Let us speak a bit about the boy named Akuma Tiryns, and why he is so hated by the people around him. Why he's deemed himself… a murderer.

  This story begins three years ago, right before the start of his freshman year.

  Akuma slouched against the brick wall of an alley, watching the city bustle around him. He'd already made a habit of skipping out on his training with his father and brother. Even now he could still here it. His father’s stern voice.

  “You're wasting your potential, Akuma.”

  He shook the thought away, pushing himself off the wall and continuing his aimless journey through the streets.

  He wasn't looking for anything in particular. Just something, anything, that might spark his interest. A flying pig. A bank robbery. Anything to break the monotony of his life.

  That is, anything except for the massive festival consuming the other side of the city. The thought of navigating through the swarm of humans made his skin crawl.

  Not to mention all those wooden stalls with their tacky wooden decorations. His stomach churned at the mere thought.

  Back then, his eyes were still a dark shade of black, not yet crimsoned by what was to come. These days his expression carried a warmth that would later vanish. His hair was cut shorter, giving him a more childish, innocent appearance. And to his memory…

  He'd never once seen an angel.

  His wandering was interrupted by something thick beneath his shoe. He lifted his foot to find a wallet, bulging with cash. The stack of green bills seemed to whisper to him.

  “Just pick me up and tell no one.”

  Akuma's fingers twitched as he bent down to retrieve it. He hesitated, then sighed. If this was God's grace, surely he must've chosen the wrong person.

  The police station buzzed with unusual activity. Behind the front desk, officers moved with practiced efficiency, while in the waiting area, people slouched in plastic chairs, their expressions ranging from bored to worried.

  Akuma shifted uncomfortably near the entrance, the thick wallet heavy in his pocket.

  (Didn't expect it to be so full…) He thought, scanning the crowded room. (I wonder if I can just leave this in a bin or something?)

  He shook his head.

  (Nah, don't they have to like... fill out paperwork for lost items? Yeah, they probably need me to hand it in myself. Guess I better just wait.)

  As he searched for an empty seat, his gaze fell on three guys seated in the corner, discussing something. Your average thugs by the look of them. The one in the middle seemed about his age, radiating an unearned confidence that practically screamed, “I can get away with anything”.

  Curious about what they were talking about, Akuma reluctantly sat on the couch next to them, their hushed conversation drifting to his ears.

  “What do we do, Donte?” The older one on the right asked, his voice strained.

  He kept glancing toward the front desk, where an officer was typing something into a computer.

  “Who would've guessed that the plug would be caught? Much less rat us out?!”

  Donte, the middle one—who looked about the same age as Akuma—leaned back, a lazy smile playing on his lips. He interlocked his fingers behind his head, releasing a weak chuckle.

  “Relax, Tobi my man. I'm still a minor so I should get off easy.”

  Tobi yanked at his hair, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. His eyes darted around the room like a cornered animal's.

  “Okay, that's cool and everything, but what about us?!”

  “My man, you've gotta relax.”

  Donte's voice dropped to a whisper, forcing Akuma to strain to hear.

  “You know my dad will handle everything. Cops or not, these people will do anything once you toss them a bag.”

  Tobi's eyes widened, then brightened with reassurance.

  “You're right... You're absolutely right.”

  “There we go.”

  Donte clapped him on the shoulder.

  “That's the Tobi I know.”

  The third man, who had been silent until now, leaned forward. A jagged scar cut across his lip, twisting his mouth into a permanent sneer.

  “Hey, Donte…” He murmured. “That guy's been glaring at us since he first sat down. Think he's from a rival gang?”

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  Donte's head snapped toward Akuma, his lazy confidence replaced by annoyance.

  “The hell are you looking at?” He growled, leaning forward. “If ya got something ya wanna say, then come say it to my face, bitch.”

  But Akuma wasn't listening. His attention had caught on a bin by the front counter with a handwritten label.

  “Lost and Found.”

  His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He'd overthought the entire situation.

  “Sorry dude, but you'll have to hold that thought.” Akuma replied, rising from his seat. He hoped his casual tone would hide the fact he hadn't actually heard a word.

  After dropping the wallet into the bin, Akuma left the station. The three thugs watched his departure, confusion giving way to anger on their faces. Donte's fingers curled into a fist as he whispered to his companions.

  “If we ever see that guy again... He's dead.”

  The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the empty street as Akuma wandered, lost in thought. He could've been home watching anime or reading manga or literally anything else. Instead, he was marching through the quiet street looking for something. What was he even looking for again? Whatever it was, it had to be important… Right?

  His thoughts scattered at the sound of a child crying. A small boy, no older than seven or so, stood beneath a tree, tears streaming down his round cheeks.

  Following his gaze, Akuma spotted a balloon caught in the branches. It was a strange-looking thing, shaped like a burger with arms, legs, and glasses. The festival balloon, he assumed. The kid must've come from there.

  Without thinking, Akuma approached the tree and reached up. His fingers brushed against the balloon's string, and after a moment of stretching, he managed to free it. He handed it down to the child, whose tears immediately gave way to a smile that could have lit up the darkest sky.

