The tavern was loud with laughter, dice clattering across tables, the clink of mugs raised in celebration. Renji heard none of it.
He sat hunched at the counter, a half-grown beard shadowing his face, black hair tied back in a rough ponytail. In front of him, an amber drink trembled in its glass. He stared down until his own reflection looked back at him—gloomy eyes, older than eighteen years should allow.
With a sigh, he lifted the glass and drained it in one swallow. The burn in his throat was the only warmth he could still feel.
"One more," he muttered.
The bartender raised a pale brow. He was a vampire, elegant in his immaculate black suit and white gloves, every movement precise, like a servant in some noble's court. Without a word, he poured another measure of orange liquor, setting it down with quiet grace.
But then, he paused. His crimson eyes softened.
"Renji," he said, voice low enough not to carry. "Is this really the way you want to keep living? You didn't manifest, fine. But there are plenty who didn't—blacksmiths, healers, teachers, builders. They still live with dignity. Not everyone needs an Element to matter."
Renji's hand froze halfway to the glass. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding.
"You're my friend, so you know what I've been through," he said, voice rough with anger. "It wasn't a choice. My whole life… every dream I ever had… depended on me awakening. I was supposed to protect the people I love."
His fist slammed against the table, rattling bottles and drawing a few sidelong glances. His voice cracked.
"And I couldn't even throw mud at them!"
The tavern's laughter went quiet for a moment, then returned, louder, harsher, as if mocking him. Renji hunched lower, fingers gripping the rim of the glass so hard it nearly cracked.
From the corner of his eye, something shifted. Through the rain-streaked window, the darkness outside seemed to writhe. Shadows crawled against the stone like living smoke, flickering with faint purple sparks before vanishing again.
Renji blinked, heart thudding in his chest.
For the briefest second, he thought he saw the void staring back at him.
********************
The night air was damp and heavy, pressing down as Renji stumbled out of the tavern. He pulled his cloak tighter, the world tilting just enough to make the cobblestones blur beneath his boots. He wanted the drink to burn away the ache in his chest. It didn't.
The alley was quiet. Too quiet. Until he heard a muffled sob.
A small figure crouched against the wall, a girl no older than ten. Fur tufted from her ears and tail — a mink child. Her clothes were torn, her cheek bruised, eyes glistening with tears. She looked up as Renji passed, eyes wide, trembling, like she expected him to spit on her.
Renji stopped. For a moment, he wanted to keep walking. He had his own scars, his own wounds. But something in the way she hugged her knees, like she was trying to make herself invisible, made his chest tighten.
He exhaled sharply, pulled a stale loaf of bread from his pack, and set it in her lap. Then he dug out two silver coins and dropped them beside it.
"Here," he muttered. "Eat. Don't waste it."
The girl blinked in shock… then gave the smallest, shyest smile he'd seen in years.
The bread hit the ground a heartbeat later.
Silken strands, glistening like glass threads, snapped out of the shadows and wrapped around her tiny body. She cried out as she was yanked backward into the alley. Renji whirled just in time to see her lifted by the neck, kicking helplessly in the grip of a sneering man. His eyes gleamed with cruel delight.
"Hey, hey," the man drawled, plucking up the silver coins. "That's our money. You can't just hand it to some worthless brat."
Two others emerged behind him. One cracked his knuckles; the other raised a hand, wind swirling into a sharp, spinning sphere in his palm.
"Now," the wind user said, grinning, "give us everything you've got, and maybe we'll let you crawl away with your life. Otherwise… you and the girl are done."
Renji lowered his head. His hand trembled as he fumbled at the pouch on his belt, pulling out what little coin he had left. He stepped forward, arm outstretched, offering it to the sneering thug.
The man snatched the bag. "Good boy. Knew you were useless."
Renji's grip tightened. His knuckles whitened. His chest heaved with a rage too large to swallow. Do something. Do anything
Renji's hand shook, then curled into a fist. He drew back and hurled it forward with every ounce of strength in his body. The thug wasn't ready for the blow — it cracked against his jaw with a dull snap, and the man crashed to the ground, clutching his face in disbelief. For one glorious second, Renji thought he had done it. That he wasn't useless after all.
As the other thug raised his wind sphere, Renji tried to lunge again—only to feel sticky strands slam across his chest and arms. The spider-user's webs yanked him off his feet, pinning him hard against the wall. Fists rained down. Blood filled his mouth. His vision blurred.
"Please," the mink girl rasped, her tiny fingers clawing at the web around her throat.
Renji's vision blurred. The weight of six wasted years, of a family he hadn't been able to save, of promises to Taro that turned to ash—
"I'm weak," he whispered hoarsely, tasting blood. A fist slammed into his ribs.
"I can't do anything," he coughed, spitting red. A boot crushed him into the wall.
"I couldn't save my parents." Another blow to the face.
"My best friend left me behind." A kick drove the air from his lungs.
"I'm pathetic."
The thug holding the girl lifted her higher, laughing as she thrashed.
"You worthless bug," he sneered at Renji. "You think you can touch us with those filthy hands? No… you'll both die here."
Renji's eyes fluttered half-shut. His nails dug into his own cheek, tearing flesh, streaking his face with blood. His voice cracked into a scream that echoed down the alley.
"I'll find you all in hell… and I'll kill every single one of you! I swear it!"
The world shuddered.
From the far corner of the alley, the shadows began to move. Blackness seeped outward, writhing like smoke alive, pulsing with faint purple sparks.
Whispers slithered through the air.
"This human… oozes with hatred."
"His despair… so bitter."
"So very… tasty."
A deeper voice cut through the chorus, cold and commanding.
"He will die without me. But perhaps… perhaps he is mine."
The thug raised his hand, the ball of wind howling in his palm. "Say goodbye, scum."
That was when the alley went black.
Darkness poured from the walls, thick and choking, swallowing torchlight, swallowing sound. Renji's body arched as if struck by lightning, a jagged brand of violet fire searing itself across his chest. He screamed as shadows surged into him, wrapping around his limbs, fusing with his flesh. Half his body turned into living void, sparks of purple lightning crawling over his skin.
Something vast and cold wrapped around him from behind, like arms made of night.
"Do not fear, little one," the deep voice whispered against his ear. "You will not die. You are mine. I will protect you."
The wind sphere flickered out. Terror twisted the bullies' faces as Renji raised his head. His eyes were no longer brown—they were bottomless black, glowing with a violet aura.
"I'm sorry," the voice inside him said, sharp and feminine, ancient and merciless. "Humans… you chose the wrong boy to mock. Now—die."
Renji's arm warped, shadows twisting into the shape of a jagged scythe, lightning crackling along its blade. He moved faster than thought. One sweep, and the alley ran red. The three heads hit the ground before their bodies did.
The darkness recoiled, then surged back into him, until the mark on his chest dimmed and his body collapsed to the cobblestones.
Silence.
The mink girl stumbled free of the webs, clutching the fallen bread with trembling hands. She crawled to Renji's side, shaking his shoulder.
"Mister…? Mister, please… wake up."