Yami found himself in a state of numbness. As he tried to imagine where his left arm had once been, yet he felt nothing. Once again trying to lift his leg, there was no response. He felt as though he were drifting down a stream with no control to where he was going. His body, although not feeling anything, gave him a sense of heaviness, as if he were incredibly tired. His thoughts drifted far and wide with no clear structure or meaning.

After what seemed like hours, Yami began to slowly awaken.

“My eyelids.... They feel so heavy… I’m so tired…”

Yami squinted his eyes hard, and slowly started to open them. The light shining in through a window blinded him, forcing him to shut his eyes once again.

“Where am I? I’m laying on something soft… like carpet…” Yami slid his right hand around, confirming his thoughts. Yami smiled.

“I could lay here forev-” Yami suddenly felt a sharp bolt of pain throughout the back of his head, causing him to strain his face. As he concentrated on it more, he noticed it was throbbing as well. Yami forced his eyes open, exposing his eyes to the place in which he laid - his living room. Shocked, Yami began to sit up, causing him to bump the 20 gauge shotgun that lay on his stomach, knocking it onto the ground. With a horrified look, Yami threw himself away from the shotgun.

“What is going on?!?! The last thing I remember is pulling the trigger, and then…” Memories of the mysterious figure flooded his mind. Yami quickly grasped his left arm, remembering the pain he felt. He looked at his watch. The time read 11:22 a.m.

“That-that couldn’t be possible! Our conversation took at least 10 minutes!” The pain of the headache increased, causing Yami to reach behind and feel it with his hand. As he inspected his hand, he noticed there was blood. Yami reached over and picked up the shotgun. As he unloaded it, he quickly checked it over.

“There’s no way that this should’ve misfired. Nothing appears to be broken or otherwise inoperable.” Yami shrugged and put it back where he had found it.

As Yami walked into his bathroom and prepared to wash his head, he looked at his hand once again. The blood had moved to form what looked like a circle with triangles that made the circle appear it was in motion, as though it were spinning counter-clockwise on his palm. Thinking back to the injury he had just been victim to, he came to the conclusion that as he fell backwards, the force of hitting his head on the floor caused it to bleed some.

“For all I know, that’s what caused my dream as well. It was so surreal though…” Yami looked at his hand, inspecting it, as though he were looking for any sign of the pain he felt, or rather the gift he received, actually occurring. Almost with a sigh of sorrow, he looked in the mirror. His expressionless face glared back at him. Yami did not look relieved nor disappointed he was still alive. He simply felt tired.

“Welp, back to gaming!” Yami returned to his bedroom and turned his computer on. As he went to click on a game titled “Bottom Fragger Online”, he paused. Yami quickly slid his mouse back across his screen, instead clicking his browser. He furiously began typing in the address of Shénmi’s mirror website. Once more, it led to a blank page. Yami opened his developer tools and scrolled down to the message Shénmi had left. Quickly skimming through it, a piece of the message stuck out at Yami once again:

“...yet you fail, or rather, survive, contact me.”

Yami looked at the hash that Shénmi had left:

0b4a5df0cb92f54edac63537f3f5490e

Yami opened a decryptor, and upon entering the hash, found out Shénmi’s e-mail address. Yami opened his instant messenger and began typing his experience, praying for an answer as to what had happened. After clicking send, the loud typing that had been echoing throughout the house suddenly ceased as Yami sat in his room alone, waiting.

A month later, there was finally a reply:

Meet me at 2 p.m. today at Yagusimi if you want answers. Come alone.

Yami, numbed from the experience, read the message cautiously at first, then smiled.

“I will.”

As Yami began to get ready for his departure to the park, he reached towards his desk and opened a drawer from he which he withdrew two knives. One had a metallic silver color, and was surprisingly light yet durable. The blade consisted of a sharp slicing front and a serrated back, which had been recently sharpened by Yami, as he had originally planned to end his life with that very blade.

