“The food’s still hot, Mom. Why’d you call me so fast?”

Ryo had rushed to the table, abandoning the novel he’d been writing—his precious 'Real World'—in a panic. He knew better than to test his mom’s patience.

“I know,” she said, smiling softly. “I just wanted you to spend some time with us instead of burying yourself in that little story of yours.”

She understood how much it meant to him. Writing wasn’t just a hobby for Ryo—it was his world. In a society torn apart by endless war, Ryo was somehow untouched by it. While other kids his age were being trained to become soldiers, molded into weapons, Ryo lived in the stories he wrote. Maybe that was a talent, too—his ability to stay whole in a fractured world.

His mother was torn—part relieved, part terrified. Relieved he wasn’t being hardened into another child of war. Terrified that maybe he should’ve been.

Ryo sighed and sat down, quietly eating his food as it began to cool down. He wasn’t as clueless as people thought. He knew of the cruel war which went on, he knew what the other children of his age were doing, yet he chose to not be worried about them, he was a teen who had many dreams and ideologies. One of many ideas he believed in was 'fate' he thought that if he were to truly become some soldier and fight, then he will eventually, no matter what he does become one, and fight on the battlefield.

As he stood to wash his hands after eating, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” his mom said. “You wash the plates, alright?”

Ryo nodded, though curiosity itched at the back of his mind. His father wasn’t due home until evening—so who could it be?

He began scrubbing dishes in the kitchen, but his ears perked up at the familiar voice from the front door.

“Hi, honey. I decided to take the rest of the day off. Honestly... I just felt like I haven’t been spending enough time with you two.”

What his father said was correct, however his salary was the only source for the house so neither Ryo or his mother said much about it.

“I... I see,” his mother stammered, still reeling from the surprise.

Just as his father stepped into the house, another voice called out from behind him—calm, unfamiliar, and chilling.

“Hello. Might you both be the parents of Ryo?”