The music blared through the apartment, bouncing off the walls as if trying to scare away the calm. From the fifth-floor window, the city lights flickered to the beat of the bass, but at that moment, all I could think about was how ridiculous my nephew looked dancing in the middle of the living room.
I chuckled to myself.
He was seventeen and moving like a twelve-year-old with too much sugar in his system. Not that I was much better: at twenty, I was still in trouble more often than I'd care to admit.
It was supposed to be a quiet night... or so we all thought.
The party was for a girl in our group. I didn't know her very well, but we'd all known each other for years. These gatherings usually ended with the apartment packed with people, music, drinks, and tangled conversations.
Amid the laughter and empty bottles, my nephew approached me with that familiar smile he always wore when he was up to something.
"Hey, let's go get something to eat," he shouted, barely audible over the music.
I nodded. A little fresh air wouldn't hurt. We left the party and went downstairs, passing doors that let out the sounds of other lives, other parties.
And then... we saw them.
Three guys.
Leaning against the wall as if they were street furniture, as if they had been there all night. Looking at everyone who passed by with that look, the one that tells you they're not just bored. There was something about them... the way they stood, the way they looked at us, and the glint of metal barely visible under the jacket of the one in the middle.
My nephew noticed too. I saw his shoulders tense slightly and the carefree light in his eyes fade. He didn't say anything, he just kept walking. I followed him.
We walked past them.
Without saying a word. Without moving. Just silence.
At the corner store, we bought a couple of bags of potato chips, soft drinks, and candy, meaningless trinkets to keep the party going. Back home, we laughed thinking that some of the guests were probably more alcohol than human by now.
But then... there they were again.
The same three guys.
Now they were right in front of the entrance to our building.
As if they were waiting for us.
My hand instinctively slipped into my jacket pocket. My nephew tensed up beside me.
The one in the middle smiled.
"Hand everything over," he muttered, his breath reeking of stale alcohol.
The glint of steel was undeniable. Three knives. One in each hand.
I looked at my nephew. He was trying to stay calm, but his eyes told a different story. They darted around, searching. Planning.
I could feel the anger rising in my chest, but along with it came that primal instinct for survival. We needed a way out. Fast.
Then, above us, a window opened with a squeak.
She was watching.
The birthday girl.
Leaning on the balcony railing, a soda in her hand, laughing with a friend her age. Their voices floated in the air, carefree and distant, until her eyes landed on us.
Until she saw the knives.
Her smile vanished in an instant.
The boy next to her followed her gaze and turned pale.
At that moment, the two worlds, the one above and the one below, collided.
She turned and ran inside, surely to warn the others.
But I'd had enough.
The boy in the middle laughed, loudly and gutturally.
"What are you going to do, idiot? You think a look is going to stop us?" he taunted, waving the knife as if it were a toy.
And then, the sound that shattered the night.
A scream.
My nephew's scream.
Time slowed down.
His shoulder... pierced.
The blade went through his skin and clothes, and blood spurted out, staining the floor and soaking his clothes. His face contorted in pain, his eyes wide open and filled with shock and fear.
From above, the screams began.
I saw my sister, his mother, peeking out the window. Her face contorted in horror. My father and the others ran toward the entrance, but...
It was too late.
Something inside me broke.
My blood boiled.
My mind clouded.
My body moved on its own.
My sleeve slid back, revealing it.
An object I had never seen before, clutched in my wrist.
It looked ancient, worn by time, but incredibly intricate. A deep amethyst hue ran through it, with black veins crawling beneath its surface like living roots.
I didn't remember getting it.
But I knew how to use it.
My fingers brushed its surface. A dark light pulsed from it and a whisper, not human, echoed in my mind.
Obscurium Relic: activated.
My body changed.
Strength surged through my veins. My senses sharpened. Anger ceased to be a feeling. It became a weapon.
The thugs laughed.
"Please, you think that little toy is going to save you?" one of them sneered.
But in the blink of an eye, I was already there.
My fist connected with the first one's face and blood spurted out like a burst pipe. His jaw bent in ways that shouldn't be possible.
The second one tried to raise his knife, but my hand dug into his chest, tearing flesh and bone as if they were wet paper.
The third one turned to run.
The damn coward tried to run.
I raised my hand.
A shadow blade formed instantly, humming with energy.
"Crimson Sever."
The blade flew, spinning through the air.
His head hit the ground before his body realized he was dead.
Silence.
Everything stopped.
Blood covered my hands. My face. My clothes. The mutilated corpses lay at my feet.
That's when they arrived.
My father stood frozen, his eyes fixed on the carnage. His gaze, always so strong, trembled for the first time.
The others stood silently, stunned.
And me...
All I could hear was my breathing.
My legs were shaking.
I turned to look at my nephew.
He was still alive.
And for the first time all night... I prayed.
