United States LA
Aldrich Kirk is the son of Adrian Kirk and his wife Luciana Kirk, and at this mont in his young life, he is gravely ill. Aldrich is only 11 years old, yet he has been suffering from leukemia since he was around 9. For two long years, his childhood has been slowly replaced by hospital visits, injections, and endless treatnts. His parents have done everything within their power to save him, seeking the best doctors, the best hospitals, and the most advanced dication available. Despite all of their efforts, Aldrich's condition continues to worsen, and even the doctors have quietly admitted that, in the best possible scenario, he may only have about a year left to live.
Aldrich is an avid gar, and gaming has been one of the few joys that never left him, even as his body grew weaker. He loved playing ZAGE gas long before he ever beca sick, and during his illness, gas beca more than just entertainnt—they beca an escape, a comfort, and a source of happiness. When his strength allowed it, Aldrich would spend hours imrsed in virtual worlds, forgetting the pain, the fear, and the hospital walls surrounding him. Currently, his favorite ga is ZAGE Final Fantasy 7, a title he plays whenever he can. Aldrich is also a huge fan of Zaboru himself. From the bottom of his heart, he admires Zaboru not just as a creator, but as a person. To Aldrich, Zaboru represents the future he dreams of—a strong, kind, and creative man who built worlds that brought people joy. Because of this, Aldrich once asked his parents if it would ever be possible for him to see Zaboru in person. Hearing that it might be possible filled him with hope, even if only for a mont.
So his father, Adrian Kirk, began desperately searching for a way to reach out to Zaboru—hoping, even if just once, the man might spare a mont to visit his son. Adrian knew full well how difficult this request would be. Zaboru was not only a billionaire and a public figure but also constantly busy, managing the vast empire of ZAGE. Still, Adrian clung to the smallest shred of hope. He had read before that Zaboru sotis stayed in Los Angeles. In fact, ZAGE's old headquarters were once located in L.A before moving to ZAGE Campus in Silicon Valley, and Zaboru had always maintained a nostalgic fondness for L.A. More than once, he'd been spotted enjoying street food in L.A., quietly blending in with the crowd during his casual solo visits.
It just so happened that on this particular Sunday on 8 November, fate seed to align. Zaboru was scheduled to et with Erald Wings, the official U.S. distributor of ZAGE products whose offices are in L.A. He had a business discussion arranged with Ryan Miller, the company's CEO, regarding the upcoming launch of a new console production cost. Adrian, through a friend who worked in the logistics departnt at Erald Wings, managed to learn of Zaboru's whereabouts at a scheduled eting. With nothing but hope and desperation guiding him, he decided to take a chance and drove toward the eting location, praying that sohow—just sohow—he could cross paths with the man his son adored.
Zaboru had just wrapped up his eting and stepped outside the sleek glass doors of the Erald Wings offices. The afternoon sunlight bathed the L.A. streets in golden warmth as he casually adjusted his cap and sunglasses. He preferred to keep a low profile, especially after etings like these. With his usual disguise—tinted glasses, a fake mustache and goatee, and casual attire—he felt confident that no one would recognize him. It wasn't just about avoiding attention; it was about finding a few monts of peace in the bustling world around him.
Across the street, partially hidden behind a parked car, stood Aldryan Kirk. His hands were trembling, and his throat was dry. The mont he saw Zaboru exit the building, a powerful glimr of hope surged in his chest. It was him—he was sure of it. Even with the disguise, Aldryan recognized Zaboru's posture, the way he walked, the energy around him. He had seen so many photos and videos of the man that there was no doubt in his mind. But as quickly as hope blood, doubt followed. He reminded himself to stay calm, warning his own heart that this might not go as planned. Zaboru could ignore him, dismiss him, or simply walk away without caring.
Still, sothing deeper than logic urged Aldryan forward—an unexplainable force, as if the universe itself whispered that this was the only chance he would ever get. And so, with legs heavy from anxiety and hope clashing inside him, Aldryan took a deep breath and stepped toward the man his son loved so dearly.
anwhile, Zaboru just wanted to walk around and find a quiet place to eat. His mind wandered toward the idea of finding a small street vendor, maybe trying sothing light—like tacos or a chinese. He walked with an easy, relaxed gait, fully confident that his disguise was doing its job. With his cap pulled low, tinted sunglasses shielding his eyes, and a mustache-goatee combo that made him look more like a tired writer than the head of a global ga company, Zaboru felt invisible.
