Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Tap-tap-tap.
Kibo's fingers danced across his phone screen as he sat outside the cafe, the clock striking 5 pm.
"Since they don't want to help, I'll investigate myself," he muttered, sipping his cappuccino.
"This is where the accident happened. Usually, it's one of the busiest streets, but that day..." Kibo trailed off, his gaze drifting from his phone screen.
His mind flashed back to that fateful night, the memories still vivid as if etched in his mind yesterday. He couldn't shake the feeling that Omar, a supposed friend of his parents, was oblivious to the truth.
"Two years and all he did was tell me not to get involved, or worse, treat me like a clueless kid," Kibo mused, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
Tap-tap-tap.
Kibo pocketed his phone with a sigh, glancing up at the gray surveillance camera to his right. He remembered Omar's words about the cameras malfunctioning that day.
He paused for a moment as he wondered how he could get his hands on the camera footage of course he can't just ask for it they wouldn't give it to a stranger, maybe steal it? no, he doesn't have the mastermind to come up with a plan to do so.
(He's just lazy)
"Ughhhh, what a pain. I should head home..."
With a smooth slide of his seat, he rose to his feet, downing the remainder of his cappuccino in one swift motion. The cup met the table with a resounding thud as he released a satisfied moan, savoring the last remnants of the beverage.
With the cup in his hand, Kibo made his way to a trash bin outside the cafe terrace his mind filled with thoughts about how he could get the camera footage from the cafe oblivious to the person in front of him he bumped into her he fell back on his butt.
"What the?"
Kibo felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, as though he had collided head-on with a solid steel wall. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he attempted to gather his senses. Finally, he looked up.
'A girl?'
Blonde, luscious locks framed her face, accentuating the piercing emerald hue of her eyes. A slim chin and delicate nose completed her captivating features.
Kibo gazed at her, contemplating if she was an angel standing before him. Her hair flowed with the gentle wind as she slid her fingers through it, tucking a row behind her ears.
Finally, she looked down, their gazes meeting. She wore a puzzled expression, and after a small pause, she broke the silence.
"I don't give money to beggars."
(.....beggar=hobo)
Kibo's eyebrow twitched, a malicious grin painting his face. 'Who is she calling a hobo?'
Normally, in this situation, he would have just continued minding his own business. He wasn't the type to start an uproar over a small thing, like the Karens, yelling at him for bumping into you. Fine, he'd take it. Threatening him? Fine, he'd take it. But...
Kibo stood up and reached for a napkin in his pocket, his arm stretched forward, his hand now in front of the girl.
"Listen-"
SHWUSH
Before Kibo knew it, he was seeing the world upside down. Soon enough, he found himself back on his butt, facing the cafe. One of the waiters saw what happened and rushed to the scene. "Omg, are you okay?" she asked.
"This beggar tried to attack me," the girl affirmed, pushing Kibo's hand back, causing his wrist pain.
"Auw, auw, auw."
"That's not true! I just happened to bump into her, then she called me a hobo, au, au."
The waiter looked confused, unsure of what she had just walked into.
"Hush it, beggar."
The waiter stepped back, a bead of sweat forming on her forehead.
"Um, I don't know what happened, but this young man is no beggar. Not long ago, he bought a cappuccino and some cookies. I attended to him myself, and he even gave me a tip."
The girl ignored the waiter's words and pressed Kibo's hand harder, making him scream in pain.
'What's wrong with her? How did I end up in this mess?'
Suddenly, the girl's grip eased, freeing Kibo. He stood up, his eyes watery as he looked at the girl, who seemed to be having a conversation with thin air.
"Are you sure? Then he's not a beggar?"
Kibo looked at her, puzzled. She was gazing to her right, speaking as if someone were there. Then, she turned back to him, sending shivers down his spine. 'What's wrong with her?' Kibo nervously smiled as she glanced away as if dismissing what had just happened.
Kibo snatched up the cup and hurled it into the nearby trash as he made his way back home. The girl remained at the cafe as he departed. The waiter approached her, pointing out the coffee stain on her white shirt.
Without a word, she glanced at the stain on her right shoulder, her expression unreadable. Then, in a sudden rush, she bolted off in the direction Kibo had taken, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions.
