...in the darkness… ...it lies dormant…
...
...filled with a deep rage... ...that reaches beyond time itself...
...
...plagued by a dark past... ...it will fix its mistakes...
...
...in due time...
"Now, please look over your syllabuses. Uh, not now, of course. When you have time outside of class, naturally." The strict English teacher rises from her desk chair and positions herself in the front of the classroom.
"For now, I would like everyone to please rise: it's time to introduce yourselves!" A wave of groans infectiously spreads throughout the class at the announcement of the supposedly intriguing activity. Not even a day into the year and everyone seems already fed up with school.
"We will go in order of rows starting from… you. What's your name, miss?"
"Sabrina."
"Alright, Sabrina. Tell the class your first name and last name, and… something interesting about yourself!"
"Okay… well, my name is... and something interesting about me is… …"
"Hi, my name is… ..."
…
"...Sir? Hello?... Excuse me?!" A drifty-eyed kid jolts their head up from a blank stare at the floor. He surveys the room around him, everyone's cold, uninterested stare piercing his face.
"Yes?" The teacher lightly chuckles at his clueless remark.
"Name and something interesting about you, please," she repeats, slightly annoyed at his lack of attention.
"...Uh. Okay." His gaze resumes to the floor.
"Hi, my name is… Jack. K-Katsumi. And I… like… sports…?"
"Oh, really? What kind of sports do you like, Jack Katsumi?" The teacher attentively puts her hands on her hips, feigning some interest to break the ice for her clearly nervous student.
"Uh… b-base… ball, I guess."
"Interesting. I do enjoy a bit of baseball myself." A moment passes, and the class begins to return their attention to Jack again.
"Now repeat everyone's name and interest in order, if you would." Uh oh.
...and so begins and ends another day of social awkwardness. At this point, I'm used to it. At least my face doesn't get beet red anymore.
Oh, I suppose I should introduce myself. Hi… I'm Jack Katsumi.
Today, I have begun my 7th year of school. As with age comes more hobbies and trends to discuss and people with whom to discuss with. Unfortunately, I never hopped on the social bandwagon, if you can even call it one. No, there was something else I preferred to do with my freetime.
Ever since I was little, I had a keen fascination with fantasy. I loved reading fantasy books with dragons and magic, watching movies about inspirational heroes, and playing video games as a knight in shining armor. And, as you might recall when you were little, I had a fiery imagination. These stories and beings would come to life and I would be the hero of my own story. Play pretend was the most fun I ever had as a kid. However, growing up is a tall order, and one of its many requirements is to ditch any child-like tendencies. But I never wanted to let go of my fantasy world, where the good always slayed and banished the evil, where the thrill of true adventure was possible, and, most importantly, where I could be who I truly am.
Growing up like this is dangerous, I know. Beyond being socially awkward, I acquired a very specific set of morals and values, ones that may work in fairy tales, but don't quite fit the mold in the real world. Although, sometimes, I do like to think of it as a positive. It also sets me up for disappointment. Although I would love to be a knight of sorts and save people's lives, such a dream will only ever remain as such: a dream.
It's not like I don't have any attachment to real life, though. At school, I have a couple of friends. Yūdai, for instance, has been my friend since kindergarten; although, even though we've known each other for a while and share some interests, I feel distant even to him. My family is the closest I'll ever get to someone. I even have some tangible, real goals, like becoming a doctor. It doesn't come with a suit of armor, but I'll surely save lives, so… it's not that bad, right?... Oh, that's the bell! My last period is finally over. Now I can go home and continue imagining my fictional world.
…
During the bus ride home, Jack peers through the bus window and allows his mind to take him on a sensational journey filled with adventure. There's horses and heroes and swords galore. In the moment, it doesn't matter if the world is real or not, because, to Jack, it feels real... Almost a little too real—
"Oww!" Jack instinctively tenses his left hand into a fist and yanks it closer to himself. He slowly and inquisitively inspects the back of his hand. He has been successful at trying to feel sensations from his daydreams before, like when a major character falls to the villain and he's able to sympathize with them, nearly moving him to tears, but nothing quite physical and not on the scale of this. He rubs the spot from where the pain dissipates, hoping to relieve it, but it doesn't work. He peers at the spot once more, looking for any markings in particular on his skin. He sharply inhales and his eyes widen. He recognizes a pattern on his hand: three dots almost like moles, each with acute angles opening to the center of his hand. They roughly form... a triangle, but the etched lines don't connect all the way.
