The rain had been falling since evening, a slow, rhythmic drumming that blurred the neon lights of Tokyo into streaks of color.
The world looked half-dream, half-nightmare. Ren Soji leaned against the railing of the pedestrian bridge, watching the city lights blur beneath him. He hadn't eaten since morning, but the hunger he felt wasn't the kind food could fill.
It had started a few days ago—an ache deep in his chest, like something inside him wanted out. His reflection in the window had begun to look strange; sometimes his pupils would thin, dark veins tracing under his eyes before vanishing again.
He tried to laugh it off. Lack of sleep, he told himself. Too much caffeine. But deep down, he knew. Something had changed that night on the roof.
A flash of lightning lit the street below. For a second, Ren thought he saw a figure standing in the middle of the empty crosswalk. A man, motionless, with an umbrella tilted just enough to hide his face. When the thunder rolled, the man was gone.
Ren's heart thudded once—twice. He looked around, but the rain drowned everything. The uneasy feeling in his gut deepened.
"Following me now?" he muttered, forcing a nervous laugh. "That's new."
He started home, his shoes splashing through shallow puddles. The city's pulse was quiet tonight. Too quiet.
Halfway through the narrow backstreets, he felt it.
A presence—like static crawling under his skin.
He turned. Nothing but darkness. Yet he could feel eyes on him. Cold, patient eyes.
Then a voice, calm and steady, cut through the rain.
"You're not very good at hiding it, you know."
Ren froze. A tall figure stepped from the shadows—clad in a dark coat that glistened with rain, face hidden behind a smooth black mask marked only by a single silver line across where the eyes should be.
"Your scent's all over this street," the man continued, tilting his head. "You're awakening. That hunger in your bones… it's only the beginning."
Ren backed up, instincts screaming. "Who are you?"
"Someone who's been where you are," the man replied. "Name's Kael Dravenn. I'm here with an offer. Come with me. Learn what you are before you lose control."
Ren clenched his fists. His pulse roared. "Lose control? I'm fine."
"Are you?" Kael's tone was calm, almost gentle. "You haven't eaten, have you? Not properly. Tell me, do you even know what your body is asking for?"
Ren's stomach twisted violently, and his breath caught.
He staggered, grabbing his chest. "What… what are you talking about?"
Kael stepped closer. "The Yuno Organ is waking. It's rewriting you. The hunger you feel is your body demanding balance."
Ren shook his head violently. "I don't need your help."
Kael sighed, the sound almost disappointed. "Then show me. Show me control."
The air shifted. Raindrops froze midair for a heartbeat as Kael vanished.
Ren barely saw him move. One moment Kael stood before him; the next, his coat fluttered behind him as a kick connected with Ren's shoulder, sending him crashing into a wall.
Pain flared, but something deeper—something primal—stirred.
Ren pushed himself up, eyes wide, breath ragged. The shadows around him moved.
Kael watched silently as dark wisps began to crawl from Ren's back, forming thin, trembling tendrils.
"Ah," Kael murmured. "There it is."
Ren didn't understand what was happening. His vision blurred, and the hunger turned into heat. He could feel the world around him, every drop of rain, every heartbeat.
Then the ground cracked beneath his feet.
He launched forward without thinking, his right hand wreathed in black smoke that solidified into jagged shapes—shards like claws. He swung, the air slicing apart with a deep thrum.
Kael sidestepped effortlessly.
"Not bad for your first time."
Ren turned, striking again. Shadows lashed like whips, cutting through the rain. For a few seconds, he was something else—fast, feral, instinctive.
But Kael didn't fight back. He observed. Each move he dodged felt like a teacher testing a student.
Ren's attacks grew wilder, less precise. The hunger was consuming him. The shadows pulsed, changing shape, struggling for control.
Kael finally moved, his voice calm.
"Power without purpose devours itself."
With a twist, he struck Ren in the chest—gentle, almost casual—but the impact sent him crashing to the ground.
Ren gasped, clutching the wet pavement. The world spun. His shadows flickered, collapsing into mist.
"You'll learn soon enough," Kael said softly. "You're one of us, whether you like it or not."
Ren tried to rise, but the hunger was unbearable now. His vision went black at the edges. He could hear the rhythm of a pulse—steady, human, near.
His gaze drifted to the alley's end. A fallen stray, a lifeless bird—he didn't know. He only knew he needed it. Needed something.
He crawled forward, trembling, nails scratching the ground.
"Stop," Kael said quietly.
Ren froze, his own breath harsh in his ears. The hunger screamed inside him, but Kael's presence pressed down like gravity.
"You'll feed eventually," Kael murmured.
"But not like this. Not tonight."
Ren's body shook. He could feel tears mix with rain. "Why me… what am I?"
Kael turned away, his mask catching the faint glow of a neon sign.
"You'll find your answer soon enough, Ren Soji."
He paused, looking over his shoulder.
"Remember my name. Kael Dravenn. The world's darker than you think."
Then he was gone—dissolved into the rain, leaving only the echo of his words.
Ren lay there in the street, shaking, his own reflection staring back at him from the puddles—eyes glowing faintly with that unnatural, silver hue.
For the first time, he realized it wasn't the world that was changing.
It was him.