But then, unexpectedly, a figure stepped into his path. An older man—tired-looking, his clothes slightly disheveled, his eyes worn from more than just fatigue—stood just close enough to whisper without drawing attention. "Zaboru Renkonan." His voice was low, almost reverent.
Zaboru froze for half a second, blinking in surprise. He thought to himself, Damn, does the mustache and goatee not work anymore? A sigh escaped him before he forced a playful smirk. "Huh? Where's Zaboru?" he replied, attempting to deflect, but his instincts told him this wasn't a fan. There was sothing raw in the man's tone—sothing urgent, vulnerable.
The old man—Aldryan—managed a shaky smile, as though he knew how absurd this situation was. "Sohow… I know it's you, Zaboru," he said, his voice trembling with a mix of hope and anxiety. "I... I have a request. One that only you can fulfill."
Zaboru's expression changed. He studied the man more closely, sensing this wasn't so elaborate ploy or casual fandom encounter. There was weight in his eyes—real pain. A kind of pain Zaboru, for all his distance from the average world, had grown more attuned to over the years.
"Alright," Zaboru said softly, nodding. "Let's hear it."
He gestured toward a nearby bench, and the two walked together in silence, the buzz of the city fading around them as sothing deeper began to unfold.
Aldryan took a shaky breath and began to speak, his voice strained but determined. "I… I have a son. He's very sick. Leukemia. It's getting worse every day. He's only eleven." His voice cracked, and he had to pause, swallowing back the growing lump in his throat. "We've done everything we can. Hospitals, specialists, dications… but it's not working. And the doctors say… they say it won't be long now."
Zaboru sat in silence, listening intently, his expression unreadable but calm.
Aldryan continued, now blinking away tears. "But through all of it, through the needles and pain and hospital nights, there's one thing that brings him joy. Video gas. Your gas. ZAGE. He's been playing them since before he got sick, and even now, even when he can barely stand, he still plays. And he's your number one fan. He talks about you all the ti. You're his hero."
He looked Zaboru in the eyes now, desperate. "Please… I'm begging you. I'm not asking for money or dia or anything like that. Just… visit him. Or if you can't, just a voice recording. Say your famous line. Tell him, 'You are very cool, Aldrich.' That would an everything to him. I know you're busy, I know you're—"
Before he could finish, Zaboru gently reached out and placed a firm hand on Aldryan's shoulder.
"Okay," Zaboru said, his voice steady and warm. "Let's go."
Aldryan's eyes widened, disbelief and relief crashing into him at once. "Y-you will? Truly?"
Zaboru stood, already adjusting his jacket. "No caras. No press. Let's just go see your son."
Without further delay, the two of them made their way to Aldryan's car parked nearby. The city faded behind them as they drove off toward a small house tucked into a quiet Los Angeles neighborhood—where one boy's dream was about to co true.
anwhile, Aldrich lay curled up in his bed, his small hands wrapped around a controller as he played his newest ga—ZAGE's Tales of Destiny. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the screen, the flickering lights dancing across the walls covered in posters of his favorite ZAGE titles. A stack of ga cases sat beside his bed like a treasured library, worn from use but handled with care. Every click of the controller gave him a small sense of control, of power—sothing his illness had taken from him long ago.
Tonight, he was scheduled to return to the hospital. Another round of tests. More IVs. More pain. And although he tried to act brave in front of his parents, the truth lingered in his thoughts like a shadow: he was afraid.
Why ? He thought, pausing the ga and resting the controller on his chest. Why do I have to be different? Why do I have to feel like this when my friends are out there running around, going to school, living their lives? Why am I the one stuck here?
The thought made his chest ache—not from the illness, but from the unfairness of it all.
Then, through the window, he heard sothing: a car pulling into the driveway. His ears perked up. His father was ho. He hoped maybe he had brought him a snack… or maybe even a new ga.
Monts later, his father's voice echoed through the house with more energy than usual:
"Aldrich! Guess who I brought with !"
From the kitchen, Luciana was drying dishes when she turned toward the sound. But the mont she looked up and saw who stepped through the doorway behind her husband, her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in shock. Standing there, casual and calm, was none other than Zaboru Renkonan.