Taken aback, Jack's breathing begins to quicken. The pain continues to sear into his hand. He haphazardly squeezes his wrist and uses his thumb to try and wipe away the marks. They don't disappear. They don't even fade. He stops to look at it again. The lines are longer, and darker. He moves his grip from his wrist to his hand, now grasping his balled left hand with his right. The pain still rises and deepens in his hand. Jack grits his teeth, hoping for this terrible feeling to end soon…
…
"Hey. Hey, kid!" A slouched child in the farthest seat of a school bus jerks awake.
"This is your stop. Come on, it's time to get off." The bus driver lazily sits back in his seat, letting out a stressed sigh.
The kid straightens his posture and looks around. After realizing the situation, he hurriedly shifts his attention to his left hand. Not a mark or freckle to be seen. Was it just a dream?
"Hey! I'm not running a subway here. Get moving!" The grizzled bus driver impatiently shifts around in his seat.
The kid grabs his bag and hoists it around his shoulder, stands, and walks down the middle of the bus.
"Alright. See you tomorrow, Jack." The kid turns around to face the bus driver.
"Oh, and happy birthday."
Jack steps off the bus. That's right. It's my birthday. Jack had completely forgotten about it. He turns 12 years old today. The thought would puzzle him, but not right now, as he's more curious about something else: a large, white van in his driveway. His mind thinks immediately about kidnapping... and candy. Stranger danger, he was told in grade school. Such an eerily blank van has some negative implications in society; although, he doesn't question it for long. Perhaps his parents needed some internet service provider to come out and work on something? Or maybe an electrician to fix some wiring? Interestingly, though, he notices that the van's windows are completely opaque. As fear begins to creep into his mind, Jack increases his pace. Since the van is parked on the left side of the driveway, he will have to cross past its left side to reach the front door of his house. As he comes closer, the driver door cracks open just slightly. It doesn't swing open, though. I hope they see me. I wouldn't want them to hit me with a van door. He tries to sprint past the rear passenger door and the driver door as fast as he can, but the driver door catapults open before he can even pass the gas tank.
Jack stops dead in his tracks. A man emerges from the van. Donned in a black suit and tie, the man towers over Jack. Jack fears for his own life and instinctively flinches backwards. He takes a couple steps back, but is halted by something behind him. Before he can even turn around, another man in a black suit grabs Jack by his shoulders and slams him into the side of the van.
The man holding him down speaks into his handheld radio, but Jack can't hear what he says as his thoughts begin to race, his heartbeat intensifies, and his breath quickens. Within the mental noise now swimming in Jack's head, one alarming thought grabs his attention: Escape.
In the spur of the moment, Jack impulsively attempts to wiggle free, but his unathletic, child stature is no match against the man that's pinning him down. Determined, he continues to squirm, causing the man holding him to slightly adjust his grip. His mind screams at the opportunity for him to exploit his temporarily weakened restraint and he explosively rips himself from the man's hold. Now, with adrenaline pumping through his veins, Jack acts quickly, knowing he doesn't have long before they both realize he's on the run. He sprints across the yard and approaches the front of his house.
"Hey!" The two men turn and chase after him. As Jack nears the front of the house, he notices that his mother and father are standing in the doorway, behind the outer door. Jack hopes they'll open it for him, but as he gets closer, they make no haste in doing so. In fact, they seem a little upset, with frowns on their face and their arms wrapped around each other, almost as if they're trying to comfort one another. Jack notices this, but his busy mind quickly wipes away the thought as he slows down in front of the door and grabs onto the handle, desperately attempting to turn it. The handle doesn't budge, and all Jack can do is hopelessly look up at his parents. Looks of disdain and unease are all he sees from them as they continue to stand there and do nothing to help their scared son.
"Mom? Dad?! Open the door!" Jack yells, perplexed at his parents' inaction. Jack keeps yanking on the door handle, but he is soon unable to as the men in black finally reach him and pry him from the front door. As the two men firmly secure their grip on both of Jack's arms and hoist him off the ground, he takes one final look at his parents. An expression of distrust and betrayal beams from Jack's face, his own look of bewilderment searing intense regret and sorrow onto his mother and father. His mother can't keep her already broken composure and breaks down crying. His father continues to comfort her and walks her away from the door. Before vanishing from the front door altogether, Jack's father swings the door closed.
Still stunned from his parents' reactions, Jack tries one last time to break free from his captors. He suddenly and furiously sweeps his left arm inward and away from the man holding it. He plants his left foot just below his rib cage and kicks as hard as he can. Whether it was the kick to his side, the fast movement of his arm, or both, it's enough for the man to release his grip on Jack's left arm. Upset at Jack's insolence, the man quickly regains composure and swiftly lays a calculated jab into Jack's neck, sending Jack into a sea of unconsciousness. Before he completely surrenders to his mind's darkness, Jack hears the man utter a couple expletives before slipping into a deep mental fog.
"Damn… he's got the assistant's fighting spirit in him… ...that's for sure… ..."
...Deep in the recesses of Jack's inactive mind, a faint sensation propagates throughout. Jack, even in the dormant state that he's in, can barely comprehend the presence of the sensation. It feels distant in origin, yet intrinsically interconnected with Jack, like a balloon tied to his waist that stretches to the ends of the universe. The sensation provokes him. It motivates him. As Jack continually perplexes at the sensation, he becomes increasingly cognizant. In an instant, his mind explodes with thoughts like an overflowing dam. Where am I? What's happening? Good questions, for he cannot see anything, hear anything, or feel anything. He feels like he's floating through an endless, dark void, stuck with his own thoughts.
As his racing mind begins to slow, he notices other types of stimuli, aside from the weak sensation from earlier. They're faint, but he can recognize them. He tunes into each individual sense to comprehend these new feelings. He can feel his limbs slowly vibrating, even though he can't see his arms or his legs. Sometimes they'll experience a large movement and jostle from side to side. He tries to move them, but his attempts are insufficient. He changes focus to his hearing. He hears a low, dull humming that rises and lowers in volume and pitch synchronously. The sound reminds him of an engine. Jack speculates that he must be in a vehicle and, in that same instant, his mind immediately recalls what had happened seemingly moments ago.
He has been kidnapped and is currently in transport to some unknown location. He thought he was dead as soon as he slipped into unconsciousness, but his current state seems to prove otherwise. Is this what dying feels like? Jack's family was never devoutly religious, but maybe there is an afterlife after all. Before Jack's imagination runs wild, Jack eases himself back and tries to ground himself in facts. He considers his ability to still feel his senses, even if he can't move his body. He's able to hear sounds. He is still somehow connected with his body. He concludes that he must be in a coma, one where he can think, but strangely disconnected from other senses, like how he is unable to see, or how he doesn't feel proper orientation with gravity. He can't sense much… but what he can sense is that little sensation still in the back of his mind.
It's still buzzing and has become increasingly louder while Jack was dissecting his current situation. He considers that, if focusing on the sensation earlier made him cognizant, then maybe it's the key to spontaneously make him conscious. He intensively focuses on the sensation, meditatively honing his senses with it, to hear it, to see it, to feel it. In a couple of moments, the sensation evolves. It pulses around him in a circular motion. Following the sensation with his senses, Jack finds himself slowly dozing off at its repetitive movements. He shakes the monotonous pattern from his mind, though, and continues to sense its evolution. The sensation expands. It transforms from a pinpoint pressure into a spherical wall of white noise, like an outer shell surrounding Jack and centered on what he assumes to be his center of mass. The white noise quickly overwhelms his senses as he still tries to comprehend all of the sensation, but it's coming from all directions now, and he's unable to grasp all of it at once.
In an instant, Jack finds himself drowning in a sea of noise; an aqueous cacophony that continues to rise above his head, even as he attempts to surface above it. In the back of his mind, Jack notices that not only are his senses overwhelmed, but the connection he feels with his body is, too. The slight vibrations, the sound of a motor humming, all fading away with each passing second because of the paralyzing sensation. He's not just fighting against it to end the noise, but now he fights to keep himself alive. The sensation continues to increase in intensity, filling every single possible channel of Jack's senses. In a last-minute, desperate attempt, Jack focuses his entire being on restoring his connection to his body, like the outstretched hand of a drowning swimmer searching for something to grab. He ignores the noise that surrounds him. Astoundingly, the noise melts away almost instantly, and Jack returns to his usual senses.
