Hello!!! Toyotaro Miracle high!!!-I

Akagitsune Rin was born into opulence, a child of luxury and prestige. Her father, Akagitsune Souchiro, was a powerful and influential man who held dominion over a significant portion of Mushashinoyamato City. Over generations, her family had transformed their land into a prosperous red-light district, a domain of both indulgence and shadowy dealings, and had maintained control over it since the Heian era.

From the moment she took her first breath, Rin was destined to inherit a world woven with silk and vice, a legacy etched deep into the very fabric of her bloodline.

She was a vision of elegance, carrying herself with the poised grace of a woman who knew her worth. Her hair was a rich, light brown hue, cascading down in soft, smooth locks, meticulously tied up in elaborate traditional styles that accentuated her noble upbringing. Her tresses were adorned with delicate kanzashi ornaments, their intricate gold and jade designs shimmering under the warm glow of paper lanterns that often illuminated her nights.

Her face was a masterpiece of refined beauty—high cheekbones, a gentle yet defined jawline, and eyes that carried the quiet intensity of a woman both calculating and enigmatic. Though her gaze often remained serene, there was an undeniable sharpness in her pink-reddish irises, a rare and mesmerizing shade that set her apart even among the most exquisite models and riches. Her lips, always painted with premium organic crimson lipstick, stood in striking contrast to her flawless, porcelain-like skin, the color deep and intoxicating like the finest aged wine.

Her wardrobe was a testament to both her heritage and her wealth. Every kimono in her possession was a work of art, crafted from the finest silk and embroidered with elaborate patterns of cranes, wisteria, and flowing rivers. Some were dark, woven with the night's mystery, while others shone with soft pastels, reminiscent of fleeting cherry blossoms in spring. Gold-threaded sashes, intricately folded obi belts, and rare imported fabrics filled her personal collection, ensuring that no matter the occasion, Akagitsune Rin was the most breathtaking woman in the room.

Born into a family of immense power, Rin had no shortage of suitors vying for her attention. The wealth, prestige, and control over the city's most lucrative district made her the ultimate prize. Yet, therein lay the issue—she had no problem attracting all kinds of men. Aristocrats, merchants, politicians, even the most refined and dangerous of underworld figures—all of them sought her hand, drawn by the promise of influence, desire, and the irresistible charm she so effortlessly wielded. 

Marriage, for her, was never a matter of if, but when. And so, the moment arrived sooner than one might have expected. It was not long after her father, Akagitsune Souchiro, suffered a fatal stroke, his sudden passing leaving her as the sole inheritor of his empire. No longer merely the daughter of a magnate, she became the undisputed ruler of the district.

The transition was seamless—after all, she had been groomed for this moment since birth. Contracts were signed, alliances were reshaped, and whispers of doubt surrounding a woman leading the underworld's most opulent dominion were swiftly silenced by Rin's quiet yet undeniable authority. Her delicate hands, adorned with lacquered nails and golden rings, now held the reins of an empire that dictated the pleasures and secrets of the city.

And so, she continued forward, a woman bound by tradition yet unyielding in her ambition, navigating a world where power and passion intertwined, where the flickering glow of red lanterns bore witness to the tale of Akagitsune Rin—the heir, the unsung beuty, and the enigma of Mushashinoyamato City.

And then, fate struck with its cruel hand.

The day she went into labor should have been one of the most joyous moments of her life, the culmination of a union that had been scrutinized by many, yet deeply personal to her. But fate, uncaring and indifferent, had other plans.

Her husband, a man of wealth and foreign lineage, was en route to the hospital when death came for him. He had been the heir to a gold mine deep in the heart of South Africa, an inheritance soaked in both prosperity and blood. Wealth of that magnitude did not come without enemies, but it was not his rivals who orchestrated his demise—it was his own blood, his own family.

His sister, a woman consumed by greed, could not tolerate the thought of sharing their family's fortune. A twisted and venomous creature, she saw her brother's impending fatherhood not as a moment of joy but as a threat to her claims. And so, she acted with ruthless efficiency.

He never made it to Rin's side. A convoy of masked assailants intercepted his car on the dimly lit roads leading to the hospital. With cold precision, bullets tore through the vehicle, shattering glass, ripping through flesh, and staining the pristine leather seats with his lifeblood. It was over in moments—a brutal, calculated assassination.

His body was left slumped over the wheel, his phone still clutched in his bloodstained fingers, the screen flashing Rin's name. A final, unanswered call. A final, unfinished goodbye.

Meanwhile, within the sterile walls of the hospital, Rin's body was wracked with pain. The agony of childbirth was unlike anything she had ever endured, but it was nothing compared to the devastation that came next.

In the midst of her struggle, her assistant, panicked and overwhelmed by the phone call, blurted out the news. He hadn't thought, hadn't waited for the right moment—he simply let it slip, his voice trembling as he informed her that her husband had been gunned down on his way to her. The words struck like a dagger, sharp and deep, cutting through the haze of pain and exhaustion.

