Not this crap again.
Seriously, how do I keep spacing out in the middle of a fight? That damn dream's working overtime on my brain. Can't shake it. Not with fists flying anyway.
The whole place stank—sweat, fear, cheap booze, you name it. People yelling, shoving, waving cash, like a mosh pit but with more blood and less music. I was supposed to make bank tonight. Buy some stuff for my sister. Maybe get her that dumb cat plushie she won't shut up about.
Guess what? I'm getting my ass handed to me.
Every punch feels like a sledgehammer. My arms are jelly. Vision's swimming.
I catch a glimpse of Haru near the ropes. Kid's just a year behind me but twice as frosty. Doesn't cheer, doesn't flinch. Just stares like I'm some bug he's poking with a stick.
Ref waves it off. Opponent's grinning like he won the lottery. Crowd roars. I'm toast—bruised, broke, humiliated.
Haru slides over, voice all razor-thin. "You tell sis, you're dead meat."
Blood's dribbling from my mouth. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."
He just shrugs, bored out of his mind. "Honestly came to watch you get wrecked. Anyway, I grabbed the cash. Quit whining. I'll buy her crap. Later, loser."
And he's gone, cold as winter pavement.
I'm just standing there, heat crawling up my face—ashamed, pissed off, probably about to cry if I'm being real.
Mumbling curses, I drag myself out into the night.
Tokyo's glowing all over, puddles shining up neon pinks and blues. Air's biting. Feels like the city's laughing at me. Chest aches a helluva lot more than my busted lip.
I mutter, "Haru's got ice in his veins. Kid's practically a snowman."
Something catches my eye under a busted streetlight—the kind that flickers like it's haunted. Half-buried in the cracked pavement, there's this scroll, pulsing with a weird red glow.
Suddenly, all the noise just peaces out.
The night's different. Sharper. Like a knife.
Yeah. Something big's about to hit.
Kaito crouched by the flickering streetlight, barely glancing at the stupid scroll. Tama, his scruffy cat, perched lazily on his shoulder.
He grabbed the scroll—half-hearted, annoyed.
Eh?
Instantly, his blood turned to ice.
Five centimeters away, a grotesque monster with glowing eyes snarled, staring right into his soul like it wanted to lunch on him.
Kaito froze. His brain short-circuited.
"What the hell is that?!"
Without thinking, he threw Tama up like a frisbee.
"Catch this, you furball!"
Then bolted—legs pumping like a damn racehorse, heart pounding like a drumline.
He zigzagged through Tokyo's dark alleys, barely breathing, swearing under his breath, terrified out of his mind.
The monster followed, snarling low, relentless.
Kaito's feet finally slammed to a stop in front of his school—neon lights flickering above the entrance.
He leaned against the wall, gasping, staring up at the building like it was a fortress.
"Great… another battlefield where I suck," he muttered, trembling.
Tama jumped into his arms, licking his sweaty face like a judgmental little boss.
Kaito sighed. Tonight was already trash.
Kaito hopped the rusty school gate like a stray cat that's got better places to be. Tokyo's smog hit his lungs and—man, that creeping terror still had its claws dug in deep. He sucked in air, all ragged and sharp, not sure if it was the sprint or the fact that tonight just kept getting weirder. The whole night felt off. Wrong, like when you wake up at 3 AM and swear something's watching you from the closet.
He still had the scroll in one hand, phone (screen now a spiderweb of cracks) in the other. Didn't stop moving—just stormed across the courtyard and squeezed into the first building he could reach. The hallways? Pitch black, except for those sad, flickering lights overhead. They buzzed and clicked like a cockroach dying slowly.
He stumbled into Classroom 2-B, tossed the scroll onto whatever desk was closest, and dropped into a chair like he'd just run a marathon he didn't sign up for.
"Seriously, Kami-sama?" he groaned, palms digging into his face. "Wasn't tonight enough? Lost a fight. Lost my cash. Got roasted by my demon brother—who's 16, by the way. Now you drop some reincarnation-manga nonsense on me? What, did I eat meat on Buddha's birthday or something?"
His cat—somehow still hanging on after all this chaos—popped out from his jacket hood and landed on the desk, giving him that classic, judgey stare only cats can master.
He shot Tama a look. "Oh, don't start. You're the first one I'd sacrifice, you little gremlin."
Kaito slumped back, letting the silence swallow him up. Maybe, just maybe, the monster was all in his head. Maybe he'd cracked his skull. Maybe that sketchy energy drink he chugged before the match was actually radioactive.
Silence stretched on. Too long.
A faint click echoed down the hall.
Footsteps.
He stopped breathing.
Then—out of nowhere—a voice, calm as a bored cashier, drifted from the corridor.
"Yeah… found this Yorei near Shibuya. Strain-class, pretty sure. Might tie back to those #7 Scroll rumors. Nah, don't send backup. Gotta handle something first."
The steps paused.
"Tch. Just hang up already. I'll call you back."
Dead quiet.
Kaito, nerves shot, edged up to the door and peered out. His heart did a neat little backflip.
That thing.
Same horror show as before—skin like it'd been paved over, eyes burning yellow, limbs twitching like a puppet with broken strings. Ten meters away, just… standing there.
Not alone, either.
A man stood next to it, still clutching his phone. Just some salaryman in a wrinkled suit and messenger bag, looking more like he needed a nap than a monster showdown.
AWKWARD SILENCE.
Kaito blinked.
The man stared at him.
The monster stared at both of them.
Yeah, okay, this was definitely happening.
Monster hissed.
Kaito's brain screamed: NOPE.
He didn't even think—just launched himself out the door and straight into the man. Guy barely reacted, just let Kaito tackle him as they both crashed through the second-floor window like a pair of idiots in a low-budget action flick.
Glass everywhere. Air roaring past. Time kind of slowed, which was not helpful.
As they plummeted, the man twisted his head, casual as anything.
"…You can see it?"
Kaito, mid-air, had zero answers.
Then—WHAM. They hit the ground. The man did some judo sorcery with his bag, landing way too smooth. Kaito bounced. Twice. Ended up sprawled like a dead fish, gasping.
Ears ringing. Scroll buzzing like a hornet in his jacket. Somewhere, Tama let out an angry yowl from under a bush.
Beast snarled from the busted window above.
Tonight was far from over.
And Kaito? He was so, so done with this supernatural nonsense.