Akagitsune Rin was born into opulence, a child of luxury and prestige. Her father, Akagitsune Souchiro, was a powerful and influential man who held dominion over a significant portion of Mushashinoyamato City. Over generations, her family had transformed their land into a prosperous red-light district, a domain of both indulgence and shadowy dealings, and had maintained control over it since the Heian era.
From the moment she took her first breath, Rin was destined to inherit a world woven with silk and vice, a legacy etched deep into the very fabric of her bloodline.
She was a vision of elegance, carrying herself with the poised grace of a woman who knew her worth. Her hair was a rich, light brown hue, cascading down in soft, smooth locks, meticulously tied up in elaborate traditional styles that accentuated her noble upbringing. Her tresses were adorned with delicate kanzashi ornaments, their intricate gold and jade designs shimmering under the warm glow of paper lanterns that often illuminated her nights.
Her face was a masterpiece of refined beauty—high cheekbones, a gentle yet defined jawline, and eyes that carried the quiet intensity of a woman both calculating and enigmatic. Though her gaze often remained serene, there was an undeniable sharpness in her pink-reddish irises, a rare and mesmerizing shade that set her apart even among the most exquisite models and riches. Her lips, always painted with premium organic crimson lipstick, stood in striking contrast to her flawless, porcelain-like skin, the color deep and intoxicating like the finest aged wine.
Her wardrobe was a testament to both her heritage and her wealth. Every kimono in her possession was a work of art, crafted from the finest silk and embroidered with elaborate patterns of cranes, wisteria, and flowing rivers. Some were dark, woven with the night's mystery, while others shone with soft pastels, reminiscent of fleeting cherry blossoms in spring. Gold-threaded sashes, intricately folded obi belts, and rare imported fabrics filled her personal collection, ensuring that no matter the occasion, Akagitsune Rin was the most breathtaking woman in the room.
Born into a family of immense power, Rin had no shortage of suitors vying for her attention. The wealth, prestige, and control over the city's most lucrative district made her the ultimate prize. Yet, therein lay the issue—she had no problem attracting all kinds of men. Aristocrats, merchants, politicians, even the most refined and dangerous of underworld figures—all of them sought her hand, drawn by the promise of influence, desire, and the irresistible charm she so effortlessly wielded.
Marriage, for her, was never a matter of if, but when. And so, the moment arrived sooner than one might have expected. It was not long after her father, Akagitsune Souchiro, suffered a fatal stroke, his sudden passing leaving her as the sole inheritor of his empire. No longer merely the daughter of a magnate, she became the undisputed ruler of the district.
The transition was seamless—after all, she had been groomed for this moment since birth. Contracts were signed, alliances were reshaped, and whispers of doubt surrounding a woman leading the underworld's most opulent dominion were swiftly silenced by Rin's quiet yet undeniable authority. Her delicate hands, adorned with lacquered nails and golden rings, now held the reins of an empire that dictated the pleasures and secrets of the city.
And so, she continued forward, a woman bound by tradition yet unyielding in her ambition, navigating a world where power and passion intertwined, where the flickering glow of red lanterns bore witness to the tale of Akagitsune Rin—the heir, the unsung beuty, and the enigma of Mushashinoyamato City.
And then, fate struck with its cruel hand.
The day she went into labor should have been one of the most joyous moments of her life, the culmination of a union that had been scrutinized by many, yet deeply personal to her. But fate, uncaring and indifferent, had other plans.
Her husband, a man of wealth and foreign lineage, was en route to the hospital when death came for him. He had been the heir to a gold mine deep in the heart of South Africa, an inheritance soaked in both prosperity and blood. Wealth of that magnitude did not come without enemies, but it was not his rivals who orchestrated his demise—it was his own blood, his own family.
His sister, a woman consumed by greed, could not tolerate the thought of sharing their family's fortune. A twisted and venomous creature, she saw her brother's impending fatherhood not as a moment of joy but as a threat to her claims. And so, she acted with ruthless efficiency.
He never made it to Rin's side. A convoy of masked assailants intercepted his car on the dimly lit roads leading to the hospital. With cold precision, bullets tore through the vehicle, shattering glass, ripping through flesh, and staining the pristine leather seats with his lifeblood. It was over in moments—a brutal, calculated assassination.
His body was left slumped over the wheel, his phone still clutched in his bloodstained fingers, the screen flashing Rin's name. A final, unanswered call. A final, unfinished goodbye.
Meanwhile, within the sterile walls of the hospital, Rin's body was wracked with pain. The agony of childbirth was unlike anything she had ever endured, but it was nothing compared to the devastation that came next.
In the midst of her struggle, her assistant, panicked and overwhelmed by the phone call, blurted out the news. He hadn't thought, hadn't waited for the right moment—he simply let it slip, his voice trembling as he informed her that her husband had been gunned down on his way to her. The words struck like a dagger, sharp and deep, cutting through the haze of pain and exhaustion.
And then, everything crumbled.
A wail escaped her lips—not of childbirth, but of sheer, unbearable grief. Her body, already weakened, could not withstand the emotional shock. Her vision blurred, her breathing grew ragged, and then she felt it—something was wrong. The searing pain of loss transcended the physical, and in that instant, the fragile life within her slipped away.
The delivery room fell into chaos. Doctors shouted, nurses scrambled, but it was too late. The child she had carried, the last piece of the man she had loved, was gone before they could even take their first breath.
When Rin awoke, the world felt colder than ever before. There was no crying infant to cradle, no husband to greet her with open arms. Only emptiness remained, an abyss that stretched endlessly before her.
And so, she continued forward, a woman bound by tradition yet unyielding in her ambition, navigating a world where power and passion intertwined, where the flickering glow of red lanterns bore witness to the tale of Akagitsune Rin—the heir, the ruler, the widow, and the mother who never was, of Mushashinoyamato City.
When Rin awoke, the world felt colder than ever before. There was no crying infant to cradle, no husband to greet her with open arms. Only emptiness remained, an abyss that stretched endlessly before her.
Something inside her snapped.
The woman who once ruled with a balance of elegance and authority descended into darkness. She became cruel, merciless, an empress of despair, ruling over the red-light district with an iron grip. Where once she had protected and uplifted the women under her command, she now saw them as tools—mere pawns to be used and discarded.
She raised fees, forcing the courtesans deeper into debt, ensuring they could never escape her grasp. Those who resisted were punished—locked in her estate, starved, beaten into submission. She welcomed the most depraved clientele, allowing violence to flourish in her establishments, turning a blind eye to the suffering she once sought to prevent.
Deals with traffickers became routine. Young girls were stolen from distant villages, broken, reshaped into dolls to be sold to the highest bidder. Drug lords found a haven in her district, their illicit trades thriving under her watchful eye. Bribes filled her coffers, blood stained her corridors, and despair became the air her empire breathed.
No longer was Akagitsune Rin a ruler of elegance—she had become the nightmare of Mushashinoyamato City, the queen of cruelty, a woman who had embraced the darkness that had swallowed her whole.
She did not allow her girls to take breaks or return home, keeping them trapped in a cycle of endless work, their exhaustion ignored, their humanity stripped away. Deals with traffickers became routine. Young girls were stolen from distant villages, broken, reshaped into dolls to be sold to the highest bidder. Drug lords found a haven in her district, their illicit trades thriving under her watchful eye. Bribes filled her coffers, blood stained her corridors, and despair became the air her empire breathed.
One evening, as she reclined in her lavish chamber, sipping a delicate cup of sake, her emerald eyes drifted to the television screen. The news flickered in rapid succession—catastrophe after catastrophe, the world seemingly unraveling before her eyes.
"Hokkaido is burning," the anchor announced in a grave tone, the screen displaying aerial footage of flames consuming entire districts.
"The messiah is dead," came the next line, spoken with an eerie weight, though no context was given.
Then, the final story sent a rare shiver through Rin's spine.
"Jezebel's cult... annihilated. The Mugiwara family's butler, Alucard, is responsible for the massacre."
Her grip on the sake cup tightened, knuckles turning white. The world outside her domain was descending into madness, and for the first time in a long while, Rin found herself pausing, staring at the screen as the news unfolded.
Something was shifting. Something beyond her control. And despite the pit of darkness she had embraced, she could not ignore the feeling that the tides of fate were about to turn once more.
And then, she exhaled. Slowly, methodically, her fingers loosened, and she leaned back into her chair. The tension in her shoulders faded as her gaze shifted away from the television.
She couldn't give less of a fuck, sitting there in Mushashinoyamato.