And then, everything crumbled.

A wail escaped her lips—not of childbirth, but of sheer, unbearable grief. Her body, already weakened, could not withstand the emotional shock. Her vision blurred, her breathing grew ragged, and then she felt it—something was wrong. The searing pain of loss transcended the physical, and in that instant, the fragile life within her slipped away.

The delivery room fell into chaos. Doctors shouted, nurses scrambled, but it was too late. The child she had carried, the last piece of the man she had loved, was gone before they could even take their first breath.

When Rin awoke, the world felt colder than ever before. There was no crying infant to cradle, no husband to greet her with open arms. Only emptiness remained, an abyss that stretched endlessly before her.

And so, she continued forward, a woman bound by tradition yet unyielding in her ambition, navigating a world where power and passion intertwined, where the flickering glow of red lanterns bore witness to the tale of Akagitsune Rin—the heir, the ruler, the widow, and the mother who never was, of Mushashinoyamato City.

When Rin awoke, the world felt colder than ever before. There was no crying infant to cradle, no husband to greet her with open arms. Only emptiness remained, an abyss that stretched endlessly before her.

Something inside her snapped.

The woman who once ruled with a balance of elegance and authority descended into darkness. She became cruel, merciless, an empress of despair, ruling over the red-light district with an iron grip. Where once she had protected and uplifted the women under her command, she now saw them as tools—mere pawns to be used and discarded.

She raised fees, forcing the courtesans deeper into debt, ensuring they could never escape her grasp. Those who resisted were punished—locked in her estate, starved, beaten into submission. She welcomed the most depraved clientele, allowing violence to flourish in her establishments, turning a blind eye to the suffering she once sought to prevent.

Deals with traffickers became routine. Young girls were stolen from distant villages, broken, reshaped into dolls to be sold to the highest bidder. Drug lords found a haven in her district, their illicit trades thriving under her watchful eye. Bribes filled her coffers, blood stained her corridors, and despair became the air her empire breathed.

No longer was Akagitsune Rin a ruler of elegance—she had become the nightmare of Mushashinoyamato City, the queen of cruelty, a woman who had embraced the darkness that had swallowed her whole.

She did not allow her girls to take breaks or return home, keeping them trapped in a cycle of endless work, their exhaustion ignored, their humanity stripped away. Deals with traffickers became routine. Young girls were stolen from distant villages, broken, reshaped into dolls to be sold to the highest bidder. Drug lords found a haven in her district, their illicit trades thriving under her watchful eye. Bribes filled her coffers, blood stained her corridors, and despair became the air her empire breathed.

One evening, as she reclined in her lavish chamber, sipping a delicate cup of sake, her emerald eyes drifted to the television screen. The news flickered in rapid succession—catastrophe after catastrophe, the world seemingly unraveling before her eyes.

"Hokkaido is burning," the anchor announced in a grave tone, the screen displaying aerial footage of flames consuming entire districts.

"The messiah is dead," came the next line, spoken with an eerie weight, though no context was given.

Then, the final story sent a rare shiver through Rin's spine.

"Jezebel's cult... annihilated. The Mugiwara family's butler, Alucard, is responsible for the massacre."

Her grip on the sake cup tightened, knuckles turning white. The world outside her domain was descending into madness, and for the first time in a long while, Rin found herself pausing, staring at the screen as the news unfolded.

Something was shifting. Something beyond her control. And despite the pit of darkness she had embraced, she could not ignore the feeling that the tides of fate were about to turn once more.

And then, she exhaled. Slowly, methodically, her fingers loosened, and she leaned back into her chair. The tension in her shoulders faded as her gaze shifted away from the television.

She couldn't give less of a fuck, sitting there in Mushashinoyamato.

3 am of the same night, unable to find solace within the confines of her gilded prison, she went out for a walk. It was around three in the morning, the coastline eerily quiet under the pale glow of the moon. The ocean stretched endlessly before her, its waves whispering secrets only she could hear.

A woman being alone on the beach at such an hour was dangerous, but Rin was unbothered. She was the freest woman in her little kingdom of chained ones. No one dared lay a hand on her—not unless they wished for their life to be utterly ruined. She had power, she had influence, and most importantly, she had nothing left to lose.

Until something came from the night sky like a shooting star, crashing behind her.

A thunderous impact shattered the quiet serenity of the beach, the force sending waves rippling violently upon the shore. A fiery streak cut through the darkness, a blinding light momentarily turning the night into day. Sand and debris erupted into the air as the object struck the earth, carving out a crater upon the lonely beach.

Rin turned, her pinkish eyes narrowing at the smoldering pit now carved into the sands. Any sane person would have fled, but she was not driven by fear—only curiosity. Gathering the edges of her flowing kimono, she stepped forward, her geta sandals sinking slightly into the disturbed earth as she approached the impact site.

