A strange little girl stepped into the house.
Her face was twisted beyond recognition, and four massive arms made of braided muscle fibers burst from her back. One of them ended in a giant mouth full of sharp teeth and six eyes, all rolling and twitching wildly as she giggled.
"Ahahaha! An adult female and a little female—I love it!"
The girl's voice warped, merging with the grotesque sound of the flesh monster inside her.
Terror gripped Yurie and her daughter like a vice.
Yurie's legs shook so badly she could barely stand, but she forced herself to move. Clutching Chiyo, she stumbled to the back of the room. Her hands wrapped around the aluminum window frame, shaking it violently in a desperate attempt to open it.
The window didn't budge—not even a rattle.
"Yes, that's it! Struggle more! I love it when they've got fight in them!"
The Muscle Devil stalked forward step by step, its grin widening. Yurie's strength finally gave out. She turned, shielding Chiyo behind her, her entire body trembling as she waited for death to come.
"Ahhh!!!"
Suddenly, the possessed girl screamed in pain.
Yurie froze, then dared to look back.
A mirror had appeared in midair above the creature.
A hand shot out from inside it, clamping down hard on the Muscle Devil's eyeball.
The eye shriveled and withered before her eyes, and the surrounding muscle turned dry and brittle like dead leaves.
The Devil swung its other arms, trying to smash the hand, but it vanished back into the mirror—and one of its massive limbs, the one with the mouth and eyes, was ripped clean in half.
The remaining stump flailed wildly, spraying blood like a broken fire hose.
"It hurts! It hurts! Damn it, damn it! If it were before noon, this wouldn't even hurt!"
The Muscle Devil spun around, one of its other arms quickly sprouting another mouth and set of eyes. It looked genuinely surprised.
"Wait—you're that old guy! Didn't you die?"
Hoshino's eye twitched. His expression turned razor-sharp.
He pulled his left hand out of the mirror and flipped the Devil off with a sarcastic "I love you" gesture.
"You bastard!" the Devil roared, seething but hesitating to strike. Its six eyes darted around, finally locking on the crimson umbrella tip sticking out from Hoshino's right side.
"Ahahaha! You're hurt! I'll grab you, and then I'll have fun with them right in front of you!"
Two of its massive arms turned into legs as it charged forward.
Hoshino spun and bolted.
The house was a standard two-story Japanese apartment beside a narrow street. Without thinking, he vaulted out the window.
Crack!
His forty-eight-year-old body couldn't handle the impact. His right ankle twisted to a sickening ninety degrees as he hit the ground, tumbling into the middle of the road.
Pain shot through every nerve. His vision flashed white, and he nearly blacked out.
"Perfect…" he hissed through his teeth, forcing himself upright. His weight shifted entirely onto his left leg as he raised his left hand like a gun.
"Right hand muscle. Right leg muscle."
The words left his lips, and instantly the flesh in his right arm and leg shriveled away like paper burning from the inside.
His empty sleeve and pant leg fluttered in the wind.
Behind him, the Muscle Devil burst out the door. Two of its arms coiled tight like springs, launching it into the air with an explosive boom.
Its massive shadow blotted out the sun. "Ahahaha! You're out of options—"
"Bang," Hoshino whispered.
The Devil froze.
Half its body vanished midair. The cut was a perfect semicircle, smooth and bloodless, like porcelain sliced with a compass blade.
Sunlight poured through the gap like molten gold.
"Wha—"
"Bang."
The last thing left—a single, twisted mouth—rolled to Hoshino's feet. "...Run?"
"…"
Hoshino let out a long breath.
For a fleeting second, he saw the girl's real smile before she'd shattered—bright, almost grateful.
He closed his eyes. "Sorry."
Then his eyes snapped open again. He grabbed the umbrella lodged in his side and, with a yell, jammed it downward with all his strength.
"I'm twenty-five, you bastard! Who the hell are you calling 'old man'?!"
[Muscle (D): 100%]
[You have become the Muscle Devil]
[(1) Devil Hunter: For every Devil, Fiend, or Contractor killed, host gains 0.1%–500% all-around stat boost based on target's strength]
[Current boost: 2%]
The System's cold voice echoed in his head.
"Muscle Devil? Me?" Hoshino panted, trying to move his newly reclaimed limbs.
The withered flesh in his right leg and arm refilled, muscle knitting under the skin. The bleeding in his side stopped, and his organs were almost completely healed.
His appearance snapped back to that of an eighteen-year-old.
The broken bones and torn veins would take longer to fix, but Devils had their own regenerative perks.
"So the contract's over?" he muttered. "Guess I'll find out if the condition was killing the Devil… or replacing it."
He took one shaky step. "Alright, time to—wait… why's the world spinning…?"
His vision swam. The adrenaline wore off, and blood loss caught up fast.
The world dimmed, his ears filled with static, and everything started fading to black.
Something blurred past him—fast, with the faint sound of human shouting.
He tilted his head weakly.
Was that… a car?
Someone got out. Were they coming toward him?
No, wait—they were running away.
Another car screeched past.
Weird. How was it moving if no one was inside?
Oh.
Right.
I'm the one flying.
BANG!
Hoshino slammed into a car hood and blacked out.
The black sedan screeched to a stop where he'd landed. The doors opened, and four people climbed out—three men and a woman.
The blond guy sprinted over first.
He had sharp, fang-like teeth and wore a black trench coat open over his bare chest, where a triangular pull cord rested against his sternum.
"He's dead for sure. Let's just bury him," the blond said, glancing back at the woman. "Right, Makima-san?"