3 am of the same night, unable to find solace within the confines of her gilded prison, she went out for a walk. It was around three in the morning, the coastline eerily quiet under the pale glow of the moon. The ocean stretched endlessly before her, its waves whispering secrets only she could hear.
A woman being alone on the beach at such an hour was dangerous, but Rin was unbothered. She was the freest woman in her little kingdom of chained ones. No one dared lay a hand on her—not unless they wished for their life to be utterly ruined. She had power, she had influence, and most importantly, she had nothing left to lose.
Until something came from the night sky like a shooting star, crashing behind her.
A thunderous impact shattered the quiet serenity of the beach, the force sending waves rippling violently upon the shore. A fiery streak cut through the darkness, a blinding light momentarily turning the night into day. Sand and debris erupted into the air as the object struck the earth, carving out a crater upon the lonely beach.
Rin turned, her pinkish eyes narrowing at the smoldering pit now carved into the sands. Any sane person would have fled, but she was not driven by fear—only curiosity. Gathering the edges of her flowing kimono, she stepped forward, her geta sandals sinking slightly into the disturbed earth as she approached the impact site.
Within the heart of the crater, something stirred.
A child.
He had skin kissed by a light tan and hair of silver, strands glistening under the moon's ethereal glow. Even in his unconscious state, his grip remained firm around a katana, its sheath resting against his body like a trusted companion.
Rin stopped, observing him through narrowed emerald eyes. Slowly, she reached into her sleeve and pulled out her long, ornate kiseru pipe. Bringing it to her lips, she took a measured puff, the scent of fine tobacco mingling with the salty sea air. Smoke curled from her lips as she exhaled.
She had half a mind to turn away, to leave this strange occurrence buried in the night.
Then, recognition struck her like a thunderclap. Her eyes flickered with intrigue. The boy's face… she had seen it before....yes on the news before..the messiah.
"He's supposed to be dead," she murmured, stepping closer, the wind carrying her words into the dark expanse of the ocean.
She picked him up in her arms, dusting the beach sand off him. Suddenly, the child's unconscious hands clenched onto her kimono.
"Mo...m," he whispered, a single tear slipping from his closed eyes.
Seeing him like this, a memory flashed through her mind—the lifeless stillborn she had once held. She wondered, just for a fleeting second, what it would have been like... if he had lived.
She quickly dried her eyes even before the tears could fully form. And then, without fully understanding why, she carried him home—surprised at her own sudden act of humanity after all these years.
She put him on her very own bed, seeing how the kid looks kinda ashy, like he was near something burning, She quickly walked to get some water for him, while the child laid there.
Shotaro ran through his dreams, a burning car before him, his mother's words "You..have..to Save....everyone Shotaro" fading into the void. Behind him, the dark shadow of Jezebel loomed, reaching for him. He sprinted until his legs gave out. Kazaya appeared before him.
"Master?" he whispered, desperate for safety, but she only stepped forward and drove a blade into his chest.
Shotaro's breath came in short, uneven gasps, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his nightmare. His crimson eyes, still hazy from sleep, darted around the dimly lit room, as if searching for the fire, the shadows, the betrayal that had clawed at him in his dreams.
The door slid open with a quiet rustle. Rin stepped inside, her silhouette outlined against the faint glow of the hallway behind her. She held a water bottle in her delicate fingers, condensation clinging to its surface, and arched a brow at the trembling boy.
"What the fuck happened?" she asked, voice laced with irritation yet edged with something unspoken—something she wasn't ready to acknowledge.
Shotaro didn't answer right away. His hands gripped the futon beneath him, fingers digging into the fabric as if anchoring himself to reality. Rin clicked her tongue, stepping closer, her silk kimono swaying with the motion. She knelt beside him, setting the water bottle down before placing a cool palm against his damp forehead. The sudden touch made him flinch, but she didn't pull away.
"Tch. You're burning up, kid," she muttered. "Freaking out in your sleep like that... did you see a ghost or something?"
Shotaro hesitated before shaking his head. "A nightmare..." His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Rin sighed, leaning back slightly, watching him with sharp emerald eyes. "Nightmare, huh? That why you were screaming like someone was ripping you apart?"
Shotaro swallowed hard but gave a small nod. He hadn't screamed like that in years.
Rin exhaled through her nose before reaching for the water bottle. She twisted the cap open with ease and held it out to him. "Here. Drink. And don't spill it, I don't like cleaning up after people."
He hesitated at first, but the dryness in his throat won over his reluctance. Taking the bottle with trembling fingers, he sipped slowly, the cold liquid soothing the rawness inside him. Rin watched him closely, her gaze unreadable.
For a long moment, the room was silent aside from the quiet sounds of Shotaro drinking. The tension in his shoulders lessened slightly, though the haunted look in his eyes remained.
Then, Rin tilted her head. "Your name, kid?"
Shotaro lowered the bottle, his hands still gripping it tightly. "Shotaro, Ms. I am Shotaro Mugyiwara."
At the name, Rin's expression sharpened. "Mugyiwara?" she repeated, her voice carrying an edge of intrigue. "As in Mugyiwara Zaibatsu? The biggest one in the world?"
She nodded to herself, absorbing the weight of his surname. If this kid was truly who he claimed to be, then his existence alone could shake empires. But what was he doing here, falling out of the sky like a shooting star?
Her eyes narrowed. "How did you just fall from the sky?"
Shotaro hesitated, the flickering candlelight casting shadows over his face. His lips parted slightly, then closed again, as if debating whether to tell her the truth. But in the end, he answered, his voice small yet firm.
"I can fly, Miss."
Rin blinked. Of all the things she expected, that was not one of them. She stared at him, waiting for some sign that he was joking. None came. His face, still pale and worn from whatever nightmare had gripped him, held only sincerity.
"What the fuck?" she muttered, rubbing her temples. "Maybe you being the messiah wasn't as much of a story after all…" She scoffed, then her gaze dropped lower, her brows knitting together. "Do tell me why you're biting your lip's corner... blood's oozing."
At her words, Shotaro blinked in confusion before releasing his lower lip from between his teeth. A thin line of blood trailed from the corner, a result of the unconscious pressure he'd applied. He raised a shaky hand, wiping at it.
"It's... it's my habit," he admitted, his voice barely audible. He exhaled, eyes downcast. "You know, Ms...?"
Rin stared at him for a moment before clicking her tongue. "Tch. Annoying habit."
Despite the blunt words, she reached out, taking a small handkerchief from the folds of her kimono. Without a word, she dabbed the blood away with an uncharacteristic gentleness, her touch firm but careful. Shotaro barely reacted, allowing her to tend to the small wound like a mother wiping dirt from a child's cheek.
Once she was done, Rin pulled back, folding the cloth with precision. "Next time, don't chew your damn lip off."
Shotaro only nodded, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Rin sighed, standing up as she stretched her limbs. "You should sleep. You look like hell."
"Yes, Ms..." he murmured, letting his body sink back into the futon.
Rin turned toward the door but paused before stepping out. She glanced back at him, eyes flickering with something indecipherable.
"Get some rest, kid. You're in my house now. And no one touches what's mine."
With that, she slid the door shut, leaving Shotaro alone in the dim light, the weight of her words settling in his mind.
Only to come back in for a second, she added, "Also, my name is Akagitsune Rin."
"Ms... Rin?" Shotaro repeated, testing the name on his tongue.
Rin gave a small nod.
"Thank you, Ms. Rin."
Looking at him, something within her wavered. It was brief, fleeting, but undeniable. For the first time in years, she felt something other than bitterness.
"Don't bother with it, kid; I ain't gonna eat you," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "If it's fate, you may as well stay the night."
And later, as she begrudgingly allowed the child a place in her home, she had expected nothing but silence. Instead, after she casually told him he could stay the night, the boy suddenly muttered, "Unlimited Blade Works?"
She froze mid-step, her temple twitching as she slowly turned back to him. "I wasn't referencing, brat."
Shotaro, despite his exhaustion, gave a weak laugh. "Could've fooled me, Miss Rin."
She groaned, rubbing her temples, a rare smirk tugging at the corner of her crimson-painted lips. "You're lucky you look pathetic, or I'd throw you out just for that."
Akagitsune Rin stepped into her room, the soft patter of her feet swallowed by the sheer expanse of her estate. It was a grand and luxurious space, reflecting the power and wealth she had accumulated over the years. Every inch of the estate was meticulously designed to exude both elegance and authority, a fitting throne for the queen of vice.