Within the heart of the crater, something stirred.

A child.

He had skin kissed by a light tan and hair of silver, strands glistening under the moon's ethereal glow. Even in his unconscious state, his grip remained firm around a katana, its sheath resting against his body like a trusted companion.

Rin stopped, observing him through narrowed emerald eyes. Slowly, she reached into her sleeve and pulled out her long, ornate kiseru pipe. Bringing it to her lips, she took a measured puff, the scent of fine tobacco mingling with the salty sea air. Smoke curled from her lips as she exhaled.

She had half a mind to turn away, to leave this strange occurrence buried in the night.

Then, recognition struck her like a thunderclap. Her eyes flickered with intrigue. The boy's face… she had seen it before....yes on the news before..the messiah.

"He's supposed to be dead," she murmured, stepping closer, the wind carrying her words into the dark expanse of the ocean.

She picked him up in her arms, dusting the beach sand off him. Suddenly, the child's unconscious hands clenched onto her kimono.

"Mo...m," he whispered, a single tear slipping from his closed eyes.

Seeing him like this, a memory flashed through her mind—the lifeless stillborn she had once held. She wondered, just for a fleeting second, what it would have been like... if he had lived.

She quickly dried her eyes even before the tears could fully form. And then, without fully understanding why, she carried him home—surprised at her own sudden act of humanity after all these years.

She put him on her very own bed, seeing how the kid looks kinda ashy, like he was near something burning, She quickly walked to get some water for him, while the child laid there.

Shotaro ran through his dreams, a burning car before him, his mother's words "You..have..to Save....everyone Shotaro" fading into the void. Behind him, the dark shadow of Jezebel loomed, reaching for him. He sprinted until his legs gave out. Kazaya appeared before him.

"Master?" he whispered, desperate for safety, but she only stepped forward and drove a blade into his chest.

Shotaro's breath came in short, uneven gasps, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his nightmare. His crimson eyes, still hazy from sleep, darted around the dimly lit room, as if searching for the fire, the shadows, the betrayal that had clawed at him in his dreams.

The door slid open with a quiet rustle. Rin stepped inside, her silhouette outlined against the faint glow of the hallway behind her. She held a water bottle in her delicate fingers, condensation clinging to its surface, and arched a brow at the trembling boy.

"What the fuck happened?" she asked, voice laced with irritation yet edged with something unspoken—something she wasn't ready to acknowledge.

Shotaro didn't answer right away. His hands gripped the futon beneath him, fingers digging into the fabric as if anchoring himself to reality. Rin clicked her tongue, stepping closer, her silk kimono swaying with the motion. She knelt beside him, setting the water bottle down before placing a cool palm against his damp forehead. The sudden touch made him flinch, but she didn't pull away.

"Tch. You're burning up, kid," she muttered. "Freaking out in your sleep like that... did you see a ghost or something?"

Shotaro hesitated before shaking his head. "A nightmare..." His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Rin sighed, leaning back slightly, watching him with sharp emerald eyes. "Nightmare, huh? That why you were screaming like someone was ripping you apart?"

Shotaro swallowed hard but gave a small nod. He hadn't screamed like that in years.

Rin exhaled through her nose before reaching for the water bottle. She twisted the cap open with ease and held it out to him. "Here. Drink. And don't spill it, I don't like cleaning up after people."

He hesitated at first, but the dryness in his throat won over his reluctance. Taking the bottle with trembling fingers, he sipped slowly, the cold liquid soothing the rawness inside him. Rin watched him closely, her gaze unreadable.

For a long moment, the room was silent aside from the quiet sounds of Shotaro drinking. The tension in his shoulders lessened slightly, though the haunted look in his eyes remained.

Then, Rin tilted her head. "Your name, kid?"

Shotaro lowered the bottle, his hands still gripping it tightly. "Shotaro, Ms. I am Shotaro Mugyiwara."

At the name, Rin's expression sharpened. "Mugyiwara?" she repeated, her voice carrying an edge of intrigue. "As in Mugyiwara Zaibatsu? The biggest one in the world?"

She nodded to herself, absorbing the weight of his surname. If this kid was truly who he claimed to be, then his existence alone could shake empires. But what was he doing here, falling out of the sky like a shooting star?

Her eyes narrowed. "How did you just fall from the sky?"

Shotaro hesitated, the flickering candlelight casting shadows over his face. His lips parted slightly, then closed again, as if debating whether to tell her the truth. But in the end, he answered, his voice small yet firm.

"I can fly, Miss."

Rin blinked. Of all the things she expected, that was not one of them. She stared at him, waiting for some sign that he was joking. None came. His face, still pale and worn from whatever nightmare had gripped him, held only sincerity.

"What the fuck?" she muttered, rubbing her temples. "Maybe you being the messiah wasn't as much of a story after all…" She scoffed, then her gaze dropped lower, her brows knitting together. "Do tell me why you're biting your lip's corner... blood's oozing."

