The sun cast long, golden shadows through the cherry blossom trees of Ueno Park, a cruel contrast to the boy's bloodstained hands. Ren Kurosawa stood beneath a sakura tree, staring blankly at his reflection in a puddle—one eye swelling, knuckles raw, uniform torn. The key—that cursed key—still glowed faintly in his grip like it knew it would be used again.
His mother lay in a hospital bed now, broken ribs and bruised lungs. Alive, but barely. He couldn't even look her in the eyes without guilt crawling through his chest like worms in a grave.
That night, Ren didn't go home. Instead, he wandered Tokyo, key clutched tight, his footsteps echoing through narrow alleys. That's when he heard the voice again.
"You've tasted justice," the old man said from the shadows, seated this time on the edge of a playground slide. "But justice always demands payment."
Ren froze. "What… payment?"
The old man leaned forward, his eyes hollow. "Each soul you send to Hell leaves a mark on yours. The key burns both ways, boy. Did you think you'd be untouched?"
Ren's throat tightened. "You never told me that."
"You never asked."
Ren wanted to scream. He hadn't asked for this. He hadn't asked to become an executioner of the damned. But the memory of his mother's broken body flashed behind his eyes, and he gritted his teeth.
"What if I don't care?" he whispered.
"Then you're already lost," the old man chuckled. "But I'll make you a deal…"
A wind kicked up. The sakura blossoms fell around them like ash.
"You're not the only one with pain to avenge. I can show you others. People who deserve that gate more than anyone."
Ren's eyes narrowed. The key pulsed in his palm—hotter than before.
"Fine. Show me."
The old man smiled, wide and wicked. "Good boy."
He stood and with a wave of his skeletal hand, the air shimmered. In front of Ren, scenes began to unfold—like floating reflections in a broken mirror. A man embezzling the life savings of the elderly. A woman lacing her husband's tea with poison. A teacher who touched what should never be touched. Sins twisted like roots in the visions before him.
"These are your next choices," the old man said. "But beware, child. The line between justice and vengeance is thinner than you think."
Ren clenched his jaw. He could feel something inside him changing—his heart? His soul? He didn't know. All he knew was that every time he used the key… the world felt quieter. Easier.
Far above them, hidden behind clouds, the moon bled red.