra I'd ever seen. It felt like the very essence of my soul was radiating outward.
A technician quickly moved to my side, her expression neutral. She glanced at the readouts on a holographic panel beside the bed.
"Spectra Type: Green," she stated, her voice calm and professional. Then her eyes darted to a different line on the display, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. Another technician, older, with distinguished grey hair, leaned closer, his brow furrowing.
"Level reading is… 96," the first technician murmured, her voice barely audible, almost a whisper of surprise. "And the energy signature… it's anomalous. Unique. Unclassified."
The older technician adjusted his glasses, a look of profound fascination mixed with bewilderment on his face. He exchanged a quick, meaningful glance with his colleague. This wasn't just Green. Not truly.
Energy signature. My mind, despite the lingering emotional haze, latched onto the term. I knew the basics from my studies. Every Spectra user had a unique energy signature—a kind of subtle, unforgeable energetic fingerprint tied directly to their soul. Just as every soul was different, shaped by countless experiences and innate qualities, so too was its signature. It was usually consistent with their age, their biological makeup, and the typical development of their Spectra. It was how they could pinpoint a user's presence, or how specialized equipment could tell one Green Spectra apart from another. For mine to be "anomalous" and "unclassified"... that meant it didn't fit any known pattern. It screamed outsider. It screamed Renji.
But in the viewing area, my parents had seen only the brilliant green flash in my eyes. A collective cheer erupted. Masato roared with delight, pumping his fists in the air, while Kiyo clapped her hands together, tears of pride streaming down her face.
"Our genius! Just as we expected!" Masato boomed, his voice carrying even through the sound-dampening glass. "A Green Spectra! Top of the class, I knew it!"
As the technicians unhooked me from the device, their quiet, worried murmurs just out of my parents' earshot, I met the older technician's gaze. He looked at me, not with suspicion, but with a deep, unsettling curiosity. He saw something, knew something was different, but couldn't comprehend it. How could a sixteen-year-old generate a signature that felt decades, even lifetimes, more experienced than his physical age suggested? It wasn't about future potential, but a profound, almost ancient, resonance, echoing from a soul that was far, far older than his body.
My secret was safe. The Soul Lens hadn't exposed Renji Kazama. But in saving my father, in harnessing that profound, selfless intent, I had awakened a Green Spectra unlike any other. It was powerful, unique, and truly mine, forged from the ultimate act of redemption. I was a Green Spectra user, yes. But I was also Renji, and this power was the literal manifestation of his second chance. The burden of this knowledge settled heavy on my shoulders, even as my parents rushed forward, embracing me in a flurry of proud congratulations.
"Akira! We knew it!" Kiyo cried, burying her face in my shoulder.
"Nice, Akira! A Green! We're gonna crush it together, you and me, heading for the Elite!" Kaito's voice was already full of plans, completely oblivious to the extraordinary truth pulsating beneath my skin.
I managed a faint smile, the weight of my unique power a secret, burning ember within my soul. The journey had truly just begun.