Something's wrong—this world is wrong.
In 2009, at the Sunflower Children's Welfare Institute, eight-year-old Kamihara Hajime stared at the orphanage shrouded in darkness. The once-familiar place now felt disturbingly alien.
Everyone—children and adults alike—had vanished. Under the eerie gloom, the buildings themselves seemed warped, subtly distorted like a nightmare painted over reality.
Hajime reflected on the strange twists his life had taken. In a previous life, he'd been an ordinary boy on Earth, terminally ill and long since resigned to a premature death.
But when he opened his eyes again, he was a child in a foreign land. There were no memories of his parents—only the orphanage. He had been here as far back as he could remember.
It was a second chance. And though his previous life felt distant, like a vivid dream, it was impossible to forget. More than that, Hajime had come to a chilling realization—this wasn't just another version of Earth. It was a completely different world. Some things were familiar, yes, but others… weren't. Could this be a parallel universe?
The clearest evidence was the power inside him.
Hajime had discovered that he possessed something strange—he later understood it to be some kind of power. It wasn't some named superpower, but an innate force he could draw upon. With it, he could enhance his strength, speed, and reflexes beyond normal limits, performing feats no child should be capable of.
Still, he rarely used it.
He worried that excessive use might damage his still-developing body. No one had explained the mechanics to him—he was alone with this power and figured it out by instinct and caution.
Life at the orphanage had been mostly peaceful, with no reason to use it. But even light usage made Hajime a living legend among the other kids—untouchable, unbeatable. The Energy that surrounded him was a pale blue. On rare occasions, he could move so fast it felt like time itself slowed down. At first, it had excited him, reminded him of fictional heroes. But every time he used it, something felt off. The air grew heavy, static, like reality resisting.
And then, there were the ghosts.
Over the years, Hajime had encountered five—maybe six—of these creatures. But they weren't like the ghosts from movies. No Sadakos. No Kayakos. These were grotesque, malformed things. Sometimes insectoid. Sometimes human-like. Always disturbing.
One time, he saw a mosquito-shaped thing hovering near a couple visiting to adopt. It had palm-sized wings and a needle-sharp proboscis. No one else noticed it—not the kids, not the adults.
That was when he truly understood: these beings existed outside normal perception. Were there others like him who could see them? Who had powers?
Now, standing in the darkness of a warped orphanage, Hajime realized something stronger had appeared. This wasn't just a haunting—this was a Domain. A real one. The environment itself had shifted. The air was thick with spiritual pressure.
Fear, frustration, and anger welled up inside him.
Why now? When I'm still weak? When I haven't grown yet?
But he wasn't going to give up. Not now. Not after being given a second chance at life.
He pushed Energy through his body, amplifying every muscle, every nerve. Speed. Strength. Durability. For a child, he was terrifyingly powerful. He braced himself and pushed forward, eyes sharp for danger.
---
"Mm-hmm, got it. Don't forget the agreed-upon reward. This is confirmed as a Grade 1, maybe Special Grade Cursed Womb. I'll notify you if anything happens, Gojo. That's all."
A pale blue-haired woman with a sharp gaze and graceful figure stood a short distance from the orphanage. Her eyes shimmered as she stared at the dense aura cloaking the building.
There was no fear on her face. Only fascination.
"Born from darkness, the darkest of darkness. Filth and defilement, all be purged."
As she chanted, a black-grey curtain bloomed from thin air, covering the entire orphanage like a shroud. Without hesitation, she stepped inside and vanished.
---
This is bad.
Hajime looked down at the creature's dissolving remains—a grotesque fusion of child and dog. It had attacked him five minutes ago, crying like a baby.
He'd hesitated at first, startled, but once he struck it with his Energy, the effect was immediate. A few blows and it crumpled.
He tried to escape the orphanage, but no matter how far he walked, he always ended up back where he started. Like something was looping time and space.
So he went deeper.
He encountered more of them—childlike monsters, each more grotesque than the last. All of them shared fragments of a child's form—twisted limbs, oversized heads, tiny fingers.
Was it the collective resentment of children that birthed them?
Movies had shown spirits that died with regret often twisted into curses. Maybe this world worked the same way.
But after beating several of them, Hajime's fear lessened. They were manageable. His power worked. And knowing that made all the difference.
---
A faint sob echoed through the staff dormitory corridor.
Hajime instantly tensed. He followed the sound and stopped in front of a cabinet. The crying was real. Too consistent for a monster.
He pulled it open.
"AAAHHH!"
Two children—trembling, scared, huddled together.
"Hey! Quiet down! You wanna attract ghosts?"
They recognized his voice and calmed.
"Genichi? And… Kumiko?"
The girl had a birthmark on her cheek—he remembered now. She was the one who almost got adopted last time. But the parents rejected her because of that mark.
The kids knew him too. Everyone in the orphanage knew Hajime. He didn't join cliques or play nice. He was the strongest, and everyone respected—or feared—him.
Despite his appearance and intelligence, Hajime had never accepted adoption. He didn't want a new family he couldn't trust.
The director had once considered adopting him herself, or having her relatives do it. But he'd refused.
He comforted the children and asked what they knew. But they were too scared to give useful answers. They'd hidden in the cabinet after seeing monsters from afar.
Then—suddenly—a sound. Wet. Heavy.
Something was coming.
Hajime's face darkened. "Hide again. Now."
The cabinet had kept them safe before—it was the best option.
As they climbed back in, Hajime turned and sprinted down the hallway, his footsteps loud and clear.
From behind, he heard multiple cries and the scraping of limbs. They were chasing him now. A lot of them.
He needed open space. Fast.
---