Her room, nestled in the most well-positioned wing of the estate, boasted an unparalleled view. She had personally chosen it for its vantage point, allowing her a direct sightline to the red-light district of Mushashinoyamato, her own kingdom of pleasure and depravity. From here, she could watch over her empire—the neon glow illuminating the streets below, the distant echoes of revelry and sin drifting through the air like a haunting lullaby. It was a realm of indulgence, a paradise of vice, and she its ruthless ruler.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Rin approached the full-length mirror standing in the corner of her room. She unfastened the ornate pins in her hair, letting the smooth, silky strands cascade down her back like a waterfall of chestnut brown. Her pinkish-reddish eyes gleamed with their usual vibrancy, reflecting the glow of the city lights behind her. They were as mesmerizing as ever, twin jewels filled with an intensity that could command, seduce, and destroy with equal ease.
She took a deep breath, her fingers finding the folds of her kimono. With practiced ease, she slid the garment off her shoulders, the silken fabric pooling at her feet. The cool air of the room kissed her exposed skin, the contrast making her shudder ever so slightly. Her plump & swollen chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, but her focus was elsewhere. Her hands reached down, tracing the faint stretch marks on her belly—imperfect lines marring otherwise flawless skin.
She had never gotten them removed. Never bothered to.
Her fingers lingered over the marks, tracing them slowly, almost reverently. No matter how much she had changed, no matter how deep she had sunk into her own darkness, these scars remained a testament to the day that had shattered her. The day she lost everything.
She could still remember it in vivid detail, as if it had been yesterday. The news had reached her before she could even hold her child, before she could even name them. Her husband, the man she had once loved more than anything, had been gunned down in cold blood on his way to the hospital. Not by an enemy. Not by a rival. But by his own sister.
A bitter, humorless chuckle escaped her lips. The cruelty of it all was almost poetic.
And in that single, harrowing moment, everything had been taken from her. The life she had dreamed of, the future she had clung to—it had all turned to dust in her hands. The grief had been unbearable, the pain beyond words. And in the wake of that loss, something inside her had snapped. Whatever goodness she had left, whatever innocence had remained, had been buried alongside her unborn child.
That was the moment she had changed. That was the moment she had become the woman she was now—the scum, the wretched queen of Mushashinoyamato's red light district.
She never allowed herself to forget.
Her gaze hardened as she stared at her reflection, her fingers curling into fists. The past was a wound that never fully closed, a phantom pain that would haunt her forever. But she had learned to live with it, to embrace the darkness it had gifted her. If the world had taken everything from her, she would carve out her own empire, no matter the cost.
With a slow exhale, Rin reached down, picking up her kimono once more. Draping it loosely over her shoulders, she turned away from the mirror and walked toward the balcony. The city stretched before her, its sinful glow painting the night sky in hues of crimson and gold.
This was her world now. And she would rule it as the monster they had made her.
But then, there was that child.
That boy—Shotaro Mugiwara.
The silver-haired child with striking red eyes and skin kissed by the sun. A child too young to carry the weight of the tragedies he had already endured. No older than five, yet already scarred by the cruelty of the world. The Hokkaido Incident had nearly claimed his life, and now, barely hours after losing everything, he lay somewhere in this very estate, clinging to life.
Rin exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting beyond the city lights, her thoughts spiraling deeper into contemplation.
She couldn't help but wonder—what would become of him when he finally recovered? What kind of person would he be once he was strong enough to leave this place? Would he succumb to despair, swallowed by the same darkness that had consumed her? Or would he rise above it, forging his own path?
Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her kimono.
Perhaps, deep down, she already knew the answer.
Only time would tell.
Knock. Knock.
Rin's ears twitched at the sound. The rhythmic tapping against the wooden door disrupted the silence of her room. She turned her head, her brows furrowing slightly.
With a sigh, she strode toward the door, sliding it open.
There, standing in the dim light of the corridor, was Shotaro Mugiwara.
His silver hair looked slightly disheveled, his crimson eyes wide yet heavy with exhaustion. He stood still, small hands curled into the fabric of his oversized yukata. He tilted his head up, meeting her gaze without hesitation.
"The dreams," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "They don't let me sleep."
Rin stared down at him, her expression unreadable, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features. "Oh, they don't?" she said, crossing her arms. "And what do you want me to do about it?"
The child hesitated only for a moment before speaking again. "Can I sleep with you, Ms. Rin?"
His words were simple, spoken without much thought. Just a child's request. A plea for warmth.
Rin exhaled sharply through her nose, clicking her tongue. "Tch. Hey, I ain't your mommy, brat. You should be grateful I'm even keeping you here."
She expected him to flinch, to lower his gaze, maybe even scurry away in silence. But instead, she saw something else flicker in his eyes—something raw, something broken. The word "mommy" had struck something deep within him. A wound, freshly carved, barely scabbed over.
And for the first time in years, Rin felt something unexpected—a pang of guilt.
A foreign warmth settled in her chest, uncomfortable yet persistent.
She sighed again, rubbing the back of her neck. "Fine. Just for tonight. We'll figure out what to do with you in the morning."
The boy blinked, his tired eyes widening slightly, as if he hadn't expected her to agree. Then, with a small nod, he stepped inside, making his way toward the large futon at the center of the room.
Rin closed the door behind him, glancing at the child as he carefully settled onto the mattress. She wasn't sure why she had agreed. Maybe it was pity. Maybe it was something else.
Either way, she knew this night would be different.
Akagitsune Rin had barely drifted off to sleep when she felt it—an earth-shattering, lung-collapsing, rib-rattling impact to her stomach.
"GHKH—!!" Her eyes snapped open, her body jolting like she had just been struck by a damn freight train. Which, considering the superhuman little menace in her bed, wasn't far from the truth.
Her gaze locked onto the tiny silver-haired gremlin sprawled across the futon. Shotaro Mugiwara, deep in slumber, was thrashing around like a demon-possessed martial artist in the middle of an exorcism.
His legs shot out again—BAKOOM!—colliding directly into Rin's ribs with enough force to send a lesser person straight through a wall.
"OI!!" she wheezed, gripping the futon for dear life. "You trying to assassinate me in your sleep, brat?"
Shotaro groaned in response, completely unfazed by the destruction he was causing. His tiny arms flailed wildly, his legs kicking like a berserk horse. Before Rin could react, his hand latched onto her wrist.
—AND THEN HE YANKED.
Rin barely had a second to process before she was airborne.
"WAIT—!" she gasped, but it was too late.
With an effortless swing, Shotaro flung her over his shoulder in his sleep. Her body spun mid-air before—BAM!—she crashed down onto the tatami mat, the impact rattling the entire estate.
She lay there, sprawled out, her vision blurry, her soul questioning its continued existence. "I run an empire of sin, command the loyalty of hundreds, and yet here I am... getting raped by a five-year-old in my own bed," she muttered.
Just when she thought the nightmare was over, Shotaro rolled again—this time with the grace of a meteor hurdling toward Earth. Rin barely had time to react before—BAM!—his forehead collided directly with her nose.
"GHHK—!" She clutched her face, her vision exploding into a dazzling display of stars. "I swear to all the gods above and below, if I die tonight, I'm haunting you, brat—"
Shotaro, still lost in his chaotic dreamscape, muttered something under his breath. "...Mom..."
Rin froze.
Her anger flickered, hesitation creeping in. She stared at the kid, his small hands still gripping her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. His face, usually so serious for someone his age, looked soft in sleep. Peaceful. Vulnerable.
A long sigh escaped her lips. She grumbled, shaking her head. "Tch. Whatever. Sleep-wrestle all you want; just don't send me through the damn wall."
Shotaro let out a small sigh of his own, his grip finally loosening.
Rin turned her head away, staring at the ceiling again.
"Maybe just for tonight."
& they fall asleep
Rin woke up in a void.
Everything around her was nothing—just an empty, endless space. Yet, in the distance, she saw something.
A scene.
A moment that didn't belong to her anymore. A moment she could never have back.
A moment that had been stolen.
She saw him.
Ikemoto.
He stood there, laughing, his voice warm and familiar, like a song she hadn't heard in years. In his arms, a small child squirmed, reaching up with tiny hands—grabbing at the broad, rectangular glasses on his father's face.
Jin.
Her breath caught.
Ikemoto adjusted the child effortlessly, his movements fluid, natural—like he had done this a thousand times before. Like he was supposed to.
Like none of it had ever been taken away.
"Ike…moto?" Rin's voice wavered, barely above a whisper.
He turned at the sound of his name, flashing her that same easygoing grin. "Yo, Rin." His tone was light, as if nothing had changed. "Little Jin here is really energetic."
