Ch-1: Takai Kemono

It was a bright, humid day with kids filling the park in noisy excitement. Among the joyful chaos, a young man sat quietly, his jazz player humming a soft tune that barely drowned out his anxious thoughts. He was soothed by the music but couldn’t ignore the ache in his chest as he waited for her reply.

Recently, he had asked out his crush—Aiori—and now, he was waiting for a response. Deep down, he knew she would reject him. Why wouldn’t she? He was an outcast—a Burrakumin.

The Burrakumin are a social minority group who are ethnically and linguistically indistinguishable from other Japanese people. They are also known as the "untouchables." The Burrakumin are often employed in professions that are looked down upon by the elite, such as slaughter, leatherwork, and execution.

He had endured years of torment. At his previous school, he had learned to survive by becoming a bootlicker—aligning himself with powerful students to protect himself. But after transferring to Chestnut Academy as a freshman, all his prior protection was gone. The endless cycle of bullying had resumed, only worse this time.

"Hey, you filth. I’ve heard that Aiori likes your kind. Better hit her up to gain some relevancy. Otherwise, you'll still be a ragamuffin."

These words, spat by one of his peers, echoed in his mind. It was this taunt that had pushed him to confess his feelings to Aiori. Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to escape the shadow of insignificance.

A week passed. He had started to lose hope when, one evening, his phone buzzed. His heart skipped a beat. Aiori had messaged him.

Aiori: Meet me at Ivy’s Dining Place. 6 PM.

His fingers trembled as he read the message over and over, his mind racing with a mix of disbelief and excitement. But a lingering unease gnawed at him—why had she agreed? Something didn’t feel right, but he brushed the thought aside. Hope was a dangerous thing.

Ivy’s Dining Place was dimly lit and unusually quiet that evening. The scent of jasmine mixed with something…off. He had arrived early, his nerves making him fidget with the strap of his bag. But as minutes turned into an hour, the air grew heavier.

Suddenly, an unnatural fog began to rise from the ground. The streetlights flickered, casting long, distorted shadows. He rubbed his eyes, thinking it was just his imagination—but then he heard it.

A low, guttural whisper. His name.

His pulse quickened as skeletal hands clawed their way out of the ground, decaying bones rattling with each movement. The world around him warped. He stumbled back, his mind unable to comprehend what was happening.

Then he saw her.

Aiori stood in the mist, her face pale and her eyes hollow. Blood dripped from her fingertips as she tore her own eyes out—replacing them with new, lifeless orbs.

“Why…Aiori…?” He barely managed to choke the words out.

She smiled. But it wasn’t her smile. It was twisted. Malicious.

“You really thought she could love you?”

A chilling voice echoed behind him.

Her brother.

The same peer who had taunted him was standing there, a sinister grin spreading across his face. His eyes burned with a maniacal glint as he stepped closer.

"My sister was attacked by a Kiutso. I needed a body to replace the soul of the creature that corrupted her. And who better than a weak, disposable soul like yours?"

His voice was calm, almost indifferent. But there was something else in his tone—regret.

“I didn’t want it to come to this…” he murmured under his breath, but his actions spoke louder. He began murmuring ancient incantations, his voice merging with the wind.

The ground trembled. Three magnificent beasts emerged—a towering, six-headed rottweiler mongrel, a tiny goblin with glowing eyes, and a rabbit with jaws that stretched unnaturally wide. They circled the young man like vultures, closing in on him.

He tried to run, but his legs gave out. One by one, they tore through him, creating a hollow sphere in the center of his body. His screams echoed into the void as his limbs flew apart, and then—silence.

Salt. The brother sprayed it around the mangled remains. Strange spirits burst forth, swirling and writhing as they entered Aiori’s body. She gasped as consciousness returned, her eyes clear once again—but the horror in them was unmistakable.

“What…what have I done?” Her voice trembled, and she fell to her knees. Her brother rushed to her side, guilt etched across his face.

But it was too late.

Something stirred.

From the remains of the young man, a force emerged—a wrathful, unstoppable energy. The spirits hadn’t vanished. They had merged with him, creating something…darker.

He stood, but he was no longer the same. His body was a vessel of rage, vengeance, and untamed power. His hollow eyes fixated on Aiori and her brother.

"Run," her brother whispered, grabbing her hand. But it was too late.

With one thunderous stomp, the ground cracked, and they both fell. Their screams echoed as the monstrous entity devoured them. All their efforts had been for nothing.

Takai Kemono was born. And he was out for vengeance.