Chaos erupted before Kikyo or the men could fully grasp what they were seeing. Junsei moved again, no hesitation left in him, only the instinct to fight for survival. He hurled himself toward the closest man, his eyes glowing blue as he drew upon the life of a Steppe Mammoth. The tiles beneath his feet fractured with a thunderous crack, and the force of a charging mass of twenty-two tons of unstoppable power. He slammed into the unsuspecting man, the moment of the impact was annihilating.
The man's body burst apart, blood and fragments scattering in every direction, spattering walls, floors, and faces alike. No one was spared the grotesque rain.
The boss, clutching where his arm had been, screamed hoarsely, "Kill the monster!"
Junsei was already moving. This time he drew on the explosive speed of a cheetah. In the space of a heartbeat, his body went from stillness to a blur, zero to a hundred kilometers an hour in two seconds. He was upon the next man before the gun could even be raised.
Junsei leapt, wrapping the man tightly in his arms, pulling him close to his chest. Then he drew on the crushing power of an anaconda. There was a sickening pressure, a sudden snap, and the man's head burst apart.
The remaining men opened fire at once. Bullets screamed through the air, tearing chunks from walls and furniture, but Junsei was already gone, springing away, skimming along the walls, twisting and darting so that every shot missed.
The boss, frantic and half-mad with terror, began scrambling backward across the floor, shrieking, "Shoot him! Kill the bastard!" Bullets tore through the wall where Junsei had been, and almost instantly the boy was racing along the other side, dodging death by instinct alone.
Still tied, Kikyo saw Junsei falter for the briefest second. Something fierce and desperate surged through her. With a sudden burst of strength, she threw herself forward, slamming into the nearest man and knocking him to the ground. Another man spun toward her, gun flashing. The shots rang out, and Kikyo cried out as bullets struck her body.
Junsei screamed a raw animalistic sound and charged the man who had fired. He leapt, sinking his teeth into the man's neck with everything he had causing yet another fountain of blood. But a shot rang out from the side. The bullet struck Junsei in the head, and he collapsed heavily to the floor. The man he had attacked crumpled moments later.
Silence followed. The surviving men stared at the small body on the ground, at the mangled remains of three comrades, and at their boss bleeding and barely conscious.
"What the fuck was that…" the boss muttered before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed from pain and blood loss.
The four men still standing exchanged terrified glances. Then, moving quickly, they lifted their boss and fled. As they went, they set the orphanage ablaze.
Not long after they left the building, Junsei stirred. He pushed himself upright slowly despite the pain. Blood ran down his face, but he was alive. He had drawn on the thick skin of an orca and the dense bones of a turtle's shell, just enough to survive. Realizing he could not face them again, and believing Kikyo was already dead, he let his body go slack and played lifeless.
When the danger passed, he turned his head and looked at Kikyo's body. Her eyes were wide, frozen in panic and pain. He had failed her.
Behind him, flames crept along the doorway, crackling hungrily. Junsei looked once at the fire, then back at Kikyo. A heavy, unfamiliar ache settled in his chest. He closed his eyes, then stood and walked away toward the back door. He could not stay here.
He did not know what came next, only that he could not live among humans anymore. He knew to the east lay a mountain, and beyond it a forest untouched by people. That would be his destination.
As he stepped outside, he glanced back once at the orphanage as it burned. Then he drew on the life of a frog, a froghopper, and a kangaroo all at once. He jumped and the world fell away beneath him. Streets, buildings, and far in the distance, the mountain rose into view.
That night, Junsei did not stop anywhere near the humans. He moved through the darkness toward the safety he believed waited for him, leaving fire and blood behind.
He stopped moving only when the mountain laid behind him and the forest swallowed him whole. The moment his feet crossed beneath the canopy, his strength deserted him. He dropped to his knees, then toppled forward entirely, limbs slack and breath shallow. He remained there for hours, unmoving among roots and fallen leaves, until the sun climbed high enough for its warmth to reach him. Only then did he stir, aching, hollow with hunger and thirst.
The need to survive came back. He had to find food. Water. He sharpened his hearing, letting the forest unfold around him in layers of sound, the rustle of leaves, distant animal sounds, any whisper of movement. Then he heard it: running water. He turned at once and followed the sound until he found a narrow stream threading its way through stones and moss.
He knelt and drank until the ache in his throat eased. Yet the hunger remained. As he looked around, another memory surfaced from his past lives. There had been lives when he was an animal or insect. More than once, he had been a plant, tree or flower. Back then, sustenance had come from light, air, and water alone. Holding onto that thought, he drew upon that aspect of himself. Almost immediately, he felt it: a slow, steady filling, warmth from the sunlight, cool strength from the water, breath itself began feeding him.
The process was slow but sufficient enough as long as he did not move too much. With that understanding, he began to explore the forest slowly, making sure to not cross the limits of his self feeding. He mapped the forest in his mind: where water lay, where shelter could be found, what dangers might exist.
Hours passed. Then he saw a bear.
It was moving slowly toward him, large and unhurried. Junsei stopped at once. What caught his attention, however, was not the bear itself, but what happened beneath its paw. As it stepped forward, it crushed a small insect. The life of that tiny creature ended instantly and Junsei felt nothing. No pain or any negative thoughts. He frowned. Why did he feel nothing?
The bear continued closer. Junsei did not feel fear. Not even caution. Strangely, the thought of human children unsettled him far more than this massive predator. That realization confused him deeply. His mind replayed fragments of past lives, times he had died in countless ways, including being hunted and eaten by animals like this very bear. And yet, why did humans inspire fear and hatred, while other animals did not? Why did humans feel dangerous in a way nothing else did?
The bear stopped directly in front of him. It stared at the small boy in silence. Junsei lifted his hand and placed it gently on the bear's head. The bear did not resist. Its eyes began to glow blue as Junsei met its gaze. There was a connection between them. Not just with this bear, but with all creatures. As though they were parts of a greater whole. Humans alone stood apart. He did not feel that same bond with them.
Questions crowded his mind. His thoughts returned to the men he had killed. He had not understood it then, but standing here now, he could feel the difference. The emptiness inside him, the vast hollowness he had carried inside him since he was born a human was smaller. Fuller, if only by a little. Drawing on past lives had eased it before, but never like this. Killing humans had reduced it in a way nothing else had.
Something was wrong.
Junsei lowered his hand, his thoughts turning inward. Perhaps his purpose was not simply to survive as a human or even to grow and reproduce. The suspicion settled quietly but firmly within him. He did not yet know what that purpose was, but he knew with certainty that it existed.
His connection to every living thing in the world except humans, the pain and suffering he feels from life extinguished by humans compared to the numbness of animals killing animals. There was something he was missing about humans.
——————
While Junsei was questioning himself and the world around in the peace of the forest he saw as a home, Japan woke up to the shock of an orphanage being attacked and many children kidnapped.
The official investigation revealed remnants of at least five or six people dying there in the fire, but it was hard to confirm due to how many splattered human remains there were. It was one of the most horrific incidents in the country.
As for the children, no one was able to locate them or know what their fate was.