The baby giggled, finally managing to yank the glasses from his father's face. Ikemoto just laughed, ruffling Jin's dark hair as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Then he looked at her.
His smile softened. "Oh? Why are you crying?"
Crying?
She reached up, touching her cheek. Her fingers came away wet.
She hadn't even realized.
Ikemoto tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eye. "Haven't you seen a handsome dead guy before?"
The words hit her harder than they should have.
Dead.
Her stomach twisted.
She had seen him get burried. She had been there when both father & son were burried. She had felt everything he left behind.
So then… what was this?
Jin let out another soft giggle, completely unaware of the storm inside her. Ikemoto laughed too, rocking the child gently in his arms, as if the weight of reality didn't matter.
Rin wanted to move. Wanted to speak. Wanted to run to them, hold them, make sure they were real.
But all she could do was stand there.
And Ikemoto… just kept smiling.
"I don't want to go back…" Rin whispered. Her voice trembled, barely holding itself together. "I don't want to wake up. I wish I could just die there… and my soul could stay here, with you two."
Ikemoto sighed, his expression calm yet firm. "You know you can't do that, Rin."
"Why not?" she snapped, her hands curling into fists. "What's stopping me? If I die, all I leave behind is a trail of crimes, ruined lives, and a legacy of nothing but destruction."
Ikemoto shook his head. "That's not all you'd leave."
Rin felt something crack inside her. She knew what he meant before he even said it.
"You mean… him?" Her voice wavered.
"The kid," Ikemoto said simply.
Rin swallowed hard. "But I just met him," she argued, desperation creeping into her tone. "I—he was going to leave in the morning anyway! I was going to send him to a good orphanage. I—"
The words caught in her throat.
Excuses. That's all they were.
Ikemoto just looked at her, patient as ever. He didn't need to say anything more.
She already knew the truth.
"He lost everything," Ikemoto said, his voice steady yet heavy with meaning. "As far as death goes, he lost his mother… more or less likely, that is."
His gaze drifted slightly as if recalling something distant, something painful. "He's broken beyond repair, Rin. At only five years old… that Shotaro Mugiwara."
Rin clenched her jaw. Something inside her twisted, but she shoved it down, forced herself to look away.
"But," she scoffed, folding her arms tightly against her chest. "What is that to me?"
Ikemoto exhaled, shaking his head slightly. Then he met her eyes, his voice carrying the weight of an undeniable truth.
"That is," he asked, "the answer to every prayer you made in silence when you lost us."
Rin's breath hitched.
A bitter laugh threatened to spill from her lips, but she swallowed it down. "What are you even saying…?"
Ikemoto smiled—softly, knowingly.
"He is a miracle, Rin," he said, his voice quieter this time. "And you know it."
Rin didn't respond.
Because deep down… she did.
"He needs you," Ikemoto said, his voice carrying a calm certainty as he effortlessly lifted Jin into the air, twirling the giggling child above his head. The baby let out a delighted squeal, tiny hands reaching for his father's face, his laughter bright and weightless—completely unaware of the storm raging inside Rin.
Ikemoto caught Jin in his arms again, holding him close as if he were the most precious thing in the world. His movements were natural, fluid—like a man who was supposed to be here, supposed to be alive. But he wasn't.
Rin swallowed hard. She felt like an intruder in her own dream.
"You need him," Ikemoto continued, never taking his eyes off Jin.
His words sent an uncomfortable jolt through her chest.
"Tch." Rin folded her arms, her fingers digging into her sleeves as if to anchor herself. "You're saying that like it actually means something. What the hell do you want from me? To suddenly start acting like some kind of saint? To pretend that I'm capable of taking care of a kid? That's not who I am, Ikemoto."
Ikemoto sighed but didn't argue. Instead, he gently placed Jin back into the crook of his arm, running a hand through the child's soft hair.
"That child of light…" he murmured, his voice softer now, almost reverent. "He will become you."
Rin frowned. "What the hell does that even mean?"
Ikemoto finally turned to look at her, his dark eyes calm yet unwavering. "And you will become him," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "If nothing else."
Rin stiffened.
A part of her wanted to scoff, to push back, to tell him that he was spouting nonsense. But another part of her—one buried deep beneath years of bitterness and regret—knew exactly what he meant.
Shotaro Mugiwara was a child who had lost everything.
Just like she had.
The pain in his eyes, the loneliness clinging to him like a shadow—it was too familiar. It was the same void she had carried in her own heart since that day.
The day she lost Ikemoto. The day she lost Jin. The day everything inside her shattered.
She hadn't tried to heal. She had only learned how to survive.
She had drowned herself in darkness, in power, in indulgence—convinced that if she could control enough, own enough, destroy enough, then maybe… just maybe… she wouldn't feel so powerless anymore.
But the kid…
That five-year-old boy with silver hair and crimson eyes.
That kid had the same emptiness she did.
And now, Ikemoto was telling her that their fates were tied. That the boy's existence wasn't just some coincidence. That the universe, in whatever cruel or twisted way it worked, had put him in her path for a reason.
And worst of all… she knew he was right.
Rin sucked in a shaky breath, her hands clenching.
"You can't be serious," she muttered, looking away.
Ikemoto only smiled. "I've never been more serious, Rin."
Rin gritted her teeth.
Her throat felt tight. Her heart was screaming at her, but she didn't know what it wanted to say.
She thought of Shotaro back in her estate, sleeping in her bed, tossing and turning like a wild animal in his sleep. She thought of how small he was, how helpless. How despite his monstrous strength, despite the fire in his eyes, he was still just a kid who had seen to much.
A kid who had no one.
A kid who, just like her, had lost the one thing that mattered most.
Rin took a slow, deep breath, forcing herself to meet Ikemoto's gaze.
"You think I can save him?" she asked, voice quieter now.
Ikemoto shook his head.
"No," he said simply. "I think he can save you."
Rin's voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of something she was almost afraid to ask.
"If he's not saved…" she hesitated, her fingers tightening into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "...Will he become a monster like me?"
Ikemoto didn't answer right away. He simply held Jin a little closer, the baby's tiny fingers grasping at the fabric of his sleeve. He sighed, his expression unreadable, distant—like he was seeing something far beyond the void they stood in.
Then, after a long pause, he spoke.
"Worse," he said, his voice firm. "And more."
Rin felt something cold creep into her chest.
"Worse?" she repeated, the word almost catching in her throat. "What the hell do you mean worse?"
Ikemoto finally turned to look at her, his gaze steady and heavy with something she couldn't quite name.
"You clawed your way through the darkness, Rin," he said. "It consumed you, twisted you, but you survived it. You adapted. You built something out of it. Call it what you will—an empire, a kingdom, a pit of sin—but you made it yours. You bent the darkness to your will, even if it left you hollow inside."
Rin clenched her teeth, but she didn't interrupt.
"But Shotaro…?" Ikemoto continued, shaking his head slightly. "He's different."
Rin felt her stomach tighten.
"Different how?" she asked, even though she already knew she wouldn't like the answer.
Ikemoto exhaled, adjusting his hold on Jin as the baby nuzzled against his chest.
"You were an adult when you fell, Rin," he said, his voice softer now, more careful. "Your mind was already shaped, your heart already hardened. You knew what you were losing, even as you lost it. You made choices, even if they were the wrong ones. You still had control—however little of it."
Rin's chest burned, but she didn't look away.
Ikemoto's eyes darkened slightly.
"But Shotaro?" He shook his head. "He's only five."
Rin sucked in a sharp breath.
Ikemoto continued, his voice unwavering. "He's too young to fight it. Too young to understand what's happening to him. He doesn't know how to carry that kind of pain, so it will carry him instead. If he isn't saved, the darkness won't just twist him—it will consume him completely."
Rin's throat tightened.
"You think I don't know that?" she muttered, her voice harsher than she intended. "I saw it. The way he looks at the world, the way he holds himself like he's waiting for the next thing to be ripped away from him. The way he fights in his sleep—like he's still running from something, even there."
She let out a bitter breath.
"But what am I supposed to do about it?" she scoffed, shaking her head. "I'm not some saint, Ikemoto. I'm not a hero. I'm not even a good person. Hell, I'm the last person on Earth who should be responsible for a kid like him."
Ikemoto's lips curled into something that was almost a smirk.
"Then it's a good thing he doesn't need a saint," he said simply. "He just needs someone who understands."
Rin froze.
"He needs someone who knows what it's like to lose everything," Ikemoto continued. "Someone who knows how to keep moving forward, even when there's nothing left. Someone who won't lie to him about how cruel the world is—but won't let him become a victim to it, either."
