Children run back and forth. The sound of high-pitched laughter and the teacher's whistle fill the air. I am sitting on a swing, in an isolated corner of the playground, watching everyone play as if I were a spectator from another reality.
John approaches. He was the closest thing I had to a friend. Looking down at me with a seriousness that didn't belong on a child's face, he says: "Arata, your mother is a slut."
He wasn't joking. In the background, the boys who bullied me laughed, hiding behind a tree. In my nine-year-old naivety, I wanted to believe John was under some kind of "mind control." He wouldn't say that of his own free will.
I stood up abruptly, my steps heavy on the sand as I walked toward them. John just watched, static. I stopped in front of the group of bullies and, with a voice heavy with a rage I barely understood, spat out what I remembered from mafia movies: "You pieces of shit... If you lick my shoes right now, I might forgive your arrogance."
They looked at me with disdain. The boy in the middle, Pedro, took a step forward. "Look at you, you little prick. If you get in my face again, I'm going to fuck you up so bad you'll have to call your mommy crying."
I tried to ignore it. He didn't deserve my attention. But he had to keep going... He had to talk about her. "Hey, Arata! Do you think that hooker mother of yours would sleep with me for just twenty cents?"
Rage exploded in my mind. I pushed him with all my strength. Pedro fell, but before he could react, he took a violent kick from someone who launched themselves from the neighboring swing. The snap of the bone was dry. His nose broke instantly, blood gushing as he began to cry uncontrollably. My gaze remained cold.
The teacher came running, and a circle of curious children formed. "I didn't mean to do it..." I whispered to myself. The teacher stared at me in horror as she held the injured boy. "ARATA, what have you done? You're only nine, and he's eleven!"
Back to the present.
I stare face-to-face at the one who claims to be my long-lost brother. I couldn't process it. My mother never mentioned anyone. He was my spitting image, a distorted mirror, but I was sure I was an only child. Was he lying?
I couldn't move, let alone speak. My chest was punctured; my lung, collapsed, hissed with every futile attempt to catch my breath. Blood rose in my throat, hot and metallic.
The doppelgänger looked at me with an annoying calm. He approached and, with unnatural strength, lifted me, propping my limp body onto his mechanical shoulder. The metal was hot and smelled of burnt oil.
"Sorry about the shot," he said, his voice casual as if talking about the weather. "I had to capture you without giving you a chance to fight back. I don't really like this kind of thing... it's for cowards. But orders are orders, little brother."
My vision began to darken at the edges. The gate of Classes City was left behind as he carried me away from the road, toward the massive holes that dotted the surrounding desert. I was dying, and the last thing I saw was the cold gleam of the mechanical arm that had just destroyed my life.
Seconds for me, but minutes outside.
I woke up on a smooth rock, sitting up with difficulty. We were in a kind of underground shelter, a dugout cave where everything was made of packed earth and terracotta tones. The environment felt strangely safe, isolated from the chaos of the outside world.
In front of me, my supposed brother was adjusting the gears of his mechanical arm. I looked at my chest, expecting to find a bloody hole, but the skin was perfectly scarred. How is this possible? I wondered, incredulous.
"Oh, you're awake, sleepyhead?" He didn't even look away from his arm. "We have a big job ahead of us, and you still have to meet the Boss. But first, I wanted to talk for a bit."
With a quick motion, he activated what I thought was a System interface. However, what emerged was a tiny creature, the size of my palm. The small being immediately started yapping:
"Hey, you little shit! I told you to only call me when it's something important!" The creature turned, coming face-to-face with me. "No fucking way... is it him? My God! Does the Boss know about this? I didn't know he was the one I was healing with my powers."
"Arata, this is Haito," my brother explained. "My pet with healing abilities. He's the one who saved your life."
Haito crossed his tiny arms, striking a confident pose, clearly waiting for praise I didn't have the strength to give.
"Second, Arata... I wasn't lying about being your brother." His voice changed, becoming dense and dark. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and interlacing his fingers. "Our mother, before she met Tom, your father, knew a man named Felix. Felix is my father. He was obsessed with her and wanted a child at any cost. To fulfill his wishes, our mother managed to get pregnant on the third try. However..."
He paused, eyes fixed on the dirt floor.
"Because of a rare condition called Thrombophilia, her body rejected the fetuses," he continued, his voice echoing off the earthen walls. "So, that's where I come in. Your mother and Felix had the brilliant idea to adopt a child. That was me. Now you know: I'm not your blood brother. Felix wasn't my father, and your mother wasn't my mother."
The lump in my throat tightened. If we weren't blood of the same blood, why did that face stare back at me like a mirror? "But what about your appearance?" My voice came out weak. "Why do you look just like me? You're almost identical..."