There was no mistaking him. Despite the simplicity of his outfit, despite the modest expression on his face, his presence was undeniable. Luciana's hands trembled as she clutched the towel to her chest, watching in awe as her husband stepped aside and allowed Zaboru to pass.
Zaboru offered her a soft nod and a kind smile before making his way down the hall.
Zaboru smiled softly as he approached Aldrich's bedroom. He paused just outside the door, took a quiet breath, then gently knocked twice. From the bed, Aldrich stirred at the sound. Expecting his dad, he turned his head, and the mont he saw who stood in the doorway, his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. His jaw dropped in complete disbelief.
"Z…Zaboru!?" he gasped, voice cracking in shock.
Zaboru stepped into the room with a warm grin. "Hey there! Yo, young hero," he said, his tone cheerful but filled with care. He chuckled as his eyes scanned the room. "Ohhh! Tales of Destiny, huh? That's a good ga. Great choice."
As he took in the space, his smile widened with genuine appreciation. The room was a shrine to ZAGE—walls covered in vibrant posters of their most beloved gas, shelves stacked like a small library with neatly organized ga boxes, many of them clearly worn from love and frequent play. There were even a few old magazine clippings with pictures of Zaboru himself, cut out and taped with pride above the desk and bed.
Zaboru stepped closer, the mont slowing in his heart. He could feel how much this room ant—not just to the boy, but to the boy's soul. He reached out and gently ruffled Aldrich's hair, letting his hand rest for a second longer than normal.
"Good room," Zaboru said, his voice softer now, eyes shining just a little. "This is the room of a true ZAGE legend."
Aldrich beca incredibly excited. Sohow, as if fueled by pure joy, his energy surged beyond anything his parents had seen in weeks. Despite the sickness slowly wearing his body down, for this mont, he was radiant with life. He sat up straighter, eyes wide, cheeks flushed with color, his voice animated as he bombarded Zaboru with question after question. He talked about the gas he loved, the characters he adored, and the ideas he had for new adventures. He shared what he hoped ZAGE would make next, asked how certain chanics were developed, and even made a few silly jokes that made Zaboru genuinely laugh.
Zaboru responded with warmth and enthusiasm, leaning in with every answer, never rushing, never pretending. He loved talking to Aldrich. Despite the heaviness in his chest, he found genuine joy in the conversation. This boy—this fan—was special. His words were filled with imagination and love, and Zaboru could see the spark of a creator in him, a drear like he once was.
But even as they spoke and laughed, Zaboru felt sothing deep inside of him shattering. How could soone so innocent, so bright, be suffering like this? How could life be so unfair? Behind every smile he gave, Zaboru's heart ached more. He wished there was sothing he could do—sothing beyond gas.
Their conversation stretched on, effortlessly flowing for nearly an hour. Then, as the room quieted for a mont, Aldrich asked sothing that pierced Zaboru's soul and silenced the entire world around them.
"Z... Zaboru... Will... will I die?" Aldrich's voice cracked with fear, barely above a whisper. His eyes, once so full of excitent, were now trembling with uncertainty. "Is there... is there your ga... your console in the afterlife? Because I... I still want to play. I still want to play your gas. I want to see the next Pokémon ga... I want to play Final Fantasy 8... I want to try the next Zelda too... I want to see what happens next in Chrono Trigger... I just... I want to play more."
He gripped the controller tighter in his small hands, holding it as though letting go would an losing the last thread of hope. "I really want to live. I want to stay here. I don't understand... why am I different, Zaboru? Why do I have to be sick while others get to grow up and be happy?"
Each word stabbed at Zaboru's chest like a dagger. He sat motionless, his jaw tight, his heart screaming inside. Just outside the door, both of Aldrich's parents listened in silence, tears streaming down their faces. They didn't want to interrupt, didn't want to break the fragile mont, even though it was breaking them. But inside the room, Zaboru fought back his own tears. He forced himself to remain strong—because Aldrich needed him to be strong. Because if Zaboru showed weakness now, it would only make the boy's fear worse.
He gently patted Aldrich's head, smiling fondly as he looked into the boy's wide, hopeful eyes.
"Aldrich," he said softly, "you are one of the strongest young n I've ever seen. Honestly, you should be proud of yourself—so proud. Not everyone could keep smiling through what you've been through."
