[Location: Osaka Juvenile Center]
The cold, gray walls of the detention center echoed faintly with the distant clicks of boots against concrete. Dim ceiling lights buzzed overhead, flickering slightly as a lone guard made his way down the hallway lined with barred cells. Most of the other teens avoided his gaze, their eyes hollow, their spirits broken.
But at the very end of the hall, in a cell cast deeper in shadow than the rest, sat a boy.
Unmoving. Silent.
Shackled at the ankles and wrists, he sat with his back against the wall, one knee drawn up as he stared down at the cracked floor with dull, unreadable eyes.
Kagatsuchi Ren.
The name was feared even among other delinquents—the devil child, they called him. The only one in the facility who never spoke unless necessary, who never fought unless pushed, but when he did… the result was never pretty.
The guard stopped in front of Ren's cell and glanced at him like he was staring at a caged animal.
With a heavy sigh, the man unhooked a small plastic-wrapped bundle from under his arm and tossed it through the bars. It landed with a thud beside Ren.
"You're getting picked up tomorrow," the guard said gruffly, arms crossed.
"Whoever it is, they sent you those clothes. Better wear them. I don't know why anyone would want to take care of you…"
His voice was laced with irritation. Maybe even fear.
"…damn devil child."
Without waiting for a response, the guard turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps fading into the distance.
The silence returned.
Ren slowly reached for the bundle, his chains softly clinking. He stared at the clothes for a moment—neatly folded, clean, clearly untouched by prison life. They were strange to him. Almost… warm.
"Someone's going to pick me up… tomorrow, huh."
His voice was soft. Detached. As if he was saying someone else's name.
He pressed the package to his chest and leaned back against the wall again. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling.
He didn't smile.
But he didn't frown either.
[The Next Day]
A black car pulled up outside the gates of Osaka Juvenile Center, its polished body gleaming under the morning sun. The gates buzzed open with an electric groan.
From the driver's seat stepped out a woman in a black coat and red heels. Her long, dark hair swayed gently in the breeze. With a composed expression and unreadable eyes, she adjusted the gloves on her hands and walked toward the building with a slow, graceful pace.
Miyuki Kaminari had arrived.
[Inside Osaka Juvenile Center]
The sterile white halls of the center carried the heavy air of silence and tension. Staff passed by with sideways glances, whispering softly behind clipboards, their voices dying down as she passed.
Miyuki Kaminari walked with quiet poise, her heels tapping steadily against the linoleum floor. Dressed in a sleek black coat and fitted dark slacks, she looked more like a government official than a foster guardian. Her long, ink-black hair was tied loosely at the side, and a faint scar ran across the base of her left wrist—barely visible beneath her gloves.
Her face, calm and unreadable, held no emotion. Not cold, not warm. Just… still. The kind of stillness that made people uncertain whether to trust her or fear her.
She stood silently in the reception area, eyes flicking to the steel doors ahead.
A guard approached her, flipping through a clipboard awkwardly. He cleared his throat.
"Uh, excuse me—are you… Ms. Miyuki Kaminari?"
She glanced at him. No words. Just a faint nod.
"Right… Well, uh, Ren will be brought out through the main corridor. Might take a few minutes. Please have a seat if you'd like."
Miyuki didn't sit. She simply stepped aside and stood near the wall, folding her arms. Her eyes drifted to a nearby clock, then back to the corridor.
The guard lingered for a moment, his voice dropping lower.
"You really sure about this?" he asked cautiously, looking at her sideways. "That kid… he's not normal. You know what he did, right? You still want to take care of someone like that?"
Miyuki tilted her head slightly, then looked him in the eye. Calm. Direct.
"I didn't come here to hear ghost stories," she replied, her voice soft but cutting. "I know exactly who he is."
The guard blinked, caught off guard by her certainty.
"Then… why? Why someone like him?"
Miyuki looked ahead again, voice low.
"Because monsters should be raised by someone who knows how to tame one."
The guard had no reply.
[Moments Later]
The heavy front doors creaked open.
From the other side stepped a boy, now free of shackles, dressed in the black long-sleeved shirt and fitted jeans that had been sent to him the night before. The clothes fit him perfectly. He walked slowly, with silent, almost practiced steps—head held forward, eyes half-lidded, as if half-asleep or half-bored.
His black hair was messy, unkempt but natural, and his crimson eyes—once dull—now shimmered faintly in the light. He didn't look like a devil.
He looked like someone who had stopped pretending to be human.
Kagatsuchi Ren met Miyuki's eyes.
They stood across from each other. Neither moved. Neither blinked.
Ren spoke first.
"…You're the one who sent these clothes?"
Miyuki nodded once.
He looked down at himself briefly, then back up.
"They're not bad."
She didn't smile, but her eyes flickered.
"You'll get used to better."
Silence again. The kind that didn't feel uncomfortable—just inevitable.
As Ren and Miyuki stood in silence, still facing one another like two strangers unsure whether to shake hands or draw blades, another guard approached from the side door with a stack of papers in hand.
"Ms. Miyuki Kaminari," the man called out, a bit more respectful than the last. "There's still some paperwork left to complete. If you'd follow me for a moment—"
Miyuki gave a brief nod and followed him without a word, her boots tapping calmly against the floor.
Ren stayed behind, standing still, arms at his sides. One of the guards, leaning against the wall, gave him a long, tense look—like he was trying to read into Ren's soul, or waiting for a sudden outburst.
Ren didn't even look at him. Instead, with a dry voice full of mock casualness, he said:
"Don't worry that much about me. After all... I might be back. Who knows?"
Then, slowly, Ren turned just enough to give the man a sidelong glance.
Not threatening. Not angry.
Just… empty.
It was the kind of look that made people's instincts scream without understanding why.
The guard clenched his jaw but said nothing, his fingers twitching slightly at his belt.
Before anything more could happen, the door opened again.
Miyuki returned, paper folder tucked under her arm. She didn't ask what had happened—maybe she already knew.
"Let's go," she said flatly.
Ren followed her without question.
[Outside – Black Car, Midday Sun]
They exited the building together, the sunlight casting long shadows behind them. As they approached the vehicle, Ren glanced back once—not at the building, but at the barred windows high above.
Then he got in.
[Inside the Car – Driving Through Osaka]
Silence.
Not the awkward kind, just… a natural one. Neither of them seemed in any rush to speak.
The city blurred past the window, and Ren leaned back slightly in his seat, one arm resting on the door, eyes staring ahead.
Finally, he broke the quiet.
"I want to ask one thing."
Miyuki kept her eyes on the road. "What is it?"
"The reason," he said plainly. "Why are you doing this? You surely know I'm better off in jail. Sooner or later, you'll regret it."
Miyuki's hands remained steady on the wheel. She didn't even blink.
"You won't be able to do anything," she replied calmly. "And if you did… I have the authority to kill you."
Her voice didn't raise. No threat, no emotion. Just a truth laid bare.
"And my hands won't tremble for even a bit while killing you."
Ren blinked slowly, then chuckled—a dry, almost amused sound.
"Oh my… you're one interesting woman."
He tilted his head slightly, a smirk forming at the edge of his lips.
"But you still didn't answer my question. Why did you decide to take care of me?"
Miyuki's gaze remained forward.
"I can't answer that question of yours."
"Then what should I think?"
"Think of me as someone who will take care of you... and raise you like a normal child."
Ren stared at her for a moment, studying her profile.
A normal child.
He leaned his head back against the seat, still smiling faintly.
For the first time in a long while, someone hadn't lied to him—but they hadn't told the whole truth either.