Am I… alive? Jack now feels the presence of muscles and limbs to move. Sounds surround him but are soft and heavily reverberated. He feels his eyelids squeezed shut over his eyes. He musters up the courage to open them. He is able to see, but it's not a vibrant world of color and depth he's used to seeing. His vision is warped and colorless and he can only see a few feet in front of him, almost like a dense, dark fog surrounds him. He attempts to wipe his eyes, but nothing changes. He searches around with his hands, feeling for anything to help him make sense of his altered vision. He finally rests his hand on something large and soft, like a cloth or something of cotton. He shuffles himself closer to the object to see it within the dense fog.
...It's him. Even with his vision warped, Jack deciphers his own face lying on the floor of the van. He appears cold and lifeless in monochrome, but after a while it's clear that he's breathing. He continues to stare at himself, questions running rampant in his mind. He looks down at his own hands. They're not black-and-white but outlined in a light blue and completely transparent on the inside. Clueless of his next steps, Jack sits there, contemplating his situation.
"Interesting, isn't it?" A voice echoes softly all around Jack. Jack quickly raises his head up and surveys around, but can't pinpoint where the sound comes from, as it seems to come from everywhere.
"I can understand how you may be… perturbed by your present predicament." Jack intensely listens to the voice while peering into the black void at the chance that something may emerge from it.
"Coming from a tangible world of physical form, to a metaphysical plane of spirits and fantasy… it is imperative you understand that the world is not what you thought before." The voice speaks softly and slowly, with a gravelly tone reminiscent of a man well into his years.
"I know that much of it won't make sense to you now... but in due time… your destiny will define these moments… Jack… look upon your spirit." Affixed on the voice, Jack snaps out of his trance and frantically scans his spirit for anything out of place. He stops at his left hand. Seeing through his palm, he identifies a marking on the back of his hand. He flips his hand over. He inquisitively reviews the symbol. An upside-down triangle covers the entire dorsal side of his hand. Interestingly, a smaller triangle resides inside of the larger one. The inner triangle glows a bright yellowish gold, outshining the larger one around it.
"On your spirit exists the marking of the Goddesses; the Triforce… Its presence, and the emphasis of the inner triangle, indicates your role in this world… as The Assistant…" The words echo not just in the metaphysical realm, but in Jack's mind and heart as well. The mention of the title fills Jack's mind with unprovoked feelings of bravery, of courage, of determination.
"Our dialogue will end soon, Assistant… Just remember to keep your head high… even when the times are hard… ...for you… ...will… ..."
"Get up!" Jack is yanked from a lying position to a sitting one. Startled, and back in his physical body, Jack quickly glances around to get his bearings. The two men from earlier hoist Jack out of the van.
"Come with us. And don't even think about running off." The man speaking taps his holstered pistol. Jack slowly nods his head before mustering out a soft Okay in response. The two men turn around and begin making their way to their destination with Jack nervously following them. He curiously peers at the surrounding area. It's now dark outside, which means they could be many states away from where Jack lived. They seem to have arrived at some sort of compound. The buildings are dull and gray, the surrounding area is covered in gravel, and there is a large, fenced-off area that Jack can barely see, so it's hard to gauge how far it goes.
They reach a set of doors. One of the kidnappers walks up to an intercom and presses the button.
"We're back. The mission was successful." Mission? Is that some kind of code? What for? Silence follows.
"...Alright. Bring the package in." Is that what I am? Just a piece of merchandise? Jack gets an uneasy feeling in his stomach as the doors to the building open automatically. The two men enter and Jack follows, although he's finding it hard to stand on his feet. They feel like jello. He begins to sweat. His breathing quickens. Calm down. You are the Assistant. Although Jack didn't think affirming his role as the Assistant would've calmed him down, considering he just learned of it, it does ease his anxiety by a little bit. He remarks to himself about that word. He has no idea what being the Assistant means for him or what the role entails for him, or who the Goddesses even are, but just mentioning the word gives him unanticipated confidence. Jack knows that he regularly lacks self-confidence, so him uttering a word for instantaneous confidence seems like… magic. Magic. Jack would be happy at the sudden realization of fantasy, but now's not the time.
