The sun had set, casting the small kitchen in dim evening light. The family gathered around the dining table, a familiar ritual that had played out countless times before. Hands clapped together, chopsticks held between palms.
"Itadakimasu," they said in unison.
The sounds of eating filled the small room. Utensils scraped against bowls, chopsticks clicked together, the soft rhythm of chewing. Steam rose from the ramen bowls, curling in the dim light of the overhead bulb that swayed gently on its cord.
"Oh, ramen. Wow, what a surprise," Redacted said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Pffft." Buffy held back her laughter, her helmet tilting slightly as her shoulders shook.
"Let's be grateful for what we have, Re-chan," