Kaito staggered against the bloodstained wall, his breath shallow and erratic. His body trembled violently as his eyes scanned the scene before him—a nightmare made real. His mother's lifeless eyes, staring into nothingness. Riku's small, twisted frame, crumpled in a pool of blood. Aiko… Aiko was still holding her doll, her forehead marked by a single, clean hole.
His stomach churned. The air was thick with the stench of death, the metallic scent of blood seeping into every corner of the house. The world around him blurred as tears welled in his eyes. His family, his friends—gone. His vision swam with the unbearable truth, but it wasn't time to grieve. Not yet. Not when he still had a chance to survive.
The sound of footsteps reached his ears. Soft, calculated. The faintest creak of floorboards, then silence. Kaito's breath caught in his throat, and he turned, every muscle in his body tensing.
It was him. The man in black.
The assassin.
Kaito's heart skipped a beat as the man stepped forward, his dark, empty eyes fixing on him with an unrelenting coldness. The assassin was tall, his presence suffocating, and every movement he made was deliberate—precise. His gloved hand gleamed under the dim light, marked with the star-shaped insignia that had haunted Kaito's nightmares ever since the massacre had begun.
"You weren't supposed to survive," the man said, his voice flat, emotionless. He tilted his head slightly, as if evaluating Kaito's existence, then spoke again. "But mistakes happen."
Kaito's heart pounded in his chest as he backed away, his foot slipping slightly in the pool of blood beneath him. His mind raced, searching for a way out. The door. It was locked, but he had to try. He couldn't stay here. He couldn't die like this. Not when there was still a chance.
The assassin raised his gun.
Kaito's eyes widened. He tried to move, to dodge, but it was too late.
Bang.
The sharp crack of the gunshot rang out, deafening in the silence. Pain exploded in Kaito's shoulder as he felt the bullet tear through his flesh. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground like a ragdoll. His body screamed, but there was no time for weakness.
He had to run.
He pushed himself up with trembling hands, his shoulder on fire, blood dripping down his arm. He had to escape. He had to get away. He couldn't let this be the end.
He bolted down the hallway, his legs screaming in protest, his breath ragged. Each step sent a jolt of pain through his shoulder, but he pushed it aside, focusing only on the door ahead. The exit. The outside world. Freedom.
The door.
It wouldn't open.
"No! Please!" Kaito screamed, twisting the doorknob with frantic desperation. He kicked at the door, his shoulder slamming into it in a final attempt to break free. The wood groaned under his weight, but it wouldn't budge. It was locked, trapping him here. The cold, quiet world beyond the door mocked him, just out of reach.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The footsteps grew closer, slow and steady. Each one sending a shiver of terror down Kaito's spine. He spun around, his eyes wide with panic, and dashed into the kitchen. His pulse hammered in his ears. His breath was sharp and uneven. He needed a weapon, anything. His fingers fumbled across the counter, finally closing around a knife. It felt heavy, foreign, in his trembling hands.
The door creaked.
Kaito's heart stopped.
The assassin stood in the doorway, his presence like a dark shadow. His eyes were cold, lifeless voids, and his lips curled into a faint, mocking smile.
"You can't outrun fate, boy," the man whispered, his voice carrying an icy certainty.
Desperation surged through Kaito, overriding his fear. He lunged, slashing wildly at the assassin, but his movements were frantic, uncoordinated. His hands shook so violently he could barely grip the handle. It didn't matter. He had to do something—anything—to survive.
The assassin's movements were faster than Kaito could comprehend. His hand shot out like a blur, catching Kaito's wrist mid-air.
Then—
Crack.
Kaito's scream echoed through the room as his arm snapped, a searing pain flooding through his body. The knife slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor, useless. The assassin drove him into the wall with brutal efficiency, the air rushing from Kaito's lungs.
Blood dripped from Kaito's mouth as he gasped for air, his vision swimming. He barely felt the coldness of the wall against his back, too consumed by the agony in his broken arm. His heart pounded, each beat heavy and desperate.
The assassin stared down at him, his face expressionless, cold as stone. His eyes showed no hint of triumph, no satisfaction in his work. Just emptiness.
"You saw too much," the assassin said, his tone almost casual. Like he was stating a fact, something that needed to be done.
Kaito, broken and defeated, tried to crawl away, his legs shaking with the effort. His hands scraped against the floor, his body too weak to resist. But the man's boot pressed down on his chest, holding him in place, crushing his breath.
"No…" Kaito whimpered, the word barely a whisper as tears mixed with the blood on his face. "Please…"
The assassin raised the gun. Kaito's heart raced. This was it. There was no escape. No more hope. He was done for.
Then—
A knock.
A violent knock echoed from the front door.
The assassin paused, his gaze flicking toward the sound. For a split second, Kaito felt something stir inside him—a flicker of hope. Could it be? Was there someone? Anyone?
Another knock. Louder this time.
The assassin stood still for a moment, calculating, his eyes narrowing in thought. Kaito's breath came in short, panicked bursts. He had to act now. It was his only chance.
With every ounce of strength left in his broken body, Kaito shoved himself into the assassin, his shoulder slamming into the man's side. The assassin staggered, momentarily thrown off balance. Kaito didn't hesitate. He surged to his feet, running without thinking, running purely on instinct. The kitchen door flew open, and he bolted into the backyard.
The world outside hit him like a slap to the face—too bright, too open, too unreal. The setting sun painted the sky a violent orange, but Kaito didn't have the time to notice. He only had one goal.
The gate. It was right there.
His hands fumbled with the latch. Come on, come on…
Click.
Bang.
The world exploded around him. His vision shattered as the bullet slammed into his back, sending him sprawling forward. He hit the ground face-first, his body spasming uncontrollably, fingers digging into the earth as his breath hitched in his chest.
Footsteps. Slow. Unhurried.
The assassin approached, the sound of his footsteps unnervingly calm, like he had all the time in the world. Kaito's vision blurred, his head swimming in a haze of pain and blood. His fingers clawed at the ground, but he had no strength left. His body was failing.
"You should've died upstairs," the assassin muttered, his voice distant. "This… was mercy."
Kaito's world was slipping away, but through the fog of pain and fading consciousness, one name echoed in his mind.
Sayuri…
He whispered it, his voice barely audible.
The assassin raised his gun, and Kaito closed his eyes.
Bang.
The world went black.