I was born in the suburbs of Kyoto — in a rather ordinary, yet surprisingly picturesque district known far beyond the city for its bamboo forest. It was there, among the tall green stalks quietly rustling in the wind, that my parents first met.
My mother worked as a waitress in a small family restaurant not far from the forest, while my father was simply a tourist from America who had come to visit the homeland of his own father — a country he had heard so much about during his childhood. Many years ago, my grandfather had moved to America in search of work and, as often happens, met a woman there whom he fell in love with. They stayed together, and soon my father was born — Miuro Jack. A rather unusual name for a Japanese man, of course, but my grandmother was a principled person and insisted that her son carry it.
I know almost nothing about my mother's parents. She always said she was an orphan and that she had grown up under the care of Grandma Yoko — the owner of the very restaurant where my mother later began working. According to Mom, Grandma Yoko was a strict but fair woman, and it was thanks to her that my mother grew into such a strong person.
My name is Miuro Kasumi.
I'm seventeen years old.
Until recently, I lived a completely ordinary life, no different from that of thousands of other teenagers: loving parents, good friends, and a quiet school life where nothing truly dramatic ever happened. There was nothing particularly remarkable about me — chestnut hair, brown eyes, slightly tanned skin, a sporty build, and a tall height I owed to (or perhaps suffered because of) many years of practicing taekwondo.
In other words, everything was perfectly normal.
What could possibly go wrong?
But…
"Kasumi! We're going to be late, hurry up!"
A slipper flew through the open window of my room, thrown by my neighbor and best friend.
"I'm coming!" I shouted back, grabbing the unfortunate piece of footwear and running out of my room.
"Kasumi, don't forget your bento!"
Mom caught me by my backpack right by the door and skillfully slipped inside the neatly packed breakfast she prepared for me every morning with unwavering dedication.
"Thanks! Love you!" I replied hurriedly, quickly kissed both of my parents, and rushed outside.
The moment I flung the front door open, a second slipper hit me straight in the forehead.
"What is wrong with you?!" I groaned, bending forward and rubbing my forehead, which immediately turned red from the impact.
"Kasumi, I am not getting another lecture from the supervisor on the very first day of school!" Aoi declared sternly as she picked up her shoe and shot me a reproachful look.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," I muttered, getting back on my feet.
A second later I was already following her, knowing perfectly well that arguing was pointless: if Aoi believed we were late, then we were definitely very late.
I met Aoi five years ago when she moved to our neighborhood with her family. From the very beginning, she seemed like someone who had been given all the best things in life: beauty, intelligence, flawless grades, and that quiet confidence that made people instinctively acknowledge — this girl was meant to play the leading role.
And me…
I had always been somewhere nearby.
The day passed as calmly as hundreds of school days before it: classes followed one after another, then came the noisy lunch break, more classes, and finally the walk home.
After school, Aoi went to her part-time job, so I headed home alone.
When I approached the house, the first thing I noticed was that the lights in the windows were off. At the time, it seemed perfectly normal — my parents sometimes stayed late at work or went out to the store.
I opened the door and stepped inside.
"Mom, Dad, I'm home!" I called out as usual while closing the door behind me.
No answer came.
I smiled to myself.
They had probably decided to arrange another one of their little surprises. My parents sometimes held small celebrations for no reason at all, and today was my first day of high school.
I quietly walked farther into the house, trying to step as silently as possible. If this really was a surprise, then this time I would scare them first.
When I reached the dining room door, I stopped and listened.
Silence.
Too quiet.
There were no footsteps. No whispers. Not even breathing.
"Here I am…" I whispered and suddenly threw the door open.
In that very moment, the world seemed to freeze.
In the center of the room sat a tall dark-haired man. In one hand he held a katana, its blade stained with blood. With the other hand he roughly held my mother by the hair.
In front of him, on the blood-covered floor, lay my father.
He was still breathing. I could see his chest rising and falling ever so slightly.
"So this must be her," the man said calmly without even turning toward me.
"And you told me no one else would come."
He was speaking to my mother.
"Don't… touch her," my mother forced out through clenched teeth.
