Island on Fire

Hito and Sengoku had met when they were kids, just six years old. Neither Sengoku was interested in horror media by that time and nor was Hito so rude. And moreover, their fathers were childhood friends, so they were bound to be friends.

They did mischief together, got caught together, then got scolded together. But they were happy together. As time passed and they were seven years old, they learned how to conjure a fireball.

Although their fathers never allowed them to conjure fireballs without an adult's supervision, they had run up to the park on the hill one night. No one was sure whose plan that was since they both loved doing what was wrong.

Overlook Park had been closed since 1966 after the mysterious disappearance of the caretakers, the Kyu family had disappeared overnight without a trace.

There was this strange pleasure in doing what was wrong. They jumped over the fence and ran across Overlook Park, crossed the swings and the merry-go-round, then stopped behind the slide.

Maybe because they were only seven, none of them bothered to think about the consequences. Grinning and giggling, both of them glanced over their shoulders, then ran to the border fence.

On the other side of the fence was the slope of the hill which met the ocean's coast. In the left direction, hidden behind the deep woods was the house of the Kyu family.

They spent around an hour firing fireballs down into the ocean, without catching the woods or bushes on fire. Hito kept in mind to zip his denim jacket whenever he cast a fireball to avoid his jacket from going into the fireball.

That went on for a week till Sengoku's father taught him the next element of magic after he saw his potential.

Although Hito had considered Sengoku his best friend, he could not deny the fact that he was jealous. Not obsessively or angrily, but in a sad way. Why only Sengoku got to learn the water element and not him? They had trained together, so what was the problem?

That day, Hito came up front to Sengoku and told him he would not be coming to the Overlook tonight. Sengoku's smile faded, and the disappointment flashed on his face too clearly – what good are seven-year-olds at hiding their emotions as the teens and adults do?

"But why? I wanted to try my new element today."

'That is exactly the reason why. I am sorry.' Hito put on a fake smile.

"Alright, if you don't want to. But I will be up on the hill if you change your mind. Bye." That day, Sengoku had left without waving to Hito; Hito had not waved goodbye either.

Hito's father would come home at nine o'clock, then he would ask him what was the difference between Sengoku and him. Why could he not learn water magic as Sengoku did?

That was when the realization hit him. He had forgotten his identity. He was Tadano Hito, a young dark wizard; his father, Tadano Necro, was the head of a Necromancy Cult.

That realization was more than anything he needed. At the age of seven, he accepted himself as he was, when he did not even know what accepting yourself meant – something even adults fail to understand.

He pulled his bicycle out of the garage, careful not to wake his mother. He unlocked the latch and paddled as hard as he could toward Overlook Park.

'Sengoku can not use the dark magic that I can. If he wants to show off his water magic, I will show off my dark magic.'

He dropped his bicycle at the bottom of the hill, then climbed uphill as fast as he could. No one had taught him how to use dark magic, but maybe it was his 'dark wizard hunch' that made him feel confident in his skills – as if he had been using dark magic for the last decade.

He ran across the swings, the merry-go-round, and the see-saw then took over behind the slide. He glanced behind, coast clear, then searched for Sengoku in the darkness in front of him.

The shadow that the pine and palm trees reflected under the moonlight fell onto the un-leveled grass. In the middle of both trees, a flame flickered and disappeared into the sky.

Hito's uncle, who lived in Hiroshima, had sent a denim jacket on Hito's seventh birthday. Hito tried the denim jacket the next day, on the eighteenth of April 1970, and he fell in love with the rich feel of the denim.

Not like he knew much about denim jeans or jackets, but that jacket was different. He wore that jacket for the week. When his mother offered to wash the jacket for him, he refused to take it off.

So his father had to order another set of denim jackets just so he could take the old one off and wear the new one. He had a total of twelve denim jackets by the fourth of July 1970.

"Sengoku!" Hito shouted.

In an instant, Sengoku stepped out of the shadows, with a surprised expression on his face. "You came!" he exclaimed as if he was meeting his long-lost lover.

Hito smiled back. He adjusted the collars of his denim jacket around his neck.

Sengoku stood with a kimono on. He would tuck the lower end of the kimono when he had to run or ride a cycle, or Hito would take over since all he ever wore was jeans and a t-shirt with a denim jacket over it.

"You had me feeling sad on my own!" Sengoku complained.

Hito chuckled. "So you were serious, huh? What are you doing here?"

Sengoku slapped Hito on the back, then giggled. "Shooting some fireballs."

"What about the new magic element you learned?" Hito was uncomfortable bringing up that topic, but he had to ask.

"I have been saving it for tomorrow. I wanted you to witness it."

Hito's face twisted in disgust. 'You wanted to make me jealous. So you wanted me to see how pretty your new magic element is.'

"And now that you are here, let me show you the water magic!"

'How can you be so excited? Are you that stupid to not ever realize how it makes me feel? You are the worst, Sengoku.'

Hito clenched his fists and stared as Sengoku walked to the fence. "No," he said. "I want to show you something."

Sengoku stopped in front of the fence, then turned around with a smile, fading due to the rude tone in Hito's voice. "Oh, did you learn something new, too?"

Hito believed in showing instead of telling. He raised his hand and conjured a fireball. Sengoku's smile faded and a black expression formed on his face.

"What are you doing?"

Hito grinned, superiorly, then walked to the fence. "Just watch me."

"A fireball? Is that what you want to show me?" Sengoku stepped aside as Hito came beside him.