Zaboru's tone grew brighter, more playful, trying his best to lift the boy's spirit.
"And hey—no matter what world you end up in, you better believe there's a ZAGE ga waiting for you there. You know why? Because we never stop making gas. Even in the afterlife, we'll have a console ready for you."
Then, with a dramatic pause and grin, he added, "And you know what else? You are very cool, Aldrich."
Aldrich's breath hitched. "You said it… you really said it," he whispered, his voice trembling with joy.
Zaboru laughed gently and nodded. "Of course I did. That line was ant for kids like you."
They kept talking, and talking. For more than an hour, Aldrich excitedly shared every little idea he had—what ZAGE ga he wished existed, what characters he'd like to play as, what kind of boss he would design, what worlds he dread of visiting. Zaboru didn't just listen—he engaged. He laughed at Aldrich's jokes, asked questions, nodded at ideas, and even pulled out his notes once to jot sothing down.
"Wait… you actually liked that idea?" Aldrich asked, eyes wide.
"I don't just like it," Zaboru said. "I might use it."
Aldrich gasped. "No way! Really!?"
"Really," Zaboru grinned. "Creative minds think alike."
Eventually, Zaboru stood and stretched his arms. "Hey… you want to take a photo together?"
Aldrich's face lit up instantly. "Yes, please!"
Luciana entered the room with a smile, holding a cara. Zaboru crouched beside Aldrich's bed, flashed a peace sign, while Aldrich held up his controller with a proud grin.
Click. The cara whirred, and the photo printed. It would beco one of Aldrich's most treasured possessions.
As Zaboru stood to leave, Aldrich looked at him and said softly, "Thank you… This was the best day of my life."
Zaboru smiled, gently tousling his hair again. "Mine too."
At the front door, Adrian and Luciana both stood waiting. Adrian shook Zaboru's hand with both of his, firm and grateful.
"From the bottom of our hearts… thank you," Adrian said. "You've given him sothing dicine never could."
Luciana, wiping away tears, added, "You made him feel like the world noticed him. That he mattered. That ans everything to us."
Zaboru bowed slightly. "No—he made feel honored. He reminded what ZAGE is really about."
With that, Zaboru stepped into the cab that had been waiting quietly outside. As it pulled away, he watched the family wave through the window, his chest full of emotion and sothing else—sothing heavier.
Inside the cab, Zaboru's mind was in turmoil, swirling with emotion and rage he couldn't entirely put into words. Cancer is still shit, even in this world, he thought bitterly. No matter how advanced the technology had beco, no matter how different the tilines were, this disease still claid the lives of the innocent. His heart ached rembering Aldrich's face, his questions, his light fading too early. It wasn't fair. It never was.
Zaboru rembered back in his previous life, there had always been rumors that cancer was actually curable—but that the cure had been hidden or withheld by those in power. Whispers of pharmaceutical companies and corrupt governnts choosing profit over lives, deciding who got to live and who didn't. Whether those theories were true or not, the anger remained. The helplessness remained.
He clenched his fists slightly on his lap. In this world, he thought with renewed resolve, I'm not going to let that happen. If I have the power, the influence, the money—I'm going to do sothing about it. He made a silent vow right then and there: to fund aggressive cancer research, to reach out to any scientists working on radical treatnts, and to use ZAGE's resources for sothing bigger than gas.
'I'll talk to Akechi-san,' he thought, recalling his underworld brother-in -law. 'I need to know if there's anything in this world remotely like those "withheld cures." If there's even a sliver of truth to that idea, I'll drag it into the light myself.'
Zaboru didn't consider himself sentintal, but this wasn't sentint—this was duty. He didn't want even his worst enemy to suffer through sothing like this, let alone a child as bright and full of wonder as Aldrich. As the cab rolled through the golden sunset streets of Los Angeles, Zaboru stared out the window with quiet intensity. His heart is still heavy, but his purpose is more focused than ever.
To be continue
AN : This might be Random.. But I just want to express myself how I really hate cancer and why it mostly only strikes good guys .
Please give your power stone and if you want to support and get minimum 35 advance chapter and additional 1 chapter a week for 4$ considering subscribe to my patreon patreon/Zaborn_1997
Or buycoffee sbuyacoffee/Zaborn_1997 which sa with patreon
current Patreon/buycoffe chap 951
User Comments
0 comments from readers