"I wasn't planning to," he replied indifferently. "The order was only to take her. Not to kill her."
Only then did the man slowly lift his gaze and look at me.
I couldn't move.
Fear had seeped into every muscle of my body, freezing me in place. I stood there, staring at the horrific scene, desperately hoping that everything happening before my eyes was nothing more than a dream.
A nightmare.
"W-who are you…?" I barely managed to whisper.
The man laughed.
Loudly. Coldly.
"Me? Ahaha…" He tilted his head slightly. "That's not important."
His eyes gleamed.
"But who you are…" he continued slowly. "Why don't you ask your mommy about that?"
He yanked my mother's hair harshly, forcing her head up.
"She… ngh… knows nothing…" my mother rasped. "Tell the Tatenokami… they will never have my child."
At first, I didn't understand what was happening.
My mother slowly pressed her palms together as if in prayer and whispered something almost inaudibly.
The next moment, a blinding flash filled the room.
I instinctively shut my eyes.
When my vision returned, I looked forward again.
"W-what… is that…?" I breathed, unable to look away, pointing with a trembling finger at the creature perched on his shoulder.
The man lazily glanced at where I was pointing, and a crooked smile spread across his lips.
"Ah…" he drawled, as if he had just realized something. "So that's why they could never find her."
He chuckled quietly, and there was not a hint of amusement in that laughter — only cold, almost insane satisfaction.
"That bitch placed a seal."
His laughter grew louder.
Without even looking, he casually tossed my mother's lifeless body aside — as if it were nothing more than a bag of trash. Then he slowly stood up.
And began walking toward me.
I couldn't move. My legs felt rooted to the floor, and my heart was pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else.
At that moment my father, still lying on the floor, drew in a heavy breath. His gaze struggled to find me. He looked like a man clinging to life by the thinnest thread.
"Run…" he whispered, barely audible.
The word was almost silent, but I heard it clearly.
The next second, the man with the worm-like creature on his shoulder didn't even slow his step. The katana came down sharply.
With a dull sound, the blade pierced my father's head.
The world collapsed.
Something inside me snapped — like a thread stretched too tight finally breaking. And then the adrenaline flooded my veins.
The body that had refused to move just moments ago suddenly obeyed.
I turned and ran out of the house.
I ran.
Without looking where I was going.
Without feeling my legs.
Tears blurred my vision, turning the world into a smeared haze where the lights of houses, the shadows of trees, and the dark road ahead all blended together.
I ran as fast as I could until my lungs began to burn from the lack of air.
Until my legs started to give out.
Until every last bit of strength left my body.
Finally I stopped, gasping for breath, desperately trying to steady myself. But even then I kept looking around.
Again and again.
Desperately hoping to see someone. Anyone.
Any kind of salvation.
"Not tired of running yet?"
The voice behind me sounded quiet, almost lazy — and that made it even more terrifying.
Slowly, I turned around.
He stood just a few steps away, leaning casually against the wall of a nearby house as if everything happening was nothing more than a dull evening stroll.
The same man.
The murderer of my parents.
For a moment, my heart stopped.
I stepped backward, desperately trying to gather the last of my strength for one final dash. If I ran now… if I just ran…
I spun around.
But in that same instant, a sharp, burning pain shot through my leg.
I screamed.
My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the asphalt.
"Listen, you're definitely entertaining," the man drawled with almost lazy amusement, "but I can't chase you all night."
His footsteps were calm and unhurried.
"So I suggest we play a game."
He walked closer and stopped right in front of me.
"Let's call it…"
"Guess."
The man crouched down right in front of me. Then, completely cold-bloodedly, he pressed his fingers against the knife he had thrown into my shoulder earlier.
Pain exploded in a blinding flash.
I cried out, but he only smiled wider.
And in that moment, I finally saw his face clearly.
Green eyes — empty and cold, as if completely devoid of emotion. A thin scar ran along the right side of his mouth, cutting across the edge of his lips, making his smile look even more predatory.
But something else was far more terrifying.
The creature on his shoulder twisted and writhed.
