Hikaru's life had changed.
He had friends now—four of them. For the first time in years, he found himself laughing during lunch breaks, engaging in conversations, and looking forward to each school day. Even his teachers noticed the shift. He was no longer the withdrawn, quiet genius sitting in the back row. Something within him had come alive again.
After class, his friends gathered around him as usual.
Amagiri was the first to speak.
"Kagawa-kun, when did you start studying seriously?" she asked with a playful grin.
"I've always studied," Hikaru replied casually. "I was just holding back."
"Why's that?" Ayazawa asked, visibly curious.
"Well… I figured if I got perfect grades all the time, I'd attract too much attention." Hikaru offered a small smile.
It was the truth, enough to satisfy them.
"Wow, I could never score full marks on something that hard," Kiryuu said, clearly impressed. "You're incredible."
"It's not that big a deal," Hikaru replied modestly. "If you study a little every day, I'm sure you'll get great marks too."
They continued chatting as they ate together, exchanging jokes and stories. Hikaru had grown close enough to refer to Sakura and Renji by their first names—and they, in turn, did the same with him. For the first time in years, he felt like he belonged.
After school, Kanzaki took a different route home, leaving Hikaru to walk alone. With a warm bag of food in hand—something he had picked up for his sister, Yuki—he strolled through the quiet neighborhood.
As he walked, he reflected.
Why was I so alone before?
Why didn't I live like this from the beginning?
I regret so much.
He had changed in the last few days. He felt like his old self again. But what he didn't realize—what he couldn't possibly know—was that fate had been waiting for this moment.
Three years ago, his world had been torn apart by someone—a monster. Since then, it had taken every ounce of willpower to function like a normal person again. But Hikaru wasn't meant to be happy. Deep down, he believed that. He had always believed that.
That belief was what kept him isolated all these years.
But now, he had dared to believe in happiness again. He had started to believe that maybe—just maybe—he was allowed to be normal.
And fate would punish him for it.
He turned down a narrow lane, where no one was watching. No security cameras. No passersby.
Then—
CRACK.
A sharp, searing pain struck the back of his head. The world spun. The bag slipped from his hand.
Darkness.
---
When he awoke, everything was black.
His head throbbed. His limbs were bound tightly. A rough blindfold covered his eyes.
Hikaru—calm, composed, rational Hikaru—was terrified.
He had been kidnapped.
Then came the voice. Cold. Familiar. Cruel.
"You didn't learn, did you?" it whispered. "I told you years ago. I made it very clear—you're not allowed to make friends."
Hikaru froze.
"I warned you I'd turn your life into hell," the voice continued, filled with amusement. "And yet… you went and made friends."
A chill ran through Hikaru's entire body. That voice. That voice he had tried to forget.
No.
It couldn't be.
"Are you…" Hikaru's voice trembled. "Are you the one behind the killings?"
A soft chuckle answered him.
"That's right. And I saved you for last."
Hikaru's breath caught in his throat.
"Your death," the voice added with glee, "will be the most painful of them all. It's so satisfying… watching that poker face of yours fall apart."
The blindfold was ripped away.
Standing before him, dressed in shadows and wearing a grin that could make the devil flinch, was Matsui Yamado.
A face Hikaru would never forget. The face of the man who had destroyed his life.
Yamado's smile was monstrous. Not just cruel—but delighted. He didn't just hurt people. He enjoyed it.
Three years ago, Hikaru had been a boy like any other. He played baseball with his friends at the park near his family's bungalow in Tokyo. He had friends. A future. A life.
Then one afternoon, while searching for a baseball that had rolled into the bushes, he disappeared.
And Yamado found him.
"I'm a Friendless Devil," Yamado had whispered, grabbing the boy by the arm. "And you should become one too."
A sadist. A manipulator. Yamado didn't simply kill. He broke people—cut them off from the world, shattered their trust, and left them to rot in isolation. Six others had fallen victim to him. Six people of varying ages who had once been ordinary, happy… before he turned them into shadows of their former selves.
Now, Yamado had returned to finish what he had started.
Seven souls broken. Six already gone.
Hikaru was the last.
And Yamado had no intention of killing him quickly.
He knelt before a small box and slowly opened it.
Inside were tools—sharp, gleaming, cruel. They weren't there to kill. They were there to break.
"This," Yamado whispered, lifting a thick nail clipper from the case, "is going to be fun."