The other knife that Yami grabbed was a metallic rainbow color. This knife, as opposed to its companion knife, was meant to be thrown rather than to slash or cut. The blade came down like a crescent, reaching a relatively light handle wrapped in black cloth.

Yami placed his silver knife in his back right pocket of his jeans, and the rainbow knife in his back left pocket. Yami then grabbed his black smartphone and checked the time. It was nearing 1:30 p.m., and Yami had a 15 minute walk ahead of him. Placing the phone in his front right pocket, he walked out his door and headed towards the park.

Nearing arrival, Yami checked his wristwatch, noticing that it was now 1:48 p.m., 12 minutes away from his designated meeting time. Beginning to have second thoughts, Yami began clenching his fists. As he walked past the sign at the entrance of the park that read “Welcome to Yagusimi Park,” Yami began to search for anyone that may be at the park. As it was August, Yami was surprised to see that there were little to souls present at the park.Yagusimi Park was usually thriving with people during the summer months as children were relieved from their duty to return to school during the summer period.

Feeling relieved that nobody suspicious had yet to arrive, Yami as felt a sense of anxiousness to meet Shénmi in real life, as he had been somewhat of a hero to him. Yami sat on a bench and began thinking to himself.

“I wonder if this guy is actually going to help me. He seems like a nice person to me, but you can never truly know someone, I suppose.”

Yami checked his wristwatch again, noticing it was now 1:58 p.m., a mere 2 minutes from his meeting time. He sighed slightly, as if he was expecting Shénmi to be earlier than himself. He began to whistle notes in a pattern of G A C, G A C, G A, G A C, G A E D E. On his second loop through the notes, he suddenly stopped. With a look of concern on his face, sweat started to bead up, and his heart started pounding rapidly. Yami clenched his left forearm forcefully, and gulped back his fear.

“This is exactly like then… Only this time it’s real! I have to get out of here!”

Looking for a way to escape, Yami jumped up from the bench on which he sat and began to sprint. Running as fast as he could, the sensation only continued to grow stronger. Clambering for a grip on the fence, he began to climb up. He felt that this mysterious presence was only a mere 10 feet away, and he stopped in fear.

“Why are you trying to run? You are the one who contacted me, so why are you afraid?”

This familiar voice shook the air, and sweat dripped from Yami’s chin and splattered on the ground. Yami dropped himself from the fence and clenched his fists.

“Are you Shénmi?”

The man chuckled.

“Of course! Who else would I be?”

Yami turned to look at the man. The man’s head little hair on top, yet had a grizzled goatee around the mouth. His black glasses were square, yet the lenses seemed to magnify the brightness of his green eyes. His face appeared to show around 40 years of life, but it also began to show shock.

“Wait, is that you Yami?!?!”

Yami chuckled.

“Is that you Mr. P?” Mr. Phil Posche was a rather nerdy individual. Sci-Fi Movies always intrigued him, which may explain why he chose to teach science related classes at Shifuku High School. Due to this, Yami had seen him multiple times, yet he had only conversed enough times with him that he could count it on one hand.

“Come with me. We’ll go to my house. It’s just a ways over here.”

As Posche ushered Yami towards an exit from Yagusimi Park, Yami couldn’t help but notice that a strange power seemed to be seeping out of Posche’s body.

“Just how strong is he?”

As Posche welcomed Yami into his household, he refrained Yami from taking off his shoes.

“Don’t worry about those, we’re going to be going into my basement for a little while. And don’t worry, I’m not going to harm you.”

Yami carefully followed Posche into his basement. He smelled a faint trace of the dampness of concrete. Hearing the creaks of the wooden staircase, Yami also felt the atmosphere change into a chilling draft as he placed his feet onto the floor of the basement. As Posche beckoned him towards a door, Yami noticed stacks of books and papers which he presumed to be notes about something, most likely school related. A Posche neared the door, he placed his right hand onto it. Yami sensed a very small, almost miniscule amount of Posche’s power surge through the door. With a creak, the door opened, and showed a large office. The office contained a large desk with books and papers all over it, as well as a soft green carpet. There appeared to be three chairs as well. One sat behind the desk, which was a luxurious red spinning chair, while the other two sat before the desk, only being a dark leather. As Posche went behind the desk, he pointed towards a seat, indicating Yami to sit on it.