Rin swallowed hard.
Ikemoto tilted his head slightly.
"And if that someone is a monster?" he mused. "Then maybe that's exactly what he needs."
Rin let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
The void was silent around them.
Somewhere in the distance, the memory of laughter still echoed—Jin's soft giggles, Ikemoto's easy chuckle. A life that should have been hers. A life that was stolen.
And now, another life had fallen into her hands.
Shotaro Mugiwara.
She wasn't his mother. She wasn't even sure she was capable of being anything good for him.
But she knew what it felt like to be swallowed by the dark.
And she knew that if no one pulled him out…
He wouldn't survive it.
Or worse.
He would.
But not as the boy he was now.
Not as Shotaro Mugiwara.
As something else.
Something far worse.
Something beyond saving.
Rin closed her eyes and let out a slow, heavy breath.
"...Damn you, Ikemoto," she muttered.
Ikemoto just smiled as the pitch black void engulfed the white one, disconnecting it.
The scent of something… delicious.
Rin's eyes fluttered open, her body still aching from the sleep-wrestling nightmare that was Shotaro Mugiwara. She groaned, rubbing her temples as she sat up. There was no mistaking it—something was cooking. And not just anything. It smelled like real food. Not the usual garbage her girls scrounged together, not the stale rice or half-rotten vegetables they were sometimes forced to eat.
This was different.
Fresh. Rich.
Bacon. Eggs. Some kind of soup.
Her stomach growled despite itself.
Then, suddenly—her mind caught up.
Her eyes snapped open completely.
"...Wait."
She stiffened, something clicking in her head.
Her girls.
The ones she had locked underground. The ones she had nearly starved in those tiny, cramped cabins beneath the estate as punishment for disobedience.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"What the fuck?"
In an instant, she was on her feet, her exhaustion evaporating as she bolted toward the source of the smell. Her bare feet hit the wooden floors hard, her hair flying behind her as she ran through the dim hallways, her pulse hammering.
This had to be a dream.
Had to be.
She shoved open the sliding door to the courtyard.
And froze.
There he was.
That five-year-old silver-haired idiot.
Shotaro Mugiwara.
Standing in the middle of the courtyard, calmly serving food to the starving women she had locked away.
A large makeshift table had been set up, and the women—her girls, the ones who should've been too weak to move, the ones who should've been half-conscious, crawling on the floor like dying rats—were sitting around it. Eating.
Eating like they hadn't seen food in weeks.
Because they hadn't.
And the worst part?
They were crying.
Tears streamed down their faces as they shoveled food into their mouths, their bodies trembling, their lips quivering as they chewed. Some of them sobbed openly, holding their bowls of soup like they were clutching onto life itself. Others whispered prayers under their breath, their hands shaking as they picked up the perfectly cooked bacon, their eyes wide with disbelief.
One woman, a seasoned veteran of the district, collapsed onto her knees mid-bite, her body wracked with uncontrollable sobs as she clutched her plate.
"It's… it's real food…" she wept.
"This… this tastes like home…" another woman whispered, her voice breaking.
Rin's eye twitched.
She felt something in her brain snap.
Shotaro, meanwhile, stood there, completely unbothered by the emotional devastation he had just caused. He held a pan in one tiny hand and a wooden ladle in the other, moving between the women with the efficiency of an experienced chef. His little hands worked like he had done this a thousand times before, flipping eggs with precision, stirring the soup without spilling a single drop, placing freshly cooked bacon onto plates like some kind of culinary demon child.
The audacity.
The absolute audacity of this five-year-old idiot.
Rin took a deep, slow breath.
Then, her voice rang through the courtyard like an explosion.
"OI, BRAT!! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"
Shotaro barely glanced up as he placed another bowl of soup in front of one of the women, who immediately clasped her hands together like she had just received a divine blessing.
"Feeding them," he replied simply.
Rin twitched. "I CAN SEE THAT, DIPSHIT. WHY?!"
Shotaro, still calm as ever, blinked at her. "Because they were hungry."
Rin's brain short-circuited.
"THAT'S THE POINT, YOU IDIOT! I LOCKED THEM UP FOR A REASON!"
Shotaro tilted his head. "Oh." He thought for a second. Then shrugged. "That's stupid."
Rin felt an aneurysm coming on.
"You—" she pointed at him, her hands shaking, rage bubbling inside her like a volcano ready to erupt. "Do you have any idea what you just did?! These girls were being punished, Shotaro. PUNISHED. This is MY estate. MY rules. And you—" she gestured wildly at the table of crying women, "YOU JUST FED A BUNCH OF DISOBEDIENT WHORES A FIVE-STAR FUCKING BREAKFAST?!"
Shotaro blinked again.
Then, completely unfazed, he turned back to his cooking. "Want some?"
Rin nearly threw something at him.
"ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!"
The women—who, just moments ago, had been sobbing into their meals—were now staring at the scene with something almost close to… amusement. Some of them, for the first time in ages, let out quiet chuckles. One even covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
Rin snapped her head toward them.
"And WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ALL LAUGHING AT?!"
One of the women, still trembling from hunger, wiped her tears and looked up at Rin with something she had never dared show before.
A small, hesitant smile.
Rin froze.
And for the first time, something ugly and uncomfortable twisted in her chest.
Not anger.
Not rage.
Something else.
Something she didn't want to name.
Shotaro, still stirring his soup, yawned.
"You should eat before it gets cold," he muttered. "You look like you need it."
Rin snapped her gaze back to him, nostrils flaring. "What the—ARE YOU CALLING ME SKINNY OR SOMETHING?!"
Shotaro blinked, staring at her blankly. "No. You just look like you haven't eaten anything good in a long time."
Rin opened her mouth—then immediately closed it.
Her stomach growled.
Loudly.
Shotaro raised an eyebrow.
"...Want some bacon?"
Rin twitched violently.
"...Give me the fucking plate."
Rin snatched the plate from Shotaro's tiny hands, her eye twitching violently as she glared down at the perfectly cooked meal. The bacon gleamed under the dim lighting of the courtyard, golden and crisp, with just the right amount of fat glistening on the edges. The eggs, cooked sunny-side-up, were so flawlessly prepared that the yolks shone like molten gold. The soup, steaming gently, carried an aroma so rich and deep that it seeped into her very soul.
Her pride screamed at her to just throw the plate aside, to reject this blatant act of defiance. But her hunger—her cursed, traitorous hunger—won the battle.
With a grumble, she grabbed a piece of bacon and bit down.
And then—
—Her entire world shattered.
The moment the crispy, perfectly seasoned bacon touched her tongue, an explosion of flavors detonated in her mouth, sending shockwaves through every nerve in her body. The balance of salt and fat, the subtle hint of smokiness—it was so perfect that it felt like the very concept of bacon had been redefined in her mind.
Her eyes widened. Her pupils dilated.
Then—BOOM!
Her kimono exploded apart in a dramatic burst of energy, the sheer force of the taste tearing through the very fabric of reality. Golden light erupted behind her, casting a divine glow across the courtyard as her body convulsed with pleasure.
"W-what the hell—?! AGHHHHH!!"
She arched her back, her hair whipping around her like she had just been struck by lightning. The skies above cracked open, and in a flash of divine revelation, she found herself transported to a surreal, dreamlike space.
There—floating above the heavens—she saw it.
A field of golden pigs.
They floated through the air like celestial beings, their bodies glistening with an unholy sheen of divine pork fat. Ethereal angels, clad in robes made of sizzling bacon strips, sang praises in an ancient, long-forgotten tongue:
"CRIIIIIIISP~! SAAAAVOOOOR~! GLORIOUS MEAT~!"
Rin gasped, her breath stolen by the overwhelming beauty. A single godly pig descended toward her, its massive form radiating a warmth that cradled her soul. It looked down at her with infinite wisdom before speaking in a voice so deep, so powerful, it vibrated in her bones.
"Dost thou comprehend… the truth of BACON?"
Rin's knees buckled. She trembled, overwhelmed by the sacred knowledge being forced into her consciousness. "I… I do now…" she whispered.
The godly pig nodded solemnly. "Then go forth, child, and feast."
BAM!
She was violently yanked back to reality, her body shaking, her breath ragged.
She fell to her knees, hands trembling, sweat dripping down her forehead. Her kimono, once wrapped neatly around her, was now hanging off her shoulders in tattered strips, as if she had just survived a divine purification ritual.
The courtyard was silent.
Everyone was staring at her.
