Chapitre 1: [1] Born To Die
The old man's fist flew at my face. I ducked, and his knuckles crunched against the wall. A red smear stained the yellowed paint.
"Useless," he slurred, beer-soaked breath hot on my cheek. "Can't even win a stupid talent show."
I bit my lip, willing my voice not to shake. "I tried. I really did."
He laughed, harsh and mocking. "Tried? You're pathetic."
His words cut deeper than his fists ever could. I stared at the floor, blinking hard.
"I'll do better next time," I muttered. "I'll practice more, I'll-"
"Practice?" he spat. "With what money? You think I'm made of cash?"
I said nothing. What could I say? He was right. We could barely afford food, let alone singing lessons.
He studied me for a long moment, eyes narrowing. Then his face split into an ugly grin.
"Maybe there's another way," he mused. "Time you started earning your keep."
His hand clamped around my arm like a vice. I yelped, trying to pull away, but he was too strong.
"Come on," he growled, dragging me towards the door. "Field trip."
We stumbled through unfamiliar streets, past boarded-up shops and dark alleys. My pulse pounded in my ears. Where were we going?
We stopped at a nondescript metal door. The old man knocked: one-two-three, pause, one-two.
The door creaked open. A man stood there, tall and imposing. I recognized him instantly from the news.
Hidetora. The yakuza boss.
His eyes, cold and dead as a shark's, fixed on me. "This him?"
The old man nodded. "Young, but talented. Fast, strong. Pretty face. He'll do well."
I stood frozen, the stink of cigarettes and cheap liquor making my head spin. The old man's fingers dug into my shoulder.
"Don't screw this up," he hissed in my ear. "Or we're both dead."
I managed a tiny nod. The door swung wide, revealing a room full of hard-faced men. They all turned to stare at me.
Hidetora circled me slowly. "Sing," he ordered.
My mouth went dry. I opened it, but no sound came out.
"I said sing, boy." His voice was soft, dangerous.
I squeezed my eyes shut and took a shaky breath. Then I sang. It was a song I'd written in secret, scribbled on scraps of paper and hidden under my mattress. A song about escaping, about finding something better.
When I finished, silence filled the room. I cracked one eye open, bracing myself.
Hidetora's face was blank, but something glinted in his eyes. He turned to the old man. "We'll take him. Standard fee."
The old man's grip tightened. "Now hold on. The kid's got real talent. He's worth more than-"
Hidetora moved faster than I could blink. There was a dull thud, and the old man crumpled, blood pouring from his nose.
"Standard fee," Hidetora repeated calmly. He looked at me. "Unless you'd rather go home with him?"
I stared at the old man, whimpering on the floor. The man who'd beaten me, starved me, treated me like garbage my whole life.
I felt... nothing.
I bowed to Hidetora. "Thank you for the opportunity, sir. I won't let you down."
Just like that, everything changed.
The next few years blurred together. Training, performances, "special appearances" for Hidetora. I learned to sing, to dance, to work a crowd. I learned to flatter, to charm, to make people feel special.
I wore different faces. The bubbly idol on stage. The attentive companion in private rooms. Neither one really me, but both keeping me alive.
I was good at it. Really good. Hidetora kept pushing me harder. Bigger shows, longer nights entertaining wealthy patrons. The lines between my worlds started to blur.
At the club, I'd sing sweet nothings to middle-aged women dripping in jewels. They'd coo over me, buy overpriced champagne, slip me their numbers. I'd smile and nod, knowing Hidetora was watching, calculating how much I was worth.
It was exhausting, pretending to be whatever they wanted. But it beat going back to the old man. And the money... well, I'd never seen so much in my life.
Still, something was missing. I felt hollow, going through the motions night after night. Until I met her.
Blue hair, bright as the sky, bounced with each step. Her eyes, wide and eager, scanned the room before landing on me. She beamed, practically skipping over.
"Hi! I'm Hana," she chirped, plopping down next to me at the bar. "You're Tenko, right? The singer everyone's talking about?"
I nodded, pasting on my stage smile. "That's me. What brings you here, Hana-chan?"
She leaned in, lowering her voice. "I'm gonna be an idol. Just you wait and see!"
I almost laughed. This girl had no idea what she was getting into. But something in her eyes stopped me. A fire, a determination I recognized from my early days.
"It's not an easy path," I warned.
Hana grinned. "Good thing I'm not afraid of hard work."
Over the next few months, I watched Hana throw herself into training. She had raw talent, sure, but it was her enthusiasm that set her apart. Even Hidetora noticed.
"Keep an eye on that one," he told me. "She could be valuable."
I knew what he meant. Hana was the type to draw people in, make them feel special. Perfect for extracting secrets and cash from lonely businessmen.
The thought made me sick.
One night, after a grueling performance, I found Hana crying in the dressing room.