He let out a dry, joyless laugh and stood up. The mechanical arm emitted a hiss of steam. "What I'm about to tell you now will make you question every second of your life. I knew your father, Arata. At twenty, I was just a rookie hired by his company. Tom was a kind man, at first. He welcomed me; we worked in the genetic mutation division."
He walked to the cave wall, drawing circles in the dirt with his metallic finger. "We were trying to fuse human DNA into test subjects to accelerate regenerative healing. Rats with human genetics. But something went horribly wrong. On the day of the second test, while I was switching the subject, a clumsy assistant activated the machine with me inside."
He turned to me. The low light of the cave made the shadows of his face—my face—look deeper. "I was processed. Reshaped. My DNA was shattered and reconstructed by the genetics of the material loaded into the machine's system. My blonde hair fell out and grew back black. My bone structure snapped and reconfigured until I no longer recognized the man in the mirror."
He took a step toward me, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper: "When I stepped out of that chamber, your father looked at me with horror... and then with fascination. He told me what he had done. To ensure the experiment had the best possible foundation, he didn't use an anonymous donor. He used his own son's genetics. You, Arata. I am the result of an accident with your original mold. I am what happens when your draft is printed onto someone else's body."
The silence that followed was absolute. The weight of that truth crushed me more than the shot to my lung. My father wasn't just a strict man; he had turned my very existence into a laboratory tool, a template to create others.
Haito, the pet, cleaned one of his paws, oblivious to my mental collapse.
"And now, 'brother'..." Sid sneered at the word, standing up. "You're finally going to meet the Boss we've talked so much about. By the way, my name is Sid. I think our talk ends here. It was a pleasure telling you everything, Arata. And sorry for pretending to be your blood brother... it was Haito's idea."
Sid walked toward the cave exit, gesturing for me to follow. "You coming? We have a long way to go."
We walked through earthen tunnels that seemed infinite. With every turn, the air grew heavier. Strange insects climbed the walls, and human bones—some already broken and yellowed by time—lined the floor.
"So... who is this Boss of yours?" I asked, trying to break the funeral silence. "He's a busy man. He's the one who taught me how to summon Haito. You'll see, he's pretty cool." "But... I want to know his name. Do I know him?" "I don't know if you know him, but his name was... damn, I just blanked on it." "Man, how do you work for a guy and forget his name? It's like having a kid and forgetting what he's called! Anyway, is this going to take long? I have friends up there..."
My voice died in my throat. The image of Chad lying on the concrete of Classes City returned with full force. In a surge of fury, I lunged and slammed Sid against the dirt wall. Haito jumped from his shoulder, terrified, trying to calm me down with words I didn't hear.
"You piece of shit! What about fucking Chad?!" I screamed, grabbing Sid by the collar. "You killed him! You save me, tell me these stories, but you let him die? I didn't even get to talk to him properly... I didn't know him that well, but... but..."
I fell to my knees. Tears burned my face. The pain of losing the only person who sacrificed himself for me was unbearable. I was being led by the man who took a valuable life.
"Hey, he's alive. Did you forget Haito's powers?" Sid said, recomposing himself. "Go fuck yourself! That thing can't regenerate a destroyed heart!" "And who said you can talk to me like that, you brat?" Sid shot back, brushing dust off his clothes. "That Chad guy is probably in Classes City right now. That city stuffs the wounded with drugs and turns them into brainless elite soldiers. That city is our target, Arata. Our goal is to conquer it! If Chad is alive in there, he's one of them now. So stop crying and get up. We're here."
We stepped out of the tunnel, and the view was unbelievable. An entire city pulsed below Classes City. The structures were made of wood and stone, as if these people were recreating society from scratch, far from the sterile technology of the surface. Rivers of underground water cut through the village, crossed by rustic bridges.
We walked under the curious and apathetic gazes of the residents until we reached the largest building in the area. Sid knocked on the heavy door. "Boss, I brought him!"
We entered. The place reminded me of an abandoned cathedral. In the background, a shattered statue of someone I didn't recognize. In the center, under the shadows of a wooden throne, a figure waited. Sid knelt immediately.
"Boss, please, my payment... I haven't eaten in two days. Give me some of your crumbs."
The man stood up. The sound of two silver coins hitting the floor echoed through the hall. When he stepped out of the shadows, my world collapsed for the second time that day. It didn't make sense. He was too old to be there, but the features were unmistakable.
"Uncle...?" My voice barely came out.
The man smiled, an enigmatic glint in his tired eyes. "Hi, Arata. We have a lot to talk about... and I owe you some explanations."