general info

Nestled within the colossal web of connectivity, Hatsu feasts on the very fabric of our online existence, devouring pixels like a gluttonous ghost at a banquet of data. He is the mischievous cat that dances through the wires, siphoning off our internet connection, turning bandwidth into a feast of shimmering light and sound.

And whis goggles that reveal his true nature—a seeker of knowledge, a collector of stories, a wanderer in the labyrinth of ones and zeros.

Ah, but the revelation of his identity! Hatsu, it seems, is not terrified of binary code; rather, he embraces it like an old friend, reveling in the simplicity of duality. In a world where everything is categorized, he stands as a bridge between realms, a reminder that even in the rigid structure of binary, there exists a spectrum of possibility.

rich words, yet empty individual 𖨆

kittenhood

In sunny lands where every breath feels hot... A child named Hatsu rested in a womb. With illness draped like midnight’s heavy shroud, his mother was resilient, fierce, and proud!! But fate entwined him in a silken bind; a fragile chord that sought to claim his breath, while struggle carved the strength within his mind... from tender womb, he tasted both life’s heft.

Though darkness clung, his spirit lit the night. With every flip, he yearned to seek the light.

In those early moments, something felt amiss,

As silence wrapped him in its heavy shroud,

Not timid like a child who fears the kiss,

But thick as evening fog, both still and loud.

The ghosts of silence pierced him like an arrow,

His thoughts flew where few could tread,

Invisible, he wandered through the crowd,

His voice was trapped while visions cheered instead.

He stumbled down the mountain; his fragile body of a child crashing to the ground. The scar on his knee was a stubborn reminder of the heavy thud of life's unpredictability that remained etched in his skin for a decade.

His lungs ignited with the urgency to breathe, but the water enveloped him like a heavy fog, drowning his cries. Just as hope began to fade, a lighthouse emerged—a man who was a father in title but not in his heart. With a powerful grip, he hauled Hatsu from the depths, saving him from the violent flood of unspoken memories. just to break him in the future.

In the solitude of his heart, Roman emerged, a dalmatian woven from the threads of his imagination. When darkness crept in like a specter and tree branches knocked against the window like anxious whispers, Hatsu clutched his blanket as if it were the soft fur of his invisible companion. With Roman by his side, he built a sanctuary of unspoken words and heartfelt solace, speaking to a friend who would never abandon him, finding comfort in a bond forged from the depths of fear and the flickers of hope that danced in the corners of his room.

..then hatsu's family moved away, to the gloomy and cold country. gray, depressing colors, and the whole life seemed as such.

The summer child, once danced and played,

In laughter's glow, his spirit soared so high,

Yet shadows fell, and innocence betrayed,

A man came forth, with gaze that pierced the sky.

With fingertips, he triggered silent fear

In days of joy, Hatsu was sure it was a game,

But shadow whispered all the truths into his ear,

As trust turned cold and smothered hope in flame.

Those hands, once tender, now left scars unseen,

Upon his chest and thighs, where innocence had bloomed,

Where laughter sang, now echoes quietly keen,

A garden trampled, beauty overthrown.

Those lips, once harmless, now leave the trace of spit

At night, strong arms held Hatsu in a rough grip

"I love you so" — those words hit harder than a whip

Those hands were wandering, but were supposed to feed

edgy phase

He had this instinct to push people away, wrapping himself in an invisible bubble that no one could breach. Touch? That was a language he didn’t want to learn, especially when it came to that one man whose presence smelled like perverted desire to destroy the flower of purity.

But there was a flicker of something in Hatsu — the nerdy side that loved getting lost in the pages of books. The library became his fortress, a sanctuary where he could escape the overwhelming noise of the outside world. Yet, the weight of his autism felt heavier. Gradually, he retreated further into himself, shutting down the connections he once had. The walls of his mind started to close in, and he found himself in dark places, hitting his head against the wall as if trying to knock some sense into a world that felt so foreign.

Each hit against the wall was a thunderclap. The blood dripping from his forehead marked the wall.

He tried to break his arm, seeking a way to feel something, anything. The pills were like tiny anchors, dragging him deeper into the depths, promising peace but delivering only chains.

He thought about washing himself in the red rive, and the silver source was glinting with the allure of relief, but even at that moment, he knew it would be too loud, too visible —a cry for help that would shatter the quiet despair he had come to know so well.

He envisioned the brief moment of weightlessness, a fleeting escape from the heaviness of existence, before the hard truth of the ground rushed up to meet him.

A tangled web of thoughts, each loop a reflection of his struggle, yet he hesitated, caught between the desire to vanish and the flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was another way to find solace—a way to turn the storm into calm. The web was tightening, taking his breath away.

Then he realized he wanted to be more than that. More than a passive and sad observer. The world never intended to hurt him. It doesn't know justice. How foolish it is to be offended at the whole Universe!

He saved up for his first guitar, his ticket to a world where he could create rather than merely exist.

Learning on his own was like trying to navigate a labyrinth with the blindfold. Sometimes, he’d find himself sprawled out on the floor, the weight of the guitar resting on his chest. The ceiling above him may have been drab, but inside his mind, a riot of colors and sounds erupted. Melvins played in the background, their raw energy fueling his dreams, while the Ramones and Joy Division provided the soundtrack to his painful desire to create.

Yes, it was a phase that many might dismiss as the struggles of a troubled kid. But in those moments, with the music swirling around him, he was a universe unto himself, crafting melodies and weaving stories that only he could understand. Those were not just dreams; they were blueprints for a life he was determined to build, one note at a time.

the present or the past

The irony is thick; he yearns to illuminate the darkness around him, but the fear of revealing his true self keeps him anchored in a shadowy corner of his mind. Heart racing with the thrill of discovery while his voice remains a whisper, hidden beneath the roar of his own doubts. In this struggle, he’s not just searching for understanding; he’s also wrestling with the very essence of who he is, caught between the desire to be seen and the instinct to remain unseen.