The city he lived in now was a far cry from the blood-soaked battlefields Raito Yakamura once called home. Sirens wailed in the distance, late-night pedestrians murmured in passing, and the gentle hum of life moved on—utterly indifferent to the nightmares that haunted him.
Once a feared mercenary, Raito had carved a name for himself in the business with his cold efficiency. Now, he had chosen peace—or something that vaguely resembled it.
He exhaled slowly, leaning against the railing of his villa's balcony. His eyes, dark and worn by war, scanned the streets below. A man argued with his girlfriend. A group of students laughed at something meaningless. Civilians, wrapped in their own trivial battles.
These were the things that should have brought him comfort but they didn't.
In a futile attempt to silence his mind, he had wandered to a nearby shrine. It was quiet. Empty. Just him and the wind. But still, it was no use.
The bloodlust remained, coiled beneath his skin like a beast deprived of its hunt. His body had been shaped for execution, his instincts sharpened for the kill. He had walked away from the battlefield—but the battlefield had not walked away from him.
He closed his eyes. The scent of blood. The flash of steel through flesh. The gasping breaths of dying men.
His fingers clenched the railing, knuckles whitening. Damn it. He had hoped time would dull the hunger. Instead, the itch had only grown sharper.
And then came the whisper.
Why do you deny yourself, Raito?
His eyes snapped open. No one was there. It had to be his mind playing tricks on him.
But the sensation that followed was unmistakable. A presence—cold and heavy—slithered into the air around him, pooling like smoke beneath the glow of the streetlights. The hairs on his neck stood up. Every instinct screamed danger. Yet within him, something stirred—not with fear, but anticipation.
You miss the hunt. The thrill. The kill.
His heart slowed. This wasn't a hallucination. It felt too real. The darkness breathed, unseen but suffocating.
"Who are you?" His voice was calm, steady. A soldier's voice.
Oh, me? the voice teased, syrupy with amusement. I'm what you've been searching for. What you've been trying so hard to bury.
Instead of fear, curiosity flickered across Raito's face. Something about the voice intrigued him.
"...What exactly are you suggesting?"
The air thickened, warping with an otherworldly presence. And then, the darkness moved.
A figure stepped from the shadows—feminine, but inhuman. Her form was wrapped in inky blackness, eyes glowing crimson like embers. Cold and commanding, she radiated a power that was both terrifying and magnetic.
"I am Kurai," she said, voice smooth as silk but edged with something dangerous. "And you, Raito Yakamura, are precisely what I've been looking for."
He didn't flinch. Didn't move. Just studied her with the same calculating gaze he'd used on enemies before pulling the trigger.
"Who—or what—are you? And what do you want from me?"
Kurai tilted her head, smiling. "Demon, if we're using labels. But this isn't about what I want. It's about you. You crave violence, Raito. The thrill of the hunt. You've buried it—but it's clawing to get out."
His gaze drifted to the stars as memories returned like ghosts. "And how does that involve you?"
She stepped closer. Her presence wrapped around him like a second skin.
"I don't just know what you want—I know what you need. Strength beyond mortal limits. The freedom to be who you truly are. No restraint. No guilt."
She trailed a cold finger along his jaw, but he didn't react.
"But," she said with a smirk, "it comes at a price."
His expression didn't change. "And what would that be?"
Kurai's smile widened, her voice turning coy.
"First, you kill for me—occasionally. Offer me your victims, and I'll feast on their souls. Yes, I'm here to help with your urges… but I am still a demon."
She paused, then added, "And second—I need a vessel. A body. Yours, specifically."
He understood the risk. The cost. A piece of himself, gone forever. But even as reason told him to refuse, something darker inside whispered: Yes.
Raito had spent years pretending to be someone else. A soldier hiding in civilian clothes. A predator walking among sheep. He had fooled the world—but not himself.
Now, for the first time, someone wasn't asking him to hide. They were offering him freedom.
He met her glowing eyes. "Let's see if you can truly satisfy my hunger."
Kurai's grin turned wicked, filled with promises of power and blood.
"Then let us begin."
And the darkness rushed in.
Raito awoke to the dim glow of morning filtering through his curtains. His body felt… lighter. As if something had been shed during the night. Muscles sluggish, he sat up slowly. Everything in the villa looked untouched. Normal.
Except it wasn't.
"How did I get back here?"
His head throbbed as flashes of the night returned—shadows, voices, her. It had felt too vivid to be a dream.
"There's no way that wasn't real," he muttered.
He rose, heading into the bathroom out of habit, clinging to routine. Cold water splashed across his face, grounding him. It had to be the meds, he told himself. Just a side effect.
But then, he looked into the mirror—and froze.
His irises, once a deep onyx, flickered with crimson. Subtle. Barely there. But Raito noticed. He always noticed.
A shiver ran down his spine. It wasn't his imagination.
We're bound now, Raito. There's no turning back.
His grip on the sink tightened. He really did make a pact with a demon.
And this was only the beginning.
"Hmph… So you were real," he muttered, peeling off his clothes for a bath.
You didn't think I'd vanish that easily, did you? Kurai chimed, amused.
Raito ignored her teasing as he stepped into the shower. "How did I get back here?"
Oh, I just took a peek through your memories and used your body to walk us home. No big deal.
His eyes narrowed as he said sharply. "Don't ever do that again. Not without my permission."
Touchy. But let's be honest—you didn't mind that much. Her voice dipped playfully. Although, we do need to talk about how you're bathing while I'm still here, fully aware in your head.
Raito remained expressionless beneath the stream of hot water. "You'd better get used to it. You chose this vessel."
He could feel her grinning.
Oh, I will. Trust me—this view's only getting better.