A worm-like mass, resembling living slime, slowly coiled around his arm from shoulder to wrist. Its surface pulsed as if something inside it was moving, and the mere sight of it made a wave of nausea rise in my throat.
"First question," he said cheerfully.
His hand calmly slid straight into the monster's mouth.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
A second later, he pulled out a short dagger.
"Guess…" he said, playfully tilting the blade in his fingers. "Where I'm going to stab this kunai."
"I-I… I don't…" The words tangled together; my tongue refused to obey me.
He tilted his head slightly.
"Time's up."
Before I could even take a breath, the dagger plunged deep into my thigh.
The pain was instant and blinding.
I screamed as my body instinctively tensed, my face twisting into a grimace of agony.
"Second question…" he began again, his voice sounding almost pleased.
"Wait… please, stop…" I gasped, choking on my tears. "What did I ever do to you? Please… let me go…"
The man paused for a moment, as if seriously considering my words.
"Let you go? I can't do that," he replied calmly.
Then he smirked.
"The Tatenokami clan paid very well for you."
He leaned a little closer.
"I need to deliver you to them."
A pause.
"But… they never said anything about you arriving in one piece."
Suddenly, he burst into loud laughter.
The sound was almost hysterical, echoing through the empty night street.
I stumbled backward.
Or rather — I tried to.
My legs no longer obeyed me, and I had to crawl across the asphalt, leaving dark trails of blood behind me.
The next strike found my other leg.
The blade sank into my flesh, and the world exploded with pain once again.
But even then, I kept moving.
Crawling.
Slowly.
Desperately.
Ahead, at the intersection, a lone streetlamp burned, casting its pale light over the empty road.
It was the only landmark.
The only hope.
"Listen, you really are entertaining," the man began again with the same lazy mockery, "but time is runni—"
He suddenly cut himself off, as if someone had interrupted him.
I turned around.
And that's when I saw him.
Standing beneath the streetlamp was a tall blond boy wearing a dark-blue school uniform I had never seen before. His arms hung loosely at his sides, and a black blindfold covered his eyes.
Yet despite that strange detail, there was something incredibly calm about his posture.
As if none of this troubled him at all.
As if he hadn't appeared here by chance.
"Oh… the Six Eyes are here? Well, this is awkward," the killer drawled with a lazy smirk. "I suppose it's time for me to leave."
But despite his words, he suddenly stepped toward me — clearly intending to take me with him.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
In the next instant, strong arms lifted me off the cold asphalt.
This is the end…
"Are you alright?"
A slightly rough male voice sounded right beside me.
I slowly opened my eyes.
In front of me stood a dark-haired boy with narrow black eyes. He was holding me in his arms as if I weighed nothing at all. Only a second later did I realize that we were already several meters away from the place where I had been lying just moments ago.
Everything had happened so fast that my mind refused to accept it.
"Tch…"
The killer clicked his tongue in irritation.
He was looking straight at me.
"I'll come back for you."
His lips curled into that same predatory smile. And the next moment he simply disappeared into the darkness of the street, as if he had dissolved into the night itself.
"Guys, what is wrong with you?" an annoyed female voice suddenly called out. "Can't I turn away for one minute without you already—"
A brown-eyed girl with short chestnut hair ran out from around the corner. In her hands she held a box of takoyaki, still steaming.
She stopped abruptly when she noticed me.
"Oh? And who's this?"
Her expression shifted to surprise.
Meanwhile, the blond boy who had been standing a little farther away slowly approached. Until that moment I had barely noticed him — he had stood there calmly, as if everything happening was perfectly ordinary.
Now he stopped right in front of me.
The boy removed the blindfold from his eyes.
Then he leaned closer, carefully studying my face.
His eyes…
They were sky blue.
Unbelievably bright.
The kind of eyes you could never forget.
"Found you…" he said quietly.
Something inside me trembled.
Memories surged suddenly, like a broken dam finally collapsing.
"Sato…"
I tried to say his name.
But the words never left my lips.
He simply touched my forehead gently with two fingers.
And the world around me instantly faded into darkness.