At her words, Shotaro blinked in confusion before releasing his lower lip from between his teeth. A thin line of blood trailed from the corner, a result of the unconscious pressure he'd applied. He raised a shaky hand, wiping at it.

"It's... it's my habit," he admitted, his voice barely audible. He exhaled, eyes downcast. "You know, Ms...?"

Rin stared at him for a moment before clicking her tongue. "Tch. Annoying habit."

Despite the blunt words, she reached out, taking a small handkerchief from the folds of her kimono. Without a word, she dabbed the blood away with an uncharacteristic gentleness, her touch firm but careful. Shotaro barely reacted, allowing her to tend to the small wound like a mother wiping dirt from a child's cheek.

Once she was done, Rin pulled back, folding the cloth with precision. "Next time, don't chew your damn lip off."

Shotaro only nodded, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Rin sighed, standing up as she stretched her limbs. "You should sleep. You look like hell."

"Yes, Ms..." he murmured, letting his body sink back into the futon.

Rin turned toward the door but paused before stepping out. She glanced back at him, eyes flickering with something indecipherable.

"Get some rest, kid. You're in my house now. And no one touches what's mine."

With that, she slid the door shut, leaving Shotaro alone in the dim light, the weight of her words settling in his mind.

Only to come back in for a second, she added, "Also, my name is Akagitsune Rin."

"Ms... Rin?" Shotaro repeated, testing the name on his tongue.

Rin gave a small nod.

"Thank you, Ms. Rin."

Looking at him, something within her wavered. It was brief, fleeting, but undeniable. For the first time in years, she felt something other than bitterness.

"Don't bother with it, kid; I ain't gonna eat you," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "If it's fate, you may as well stay the night."

And later, as she begrudgingly allowed the child a place in her home, she had expected nothing but silence. Instead, after she casually told him he could stay the night, the boy suddenly muttered, "Unlimited Blade Works?"

She froze mid-step, her temple twitching as she slowly turned back to him. "I wasn't referencing, brat."

Shotaro, despite his exhaustion, gave a weak laugh. "Could've fooled me, Miss Rin."

She groaned, rubbing her temples, a rare smirk tugging at the corner of her crimson-painted lips. "You're lucky you look pathetic, or I'd throw you out just for that."

Akagitsune Rin stepped into her room, the soft patter of her feet swallowed by the sheer expanse of her estate. It was a grand and luxurious space, reflecting the power and wealth she had accumulated over the years. Every inch of the estate was meticulously designed to exude both elegance and authority, a fitting throne for the queen of vice.

Her room, nestled in the most well-positioned wing of the estate, boasted an unparalleled view. She had personally chosen it for its vantage point, allowing her a direct sightline to the red-light district of Mushashinoyamato, her own kingdom of pleasure and depravity. From here, she could watch over her empire—the neon glow illuminating the streets below, the distant echoes of revelry and sin drifting through the air like a haunting lullaby. It was a realm of indulgence, a paradise of vice, and she its ruthless ruler.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Rin approached the full-length mirror standing in the corner of her room. She unfastened the ornate pins in her hair, letting the smooth, silky strands cascade down her back like a waterfall of chestnut brown. Her pinkish-reddish eyes gleamed with their usual vibrancy, reflecting the glow of the city lights behind her. They were as mesmerizing as ever, twin jewels filled with an intensity that could command, seduce, and destroy with equal ease.

She took a deep breath, her fingers finding the folds of her kimono. With practiced ease, she slid the garment off her shoulders, the silken fabric pooling at her feet. The cool air of the room kissed her exposed skin, the contrast making her shudder ever so slightly. Her plump & swollen chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, but her focus was elsewhere. Her hands reached down, tracing the faint stretch marks on her belly—imperfect lines marring otherwise flawless skin.

She had never gotten them removed. Never bothered to.

Her fingers lingered over the marks, tracing them slowly, almost reverently. No matter how much she had changed, no matter how deep she had sunk into her own darkness, these scars remained a testament to the day that had shattered her. The day she lost everything.

She could still remember it in vivid detail, as if it had been yesterday. The news had reached her before she could even hold her child, before she could even name them. Her husband, the man she had once loved more than anything, had been gunned down in cold blood on his way to the hospital. Not by an enemy. Not by a rival. But by his own sister.

A bitter, humorless chuckle escaped her lips. The cruelty of it all was almost poetic.

And in that single, harrowing moment, everything had been taken from her. The life she had dreamed of, the future she had clung to—it had all turned to dust in her hands. The grief had been unbearable, the pain beyond words. And in the wake of that loss, something inside her had snapped. Whatever goodness she had left, whatever innocence had remained, had been buried alongside her unborn child.

That was the moment she had changed. That was the moment she had become the woman she was now—the scum, the wretched queen of Mushashinoyamato's red light district.