The smell of the fire on Hito's hands was fresh and crisp, the flames flickered with Hito's every step. But in the excitement of showing Sengoku what he had in mind, he had forgotten to zip his denim jacket.

Hito closed his eyes. He tried to feel the dark energy flowing through his veins, he tried to bring it forth. It was easier than he had imagined. All he had to do was hide his blood under the dark flow of energy.

Just like dopamine hits, the dark magic surfaced to the tips of his fingers with a click. His eyes flicked open, navy blue strokes were reaching his pupil.

He could feel the power surging through his body. He felt more powerful than he had ever felt while casting normal fireballs. His vision started blacking as the strokes reached his pupil.

Sengoku's voice came muffled. "What is that? Why is your fireball turning black? Hito, are you there?"

The grin on his face spread like the supervillain's grin he had read in the manga yesterday. He stretched his arm in front of his chest and watched the bottom turn black from orange.

'This is what it feels like to use dark magic. This is superior to everything.'

A wind grazed his neck, but he could barely feel it. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Sengoku hesitating to touch him, and too scared to call someone. The strokes covered his pupil and his vision lost color, everything he saw was navy blue.

The leaves rustled as the wind brushed by. Hito grinned wider than any seven-year-old could, and let out an evil laugh.

"Look at me, Sengoku! Look as I make you eat dirt!" Hito pulled his hand back, then aimed at the ocean below. He could not even bother to think about setting the bushes on fire, showing off was more important that than.

"Seriously, Hito. I think you should stop. No, I want you to stop." Sengoku's voice came faded as if he went far with every passing second.

A strong wind passed the woods, crossed Sengoku, then hit Hito. it embraced his orange-turning-to-black fireball, taking over the tip of orange flames, then swallowed the fireball as a whole.

The fence turned back to the original metallic color. The leaves of palm trees were green again, and so were the pine trees – branches brown and the leaves green.

He glanced at Sengoku, confused like an alien who has no knowledge of the planet he was on. White hair, slowly turning pale, and those brown hair.

Hito looked at his hands. Gone. "No, no, no!" he shouted. "I lost it."

Sengoku placed his hand over Hito's shoulder. "Were you doing something you were not supposed to do?" His voice was grave, nothing like that fading form. "Why was it changing color?"

Hito raised his eyes. His brown eyes had a concerned look in them. 'He doesn't know,' Hito thought, 'about dark magic. Of course, he has never seen it.' Neither had Hito, but the image had formed in his head while the fireball was still orange.

He found it amusing. Now I get my chance. He grinned at Sengoku. "Just watch me. I will do it right this time."

"It is the magic you should not do, isn't it?" Sengoku removed his hand and stepped back. "If you do not stop, I will call for help."

'Traitor! Did I ever call anyone when you were shooting fireballs alone?'

"Just watch! And anyway, doing something we should not do brings the ultimate pleasure." He grinned, then turned to the fence, and raised both of his hands.

Fireballs appeared on his hands. He closed his eyes again, imagined the orange flame flickering on his hands, then felt the dark energy flow from his chest to his arms, from his arms to the tip of his fingers.

Sengoku maintained a distance of a few meters as the orange fireball turned dark.

Hito snapped his eyes open. Black energy took over the flames and even turned the tips black.

He had not realized it that time, but now that he looked back, Hito had created the perfect fireball any dark wizard could not.

Without any teachings, practice, age, or experience, a seven-year-old dark wizard had created the perfect dark fireball. All that remained was casting it.

He stepped back and pulled his hands beside his chest, at a safe distance. The leaves of palm trees rustled as the wind blew through them, crossed Sengoku, and finally hit Hito.

The wind grasped the fireball, slowly taking over it. The flames resisted being, and the wind had to move on.

it blew Hito's unzipped denim jacket instead. A moment before casting the fireball into the ocean, the flap of his jacket flew up and went into the fireball.

As if adding oil to the fire, black flames erupted and took Hito's control by surprise.

"Get away!" Sengoku shouted. His footsteps as he ran towards him.

Hito frowned. The fire climbing over his chest was a numb sensation at first because of the layer of clothes. He only realized it after the fire had reached his shoulders and touched his bare neck.

"Hey! Get that damn jacket off! Get it off!"

Hito closed his fists and watched his hands. He had hoped to see the fireball disappear, but it just increased. A trickle of hot pain ran up his chest, then across his stomach.

"You dumbass. Are you gonna do something or just stare like an idiot?!" Sengoku shouted as he launched back and raised his hands.

Then with a jerk, his hands released a wave of gushing water. Cold water filled Hito's chest, then the heating sensation returned.

'Fire. I am on fire. This jacket. I need to take this off.'

His hands were still on fire, yet he grabbed the jacket and pulled it off. That just pushed the fire to burn him further up the chest.

With Sengoku's freezing water bathing him, Hito ran rolled the jacket in his hands, then raised it behind him. With as much power as he could gather, he threw the jacket off the cliff.

The debris of the jacket fell on the slope, but the big ball of fire – like a meteor on fire – splashed into the water. His T-shirt had caught fire, his jeans were getting, too, and so was his arm.

The debris that had fallen on the jacket's way to the ocean rose again. The dry leaves crisped under the flame before passing it to the branches.

Smoke rose from the other side of the hill as the dry leaves succumbed to the flames. One by one, bit by bit, first around the corner, then closing around Hito, the whole park was emitting smoke into the sky.

It was because of the jacket. Hito screamed as the fire burned his stomach and Sengoku failed to extinguish the fire. But it was all because of that jacket.

He would never wear any (denim) jacket ever. It was the jacket. He would never—