“So tell me your story, Yami. From the very beginning.”

As Yami gulped, he began to recall that day.

“I…” Not sure whether or not it was safe to tell Posche, Yami shook his head to reassure himself that he could trust him.

“I reached the conclusion that I wanted to end my life. I loaded my shotgun and placed it against the bottom of my chin and pulled the trigger. When I did though, I awoke in a very white place. It was so foggy, yet it was blinding. I felt the calmest I think I’ve ever been. Then a figure, a silhouette of a person began talking to me. This person began explaining to me that many people break into their world, and that for amusing them, they would gift me a present. They grabbed me left hand and sent a burning sensation all throughout my body. It felt as though a presence crawled up my arm and eventually covered me. The pain was so immense, I fell over and passed out. Just before I lost consciousness however, they said I had become this century’s Jinsei no Hogo. When I woke back up, I was on the floor of my living room. The shotgun had somehow misfired, and when I finally remembered what had just happened, I contacted you, as I figured you somehow knew what happened.”

Posche looked at Yami with disbelief.

“What pattern did the “presence” form on your arm.”

Trying to remember the specific pattern, Yami began to feel around his arm. As he did so, however, the feeling of it crept through his entire body.

“It isn’t just my arm. It’s everywhere. On my neck, my back, my legs. Everywhere.”

Confused, Posche shook his head. He rose from hiss chair and rolled up his right sleeve. As his muscles strained, a black pattern appeared on his forearm, almost as if it were a tatoo. It had a spiral to it, forming the shape of a spring which appeared to connect his wrist to his elbow.

“Did you see anything like this?”

“Yes, but like I said, it was all over, not just one piece.”

“What was the most profound one you saw? One that stuck with you the most.”

Yami looked at the palm of his left hand. Remembering the pattern that the blood from his head had created, he nodded.

“Here. It was a ball with lines tangent to it. It was big enough to cover my palm, but it didn’t touch my fingers.”

“That’s more like it!” Tossing Yami a black marker, Posche began to exit through room.

“Go ahead and draw it like you saw it. I’m gonna go grab something. It’ll be only a moment.”

As the door shut, Yami began to wonder what all the other symbols meant if he was only supposed to use one. He uncapped the marker and began to draw the symbol on his hand. Just as he finished, Posche came back into the room, this time wheeling in a cart with a drape over it, hiding what was underneath.

“Do you know the history of tattoos,” questioned Posche?

Yami shook his head.

“Well, it all began back in the early years of humanity. People would take various paints, made from berries, mud, even blood, and would rub it on themselves in certain patterns. As you may infer, all of those forms of markings were very inefficient. They would wash off the body of said person rather quickly. To counteract this, some would grab a sharp stone and etch it onto themselves, scaring their skin permanently. The reason for this, historians say, was to show their loyalty to their tribe. But as it was investigated more, things began to not add up. People who were not part of tribes began to show the same markings, and furthermore, members of the same village would oftentimes not have the same symbols on their bodies. So then what was the reason people would go as far as etching symbols into their skin be ? Was it simply for fun? Were they crazy? No, quite the opposite actually. They were what I consider to be geniuses. They, like us, had attempted to commit suicide, in turn making oneself a Pǔbiàn Fǎnxiǎng, an echo if you will. You see, when we visit The Palace and meet The Creator, the silhouette you saw, it means we were unsuccessful, or to some, successful. In return for meeting The Creator, we are granted a sought after yet unknown power. It has had many names over the years, but it is currently referred to as Sirushi Inochi, translated as a Mark of Life. These Sirushi Inochi are personalized, and typically only one person can master it. Any other people who want to learn it could spend a lifetime trying to master it, but only develop basic skills regarding it. As you can see from my Sirushi Inochi, I received one I like to call Heya Tatsujin. It consists of three skills: Sensei, Sentō, and Yasumi. In order to achieve mastery, I had to train constantly, giving me ease of access to all skill traits with little to no problem at all. As your teacher, I am here to help you with your uprising, but past that, it is up to you to decide how you use your power. You may come to me for guidance, but if I see you take the wrong path, if you start to use your Sirushi Inochi for evil purposes, I will not help you, nor will I greet you without resentment. And if you go as far as to kill innocent people with your power, I will not be deterred from annihilating you with my own two hands. Do you understand?”

Yami, startled by what Posche had just told him, simply nodded with an expression of fear.

“Good. Now that I’ve lectured you, I can begin to teach you the process. I see that you’ve drawn your pattern onto your skin.”

Posche began to inspect the drawing, occasionally murmuring an occasional “Hmmm… interesting.” Posche wheeled the cart over closer to Yami and revealed what lay underneath the sheet which had covered it before: A tattoo machine, a bowl of what appeared to be tattoo ink, a green popsicle, and a set of bandages. Posche turned to look at Yami, noticing his uneasy face.

“What’s the matter? You aren’t scared, are you?”

“No,” Yami said. “But I can’t say I’m exactly ecstatic about getting a tattoo. I mean, I’m only 14! What will people think if they see me with a giant tattoo on my hand?”

“That is the reason I’m going to teach you a neat trick,” explained Posche. “Your Sirushi Inochi is powered by your life essence. In laymen's terms, your soul. You only have so much of it, and you can train it to increase your power and capacity. However, we are going to give you a little bit of a jump start so you can infuse some into this ink. Once you infuse your life essence, the ink will become much more easily accepted into your body, and you can even control its appearance on your skin. As you can tell, I make mine invisible. But don’t get any crazy ideas, black ink is still black ink. You can’t make any crazy shades of purple or green. Once it is accepted into your body, granted you remembered at least a rough shape that The Creator gave you, your life essence will rearrange it into it’s perfect design over time and training. The ideal Sirushi Inochi will always come out to be very smooth in design, and commonly starts as a polygon. When you train it, you should notice it is becoming smooth. Well, let’s get started, shall we? Here, eat this.”

Posche handed Yami the green popsicle. Yami unwrapped it without question and ate it. It tasted oddly sweet. It felt cold on Yami’s tongue, but as he swallowed it and digested it, he felt his stomach begin to burn. Soon, the burning sensation began to spread throughout his limbs. The sensation felt just like when he had met The Creator, yet it was bearable this time. It even felt as though he controlled it instead of being swallowed by the sheer power. By the time he had finished the popsicle, he noticed his senses had become clearer. Yami raised his left hand, palm facing his face, and quickly clenched it. It was power that he had never dreamed of having. He felt as though he could do anything, but before he could finish his thoughts, he was interrupted by the bowl of ink being handed to him.

“Roll up your sleeves and put your hands in here,” Posche told Yami. Yami followed the instructions, rolling up both of his sleeves to his elbows and dipping his hands into the ink. He began to feel a slight pull of the ink at his power.

“I’m sure you can feel it. The ink wants to feed on your life essence in order to adapt to your body, so let it. Try to act like the ink wants you to and seep some of your life essence into it.” Yami became focused, and as he tried, he noticed it wasn’t being pushed into the ink. The harder he tried, the more he felt as though his skin was blocking him. It was as though he was trying to thread a needle with a rod of iron.

“I’ll come back in an hour to check on you. Have fun.” With that, Posche began to exit the room. “Oh, and a tip: Try to feel around your hands for easier exits. You aren’t skilled enough to use all of the pores possible quite yet, that takes much more training. Bye!”

Yami looked in disbelief as Posche exited the room. Turning back at the bowl, he began to try to force more life essence into the ink.

“This is gonna be a long day,” thought Yami.