Kibo walked home, his expression pinched with discomfort as he mulled over the encounter with the blonde girl who had bested him:
'That girl... my wrist still hurts because of her.'
Just the memory of her overpowering him sent a shiver down his spine, causing his gaze to lower uncomfortably.
How had she managed to do that? One moment, he had been offering her some napkins to clean her shirt, and the next, he found himself seeing the world upside down, followed by a surge of pain.
Kibo couldn't comprehend what the girl's issue was, but two things were certain:
1. The girl was utterly unpredictable.
2. He had no desire to ever encounter her again.
Kibo finally arrived on his street, only to find it blocked. He found it peculiar, but he wasn't too concerned; after all, he knew a shortcut home. Taking an alleyway, Kibo turned back and ventured into the darkness. The sun had already vanished, leaving behind only the dim glow of the moon to illuminate the sky.
Confident in his familiarity with the alley, Kibo pressed on. This was his secret route, known only to him. He would often use it to bypass traffic or police blockades.
While others believed the alley to be permanently sealed due to the construction of a new building, Kibo knew better.
There was an abandoned building nearby, and hidden within its walls was a hole—a secret passage that only he knew about. Kibo had taken care to conceal the hole, ensuring that he alone could navigate the passage without detection.
As Kibo continued along the alley, a sudden clang echoed through the narrow space. He halted, his heart pounding like a marathon runner's with each resounding bounce of the metal container.
Turning his head sharply, he scanned the alley, but there was no one in sight—just the container rolling and finally coming to a stop against the wall.
He paused, his senses heightened as he surveyed his surroundings, searching for any sign of movement. Left, right, up, down... nothing.
'Probably just the wind,' he reasoned, though the thought brought little comfort. How could the wind maneuver a metal container to fall and bounce with such precision, especially in an enclosed alleyway? Not a single strand of his hair had stirred; this was no ordinary breeze, and Kibo knew it.
With a sense of unease creeping over him, Kibo quickened his pace, eager to leave the eerie alley behind him.
With each step, Kibo's heart pounded against his ribcage, the rhythm of his footfalls echoing the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
What had started as a leisurely walk had escalated into a frantic jog, and now, a desperate sprint. Despite the urgency propelling him forward, a sense of déjà vu lingered, haunting him like a ghost from his past.
As Kibo dashed towards the dead end, his mind raced, trying to decipher the origin of the foreboding sensation creeping over him.
He couldn't shake the feeling that danger lurked just around the corner, an unseen threat poised to strike. It was a sensation he had felt before, a chilling reminder of past encounters with darkness.
Turning to the left wall, Kibo's eyes scanned the piled trash bags, his hands moving instinctively to clear a path. With a sense of urgency gnawing at his insides, he couldn't help but question the absurdity of his situation.
"Why did I put so many trash bags?" he muttered to himself, frustration seeping into his voice as he wrestled with the obstacles in his path.
Pushing his body through the narrow opening with all his might, Kibo felt a surge of relief wash over him as he emerged on the other side.
Scanning his surroundings, Kibo's gaze fell upon a heavy metal drawer to his right. Without hesitation, he lunged for it, his hands grasping its cold, rough surface.
With determined resolve, he began to drag it towards the opening, his muscles straining against the weight as he fought against the encroaching darkness.
With a burst of adrenaline-fueled strength, he wedged the drawer into place, blocking the hole with all his might.
The rough metal surface scraped against the mosaic floor as Kibo exerted every ounce of energy, his entire being focused on sealing off the entrance and keeping the encroaching darkness at bay.
With a final, Herculean effort, Kibo succeeded in fortifying the barricade, the metal drawer serving as a makeshift barrier against the unknown.
As he leaned against the wall next to the blockade, gasping for breath, a sense of triumph washed over him. In the face of danger, he had emerged victorious, his determination and resilience shining like a beacon in the darkness.
But that respite wouldn't last long, for Kibo had not anticipated what would happen next. A loud thud reverberated through the building, and the next thing Kibo knew, the metal drawer, now sporting a giant dent, went flying, landing three meters away.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone