The Heart of Zero

Shingin wandered aimlessly through the city streets, eventually finding himself perched atop the railing of a bus stop. He gazed at the flowing crowds below, his thoughts a chaotic storm. The sky gradually darkened, and neon lights flickered on one by one, casting a kaleidoscope of colors over the scene. He sat silently, letting time slip by until the night fully enveloped the city. The vibrant lights reflected in his eyes, yet the future ahead of him felt shrouded in a thick, impenetrable fog.

A giant screen on a nearby building began displaying the evening news. The report focused on the school incident, showing images of the shattered buildings and the devastated rooftop where the battle had taken place. Shingin's eyes locked onto the familiar ruins as the reporter announced that, despite extensive property damage, there were no casualties, and all students had been safely evacuated. Relief washed over him, a heavy weight lifting from his chest. Yet deep within, the turmoil remained. He knew that he could no longer return to the peaceful, ordinary life he once knew.

Determined, he stood up and began the long walk home.

When Shingin finally pushed open the front door, the smell of dinner greeted him. His mother was already seated at the table, waiting for him to join her. She glanced up with a gentle smile.

"Welcome home, Shingin. Come, let's eat."

Her smile seemed calm, as though nothing had happened. But the television in the corner was still showing the news report on the school incident. Shingin knew that she must already be aware of what had occurred.

He sat down and softly said, "Mom, let's eat." Picking up his chopsticks, he forced himself to take a bite. The meal proceeded in silence, a far cry from their usual warm conversations.

The unease lingered in the air until Shingin broke the silence, his voice low and uncertain. "Mom, tomorrow, the school is hosting a camping trip."

His mother's hand froze mid-air, her grip on her chopsticks tightening. Shingin caught the slight tremor in her fingers, a sign that she had seen through his lie. He had never been good at lying—his eyes always darted to the upper right when he tried.

But she didn't call him out. Instead, she replied gently, "That sounds nice. Camping must be exciting." She paused, then added in a quiet, melancholic tone, "Though I suppose I won't see much of you after this."

Her words struck Shingin like a bolt of lightning, leaving him stunned. He lowered his gaze, his heart heavy with guilt and sorrow.

His mother reached out to stroke his hair, her touch tender yet laced with resignation. "It's all right. My little boy has grown up. It's time for you to see the world—just like your father once did."

Shingin's breath caught. His mother rarely mentioned his father.

"He was an extraordinary man," she continued, her voice soft with reminiscence. "He once joined a… let's call it an 'adventure group.' We all stayed together as a family, seeking safety during dangerous times. But fate had other plans. You were ill back then, and I insisted on taking you to the doctor. That's when we got separated. Your father vanished, and your younger siblings…" She stopped, her voice trembling.

Her words unveiled a part of their past that Shingin had never known. Memories of his childhood illness were blurry, fragmented at best. Yet now he sensed that those lost years held secrets he had never dared to question.

His mother's grip on his hand tightened. "If you ever have the chance, Shingin, please find your brother and sister."

Tears welled up in Shingin's eyes as he nodded solemnly. The weight of her words settled deeply within him.

Late into the night, Shingin began packing his belongings. He struggled to decide what to take, his movements clumsy and uncertain. His mother entered the room without a word, silently helping him organize his things.

As he watched her work, Shingin was overwhelmed with gratitude and sorrow. He knew this might be the last time they shared such a moment.

The hours passed quietly, filled only with the faint ticking of the clock. When dawn broke, his mother handed him a neatly packed lunchbox, her hands trembling slightly.

"Stay safe," she whispered. "Come back soon, won't you?"

Shingin nodded, his voice caught in his throat. He slung the bag over his shoulder and stepped toward the door. His mother checked his belongings one last time, meticulously ensuring that nothing was forgotten.

Then, she pulled him into a tight embrace. Shingin froze, the intensity of her hug startling him. He felt the depth of her love and her silent, unspoken fears. Overwhelmed, he wrapped his arms around her, vowing in his heart that he would return.

When she finally let go, her smile was soft but full of strength. "Go on now. The world is waiting for you."

With tear-filled eyes, Shingin gave her a deep bow and stepped out into the dawn. As the first rays of sunlight broke through the clouds, his shadow stretched long before him. Carrying his mother's love and the heavy responsibility of his mission, Shingin took his first steps toward an uncertain future.