“It’s okay, Yui. I’m here. As long as I’m here, Dad will never scream at you,” he whispered to his sister, who giggled at the tiny elephant plush he dangled in front of her—blissfully unaware of the chaos surrounding their home.

“Rie! Get back here!” his mother shouted as his father rushed down the stairs. “I’m talking to you!”

“You’ve been like this all day, Juna. Ever since we woke up, you’ve been nagging me,” his father snapped back. “Can you give me a break? It’s almost night.”

“Give you a break?” she fired back. “You had no job for a year, and when you finally landed one, you blew it all on bets and beer!”

“You just miss your job because you were hooking up with your boss! Now that you’re stuck at home, you—”

Juna slapped him across the face. The sound cracked through the room, sending everything into a dead, fragile silence. Even the baby didn’t dare to make a noise.

“You’re an insecure man, Rie,” Juna hissed. “Mr. Ford showed me kindness because he saw how hard I struggled bringing Yui to work while you were too wasted to watch her. He gave me promotions because he hoped I’d save enough to start my own business.”

“For a year, I carried this family on my back. Why were you fired? Because you barely showed up to work, and when you did, you were drunk. You told me you’d change for Kenji and Yui. You never did.”

“For fuck’s sake, Juna,” Rie spat, lifting his shirt. Burn scars, in the shape of a child’s handprint, stretched across his skin. “You expect me to treat these kids nicely? You gave me a son who’s a freak. For years you tried to deny Kenji wasn’t different. He is different. No child emits fire from their hands.”

“And when you finally gave me a normal child, it’s a girl. All I wanted was a son. A normal son.”

"Get out, Rie. We don’t need you," Juna said, calm but deadly.

"I'm taking Yui with me. You and your freak son can live together," Rie said, reaching for Yui.

Kenji held out his hand, palms glowing red.

"You can’t take my sister," he said, voice trembling but firm.

"Do you see this, Juna? Look at this freak," Rie sneered, turning to face his wife. Juna grabbed a kettle and swung it toward his head. He fell to the floor, and Yui cried, trying to hold it in.

The struggle was relentless—Rie reaching for Yui, Juna trying to block him. After what felt like forever, Juna won, scooping up her baby from the stroller. But Rie recovered quickly, deliberately tripping Juna. Yui’s head struck the corner of the coffee table. She didn’t cry, but a trickle of blood ran down the back of her head.

Juna let out a piercing scream. Rie froze, fear flashing across his face.

Kenji watched from where he sat, his gaze fixed on how his mother cried uncontrollably and how his father tried to wipe the blood from Yui’s head. He remained silent, but something burned inside him.

Maybe it was the rage from all the shouting earlier. Or the sting of being called a freak. Or perhaps the sound of Yui’s head striking the table. Or the weight of failing to protect her. He didn’t fully understand what he felt, but one thing was certain: he was angry.

And before he knew it, he combusted, flames engulfing their home. His head rested on his knees the entire time. He didn’t cry, but he could hear his parents’ wails. Yui was quiet—too quiet. Which, in this hellish moment, might have been better than being scorched alive.

He didn’t know how long had passed. All he could feel was the water from the firetruck and hear the wailing of sirens.

“We have one survivor. Boy, approximately six to eight years old. No signs of injury. Requesting medical assistance as soon as possible,” a fireman announced as he entered the burned house.

“We’ll take him from here. He needs debriefing before you ask any questions,” four men in white uniforms said. They draped a blanket over Kenji and carried him to an ambulance.

Kenji found himself inside an unusual ambulance. Instead of first aid kits, there were machines that didn’t look like they belonged in a hospital. A man in his thirties approached him and removed his mask.

“Hello, little boy. You can call me Papa,” he said softly, before putting Kenji to sleep.

》》》》》》》》》》

Kenji woke to the prick of needles behind his ears. He lay on a bed that looked more like a hospital cot than a home. The man noticed his eyes flutter open and gave a warm, gentle smile.

“Who are you?” the small voice asked, hesitant.

“You’re awake. I’ve been waiting for you,” the man said, smiling at Kenji. “I’m Dr. Aoi, but you can call me Papa.”

“W-who am I?” Kenji asked, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

“Your name is Eight,” Dr. Aoi replied, carefully wiping behind Kenji’s ears. His work was finished—Kenji’s tattoo, marking his identity, now complete.

“You’ve been through something very bad, which is why everything might feel so new. But here, in my house, we care for each other. We’ll make new memories, even if you can’t remember the old ones.” He reached into his pocket and produced a lollipop. "Candy?"

》》》》》》》》》》

The sound of metal tools clanging echoed faintly in the background. Beneath it, the steady whirr of an old tape recorder rolled on.

"Today is February 12, 2007. This is Dr. Aoi Kurosaki, lead researcher of Project SOMA and head scientist of the Aokigahara Institute. Today," he said, papers rustling as he shifted through them, "a new test subject arrived at the laboratory. Male, approximately six to eight years old. Quirk unknown to its full extent."

"The boy is named Kenji—son of Juna and Rie, locals from Shibuya. We have been monitoring him ever since unusual reports surfaced from the kindergarten he attended. Teachers noted several incidents of unexplainable fires appearing on school grounds. Nothing large or destructive, but all events were suspected to be connected to Kenji."

There was a long pause. The kind that felt like the tape had stopped—but it hadn’t.

"Juna and Rie appeared to know their son was… unusual. Several neighbors reported hearing the couple argue about Kenji being a ‘freak.’ Nobody dared to ask questions or gossip about the child, as Juna was employed by Mr. Ford, their town's wealthiest resident. One neighbor said they avoided spreading rumors about Kenji—but that they also avoided Kenji himself."

The faint clatter of metal instruments rang in the background. The tape recorder continued its steady whirr.

"We tried to intervene in their situation. But Mr. Ford has close ties with the government. As an institute that worked under the radar, all we could do was wait for the right moment—something that would appear natural and wouldn’t point back to us," Dr. Aoi continued.

"Today, Kenji gave us that opening. A fire broke out at their home at approximately 7:42 PM. The entire building where Kenji’s family lived was burned. Many people died—everyone except for Kenji. We found him sitting at the center of what seemed to be their living room. He was naked and hot to the touch, but showed no visible injuries." Dr. Aoi let out a short laugh before continuing. "Kenji gave us the diversion we needed to take him in and study him."

"We have proceeded with the debriefing. His memories have been erased. I introduced myself as Papa and gave him a new name. We marked him earlier: 2001-007. Two-thousand-one for his assumed birth year, and seven for his quirk classification. Tomorrow, we begin the lessons. Our priority now is to understand Kenji’s gift—what triggers it—so we can avoid facing the same fate as his parents."

"From here onwards, Kenji will be known as Subject 008. May the project run smoothly."

The tape clicked, and Dr. Aoi’s voice vanished with it.