She never allowed herself to forget.

Her gaze hardened as she stared at her reflection, her fingers curling into fists. The past was a wound that never fully closed, a phantom pain that would haunt her forever. But she had learned to live with it, to embrace the darkness it had gifted her. If the world had taken everything from her, she would carve out her own empire, no matter the cost.

With a slow exhale, Rin reached down, picking up her kimono once more. Draping it loosely over her shoulders, she turned away from the mirror and walked toward the balcony. The city stretched before her, its sinful glow painting the night sky in hues of crimson and gold.

This was her world now. And she would rule it as the monster they had made her.

But then, there was that child.

That boy—Shotaro Mugiwara.

The silver-haired child with striking red eyes and skin kissed by the sun. A child too young to carry the weight of the tragedies he had already endured. No older than five, yet already scarred by the cruelty of the world. The Hokkaido Incident had nearly claimed his life, and now, barely hours after losing everything, he lay somewhere in this very estate, clinging to life.

Rin exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting beyond the city lights, her thoughts spiraling deeper into contemplation.

She couldn't help but wonder—what would become of him when he finally recovered? What kind of person would he be once he was strong enough to leave this place? Would he succumb to despair, swallowed by the same darkness that had consumed her? Or would he rise above it, forging his own path?

Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her kimono.

Perhaps, deep down, she already knew the answer.

Only time would tell.

Knock. Knock.

Rin's ears twitched at the sound. The rhythmic tapping against the wooden door disrupted the silence of her room. She turned her head, her brows furrowing slightly.

With a sigh, she strode toward the door, sliding it open.

There, standing in the dim light of the corridor, was Shotaro Mugiwara.

His silver hair looked slightly disheveled, his crimson eyes wide yet heavy with exhaustion. He stood still, small hands curled into the fabric of his oversized yukata. He tilted his head up, meeting her gaze without hesitation.

"The dreams," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "They don't let me sleep."

Rin stared down at him, her expression unreadable, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features. "Oh, they don't?" she said, crossing her arms. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

The child hesitated only for a moment before speaking again. "Can I sleep with you, Ms. Rin?"

His words were simple, spoken without much thought. Just a child's request. A plea for warmth.

Rin exhaled sharply through her nose, clicking her tongue. "Tch. Hey, I ain't your mommy, brat. You should be grateful I'm even keeping you here."

She expected him to flinch, to lower his gaze, maybe even scurry away in silence. But instead, she saw something else flicker in his eyes—something raw, something broken. The word "mommy" had struck something deep within him. A wound, freshly carved, barely scabbed over.

And for the first time in years, Rin felt something unexpected—a pang of guilt.

A foreign warmth settled in her chest, uncomfortable yet persistent.

She sighed again, rubbing the back of her neck. "Fine. Just for tonight. We'll figure out what to do with you in the morning."

The boy blinked, his tired eyes widening slightly, as if he hadn't expected her to agree. Then, with a small nod, he stepped inside, making his way toward the large futon at the center of the room.

Rin closed the door behind him, glancing at the child as he carefully settled onto the mattress. She wasn't sure why she had agreed. Maybe it was pity. Maybe it was something else.

Either way, she knew this night would be different.

Akagitsune Rin had barely drifted off to sleep when she felt it—an earth-shattering, lung-collapsing, rib-rattling impact to her stomach.

"GHKH—!!" Her eyes snapped open, her body jolting like she had just been struck by a damn freight train. Which, considering the superhuman little menace in her bed, wasn't far from the truth.

Her gaze locked onto the tiny silver-haired gremlin sprawled across the futon. Shotaro Mugiwara, deep in slumber, was thrashing around like a demon-possessed martial artist in the middle of an exorcism.

His legs shot out again—BAKOOM!—colliding directly into Rin's ribs with enough force to send a lesser person straight through a wall.

"OI!!" she wheezed, gripping the futon for dear life. "You trying to assassinate me in your sleep, brat?"

Shotaro groaned in response, completely unfazed by the destruction he was causing. His tiny arms flailed wildly, his legs kicking like a berserk horse. Before Rin could react, his hand latched onto her wrist.

—AND THEN HE YANKED.

Rin barely had a second to process before she was airborne.

"WAIT—!" she gasped, but it was too late.

With an effortless swing, Shotaro flung her over his shoulder in his sleep. Her body spun mid-air before—BAM!—she crashed down onto the tatami mat, the impact rattling the entire estate.

She lay there, sprawled out, her vision blurry, her soul questioning its continued existence. "I run an empire of sin, command the loyalty of hundreds, and yet here I am... getting raped by a five-year-old in my own bed," she muttered.

Just when she thought the nightmare was over, Shotaro rolled again—this time with the grace of a meteor hurdling toward Earth. Rin barely had time to react before—BAM!—his forehead collided directly with her nose.

"GHHK—!" She clutched her face, her vision exploding into a dazzling display of stars. "I swear to all the gods above and below, if I die tonight, I'm haunting you, brat—"

Shotaro, still lost in his chaotic dreamscape, muttered something under his breath. "...Mom..."

Rin froze.

Her anger flickered, hesitation creeping in. She stared at the kid, his small hands still gripping her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. His face, usually so serious for someone his age, looked soft in sleep. Peaceful. Vulnerable.

A long sigh escaped her lips. She grumbled, shaking her head. "Tch. Whatever. Sleep-wrestle all you want; just don't send me through the damn wall."

Shotaro let out a small sigh of his own, his grip finally loosening.

Rin turned her head away, staring at the ceiling again.

"Maybe just for tonight."

& they fall asleep

Rin woke up in a void.

Everything around her was nothing—just an empty, endless space. Yet, in the distance, she saw something.

A scene.

A moment that didn't belong to her anymore. A moment she could never have back.

A moment that had been stolen.

She saw him.

Ikemoto.

He stood there, laughing, his voice warm and familiar, like a song she hadn't heard in years. In his arms, a small child squirmed, reaching up with tiny hands—grabbing at the broad, rectangular glasses on his father's face.

Jin.

Her breath caught.

Ikemoto adjusted the child effortlessly, his movements fluid, natural—like he had done this a thousand times before. Like he was supposed to.

Like none of it had ever been taken away.

"Ike…moto?" Rin's voice wavered, barely above a whisper.

He turned at the sound of his name, flashing her that same easygoing grin. "Yo, Rin." His tone was light, as if nothing had changed. "Little Jin here is really energetic."

The baby giggled, finally managing to yank the glasses from his father's face. Ikemoto just laughed, ruffling Jin's dark hair as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Then he looked at her.

His smile softened. "Oh? Why are you crying?"

Crying?

She reached up, touching her cheek. Her fingers came away wet.

She hadn't even realized.

Ikemoto tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eye. "Haven't you seen a handsome dead guy before?"

The words hit her harder than they should have.

Dead.

Her stomach twisted.

She had seen him get burried. She had been there when both father & son were burried. She had felt everything he left behind.

So then… what was this?

Jin let out another soft giggle, completely unaware of the storm inside her. Ikemoto laughed too, rocking the child gently in his arms, as if the weight of reality didn't matter.

Rin wanted to move. Wanted to speak. Wanted to run to them, hold them, make sure they were real.

But all she could do was stand there.

And Ikemoto… just kept smiling.

"I don't want to go back…" Rin whispered. Her voice trembled, barely holding itself together. "I don't want to wake up. I wish I could just die there… and my soul could stay here, with you two."

Ikemoto sighed, his expression calm yet firm. "You know you can't do that, Rin."

"Why not?" she snapped, her hands curling into fists. "What's stopping me? If I die, all I leave behind is a trail of crimes, ruined lives, and a legacy of nothing but destruction."

Ikemoto shook his head. "That's not all you'd leave."

Rin felt something crack inside her. She knew what he meant before he even said it.

"You mean… him?" Her voice wavered.

"The kid," Ikemoto said simply.

Rin swallowed hard. "But I just met him," she argued, desperation creeping into her tone. "I—he was going to leave in the morning anyway! I was going to send him to a good orphanage. I—"

The words caught in her throat.

Excuses. That's all they were.

Ikemoto just looked at her, patient as ever. He didn't need to say anything more.

She already knew the truth.

"He lost everything," Ikemoto said, his voice steady yet heavy with meaning. "As far as death goes, he lost his mother… more or less likely, that is."

His gaze drifted slightly as if recalling something distant, something painful. "He's broken beyond repair, Rin. At only five years old… that Shotaro Mugiwara."

Rin clenched her jaw. Something inside her twisted, but she shoved it down, forced herself to look away.

"But," she scoffed, folding her arms tightly against her chest. "What is that to me?"

Ikemoto exhaled, shaking his head slightly. Then he met her eyes, his voice carrying the weight of an undeniable truth.

"That is," he asked, "the answer to every prayer you made in silence when you lost us."

Rin's breath hitched.

A bitter laugh threatened to spill from her lips, but she swallowed it down. "What are you even saying…?"

Ikemoto smiled—softly, knowingly.

"He is a miracle, Rin," he said, his voice quieter this time. "And you know it."

Rin didn't respond.

Because deep down… she did.

"He needs you," Ikemoto said, his voice carrying a calm certainty as he effortlessly lifted Jin into the air, twirling the giggling child above his head. The baby let out a delighted squeal, tiny hands reaching for his father's face, his laughter bright and weightless—completely unaware of the storm raging inside Rin.

Ikemoto caught Jin in his arms again, holding him close as if he were the most precious thing in the world. His movements were natural, fluid—like a man who was supposed to be here, supposed to be alive. But he wasn't.