"Hey," I said softly. "You okay?"
She looked up, mascara streaking her cheeks. "Tenko-kun! I... I'm fine. Just tired."
I sat beside her. "Bullshit. What's really going on?"
Hana's face crumpled. "I overheard Hidetora-san talking. About... about what he wants me to do. With those men." She shuddered. "Is that really what being an idol means?"
I wanted to lie, to reassure her. But I couldn't. "Sometimes," I admitted. "But it doesn't have to be."
"How do you do it?" she whispered. "How do you keep smiling?"
I shrugged. "Practice, I guess. And not having anywhere else to go."
Hana's hand found mine, squeezing tight. "We always have a choice, Tenko-kun. We just have to be brave enough to make it."
Something shifted that night. Hana and I started spending more time together, away from Hidetora's watchful eyes. We'd sneak out to karaoke booths, sing our hearts out without worrying about impressing anyone.
For the first time in years, I felt... real. Like I could be myself around her.
One night, sprawled on the roof of the training center, Hana turned to me. "Tenko-kun, do you ever think about leaving?"
I tensed. "Leaving what?"
"All of this. The clubs, the yakuza. Just... running away."
I laughed bitterly. "And go where? Do what? This is all I know, Hana-chan."
She sat up, eyes shining. "We could go to America! I have an aunt in Los Angeles. She'd help us get started."
"America?" I scoffed. "You're dreaming."
Hana's face fell. "Maybe. But isn't it a nice dream?"
I looked at her, this girl who'd brought light into my dark world. Who made me feel like maybe I was worth something beyond my voice and my pretty face.
"Yeah," I said softly. "It is."
Months passed. Hana and I grew closer, stealing moments together whenever we could. And that crazy idea, that impossible dream of escape, started to feel less impossible.
Then came the night that changed everything.
Hana burst into my room, face pale. "Tenko-kun, we have to go. Now."
"What? Why?"
"Hidetora-san... he knows. About us. He's planning to-" She choked back a sob. "We have to leave. Tonight."
My blood ran cold. I knew what Hidetora did to traitors.
"Okay," I heard myself say. "Let's go."
We made it to the train station, hearts racing. The night air felt electric on my skin, freedom so close I could almost taste it. Just a few more steps and we'd be on our way to a new life, far from Hidetora's grasp.
Then Hana's hand slipped from mine. Cold dread seeped into my veins as I turned to face her.
"Tenko-kun." Her voice was barely a whisper. Sad. Final. "I'm sorry."
Sorry? Before the word fully registered, rough hands seized my arms. I thrashed against the iron grip, panic rising in my throat. No. Not like this. Not when we were so close.
Hana stood motionless, refusing to meet my eyes. Around us, Hidetora's men closed in, faces hard as granite.
"Hana-chan, what...?" I managed before a fist buried itself in my stomach, doubling me over.
"Did you really think," Hidetora's voice cut through the rushing in my ears, "that I would let my two most profitable assets just walk away?"
I sagged in the guards' hold, realization hitting me. It was a setup. Hana had sold me out.
But no, that made no sense. Hana hated this life. She wanted out as badly as I did. Unless...
Unless escape was never her plan.
I lifted my head, vision blurring, and finally caught her gaze. In her eyes I saw guilt, yeah. But overshadowing it was something else. Something cold and hard and determined.
Ambition.
"I have to do this, Tenko-kun." Her voice trembled, but her chin was high. Resolute. "Hidetora-san promised me a solo debut if I brought you back. I can't throw away this chance."
I lunged at her, not giving a damn about the hands restraining me or the consequences I'd face. Let them beat me. Let them lock me up. Anything was better than this, this sickening betrayal from the one person I'd dared to trust.
I didn't make it two steps before something cracked against the back of my skull. The world tilted. I hit the pavement hard, tasting blood.
Dimly, over the throbbing in my head, I heard Hidetora's laughter.
"Well done, Hana-chan. I knew you'd prove to be a smart investment."
Hana. The one person I'd let in, the one ray of hope in my bleak existence. And she'd sold me out. For what? A shot at fame? A pat on the head from that fat fuck Hidetora?
Rage surged through me, hot and vicious. I welcomed it. Better anger than despair. Better fury than this sickening ache in my chest.
I reached deep, past the pain, past the hurt, and touched that molten core of defiance. The part of me that refused to break, no matter how hard they beat me.
I was a survivor. And if this was how it ended, I'd go out on my own terms.
Ignoring the stabbing in my ribs, I pushed to my feet. The goons loomed closer, cracking their knuckles. I spat a mouthful of blood and grinned.
The first one swung a meaty fist at my head. I ducked and drove my own into his solar plexus, satisfaction sparking through me as he folded like a cheap suit. The second lunged, hands outstretched. I grabbed his wrist, wrenching hard. The snap of bone was drowned out by his shriek.