Some of the women who had been eating moments ago had stopped mid-bite, their mouths hanging open in stunned disbelief. One girl looked at Rin, then at the plate, then back at Rin—before hurriedly taking another bite, just to see if it would happen to her too.
It did.
The girl's entire body convulsed, her eyes rolling back as she let out an ungodly moan, her clothes nearly bursting apart from the sheer force of flavor. "I-I CAN SEE HEAVEN!!" she screamed, collapsing onto the table.
Another woman, completely entranced, shoved an entire strip of bacon into her mouth, only to immediately fall backward as her soul temporarily left her body.
"This is… THIS IS ALCHEMY!" one of the prostitutes gasped, clutching her chest as she experienced nirvana.
"I—I've eaten at the finest restaurants in the capital, but NOTHING has ever—!" Another woman fell to the ground, gripping the dirt as if to ground herself to reality.
Rin, still recovering from her own food-induced enlightenment, turned her head slowly toward the source of this madness.
Shotaro.
That five-year-old demon.
The culinary warlord.
The incarnation of the God of Cooking himself.
He stood there, completely unimpressed, picking his nose.
"…You okay?" he asked, as if he hadn't just shattered her perception of food.
Rin couldn't even formulate words. She was shaking, her entire world destroyed and rebuilt within seconds. She could only stare at him in disbelief, sweat dripping down her face as she gripped the remains of her tattered kimono.
After a long, painful silence—
She finally managed to choke out two words.
"...Give me more."
Shotaro, the five-year-old culinary eldritch entity, casually handed out seconds to the drooling, trembling women before him.
"Here ya go," he said, completely unfazed by the destruction he had just wrought upon reality itself.
And then—
ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE.
The moment the food touched their tongues, a chain reaction of pure, unfiltered ecstasy detonated through the courtyard like a synchronized explosion of atomic flavor warfare.
BA-KOOOOOM!!
One woman arched her back so violently that her entire body snapped into a bridge position, her eyes rolling back so far that only the whites remained. A shockwave of unholy bliss erupted from her—the sheer force blowing out every candle in the estate.
Another woman, gripping her bowl of soup with trembling hands, took one sip—just one sip—and immediately achieved enlightenment.
Her soulphysicallyleft her body, ascending into the sky in a beam of golden radiance.
The heavens opened. A celestial choir erupted in song.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaah~"
A halo formed above her head. She reached toward the sky, a single tear rolling down her cheek as she whispered:
"I have SEEN the divine cookbook..."
BAM!! She dropped limp to the ground, her body twitching like she had just been tased by God himself.
Rin, still in the fetal position from her previous food-induced enlightenment, tried to pull herself together. She failed.
Her vision blurred. Her hands trembled. Her stomach growled like a feral beast.
She lunged forward, snatching another plate, her pride completely obliterated.
She took a bite.
And in that instant—
The laws of physics no longer applied.
She was suddenly soaring through the cosmos, her body naked and wrapped in swirling galaxies, her limbs stretching across the endless void as cosmic bacon strips spiraled around her like celestial ribbons.
Her body erupted into stars.
A black hole of pure flavor opened beneath her, sucking her in, distorting time itself. Memories from her past lives flooded her mind. She saw herself as a prehistoric cavewoman, grunting in delight as she bit into the first-ever cooked meal in human history.
Then—she was a Victorian noblewoman, fainting dramatically at a lavish feast, clutching her chest as an entire orchestra played in the background.
Then—she was an alien princess, floating in a zero-gravity spaceship, moaning in an incomprehensible extraterrestrial language as a gelatinous gourmet being spoon-fed her cosmic delicacies.
She slammed back into her body, gasping for air.
Sweat dripped from every pore. Her clothes barely clung to her body, shredded by the sheer force of culinary enlightenment.
A second wave of flavor-induced devastation rocked the estate.
The courtyard cracked open, a golden geyser of liquid umamierupting from beneath as the very ground itself acknowledged the food's superiority.
Somewhere in the distance—
A monk in a secluded temple suddenly clutched his chest, his eyes snapping open in terror.
"A disturbance in the Flavor Force..." he muttered. "A chef beyond human comprehension has been born..."
Back in the estate—
One of the women, having eaten just a little too much, screamed into the night like a werewolf in heat, before dropping face-first into the dirt, her legs twitching like she had just downloaded the entire universe's forbidden cooking techniques into her nervous system.
Another woman—tears streaming down her face—grabbed Shotaro by his tiny shoulders and shook him violently.
"WHAT ARE YOU?!?" she cried. "WHAT DARK PACT DID YOU MAKE?!?"
Shotaro blinked.
Then picked his nose.
"I am good," he said, before walking off to grab more plates.
Rin lay there, her body a shattered husk, her mind permanently rewired by the forbidden knowledge of this child's ungodly culinary arts.
She gazed at the night sky, still trembling.
And then, barely above a whisper—
"...More…"
Rin sat cross-legged, her arms lazily draped over her knees, watching the little silver-haired brat with a mix of curiosity and mild irritation.
Shotaro stood before her, back straight, his tiny five-year-old chest puffed out like a commander delivering demands to a warlord.
"I have one condition," he declared, folding his little arms. His face was set in an expression of deep seriousness, but it was clear he was trying way too hard to act tough.
Rin arched an eyebrow, amused.
"Oh? And what would that be, huh, brat?" she asked, tilting her head, already expecting something ridiculous like "I want more bacon" or "I demand a throne of pillows."
But then—
Shotaro raised a single finger and pointed it straight at her.
"You are going to change your ways," he said, voice steady, eyes unwavering.
For a split second—silence.
A pin could've dropped and caused a goddamn explosion.
Then—
"HUH?!"
The collective shockwave of disbelief rippled through the entire estate. Every single woman in the courtyard—former captives, current workers, some still trembling from The Great Food Awakening—snapped their heads toward the boy, their jaws hanging open.
Even Rin felt the air shift.
"...What?" she blinked.
"Yeah, why do you all look so surprised?" Shotaro said, turning to the women. "I'm doing it for you all."
The women exchanged glances, their disbelief deepening.
Rin, meanwhile, let out a sharp laugh, rubbing her temple. "Tch. You've got some nerve, brat. What, you think you can just waltz in here, demand I change, and I'll just—"
"You're going to stop exploiting them," Shotaro cut her off mid-sentence, his red eyes burning with a fire that shouldn't exist in a child his age.
Rin's smirk twitched.
"...Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Shotaro continued, completely unshaken. "No more trapping them here. No more treating them like objects. No more making them stay when they want to leave. No more abuse."
He was talking to her like she was the damn kid.
A woman gasped audibly. Another let out a low whistle.
"Damn… I knew kids didn't have any filters, but this is something else," one muttered.
Shotaro ignored the whispers, his gaze still locked onto Rin.
"And I also want you to improve their working conditions," he added.
The women gasped again, but this time, it was with real hope.
Shotaro wasn't just running his mouth. He meant business.
"And their workload," he added without missing a beat.
Rin felt her eye twitch.
This little gremlin—this **five-year-old with the strength of a goddamn gorilla and the bluntness of a drunk old man—**was standing there, issuing demands as if she was the kid and he was the damn boss.
"And if I refuse?" she asked, voice dangerously smooth.
Shotaro folded his arms again. "Then I'm leaving."
Another silence.
The air turned heavy.
It wasn't just about him walking away. It was what that meant.
Rin exhaled sharply, shifting her weight onto one arm.
She wasn't sure what it was—if it was the ghost of her husband's voice echoing in her head, or if it was the way this brat stood his ground so unshaken—but something about his words dug into her like a splinter she couldn't remove.
The women were watching.
Shotaro was waiting.
And for the first time in years, Rin felt like she had been cornered.
"…Tch."
She clicked her tongue, looking away.
"You really are a pain in the ass, brat," she muttered.
Shotaro smirked. "I get that a lot."
The women collectively held their breath.
Rin sighed. She turned her gaze toward the crowd of women—some of whom had suffered under her rule, some who had never had the courage to look her in the eye until now.
"Fine," she said finally. "I'll… consider it."
The moment the words left her mouth—the courtyard erupted.
Some women collapsed to their knees, covering their mouths in shock. Others burst into tears, overwhelmed by the impossible.
A few of the older ones, who had given up on the idea of ever being free again, simply stared at Shotaro like he had just parted the damn sea.
Rin rubbed her temples, already regretting whatever the hell just happened.
Shotaro?
He just sat down, picked up another plate of food, and kept eating like he hadn't just forced the most ruthless woman in the city to change her entire damn business model.