  “Thanks so much, mister.” The boy said, clutching the balloon tightly.

  Something warm tugged at Akuma's chest at the sight of that smile. He felt a blush creep across his cheeks, causing him to rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

  “W-Where are your parents anyway, kid?” He asked, glancing around the empty street. “Shouldn't they have been around to grab that balloon for ya?”

  “Parents?”

  The boy blinked up at him.

  “Oh no, I'm out with my older brother right now.”

  “Brother...?”

  Akuma frowned, scanning the area. In the distance, he could make out a couple walking hand in hand, likely heading toward the festival. But that was it.

  “And where would he be?”

  The child's lips pursed in thought.

  “Well... We were together. But then he said that he dropped his wallet somewhere and told me to go on home without him.”

  The realization hit Akuma like a bullet train and nearly stole his breath. The wallet. Maybe God had chosen the right person after all.

  “What's your name anyway, kid?” He asked, his voice softer than before.

  The boy straightened his shoulders, a hint of pride crossing his face.

  “My brother told me it's bad manners to ask someone your name before giving your own. But since you got my balloon for me, my name's–”

  “There you are, Ely!”

  The voice came from behind them, breathless and tinged with relief. Akuma turned to find a person bent double, hands on knees, and gasping for air. With each labored breath, their thin frame shuddered. Akuma couldn't help but notice that this was clearly the most exercise they’d ever had.

  “Just... give me... a moment…” They managed between desperate gulps of oxygen.

  Akuma and Ely exchanged glances, caught in an awkward silence as they watched the new face struggle to recover. Even the balloon seemed to sense the tension, remaining unnaturally still in the boy's grasp.

  When the stranger finally looked up, their eyes locked with Akuma's.

  For a heartbeat, he found himself captivated. Dark, shoulder-length hair, slick with sweat, danced in the gentle breeze. Delicate features, flushed with exertion. Without meaning to, Akuma's gaze drifted downward, noting the way the slightly sheer white t-shirt clung to a small chest. In particular, his eyes tracked a single bead of sweat as it trailed down, and he felt his face grow hot.

  “Is everything okay?” The stranger asked, noticing his flustered expression.

  “Y-yep...” Akuma stammered, forcing himself to look at the ground. “I'm perfectly fine.”

  “That's good.”

  Ely stepped between them, his balloon bobbing in the air above his head.

  “This is the person I was just telling you about.” He said, gesturing to the new face. “This is the clumsy idiot who forgot their wallet and left a poor, defenseless child alone.”

  He turned to the other, pointing at Akuma with his balloon in hand.

  “And this is… Uh, what was your name?”

  “I-It’s Akuma.”

  “Right. This is Akuma. He helped me out while you were gone. He's my friend now.”

  “Really...?”

  The stranger's voice lilted with curiosity. Their gaze lingered on Akuma for a heartbeat too long, assessing him with an intensity that made him want to fidget.

  “If that's the case, then I owe you my thanks.” They finally said, offering a small smile. “A friend of Ely is a friend of mine. Is there any way I can repay you?”

  “N-Nah, you're good.” Akuma replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to help out.”

  “I can't just let you go without doing something...”

  The stranger's eyes brightened.

  “Oh, I know. How about we go to the festival? I'll pay for you.”

  “...What?”

  “I said I want you to come to the festival with me.”

  Akuma froze, his mind racing in overdrive.

  (A one-on-one with another human being. A girl no less...) He thought, panic rising in his throat. (We'd walk around, take in fun sights and eat as we chatted about nothing important. Wait a damn minute! That's a date! That's what one would call that, right? It has to be. One boy and one girl hanging out together. There's simply no other term to describe such a thing.)

  But could he, in good conscience, let a girl pay for him? Then again, that was the least of his worries.

  (Hold on. Why does it feel like I missed something? Something real damn important? Run it back, Akuma.)

  His eyes widened as he remembered Ely's earlier words. His gaze then snapped back to the person in front of him, taking in details he'd missed before. The slight broadness of their shoulders, the angle of the jaw.

  “Hey, um...” He began, his voice cracking. “I don't think I caught your name.”

  “Huh? Oh, how could I be so rude. My name's Jacob.”

  (That name…)

  Akuma gulped, feeling his face grow hot again, but for an entirely different reason.

  “Ah... Do you...? Are you...?”

  Ely watched the exchange with growing amusement. This wasn't the first time someone had made this mistake, and it surely wouldn't be the last.

  Akuma averted his gaze, searching for the right words. After what felt like an eternity, he cleared his throat and asked, “So um… Do you… pee standing up?”

  An awkward silence fell upon the three. It was broken by a soft chuckle from Jacob that gradually grew in volume until he was doubled over, tears streaming from his eyes.

  “Oh, that's what you were asking.”

  Jacob wiped a tear away, his shoulders still shaking with mirth.

  “It's just as you think, Akuma... I'm a boy.”