Two down. But more surged forward, an endless wave of fists and fury. I fought like a wild thing, all instinct and desperation, landing blows with elbow and knee and skull. Bones crunched. Blood splattered. Some of it was mine.
I didn't care. Damn them all. Damn this world that chewed up kids and spat out corpses. If I was going down, I'd give as good as I got.
A pipe crashed into my shoulder, sending me staggering. I roared and tackled the wielder, bearing him to the ground. We rolled, grappling, until my hands found his throat and squeezed.
His face purpled, eyes bulging. I bared my teeth and pressed harder, savage glee surging through my veins as his struggles weakened. How many throats had I slit on Hidetora's orders? The knife was different, but the end result the same.
The hands pawing at my back, trying to dislodge me, abruptly vanished. I had a split second to wonder why before the gunshot cracked through the night.
Pain. Brilliant and brutal, it seared through my abdomen. I looked down, blinking dumbly at the red blooming across my shirt.
"Enough."
Hidetora's voice cut through the sudden silence. I turned my head, movements heavy and slow. His face swam in my darkening vision, lip curled in disdain.
He made a sharp gesture. Hands grabbed my arms, hauling me upright. The movement sent fresh agony ripping through me and I bit back a scream.
Hana stepped into view, eyes wide and fixed on the spreading crimson. I wanted to laugh. What did she expect, that it would be clean? Painless?
There was no clean way out of this life. I saw that now, with a clarity that only impending death could bring. We were fools to think we could escape, either of us.
"Such a waste. You could have been great, Tenko. The greatest I ever made."
I hacked out a laugh, the taste of copper flooding my mouth.
"Fuck you," I rasped.
His eyes hardened, cold and reptilian. He nodded to one of the men.
The second shot punched through my chest, stealing my breath. I sagged, legs giving out, held up only by the hands gripping my biceps.
The world narrowed to a pinpoint, darkness eating away at the edges. So this was it. This was how I died. In a filthy alley, betrayed and broken and utterly spent.
I searched for anger, for defiance, for anything to hold back the void. But I was empty, hollowed out by a lifetime of pain and servitude.
In the end, there was only relief. A strange, dizzying lightness, the weight that had bowed my shoulders for so long finally lifting.
It wasn't happiness, exactly. I didn't know if I was capable of that anymore. But it was... peace, maybe. The knowledge that soon, it would all be over. No more orders. No more abuse.
My vision tunneled, Hana's stricken face the last thing I saw before the black claimed me.
I thought I heard her sob my name. It didn't matter. Nothing did, anymore.
I had always been a caged bird, beating myself bloody against the bars of my prison. But in the end, in that final gasp of air and fading of light, I was free.
The darkness was absolute, a void that swallowed me whole. No sight, no sound, no sensation at all. Just an endless, yawning chasm where once there had been pain and fury and the staccato beat of my own failing heart.
Was this death? This... nothingness?
Then, from the depths, a voice. Genderless, ageless, it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"I'm so sorry, little one. You were not supposed to die."
If I still had a body, I would have laughed. Sorry? As if an apology could undo a lifetime of suffering.
"There is so much left undone," the voice continued, and now I detected a hint of amusement in its tone. "But that doesn't mean the story is over. A new world, a new chance... if you are willing."
Willing? As if my consent had ever mattered in the grand scheme of things.
But then... what was this strange sensation curling through me? Not warmth, exactly. But a tug, insistent and inexorable, like a fishhook lodged behind my breastbone, reeling me in.
Towards a glimmer in the dark.
I hesitated, torn. The void was comforting, in its way. An end to the struggle, the pain, the constant clawing for survival. It would be easy to sink into its depths, to let oblivion claim me.
But then Hana's face flashed before my eyes and that old, familiar rage kindled in my gut.
No. I wasn't done. I never got my chance to shine, to show the world what I was really made of. They thought they could break me? Use me up and toss me aside like trash?
Fuck that. Fuck them. If there was even a chance, a sliver of hope for a different fate, I had to seize it. I'd claw my way back from the brink of damnation itself if it meant I could spit in their faces one last time.
With a final surge, I reached for the light. It burst into a nova, searing away the darkness. Colors I had no name for exploded across my vision, a kaleidoscope of hues that seared my eyes and made my nonexistent head spin.
Music swelled around me, a melody both alien and strangely familiar. It thrummed through my being, resonating in my bones, setting my very atoms alight with its cadence.
I gasped, dragging air into lungs that had forgotten how to breathe. The world rushed in, a dizzying whirl of shapes and sounds that resolved into... what? Where was I?
The voice, now as real and solid as the ground beneath my feet, echoed in my ears.
"Welcome, Akira Hoshino, to a life where your story has just begun."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone