July 17th, 2000, Kabukicho.
A baby is born in the heart of Kabukicho—a neighbourhood known for its neon lights and dark secrets.
"Finally," Isuna Shidou mutters through gritted teeth, her voice strained and cold. She swallows a handful of painkillers, her hands trembling as she grabs the nearest pair of scissors and cuts the umbilical cord herself. There's no time for tenderness, only survival.
As she's about to name her newborn, the door swings open, and a man in a suit steps in. Two towering bodyguards follow him, their eyes scanning the room with impassive detachment.
"Isuna!" The man grins, his voice slick with false cheer. "Congrats on the delivery. Now, my best lady can get back to work." He yanks her hair roughly, pulling her toward him. "Next time you service a client, don't forget protection. But I'm in a good mood today. You've been doing well, so I'll let you decide—keep this one or get rid of it."
"...Tch. He's going to be a burden." Isuna exhales sharply, her body limp as she stares at the restless newborn. Her expression is unreadable—neither affection nor resentment, just tired resignation. "But he's mine. No one else's."
The baby writhes in her arms, small fists clenching and unclenching, as if fighting against the world from the moment he arrived. Isuna watches in silence, something unreadable flickering in her tired eyes before she scoffs. "You're noisy already... like you've got something to prove."
She tilts her head back, exhaling smoke from an unseen cigarette, voice flat as she mutters, "Ryusei."
The name hangs in the stale air.
"A holy dragon. Or maybe just another beast waiting to die." Her lips curl, humourless.
Her fingers twitch against the stained sheets as she forces herself upright, eyes dull, already exhausted by the weight of a child she never planned for. "Shidou Ryusei... a dragon's name. Sounds powerful. Too big for a kid who hasn't even learned how to breathe properly yet."
The baby kicks, as if rejecting her words. Isuna clicks her tongue. "Hah. If you want to live up to it, that's your problem."
She tosses the scissors onto the nightstand with a careless clatter, her job done. With one last glance at the child, she leans back against the wall, the neon lights from outside casting sharp shadows across her face.
"Survive, Ryusei. Or don't. Either way, the world won't stop for you."
(I will call him shidou instead of ryusei for simplicity sakes)
August 21st 2004, Kabukicho
The night is humid. The smell of cigarettes and cheap alcohol never leave the air.
Shidou didn't know why his mother brought him here, but he knows better than to ask.
Isuna crouches down and stares at shidou, her eyes scanning his body—evaluating his worth one last time.
"Listen up, brat" Her voice was flat, business-like. "I'm done."
Shidou blinks at her. He's barely four years old, yet he still understands that something is wrong.
"Done with what?", Shidou asked while tilting his head cutely, something he learnt from watching his mother work.
But it didn't work.
"With you," she says emotionless
It took a second for shidou to process but once he did, he felt his chest tighten up, not with sadness but anger.
Isuna pulls out a cigarette and lights it. "You're old enough to survive on your own now."
"You're lying," his voice shaking "You just don't want me."
A smirk tugs at her lips, but there's no humour in it. Just cruel amusement. "So? Since when did wanting matter?" She exhales smoke and stands, her heels clicking against the pavement.
"You wanna live? Then live. No one's gonna stop you."
Then she turns. Starts walking.
"Wait—"
She doesn't.
She doesn't even pause.
Shidou takes a step forward, then stops. His small hands curl into fists, nails digging into his palms.
He could run after her. Scream. Cry.
But what would that change?
Nothing.
She just keeps moving until she fades into the neon glow of Kabukicho, until she's just another figure in the crowd.
The city doesn't stop for her.
The city doesn't stop for anyone.
And for the first time in his life, Shidou Ryusei is truly alone.