The autumn air carried a faint chill, stirring the dry leaves into gentle swirls.
In a quiet corner of New York, within a run-down yard bearing a crooked sign that read Mary Orphanage, golden leaves fluttered in the breeze, drifting lazily past the window. The scene exuded a strange kind of peace.
A pale but strikingly handso boy stood by the window, his eyes fixed on the unfamiliar cityscape outside. His expression was complex, far too mature for soone his age.
He looked to be about five or six, with featheryhair and Eastern features. But what truly set him apart were his eyes—one golden, the other athyst. Heterochromatic. Left eye gold, right eye athyst. Vivid and clear, his eyes sparkled with starlight, like twin galaxies quietly orbiting in his gaze. It was impossible not to be drawn in.
( Mc Image )
"The world's changed… and so have I."
The boy's tone was low, his words far too calm for a child. That was because he wasn't just a child. His na was Kurogai.
Just days ago, Kurogai had been an ordinary university student back in his original world. But after waking up in this unfamiliar place, his body had reverted to that of a five-year-old—and he'd beco just another abandoned orphan in so rundown Arican orphanage.
The shift was terrifying. Who could stay calm after realizing they'd been reborn into a new world, with a different identity? At first, he'd panicked—shocked, scared, utterly lost. But after a few days, he started to accept it.
Step one in surviving a new world: understand it.
Kurogai had spent his ti observing, listening, and gathering information. He quickly confird he was still on Earth—countries like the United States and Japan still existed—and it was the 1990s. For a while, he assud this was just a parallel version of his original Earth. That assumption… didn't last long.
At first, he had grand plans. He thought, If this is a world without Marvel comics, I'll write them myself. Comics, movies, gas—he was ready to ride the wave of plagiarism to fa and fortune.
Then he heard sothing that shattered that fantasy.
During World War II, a real-life superhero nad Steve Rogers—Captain Arica—had fought on the front lines.
"Damn it!"
So, there weren't no Marvel comics… This was the Marvel Universe.
That gut-punch of realization hit him hard. He had thought he'd hit the jackpot, but instead, he'd landed smack in the middle of one of the most dangerous fictional universes ever imagined.
Aliens, gods, magic, high-tech weapons, interdinsional threats—it was chaos incarnate. Entire cities could be destroyed overnight. Forget luxury and indulgence. This world was a powder keg.
"I don't think you dropped here without a backup plan… right?" he muttered into the empty room, voice low.
He reached up, brushing the hair from his forehead.
There, faintly glowing, an ancient totem erged from his skin—a circular symbol etched into his very being. Twelve interconnected rings spiraled in layers, each marked with strange, runic patterns. It had the aura of sothing ancient, sothing powerful. Sothing... watching.
It vaguely resembled the Rinnegan from Naruto—if the Rinnegan had evolved into sothing far more complex. Where the Rinnegan bore three rings, this totem had twelve. Twelve concentric circles, each layer marked with unfamiliar, almost alien sigils.
This was the reason he was here.
Back in his old life, Kurogai had stumbled upon a strange stone at a street stall. The stone had twelve circular patterns carved into it—eerily similar to an eye. He'd bought it out of curiosity. The next thing he knew, he'd awakened in this world… with that sa symbol burned into his forehead.
It didn't take a genius to connect the dots.
He had a theory: his heterochromia might be linked to this mysterious totem. His eyes used to be black. Now they glead gold and violet. It had to be related.
"Could be so kind of mutation… an X-Gene?" he whispered, considering. "If so, I'm not complaining."
Mutants existed in this world. And while so feared the X-Gene, Kurogai didn't. In a world this hostile, power was survival. And if this strange totem or his eyes gave him even a sliver of an advantage, he'd take it.
"Totem… Little Totem… hey, co on. Don't go quiet on now. I know you're not just a fancy tattoo. What the hell's going on with my body?"
He tapped his forehead gently, as if trying to coax a response from the mark. But the totem remained still. Silent. Unyielding.
Even so, Kurogai knew it wasn't just a symbol. It was alive, in so way. And if he could just figure out how to communicate with it, maybe—just maybe—he could unlock the power he needed to survive here.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps echoed through the orphanage yard, drawing closer.
Soone was coming.
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