....
"RENJI!!"
My father's voice broke the silence like a sword piercing silk: raw, anguished, and furious. A primitive scream, filled with panic and despair. He ran toward his grandson, ignoring the pool of blood forming around him, paying no attention to the mutilated bodies lying like discarded meat.
I stood frozen for a moment.
And then... I looked down at my hands.
They were still dripping.
The blood covering them wasn't mine. It belonged to those three bastards, those thugs who had threatened us, who had dared to touch someone under my protection.
I gasped for air as the adrenaline began to wear off. Only then did I remember to breathe.
I approached Renji. My father was desperately pressing down on the wound, his hands trembling and reddened by his grandson's blood.
I gently placed a hand on his shoulder and he stepped aside without saying a word.
I knelt down.
And I lifted Renji into my arms.
His eyes were half-closed and he was losing consciousness. But despite the pain, despite his body shaking and his shirt soaked with blood, he managed a faint smile.
"Uncle... you're a monster," he whispered, half in awe, half in fear.
I didn't answer.
Not with words.
Just with a slight smile.
This was no time for explanations or regrets.
Carefully, I hid the device under my sleeve. It was still beating with a strange warmth, like a heart that had never stopped beating. I didn't know what it was. I didn't remember ever having it. But somehow my body knew how to handle it... as if it had always been there, waiting.
I carried Renji up the stairs in silence.
Behind us, my father and several others stayed behind.
I didn't need to ask what they would do.
They were men forged by different times. Veterans, ex-soldiers, and hardened survivors of wars, both official and clandestine. They weren't criminals... but they weren't saints either. They understood one thing above all else: when the law is late, you have to clean up the mess yourself.
And tonight?
No one would shed a tear for three dead bastards.
We returned to the apartment.
The party was over.
The music was still playing, a distant echo of what had been a celebration. But no one was dancing anymore. No one was laughing.
All eyes turned to me.
First, to me.
Covered in blood.
Sharp eyes. Stained hands.
Then to Renji.
Wounded. Pale. Barely conscious.
Hana, my sister, Renji's mother, ran toward us with tears streaming down her cheeks and her voice broken with panic.
"Renji...! My baby...!"
"He's alive," I said in a hoarse voice, rough from tension and rage. I laid him carefully on the sofa.
Some friends quickly cleared the space. Others rushed to bring makeshift bandages and bottles of alcohol. Among them were Shun, Daisuke, and Ayame.
I saw their faces.
Daisuke, my best friend, was clenching his fists. His gaze said, "I know what you did."
Ayame, the birthday girl, was shaking from head to toe.
And Shun... Shun was looking at me like I was a wild animal.
...Silence....
A silence so thick it could have suffocated us all.
I sat down on the edge of the low table, grabbed a glass filled with whatever was nearby, and drank it in one gulp.
"This... got out of hand," I muttered.
Hana was crying next to her son. No one blamed me. Not a single voice was raised to judge me. No one dared.
They just listened.
"It wasn't just because he's my nephew," I continued, my eyes closed for a moment. "If it had been any of you... I would have done the same thing."
I opened my eyes and looked around the room.
"I won't let people like that walk these streets hurting whoever they please. Not while I'm here."
I put a hand on my chest. The device under my sleeve was still radiating heat.
"Maybe I lost control. Maybe I went too far. But no one touches my family. No one lays a finger on the people I care about while I'm still breathing."
No one answered.
That's when my father walked in.
There was no trace of blood.
No guilt.
Just that familiar look, the look of a man who had done what he had to do.
He walked past me and whispered,
"It's over."
And I knew exactly what he meant.
The bodies... were gone.
Some of the men who had stayed behind also entered: Kazuma, Iwao... men who had seen horrors that would have broken anyone. They nodded at me, grimly approving.
It wasn't a judgment.
Just... understanding.
Then Shun stepped forward.
"No way, Kaito..." he muttered.
"I... I saw what you did. That thing... You..."
Ayame also approached, her eyes glassy, shining with fear.
"We saw it. All of us who were near the window... we saw how you changed. That device... that power... What the hell was that?"
The entire room tensed.
Those who had been trying not to look now turned toward me.
My gaze hardened.
I stood up.
I walked directly toward them.
I stopped right in front of Shun and Ayame.
I stared at them and, in a voice like steel, said:
"You didn't see anything.
They held their breath.
"This is none of your business. Don't ask questions. Don't talk. For your own good... and mine.
The threat hung in the air, unspoken but undeniable.
They understood.
Without another word, I turned away.
"I'm going to take a shower."
I walked down the hallway, the dried blood pulling at my skin.
I knew they wouldn't leave me alone.
I knew they would look for answers. That they would try to discover the truth.
But that...
That would be a problem for another day.
For now... all I wanted
was hot water.
And silence....
End of Chapter 1