Morning sunlight slipped through the half-drawn curtains of Aoi's room, a golden stream spilling across the polished wooden floorboards. Dust motes danced lazily in the light, caught in its glow like tiny drifting stars. The warmth crept steadily across the room until it reached the edge of the bed, brushing the soft skin of the youth who lay tangled in his sheets.
Aoi stirred with a faint whimper, curling tighter beneath the blanket as though it might shield him from the brightness. His fingers clutched the fabric close to his chin, knuckles whitening with stubborn refusal. Yet no matter how much he buried his face into the pillow, the sunlight pierced through, a persistent nudge that urged him toward wakefulness.
His lashes trembled, ruby eyes flickering open with reluctance. "...Already?" His voice was a breathy whisper, husky with sleep. He blinked several times, adjusting to the glow that flooded the room, before finally surrendering with a quiet sigh. "It's morning again..."
For a moment, he lay motionless, listening to the stillness of the house around him. The faint tick of the wall clock punctuated the silence, accompanied by the distant chorus of cicadas outside. Birds trilled cheerfully beyond the window, oblivious to his wish for just five more minutes of rest.
Aoi shifted slightly, gaze tracing the ceiling with absent thought. He had always been sensitive to the play of light and shadow, even if he couldn't explain why. This morning felt no different, yet... something stirred faintly within him. The sunlight warmed his cheek, but beneath that warmth was a subtle tingle, like an echo brushing at the edge of his awareness.
And then, faint as a sigh carried on the wind, came a whisper. Two voices—one bright and steady, the other cool and lilting—threaded together in his half-awake mind.
'Wake... Not yet...'
Aoi blinked rapidly, his brows knitting. "...Dreaming too much," he muttered, pressing the heel of his hand against his temple. The voices faded as quickly as they had come, leaving behind only the golden insistence of morning light.
With a soft groan, he stretched his slender arms above his head. His back arched, a kittenish yawn slipping past his lips, small and delicate. His golden hair tumbled around his face in tousled strands, shimmering faintly where the sunlight caught it. "Guess there's no point in trying to sleep again," he mumbled, resigning himself to the day.
The blanket slid from his frame as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. His bare feet met the cool floor, and he shivered at the sudden contrast. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, he rose unsteadily and padded toward the door, every movement still heavy with drowsiness.
The wooden door creaked softly as it opened. Instantly, the scents of morning reached him: rice steaming, eggs sizzling in butter, the savory depth of miso broth. A low hum of television voices mingled with the clink of utensils. Drawn by warmth and familiarity, Aoi drifted down the hallway until the scene of his parents came into view.
His mother stood at the stove, apron tied neatly, long hair pulled back as she stirred with practiced grace. Her soft humming filled the kitchen like a thread of melody woven through the air. At the table sat his father, newspaper spread wide, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. The muted glow of the television flickered beside him, its anchors reporting the day's headlines in measured tones.
The moment their eyes fell upon him, both of them smiled.
"Oh, you're awake," his father said warmly, lowering the newspaper enough for his son to see his expression.
"Good morning, sweetheart," his mother greeted, quickly setting aside her spatula to approach.
Still rubbing at one eye, Aoi gave them a soft nod. "Morning..."
His mother leaned down without hesitation, kissing his cheek before wrapping him in an embrace. Aoi melted into it, his small frame fitting snugly against her warmth. He returned the gesture shyly with a soft peck to her cheek before she brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
"Go wash your face before breakfast, dear," she murmured gently.
"...Mm. Okay." His agreement was muffled by another yawn.
At the sink, cold water splashed against his skin, chasing away the last remnants of drowsiness. Droplets clung to his lashes, glittering briefly before he dabbed them away with a towel. For a moment, he lingered, staring into the mirror.
His reflection met him with delicate, almost fragile beauty—a heart-shaped face, golden hair tousled but luminous, ruby-red eyes hazy with sleep. Even in this unguarded state, he looked more like a girl than a boy. He tilted his head slightly, lips quirking with a rueful thought. 'Always like this... no wonder people mistake me.'
Shaking it off, he returned to the living room and slid onto the couch beside his father. His attention was drawn to the television immediately: bold headlines flashing—Mysterious Rise in Missing Persons Cases in Tokyo. Images of deserted alleys, blurred photos of the missing, and somber interviews filled the screen.
"...Another one?" Aoi's voice was soft, uncertain. His hands folded in his lap, fingers curling faintly. "It's kind of scary... Kuoh's right next to Tokyo. Do you think it's safe to live here with things like that happening?"
His father lowered the newspaper completely, studying him for a moment before reaching out to ruffle his bed-mussed hair. "It's alright, Aoi. That's Tokyo. Things like that don't happen here. Kuoh is quiet, safe. You don't need to worry."
Aoi blinked at him, hesitation still lingering, but his father's calm steadiness wrapped around him like a blanket. "...If you say so." His voice was small, but the edge of his frown eased as he leaned back against the cushions.
The news continued to drone—politics, weather, a cheerful feature about seasonal sweets—but Aoi's mind drifted. His fingers rose briefly to his chest, pressing lightly as he recalled the strange whispers from earlier.
'Sunlight... shadow... balance...' The words brushed faintly through his thoughts before fading like mist.
"Breakfast is ready!" His mother's cheerful call snapped him back to the present.
Aoi startled slightly, then rose with a faint smile.
The dining table was set with bowls of steaming rice, tender eggs, grilled fish, and miso soup fragrant with seaweed and tofu. Aoi took his seat, folding his hands briefly in thanks before eating. Each bite warmed him, the flavors familiar and comforting despite the recent move. His parents' light chatter filled the air—his mother fussing over whether he had enough fish, his father teasing gently about his bedhead. Aoi's cheeks flushed as he protested softly, yet the warmth of their laughter eased away the lingering shadows of unease.
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Breakfast ended in gentle chatter and the clink of dishes being cleared. Aoi rose afterward, stretching lightly. "I think I'll go look around a bit," he said softly. "Since we just moved here... I don't want to get lost later."
His parents exchanged a glance. His mother's smile was warm, her eyes fond. "Stay close, Aoi. Don't go too far, and be back before lunch."
"I will," he promised, bowing his head before slipping back into his room.
When he returned, he was dressed casually: a cream-colored sweater that hung loose on his petite frame, denim shorts brushing his thighs, and white sneakers. His golden hair, now brushed to a silky shine, caught the sunlight spilling through the windows. At the genkan, he bent down to slip on his shoes, then straightened with a small bag slung over his shoulder.
"I'll be back soon," he said gently.
His father raised a hand in farewell, while his mother cupped his cheek tenderly, kissing it once more. "Stay safe, sweetheart."
Aoi's lips curved faintly as he returned the kiss. "I'll be fine, Mom. Don't worry."
The door slid shut behind him.
Outside, the world greeted him with the fresh crispness of early summer. The air was tinged with the sweet fragrance of blooming hydrangeas from nearby gardens, cicadas droned faintly from hidden corners, and the sky stretched clear and blue overhead. Birds fluttered across rooftops, scattering feathers that drifted like soft confetti on the breeze.
Hands on his hips, Aoi surveyed the street. To his left, houses curved toward a small park; to his right, a narrower road led deeper into town. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, then lifted a finger and began to chant.
"Eenie, meenie, miney... mo..."
His finger landed on the right. Tilting his head, hair swaying with the motion, he nodded. "Guess that decides it." His steps were light as he set off, sneakers tapping softly against the pavement.
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The neighborhood unfolded before him in charming detail. Neatly kept gardens lined the houses, their blossoms spilling color onto the street. A grocer swept the front of his shop, pausing to wave with a smile. Children played in the road, their ball bouncing near Aoi's feet before one of them retrieved it with a shy bow. An elderly woman watering flowers looked up and offered him a compliment—"What a lovely young lady you are"—to which Aoi responded with a polite nod, cheeks tinged pink, though he didn't correct her.
Every step brought him deeper into Kuoh's quiet rhythm. The air was alive with the buzz of cicadas, the occasional bark of a dog behind a fence, the soft hum of vending machines glowing faintly in shaded corners. For Aoi, it was both familiar and strange, the town carrying the safety of home yet humming with an undertone he couldn't quite name.
Each time sunlight shifted between the rooftops, casting a shadow over his path, a faint prickle brushed against his skin. Not unpleasant, but unusual. Like a rhythm only he could feel. He paused once, ruby eyes narrowing at the play of light and dark across the pavement.
'Balance... always balance...' The whisper returned, faint as the rustle of leaves. He stiffened, glancing around, but the street was empty save for distant laughter.
"...Weird," he muttered, puffing his cheeks slightly before hurrying his pace.
In another part of town, a scream split the air.
Sharp, desperate, it echoed down the narrow walls of an alley before choking into silence. The sound gave way to something worse: the wet rip of tearing flesh, the crunch of bone under claw and fang.
Crouched over a mangled body was a beast. Muscles bulged beneath ragged fur, claws jagged and bloodstained, fangs glistening crimson. Its wolfish face twisted in feral hunger, eyes glowing red with madness.
A rogue devil.
It tore another strip of flesh from its victim, chewing greedily. Drool and gore spilled from its maw as it growled low.
"...Not enough."
The voice was a rasp, gravel ground into shards. "Flesh... weak. Magic... too little. I need more."
It devoured again until little remained but shattered bones and bloodied scraps. Rising to its feet, it trembled with hunger, saliva stringing between its fangs.
"Pathetic... not enough to satisfy..."
Then, its gaze shifted.
The beast licked its chops, jagged tongue dragging across gore-stained fangs. Its body trembled with unsated hunger, claws flexing as it muttered low and broken.
"Pathetic... not enough to satisfy... not enough to grow..."
Its red eyes flicked upward—and caught sight of movement beyond the alley's mouth.
Bathed in sunlight, a slender figure passed by at the far end of the street. Golden hair swayed gently with each step, ruby eyes bright in the morning light. A delicate frame, girlish in every detail, unaware of the horror lurking just a few streets away.
The rogue devil froze, drool dripping from its maw. Then its lips peeled back into a jagged grin.
"...Perfect."
The word dripped with hunger. "A girl... untouched... full of life..."
It lowered itself into a crouch, muscles coiling like springs. Its claws scraped against the concrete as it prepared to stalk, each movement deliberate, predatory.
Unaware of the danger, Aoi continued down the street, sneakers tapping softly on the pavement, a faint hum rising from his lips as if the world were nothing but peaceful.
The beast's eyes glowed brighter, its grin widening. The hunt had found its next prey. And so the shadows of Kuoh began to stir—fixating on the fragile "girl" who was no girl at all.