Rin swallowed hard. She felt like an intruder in her own dream.

"You need him," Ikemoto continued, never taking his eyes off Jin.

His words sent an uncomfortable jolt through her chest.

"Tch." Rin folded her arms, her fingers digging into her sleeves as if to anchor herself. "You're saying that like it actually means something. What the hell do you want from me? To suddenly start acting like some kind of saint? To pretend that I'm capable of taking care of a kid? That's not who I am, Ikemoto."

Ikemoto sighed but didn't argue. Instead, he gently placed Jin back into the crook of his arm, running a hand through the child's soft hair.

"That child of light…" he murmured, his voice softer now, almost reverent. "He will become you."

Rin frowned. "What the hell does that even mean?"

Ikemoto finally turned to look at her, his dark eyes calm yet unwavering. "And you will become him," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "If nothing else."

Rin stiffened.

A part of her wanted to scoff, to push back, to tell him that he was spouting nonsense. But another part of her—one buried deep beneath years of bitterness and regret—knew exactly what he meant.

Shotaro Mugiwara was a child who had lost everything.

Just like she had.

The pain in his eyes, the loneliness clinging to him like a shadow—it was too familiar. It was the same void she had carried in her own heart since that day.

The day she lost Ikemoto. The day she lost Jin. The day everything inside her shattered.

She hadn't tried to heal. She had only learned how to survive.

She had drowned herself in darkness, in power, in indulgence—convinced that if she could control enough, own enough, destroy enough, then maybe… just maybe… she wouldn't feel so powerless anymore.

But the kid…

That five-year-old boy with silver hair and crimson eyes.

That kid had the same emptiness she did.

And now, Ikemoto was telling her that their fates were tied. That the boy's existence wasn't just some coincidence. That the universe, in whatever cruel or twisted way it worked, had put him in her path for a reason.

And worst of all… she knew he was right.

Rin sucked in a shaky breath, her hands clenching.

"You can't be serious," she muttered, looking away.

Ikemoto only smiled. "I've never been more serious, Rin."

Rin gritted her teeth.

Her throat felt tight. Her heart was screaming at her, but she didn't know what it wanted to say.

She thought of Shotaro back in her estate, sleeping in her bed, tossing and turning like a wild animal in his sleep. She thought of how small he was, how helpless. How despite his monstrous strength, despite the fire in his eyes, he was still just a kid who had seen to much.

A kid who had no one.

A kid who, just like her, had lost the one thing that mattered most.

Rin took a slow, deep breath, forcing herself to meet Ikemoto's gaze.

"You think I can save him?" she asked, voice quieter now.

Ikemoto shook his head.

"No," he said simply. "I think he can save you."

Rin's voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of something she was almost afraid to ask.

"If he's not saved…" she hesitated, her fingers tightening into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "...Will he become a monster like me?"

Ikemoto didn't answer right away. He simply held Jin a little closer, the baby's tiny fingers grasping at the fabric of his sleeve. He sighed, his expression unreadable, distant—like he was seeing something far beyond the void they stood in.

Then, after a long pause, he spoke.

"Worse," he said, his voice firm. "And more."

Rin felt something cold creep into her chest.

"Worse?" she repeated, the word almost catching in her throat. "What the hell do you mean worse?"

Ikemoto finally turned to look at her, his gaze steady and heavy with something she couldn't quite name.

"You clawed your way through the darkness, Rin," he said. "It consumed you, twisted you, but you survived it. You adapted. You built something out of it. Call it what you will—an empire, a kingdom, a pit of sin—but you made it yours. You bent the darkness to your will, even if it left you hollow inside."

Rin clenched her teeth, but she didn't interrupt.

"But Shotaro…?" Ikemoto continued, shaking his head slightly. "He's different."

Rin felt her stomach tighten.

"Different how?" she asked, even though she already knew she wouldn't like the answer.

Ikemoto exhaled, adjusting his hold on Jin as the baby nuzzled against his chest.

"You were an adult when you fell, Rin," he said, his voice softer now, more careful. "Your mind was already shaped, your heart already hardened. You knew what you were losing, even as you lost it. You made choices, even if they were the wrong ones. You still had control—however little of it."

Rin's chest burned, but she didn't look away.

Ikemoto's eyes darkened slightly.

"But Shotaro?" He shook his head. "He's only five."

Rin sucked in a sharp breath.

Ikemoto continued, his voice unwavering. "He's too young to fight it. Too young to understand what's happening to him. He doesn't know how to carry that kind of pain, so it will carry him instead. If he isn't saved, the darkness won't just twist him—it will consume him completely."

Rin's throat tightened.

"You think I don't know that?" she muttered, her voice harsher than she intended. "I saw it. The way he looks at the world, the way he holds himself like he's waiting for the next thing to be ripped away from him. The way he fights in his sleep—like he's still running from something, even there."

She let out a bitter breath.