"This bacon is pretty good," he mumbled.
And with that—
The revolution had begun.
Rin's breath hitched as the weight of realization crashed into her like a tidal wave.
"That child can save you."
That was what Ikemoto had said. Not redemption. Not punishment. Not revenge.
Shotaro.
This brat. This silver-haired, red-eyed, mouthy little gremlin. He was the answer.
Rin had spent years convinced there was nothing left for her but the filth she had built around herself. She thought her sins were too deep, her soul too rotted to ever crawl out of the abyss she had dug.
But this kid—this ridiculous, impossible child—had walked into her empire of sin and challenged her to destroy it.
And worse?
She was actually considering it.
Her fingers clenched. She didn't deserve this.
She had done too much. She had bled people dry, broken them, turned them into tools for her own survival. And yet, here he was.
A five-year-old lecturing her like she was the child.
A five-year-old demanding she change.
A five-year-old who, instead of running from her, instead of fearing her, had sat at her table, fed her people, and told her to be better.
"That child can save you."
Her throat tightened.
She hadn't believed it then.
She believed it now.
Rin scoffed, leaning back, arms crossed, trying to shrug off the growing weight pressing against her chest.
"Why do you even care about these…whores?" she demanded, her voice dripping with indifference, like she hadn't been just moments away from breaking apart inside.
Shotaro looked up at her, his red eyes burning—not with anger, not with disgust, but with something far worse.
Conviction.
"Because," he said, voice steady, unshaken, "before getting blown up, my mother told me I had to save everyone… something like that."
Rin's breath caught.
That night.
She didn't even need to ask which one.
The Hokkaido Incident. The night that carved this kid out of fire and grief and left him standing here in front of her, making demands that no child should have to make.
She laughed, sharp and cruel, desperate to smother the unease curling in her stomach.
"Hah. Let me guess—" she sneered, her smirk widening, forcing herself to sound amused when really, she wanted to run. "Is the four-foot knight here starting his grand career by saving whores from their evil boss?"
She expected him to scowl. To look away. To waver.
He didn't.
He just stood there, staring up at her, eyes steady, back straight, like he had already decided.
And then, in the smallest, softest voice—yet one that cut through her like a blade—
"No."
Rin froze.
Shotaro's tiny fingers curled into fists. His jaw tightened. His red eyes—those damn red eyes—gleamed with something unshakable.
"I want to save you too."
Rin's stomach dropped.
What the fuck?
The air in the room shifted.
For the first time in years, someone was looking at her not as a villain. Not as a monster.
But as someone worth saving.
Her fingers twitched.
Her throat burned.
Her chest ached.
She didn't deserve this.
She wanted to laugh, to mock him, to deny it outright.
But the words wouldn't come.
Because, deep down, in the part of her soul she thought had long since rotted away, she knew.
She knew.
That child really could save her.
If she let him.
Rin pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting for her life against the migraine that was forming.
She had dealt with psychotic debt collectors, deranged rival bosses, and assassins sent to kill her in her sleep.
But this?
This five-year-old gremlin was about to drive her off the deep end.
"You retarded preschooler," she spat, jabbing a finger at his tiny, smug face. "Let's see how much you can save me when I drop your ass at an orphanage. I am not your guardian, yet, you know?"
Shotaro didn't flinch.
"Do it."
Rin blinked.
The brat tilted his head slightly, eyes glowing with unholy confidence.
"I'll just fly back."
Rin choked on air.
"…You'll what?"
"Fly back." Shotaro said it like it was as normal as breathing. Like this was just a casual Tuesday conversation. Like she wasn't seconds away from slamming his ass into the floor out of pure disbelief.
She stared at him.
Then she laughed. Hard.
"Oh, I forgot you can fly." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "My bad. Then how about this? I'll just put a whole-ass dorm around this red-light district. Lock you in, make sure you stay out of my business. Which—by the way—I am financially able to do."
Shotaro shrugged.
"I can instantly teleport."
Rin's entire body stiffened.
"...You can what?"
"Instantly teleport," Shotaro repeated, staring up at her dead serious. "Or I'll just melt through the dorm with heat vision."
Silence.
Dead silence.
Even the prostitutes who had been quietly eavesdropping from the corners of the room stopped mid-bite.
One of them, a tall woman with heavy eyeliner and a cigarette dangling from her lips, nearly choked.
"Heat-whaT?!"
Rin just stood there, her soul leaving her body.
A nerve twitched in her forehead.
"I'm sorry—what."
Shotaro blinked innocently. "Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that part. I can also—"
"No. NO." Rin held up a hand. "Stop. I need a second." She turned away, placing both hands on her knees like she was about to collapse.
This wasn't happening.
She picked up a random, helpless glass of water from the table, downed it in one gulp, and then set it back down with force.
Then, she turned back to Shotaro, her eyes twitching.
"So what you're saying," she began, slowly, carefully, as if processing the absolute bullshit she had just heard, "is that on top of being a five-year-old with super strength, you also fly, teleport, and have fucking HEAT VISION?"
Rin was fighting demons in her brain.
She had seen a lot of crazy shit in her lifetime.
But this?
This five-year-old freak of nature standing in front of her, casually listing his world-ending powers like it was a school presentation, was too much.
"So let me get this straight," she began, her voice strained as she rubbed her temples. "On top of super strength, flying, teleporting, and heat vision... What else you got, brat?"
Shotaro tapped his chin, thinking.
"Uh... well," he started, counting on his fingers, "there's super speed, enhanced senses, durability, energy blasts, ice breath, and self-healing."
Silence.
More silence.
The girls in the room were frozen mid-sip of their drinks.
One of them, a petite blonde with fox-like eyes, whispered, "That's just Goku."
Shotaro, completely ignoring the existential crisis happening around him, continued.
"Oh! And I can breathe in space."
Rin's eye twitched so hard it nearly spasmed out of her skull.
"Excuse me, what."
"Breathe in space," Shotaro repeated, casually. "I think I can hold my breath for, like, a few years too. Haven't tested it, but yeah."
Rin slowly turned to the nearest girl, grabbed a bottle of the strongest alcohol she could find, and downed it straight.
But Shotaro wasn't done.
"Also, I think I can survive nukes."
Rin choked.
"NUKES?!"
Shotaro nodded. "Yeah, I mean, I haven't tested it, but I did survive flying into the sun & back once."
A girl in the background fainted.
Rin?
Rin was just standing there. Processing. Trying. Struggling.
She slammed the bottle down on the table and pointed a shaking finger at Shotaro.
"You mean to tell me," she growled, "that I picked up a five-year-old walking WMD and brought him into my home?!"
Shotaro shrugged.
"Technically, yeah."
Rin sat down. Hard.
"Yeah, okay. I'm done." She grabbed the bottle again. "I'm drinking myself to death. Goodbye."
Shotaro sighed like a disappointed parent.
"Ms. Rin, alcohol isn't a solution."
Rin gawked at him.
"SAYS THE CHILD WHO CAN BREATHE IN SPACE, MELT METAL WITH HIS EYES, AND EAT NUKES FOR BREAKFAST."
Shotaro blinked. "I never said I eat nukes for breakfast. Just that I could survive one."
Rin had never wanted to yeet a child more in her life.
Rin opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Then she turned to one of the girls.
"Please. Hit me. I need to know if I'm dreaming."
The girl raised a hand, but before she could slap Rin across the face, Shotaro raised a single finger—
And in the blink of an eye, a tiny, concentrated beam of heat shot from his eye, melting the spoon on the table into a small puddle of molten metal.
Everyone screamed.
Rin threw herself back.
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!!"
Shotaro, completely unfazed, picked up the melted spoon, looked at it, then nodded in satisfaction.
"See? Heat vision."
The entire room was in shambles.
Rin's soul left her body for the second time.
She had brought Jesus himself into her house.
& what do you do with that...Katana you walk around with.
"Oh It's just the Tokioni Muramasa, my family's heirloom, also known as virtue blade, can only be unsheated by those posses all 7 cardinal virtues you"
"Excuse me what the fuck"
"The virtue blade you know"
"No actually I heard it first time".
Rin had officially reached her limit.
She had heard a lot of bullshit in her life.
But this?
This was next-level.
She leaned forward, rubbing her temples. "So let me get this straight." She exhaled, trying to process the absolute nonsense coming out of this five-year-old's mouth. "You carry around a sword that can only be drawn by someone who possesses all seven cardinal virtues?"
Shotaro nodded.
"Yep. The Tokioni Muramasa." He patted the sheathed katana at his waist like it was a toy and not some legendary artifact of world-breaking proportions. "It's my family's heirloom."