They come to the end of the hallway. Another set of doors stand in front of them. The two men each grab the handle of one door and pull simultaneously. As the doors slowly swing open, Jack braces himself for what lies on the other side. The room, however, is completely dark, aside from the light leaking in from the hallway. The two men make no haste to move from the doors to the room itself. Jack expects the men to follow him into the room, so he enters by himself. As he scans the room for anything standing out in the darkness, the doors behind him begin to close.
"Wait—," but the doors close too quickly and Jack is stuck in the pitch-black room by himself, or so he thinks. The lights turn on and Jack swiftly spins around. In front of him sits a desk that is dull and gray, much of the general theme of this place. The walls are plain drywall, though, lacking the gray paint seen in the hallway, like the compound is still under construction. As with most desks, there is a chair turned away from Jack on the opposite side. Cautious, Jack begins to make small movements toward the desk before it abruptly swivels around, revealing a middle-aged man.
He's dressed in a strikingly worn down suit, wrinkled and dusty, with visible bags under his eyes, giving off the impression that he's been busy doing work. His graying hair is haphazardly slicked back, like he had been running his hands through it many times. Jack also remarks a scar stretching from his chin, crossing over his mouth and ending just below his left eye.
"Uh—," the man clears his throat, "—hey, kid." His voice is raspy, akin to the voice of someone who has been talking all day.
"You're probably wondering why you're here." The man slowly raises himself from his chair.
"I would like to start off by formally…" The man drifts off in thought. He peers above Jack's head and stares intently at the set of doors behind him. Jack turns to look at them. Nothing but gray-painted wood.
"Listen, Ja—uh, kid. I can't… really…" He continues to stutter, picking and choosing what words to say very carefully.
"You will be… staying here for the time being. You see, your mother and father…" He drifts off again. Jack's eyes widen at the mention of his parents. What do they have to do with this? The man lightly sighs to himself.
"Well," the man clasps his hands together, "that covers everything… for now. I will have one of my associates take you to where you will be—" The man stops in his tracks, but this time, he recalls something important. He quickly sidesteps around his desk and grabs Jack's arm.
"Just one last thing." He flips Jack's left arm over and looks at the back of his hand.
"...Interesting." Jack looks at his hand himself. The emblem from earlier is no longer on his hand. Was it all a dream? It can't be— it was too vivid!... The man lets go of Jack's arm. Another suited man enters the room.
"Alright, take him to his liv—just... take him away." The middle-aged man shoos them away with a hand motion, heavily sighing to himself, distressed at his inability to talk fluently. Jack follows the other man out of the room and into the hallway. The doors slowly close behind him and Jack hears a small bit of chitchat from the middle-aged man.
"—I don't think he's the—" The door closes before he can discern anything else.
Outside of the first building, a couple hundred feet away, Jack is taken into a different building on the compound.
"Here is where you'll be staying." Jack examines the room. A mattress rests on a rusted, metal box spring in the corner. A door on the farthest wall leads into a makeshift bathroom with a bucket, a roll of toilet paper, and another bucket filled with water and a washcloth sitting on the rim. The floor is sloped and in the center is a drain. Not to mention there are spiders. Spiders everywhere.
"Lastly, there are some clothes on the bed that you need to change into. It's policy." The man leaves the building, leaving Jack with his thoughts. Jack sits on the bed. Surprisingly, the mattress is very soft and bouncy, even though he only just sat on it. He inspects his left hand. The figure is no longer there. What does this mean? Jack recounts the memories of the last few hours. It was all very detailed and Jack could remember all of the sensations as if they happened a moment ago, unlike regular dreams, where he forgets them moments after waking up. The weird situation, his spirit, the metaphysical realm, the faceless voice, the marking. Jack ponders the meaning of it all.
As he's thinking, sunlight from the window shines off of something metallic in the corner of the room and blinds Jack for a second, taking him out of his train of thought. Annoyed by the bright flash of light, Jack takes a second and tries to find the object responsible for the glare, but he can't. He gets up and moves closer to the corner where it came from. He searches the corner and lays his eyes on a spider. How does a spider reflect the sun like that? He moves closer to the spider and only then does he realize that the spider… is fake. He grabs it off of the fake web it lays on. He examines it. The legs are pipe cleaners and the body is a ball of iron. Jack holds it up to the sunlight. Sure enough, light bounces off of the body of the spider and onto the wall. Utterly confused, Jack drops the pseudo spider to the ground and he stumbles backwards onto his comfortable mattress.
What is going on here?... Why?...