Shura didn't turn around.
He didn't react.
He simply picked up his backpack and walked toward the door.
His eyes were empty.
As if he hadn't heard a single word.
Shura Daigo was a difficult child.
Not because he caused trouble.
Not because he fought.
Not because he was violent.
But because… he barely existed.
He rarely spoke.
Only answered when spoken to.
And even then, the replies were short.
Dry.
"Yes."
"No."
"I'm fine."
His family wasn't poor. In fact, they lived in one of the better neighborhoods in Kawasaki. His father owned a small construction company. His mother worked in an office.
A large house.
Clean rooms.
A stable life.
On paper, everything looked perfect.
And yet…
The boy had been diagnosed with personality disorders at a very young age.
During one of his psychological evaluations, he had said something that deeply worried the adults around him.
He said he heard voices.
The principal's office was quiet.
Dark wooden furniture.
Diplomas hanging on the walls.
Two women sat behind the desk.
The principal.
And the school psychologist.
Shura sat in the chair across from them.
His feet barely reached the floor.
"Hello, Shura," the psychologist said gently.
"How are you feeling today?"
The boy looked at her.
His eyes showed no emotion.
"I'm fine."
The principal exchanged a quick glance with the psychologist.
"Do your parents argue at home?"
"No."
"Do you have problems with your classmates?"
"No."
"Have you heard… the voices again?"
Shura didn't answer immediately.
Then he slowly shook his head.
"No."
It was always the same conversation.
Every time.
The same questions.
The same answers.
Shura was already tired of it.
After school, the road home was long.
The streets of Kawasaki were crowded.
People moving quickly.
Cars passing by.
Noise everywhere.
Shura walked alone along the sidewalk.
But he wasn't completely alone.
Because inside his mind… someone was always there.
"I don't like the kids at school," Shura muttered.
"They're all so…"
Idiots.
The voice inside his head finished the sentence.
Shura stopped walking.
"Hey… I didn't say that."
But you thought it.
The voice chuckled quietly.
Don't forget… I only exist because you created me.
Shura clenched his fists.
"Shut up, Yomi."
Yomi.
That was the name of his imaginary friend.
Shura had no real friends.
He didn't talk to the other children.
He didn't play with them.
He didn't understand them.
Yomi was the only one who was always there.
The only one who answered him.
Even though… he wasn't real.
A crowd had gathered further down the street.
Two cars had collided.
One of the hoods was completely crushed.
The drivers were already shouting at each other.
"Man, my daughter was in the car! What if you had killed her?!"
"It's your fault, idiot! You ran the red light!"
"I was rushing her to the hospital, she's sick!"
"And that's your excuse for risking her life?!"
"If you had kids, you'd understand!"
The people around them began commenting.
"What terrible parents."
"That little girl could've died."
"Disgusting behavior."
Police sirens echoed in the distance.
A patrol car arrived and officers stepped out.
Shura stood quietly among the crowd.
Listening.
Absorbing every voice.
Every accusation.
Every judgment.
But then…
One voice sounded different.
Clearer.
Closer.
As if someone were standing right beside him.
A question.
Cold.
Sharp.
HOW MUCH IS A LIFE WORTH?
Shura blinked.
The words didn't sound like the voices of the crowd.
They were too clear.
Too close.
Almost as if someone had whispered them directly beside his ear.
His eyes scanned the people around him.
The crowd stood in a half-circle around the wrecked cars. Some filmed with their phones. Others argued loudly with the drivers.
But no one seemed to be looking at him.
Shura frowned.
Then he saw movement.
A man was slowly walking through the crowd.
Not pushing.
Not speaking.
Just… moving.
People seemed to step aside without even realizing it.
For a brief second, the man stopped.
His face remained hidden beneath the shadow of the afternoon sun and the raised collar of his coat.
But his head turned slightly.
Toward Shura.
The boy felt a strange chill crawl up his spine.
The man wasn't smiling.
He wasn't angry.
His expression was completely neutral.
Yet his eyes…
His eyes were fixed directly on Shura.
As if he had been watching him for a long time.
Then the police siren grew louder.
People shifted again.
Someone stepped between them.
And the man disappeared.
Gone.
As if he had never been there.
Shura stared at the place where he had stood.
"Yomi…"
His voice was barely a whisper.
"Did you see him?"
A short pause.
Then the voice answered calmly.
"No."
But something in Yomi's tone had changed.
For the first time…
It sounded uncertain.
A pause.
Then Yomi added calmly,
"Let's go home. We don't like crowds."
Shura glanced at the accident one last time.
Then continued walking.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Knocked on the door.
"Mom?"
No answer.
"Dad?"
Nothing.
He placed his backpack on the ground.
Pulled the key from his pocket.
Inserted it into the lock.
Click.
The door opened.
Shura stepped inside.
"I'm home…"
The words died in his throat.
The living room was directly in front of him.
And there…
Was a scene no child should ever see.
His father.
His mother.
Collapsed on the floor.
Their bodies motionless.
Faces pressed against the ground.
And beneath them…
A massive pool of blood.
Dark.
Thick.
Still.
Shura's eyes widened.
His breathing vanished.
The world froze.
He couldn't understand.
His mind refused to process what he was seeing.
For several seconds, reality simply didn't exist.
Then his knees gave out.
He collapsed onto the floor.
Tears burst from his eyes.
"Mom…?"
His voice trembled.
"Dad…?"
No movement.
No answer.
The metallic smell of blood filled the room.
Shura began shaking uncontrollably.
"No… no…"
Tears streamed down his face.
His body was paralyzed.
He didn't know what to do.
He didn't know what had happened.
He only knew one thing.
They were dead.
A scream tore from his chest.
A scream of pure agony.
"YOOOMI!"
His voice cracked.
"Help me…"
The house remained silent.
Only the sound of his sobbing filled the room.
Then…
The voice returned.
Cold.
Calm.
Almost comforting.
"Shura…"
The boy slowly raised his head.
His eyes were red from crying.
"Yomi…?"
The voice answered.
"I can't help you."
A pause.
Then it continued.
"But I can teach you something."
Shura trembled.
"What…?"
The voice grew deeper.
Darker.
"In this world…"
"There is so much blood."
The boy looked again at the bodies of his parents.
The blood.
The floor.
The silence.
And in that moment…
Something inside Shura Daigo broke.
Forever.