Makima shook her head.
"Eh?!" The blond—Denji—groaned dramatically. "If Makima-san gets in trouble for this, I'm gonna lose my mind! I was really looking forward to breakfast—toast with butter and jam, salad, coffee, and dessert!"
"Denji-kun," Makima said calmly, stepping closer to the car. "He's not dead."
She leaned over Hoshino's body, frowning slightly. "Just a human?"
Her gaze lingered on his quickly healing wounds. Then, with a faint, amused smile, she tapped her finger against her nose.
"Another interesting little dog."
--
"Mom, I need to pee."
Yurie Hoshino's eyes snapped open at her daughter's voice.
The Devil had gone after Hoshino; she hadn't dared follow. She'd hidden behind the sliding door, clutching Chiyo the entire time.
In the darkness, she'd lost all sense of time. Chiyo had even dozed off once.
Neither the Devil nor Hoshino had come back.
A mix of relief and worry twisted inside her chest.
"Alright," she whispered, taking a steadying breath. "Let's check."
Heart pounding, she slid the door open just a crack and peeked out—half-expecting to meet glowing eyes in the dark, like some horror movie.
Nothing.
Slowly, she opened the door wider.
The room was empty.
Outside the window, the night sky hung like a curtain.
"It's over," Yurie breathed.
Chiyo nodded, legs still trembling.
Yurie guided her to the bathroom.
"Mom, I'm hungry," Chiyo mumbled once inside.
"I know, sweetie. I am too. I'll make something right now." Yurie closed the door gently behind her.
She turned, picked up the phone, and called Public Safety, explaining everything. They promised to send someone immediately to protect them.
When she hung up, she looked toward the entrance.
The aluminum door was bent out of shape. Dried blood stained the floor.
If Hoshino hadn't shoved her out of the way…
"Haah."
She sighed, a heavy sound full of exhaustion.
She'd noticed his strange stares before, of course. They'd scared her. But Futoshi was her husband's little brother—the boy he'd raised after their parents died.
Naosuke had been so smart, so capable, and yet he'd dropped out of school to work, just to support that brother.
Yurie could never bring herself to tell him.
Now she didn't even know how to feel.
If Futoshi never came back, she'd failed her husband.
If he did come back, she was terrified he'd hurt Chiyo again.
After a long moment of thought, she made a decision—for Chiyo's safety, and for whatever hope remained that Futoshi might change.
She'd have to talk to Naosuke about it.
"Not yet," she murmured. "I'll wait until he's feeling better."
Riiiing—
The phone startled her.
"It's probably Naosuke," she said softly, steadying herself before answering. "Hello?"
"Hello, is this Mrs. Yurie Hoshino? Thank god you picked up!"
The voice was frantic—familiar. One of the nurses from yesterday, when Naosuke had been admitted.
Yurie's breath caught.
"Mrs. Hoshino, please listen carefully. You need to stay calm for what I'm about to tell you."
Silence stretched on her end.
The nurse hurried on, voice trembling.
"Your husband, Naosuke Hoshino… jumped from the hospital roof while the staff wasn't looking."
Crash.
The phone slipped from Yurie's hands, hitting the counter.
"We can't offer compensation for this kind of case," the nurse's voice droned faintly through the receiver. "Hello? Mrs. Hoshino? Can you hear me?"
Yurie stood frozen. Her mind blanked completely.
When awareness returned, tears were already streaming down her face.
It didn't take long for the next realization to hit—she'd just lost the family's only source of income.
Two children to raise. Three mouths to feed.
She couldn't even begin to imagine what came next.
Her father had jumped during the stock market crash years ago. Her mother had died soon after, heartbroken.
After getting pregnant with Chiyo, Yurie had stopped working.
Ten years out of the workforce—what could a housewife possibly do now to keep her family alive?
She turned at the sound of a soft sob.
Chiyo was standing in the doorway, tears streaming down her face.
Yurie opened her mouth to comfort her—but no words came. She turned away, wiping her cheeks roughly.
"I'll go make dinner."
She couldn't bring herself to offer comfort. Her emotions were stretched too thin to hold back anymore.
Somewhere between cutting vegetables and stirring rice, her mind went blank, and she sliced her finger.
After a quick bandage and a few deep breaths, she managed to calm down a little.
Chiyo sat quietly at the low table, red-eyed but not wailing—too mature for her age, and that broke Yurie's heart even more.
She slapped her own cheeks lightly.
Yurie, you're not a little girl anymore. You're a mother. Pull yourself together.
She gathered up Hoshino's untouched dishes and stacked them neatly away.
When she came back, Chiyo looked up, tears spilling again.
"Mom, I don't want to go to school anymore. I'll help you make money."
Yurie's composure shattered. She pulled her daughter into her arms, crying openly.
"Chiyo, no. You're going to school. You're going to study. Futoshi studied, Naosuke was so smart—so are you. Studying is how you get a better future, more choices…"
She stroked her daughter's hair, voice trembling but firm.
"Mom's going to make sure you both get that chance. No matter what it takes."
A faint rattle interrupted her vow.
The pen on the table rolled slightly, nudged by the evening breeze.
Yurie blinked through her tears.
Clatter.
It fell to the floor. She didn't bother picking it up.
On the table, a sticky note fluttered, a string of four digits and the words "lunch money" written on it.
The corner lifted, revealing what lay beneath—
A pristine Postal Savings Card.
---
A/N: Haha, looks like he's not gonna be smashing any hot, beautiful ladies anytime soon.