"But what am I supposed to do about it?" she scoffed, shaking her head. "I'm not some saint, Ikemoto. I'm not a hero. I'm not even a good person. Hell, I'm the last person on Earth who should be responsible for a kid like him."

Ikemoto's lips curled into something that was almost a smirk.

"Then it's a good thing he doesn't need a saint," he said simply. "He just needs someone who understands."

Rin froze.

"He needs someone who knows what it's like to lose everything," Ikemoto continued. "Someone who knows how to keep moving forward, even when there's nothing left. Someone who won't lie to him about how cruel the world is—but won't let him become a victim to it, either."

Rin swallowed hard.

Ikemoto tilted his head slightly.

"And if that someone is a monster?" he mused. "Then maybe that's exactly what he needs."

Rin let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

The void was silent around them.

Somewhere in the distance, the memory of laughter still echoed—Jin's soft giggles, Ikemoto's easy chuckle. A life that should have been hers. A life that was stolen.

And now, another life had fallen into her hands.

Shotaro Mugiwara.

She wasn't his mother. She wasn't even sure she was capable of being anything good for him.

But she knew what it felt like to be swallowed by the dark.

And she knew that if no one pulled him out…

He wouldn't survive it.

Or worse.

He would.

But not as the boy he was now.

Not as Shotaro Mugiwara.

As something else.

Something far worse.

Something beyond saving.

Rin closed her eyes and let out a slow, heavy breath.

"...Damn you, Ikemoto," she muttered.

Ikemoto just smiled as the pitch black void engulfed the white one, disconnecting it.

The scent of something… delicious.

Rin's eyes fluttered open, her body still aching from the sleep-wrestling nightmare that was Shotaro Mugiwara. She groaned, rubbing her temples as she sat up. There was no mistaking it—something was cooking. And not just anything. It smelled like real food. Not the usual garbage her girls scrounged together, not the stale rice or half-rotten vegetables they were sometimes forced to eat.

This was different.

Fresh. Rich.

Bacon. Eggs. Some kind of soup.

Her stomach growled despite itself.

Then, suddenly—her mind caught up.

Her eyes snapped open completely.

"...Wait."

She stiffened, something clicking in her head.

Her girls.

The ones she had locked underground. The ones she had nearly starved in those tiny, cramped cabins beneath the estate as punishment for disobedience.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

"What the fuck?"

In an instant, she was on her feet, her exhaustion evaporating as she bolted toward the source of the smell. Her bare feet hit the wooden floors hard, her hair flying behind her as she ran through the dim hallways, her pulse hammering.

This had to be a dream.

Had to be.

She shoved open the sliding door to the courtyard.

And froze.

There he was.

That five-year-old silver-haired idiot.

Shotaro Mugiwara.

Standing in the middle of the courtyard, calmly serving food to the starving women she had locked away.

A large makeshift table had been set up, and the women—her girls, the ones who should've been too weak to move, the ones who should've been half-conscious, crawling on the floor like dying rats—were sitting around it. Eating.

Eating like they hadn't seen food in weeks.

Because they hadn't.

And the worst part?

They were crying.

Tears streamed down their faces as they shoveled food into their mouths, their bodies trembling, their lips quivering as they chewed. Some of them sobbed openly, holding their bowls of soup like they were clutching onto life itself. Others whispered prayers under their breath, their hands shaking as they picked up the perfectly cooked bacon, their eyes wide with disbelief.

One woman, a seasoned veteran of the district, collapsed onto her knees mid-bite, her body wracked with uncontrollable sobs as she clutched her plate.

"It's… it's real food…" she wept.

"This… this tastes like home…" another woman whispered, her voice breaking.

Rin's eye twitched.

She felt something in her brain snap.

Shotaro, meanwhile, stood there, completely unbothered by the emotional devastation he had just caused. He held a pan in one tiny hand and a wooden ladle in the other, moving between the women with the efficiency of an experienced chef. His little hands worked like he had done this a thousand times before, flipping eggs with precision, stirring the soup without spilling a single drop, placing freshly cooked bacon onto plates like some kind of culinary demon child.

The audacity.

The absolute audacity of this five-year-old idiot.

Rin took a deep, slow breath.

Then, her voice rang through the courtyard like an explosion.

"OI, BRAT!! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"

Shotaro barely glanced up as he placed another bowl of soup in front of one of the women, who immediately clasped her hands together like she had just received a divine blessing.

"Feeding them," he replied simply.

Rin twitched. "I CAN SEE THAT, DIPSHIT. WHY?!"

Shotaro, still calm as ever, blinked at her. "Because they were hungry."

Rin's brain short-circuited.

"THAT'S THE POINT, YOU IDIOT! I LOCKED THEM UP FOR A REASON!"

Shotaro tilted his head. "Oh." He thought for a second. Then shrugged. "That's stupid."

Rin felt an aneurysm coming on.