Rin just stared at him.
"Excuse me, what the fuck."
Shotaro tilted his head. "What? You've never heard of the Virtue Blade?"
"No, actually, I'm hearing about it for the first time." Rin pinched the bridge of her nose. "And you mean to tell me, you, a five-year-old gremlin, have unlocked all seven cardinal virtues?"
"Uh-huh."
Silence.
Long, painful silence.
Rin stared at the sword. Then at Shotaro. Then at the sword again.
"...Are you sure it's not just a normal sword, brat?"
Shotaro shook his head, dead serious.
"Nope. Try pulling it out."
Rin snorted. "Pft. Alright, let's see—" She grabbed the handle and pulled.
Nothing.
She yanked harder.
Still nothing.
"...This thing's broken," she muttered, gripping the sheath tighter. She planted her feet, using all her trained strength to pull the blade free.
The sword didn't budge an inch.
She gave it one last violent tug—and suddenly, an invisible force slammed her straight into the wall.
BANG.
The entire estate shook from the impact.
A girl in the background screamed, "OH MY GOD, IT SENT HER FLYING!"
Rin slid down the wall, groaning. "What the hell was that?!"
Shotaro just shrugged.
"I told you," he said, munching on a rice ball, completely unbothered. "Only someone with all seven virtues can unsheathe it."
Rin, still dizzy from getting yeeted, slowly turned her head toward him.
"You mean to tell me that you, the five-year-old retard, meet the qualifications, but I don't?!"
Shotaro blinked. "Well, do you have humility, kindness, patience, diligence, charity, temperance, and chastity?"
Rin froze.
The room went dead silent.
Even the girls in the background averted their eyes.
A single bead of sweat rolled down Rin's temple.
"...You little shit."
Shotaro just smirked.
For a long while, Rin just stood there.
She didn't say anything.
She didn't move.
She only watched.
Shotaro sat among the women—her women—the ones she had tormented, controlled, and used like disposable commodities. And yet, now, they surrounded him, eating the food he cooked with their eyes brimming with tears, some of them openly sobbing as they took bite after bite.
It was ridiculous. It was insulting.
And yet, it made her chest feel heavy.
The clatter of bowls and chopsticks, the quiet sniffles of women who had once been lifeless dolls in her grasp, the occasional laugh—a real laugh, not a forced one meant to please a client. It was all wrong. It was all so fucking wrong.
This was her red-light district. Her kingdom of indulgence and debauchery. A place of chains, both unseen and literal. And here was this brat—this ridiculous, overpowered little brat—shoving food into their hands and acting like he had the right to disrupt the natural order.
Did he even understand what this place was?
What she was?
Rin clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.
But even as anger swelled in her, it was tangled with something else.
A deep, gnawing unease.
A question that she didn't want to face.
Was Ikemoto right?
Was this what he meant when he said, That child can save you?
Did she... need him?
She glanced at Shotaro again, watching as he casually wiped a woman's tears with the edge of his sleeve before plopping another helping of food onto her plate like it was nothing. He wasn't asking for anything. He wasn't judging them. He was just doing it.
And despite herself, she couldn't look away.
Could she really just... let this happen?
Because if Ikemoto was right, then this child—this small, untamed force of nature—was standing at a crossroads.
One path would lead him to become the greatest shield the world had ever known. A force that could protect and save. A beacon in a world filled with darkness.
But the other path?
The other path would turn him into a monster beyond anything she could even comprehend.
Something far worse than her.
Something far worse than she had ever imagined herself to be.
And yet, why her?
Why was it her that he was choosing?
Why was this five-year-old, reality-warping menace—who could fly, teleport, and apparently **pull out some goddamn holy katana like a chosen hero—**insisting on staying with her?
Why me? she thought bitterly. Why do I deserve this?
Did she really deserve the ability to change the world's fate?
Did she even want that responsibility?
Rin had long since accepted that she was filth. A parasite. A selfish, indulgent tyrant of the underworld. And yet, here was a child—one who had lost everything—choosing her.
Clinging to her.
Does he really need me?
Or was this just a cruel joke?
Her fingers twitched.
The thought of pushing him away, throwing him out before it was too late, crossed her mind.
But deep down... she already knew.
She couldn't.
She couldn't get rid of him.
Not because he was physically impossible to contain—she had already lost that battle when he casually mentioned melting through solid walls and teleporting whenever he felt like it.
But because...
Somewhere, in the depths of her rotting, decayed soul—
She didn't want him to leave.
And that terrified her more than anything.
For the longest time, Rin had thought her fate was sealed.
She was Akagitsune Rin.The Queen of the Red Light District.The Wicked Fox.The Tyrant of pleasure.
She had long since accepted her role as a monster.
She was never going to change. There was no redemption for people like her. Even if she tried, even if she pretended, the weight of her sins would crush any attempt at being a better person. She had made peace with that.
Or at least—she thought she had.
But now?
Now, there was this ridiculous little bastard.
This silver-haired, red-eyed gremlin who was five goddamn years old and somehow stronger than most trained killers she had ever met. A kid who didn't give a single shit about who she was or what she had done.
A kid who should have been just another tragic footnote in the endless cycle of suffering that defined the world she ruled.
But he wasn't.
Instead, he was standing there, arms crossed, chest puffed up like a pint-sized warlord, demanding that she change.
Demanding that she stop being a piece of shit.
Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like it wasn't impossible.
Like she could just choose to be better.
And Rin hated how much that rattled her.
For a moment, she wanted to laugh in his face. To tell him that people don't change. That no matter what he said, no matter what he thought he could do, the world was always going to be cruel.
But she didn't.
Because the truth was—this brat was already proving her wrong.
He was changing things.
Right in front of her.
The women she had kept broken and obedient were eating at his table. Laughing at his dumb jokes. Feeling human again for the first time in years.
And the worst part?
She was starting to feel human too.
And she hated it.
Because the more she watched him, the more she saw him standing there with that determined, infuriating little expression—
The more she realized she had already lost.
Ikemoto had told her in that dream.
"That child can save you."
At the time, she had scoffed. She had thought it was some poetic bullshit, some sentimental nonsense meant to tug at her long-dead heartstrings.
But now—standing here, watching Shotaro stare her down with all the confidence of a goddamn shonen protagonist—
She understood.
This wasn't about saving herself.
It was about him.
He was standing at a crossroads—the same one she had once stood at.
And he was already teetering at the edge.
One path would turn him into the world's greatest protector.
The other would turn him into a nightmare beyond comprehension.
And she—a woman who had spent years tearing people down, destroying lives, selling souls for profit—
She was the one who got to decide which way he went.
What kind of sick cosmic joke was that?
The weight of that realization nearly crushed her.
She had never been responsible for anything but destruction.
She had never built anything. Never protected anything. Never nurtured anything.
And yet, now—
Now she had this tiny, overpowered little bastard looking at her like she was supposed to be his fucking parent.
Like she was supposed to raise him.
Like she was supposed to save him.
And the worst part?
She wanted to.
For the first time in years, she wanted to do something other than indulge in her own depravity.
For the first time in years, she wanted to try.
She wanted to protect him. To keep him from becoming what she was.
She wanted to take this ridiculous, stubborn little superhuman and make sure he never became a monster.
She wanted to keep him safe.
And that's when it happened.
That's when she snapped.
Something inside her—something that had been buried beneath years of filth and cruelty—
Cracked.
It was like an exorcism.
Like all the ghosts of her past were being violently evicted from her rotten soul.
Her entire worldview shifted.
And at that moment, she knew.
Evil?
Done.
Shotaro?
Her son now.
No turning back. No second-guessing. No regrets.
She turned to the women who had once feared her.
She turned to the brat who had just obliterated every excuse she had ever made for herself.
And for the first time in a very, very long time—
Akagitsune Rin smiled.
Not a smirk. Not a cruel grin.
A real, genuine smile.
"…Tch." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Goddamn it."
Shotaro raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"
She stepped forward, towering over him, then jabbed a finger into his forehead.
"You win, brat." She said, voice laced with amusement—and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of affection. "I give up."
The women gasped.
Shotaro just blinked. "…Wait. What?"
"I said," she flicked his forehead, "you win."
"…Oh."
There was a long pause.
Then, Shotaro grinned.
A big, bright, stupid little grin.
"…Heh. Knew you'd come around."
Rin rolled her eyes. "Tch. Don't get cocky."
The women erupted into cheers.
Rin let out a long, exasperated sigh, shaking her head.
What the fuck had she just signed up for?.