Izumi Kyōka still remembered, with painful clarity, how she had ended up like this.
Half a year ago, on a day no different from any other, she awakened an ability called [Demon Snow].
Yet, this suddenly awakened power refused to obey her will. Instead, it ran wild before her very eyes—slaughtering her parents.
That day, she lost everything.
Unable to accept reality, the girl ran out of her home like a madwoman.
After that, Izumi Kyōka—her entire world shattered—could only wander the streets in a daze. She didn't know why she was alive, nor how to live.
Just before her mind and body were about to collapse, she met a man who would change her life forever.
Akutagawa Ryūnosuke.
Yet, this man was no ideal mentor, nor was he some righteous hero.
He was a demon clawing his way out of hell.
After hearing Kyōka's story, he spoke without an ounce of mercy:
"Your Demon exists to kill. That is the only value you possess."
And so, Izumi Kyōka was given a new purpose.
The girl who had no reason to live obediently accepted this cruel meaning—becoming an assassin for the Port Mafia.
Following the purpose Akutagawa had given her, she became like a puppet with a heart of slaughter, a machine that lived only to kill.
Only through killing could she prove her worth. Only this way could she justify her existence.
"My ability was born to kill. If I stop, I lose my last shred of value." Kyōka's eyes were hollow as she spoke.
"Do you want to kill?" Kurumi Tokisaki asked calmly. "If you do, I can let you continue fulfilling your role as an assassin."
"As a tool, this is my duty."
"But what about as Izumi Kyōka? As a living person—do you want to keep killing?"
A faint ripple disturbed the stagnant depths of Kyōka's gaze. She lowered her head, offering no answer.
"Unlike the others in the Port Mafia, you don't want to kill anyone. You've never taken joy in it." Kurumi's voice was soft. "So why cling to this swamp that only brings you pain?"
"Because… this is the only place left for me." Kyōka whispered.
If she stopped being an assassin, she would lose the only value she had left.
And if she lost that—what reason did she have to keep dragging this body, stained with her parents' blood, through this wretched world?
Kyōka didn't know.
Lost in life yet terrified of death, she clung to the lifeline Akutagawa had thrown her, struggling in the mire—sinking deeper with every movement.
Keep killing, and she could survive.
But with each life she took, the weight in her heart grew heavier.
Every night, her nightmares weren't just haunted by her parents' faces. The men, women, and children she had slaughtered appeared too, cursing her viciously, denying her even the mercy of peaceful sleep.
To numb the torment, she sealed away her emotions and thoughts, becoming nothing more than a hollow tool.
This was the curse that bound Izumi Kyōka.
"But why must you accept the meaning Akutagawa gave you?"
Kurumi's words were like the first ray of sunlight melting winter's ice, stirring the girl's stagnant mind back to life.
"A person without value doesn't deserve to live in this world—that much is true." Kurumi's voice was firm. "But who decides what that value is? Others? No. A person's worth is something only they can define. No one else has that right."
Leaning down, Kurumi smiled gently. "You're no exception."
Kyōka's lips trembled, confusion flickering in her lifeless eyes. "But… what value could someone like me have? I killed my parents. I destroyed everything with my own hands."
"I don't know. That's for you to find out." Kurumi shrugged helplessly. "But until then, let me give you a purpose beyond killing."
"A purpose… beyond killing?"
"Become my subordinate. Follow my orders. You won't have to drown in blood anymore—I'll pull you out of this swamp called the Port Mafia."
"But I've already killed." Kyōka stared at her trembling hands. "Thirty-six people. In six months, I've taken thirty-six lives. Can someone like me… really be saved?"
"Thirty-six?" Kurumi chuckled. "Is that all?"
"…Huh?" Kyōka froze.
"Just thirty-six? Compared to those truly steeped in sin, your little tally is nothing."
Kurumi's tone was almost flippant, as if human lives were as insignificant as weeds. "Trust me, Kyōka. It's not too late. You can still turn back."
"Even so… the guilt won't disappear."
"Then repent."
"Repent… and I'll be forgiven?"
"No. Your sins will stay with you. You'll never wash the blood from your hands—this is a debt you'll carry even in death."
Each word struck Kyōka like a hammer, deepening the ache in her chest.
But then—Kurumi's voice softened.
"But that doesn't mean you can't be a good person from now on."
Gently, Kurumi patted her head. "Rather than wallowing in self-pity, why not atone through action?"
She extended her hand, offering it to Kyōka.
Grasping it would mean a new life.
No more struggling in this dark swamp. No more killing to prove her worth.
But—did someone as stained as her deserve such mercy?
The girl whose ability had slaughtered her parents. The tool who had stolen thirty-six lives.
Could someone like that… really have the right to live?
As Kyōka stared at that pale, outstretched hand—a faint light flickered in her dull eyes.
Her sealed heart cracked open. Her stagnant thoughts began to turn.
Like a parched traveler in the desert spotting an oasis, life returned to Kyouka's gaze.
She took Kurumi's hand.
"Is this your choice?"
"Yes."
Kyōka gripped it tightly, as if afraid to let go. "Please… save me."
"So this is your answer."
A smile curled on Kurumi's lips.
"Then—as you wish."
--+--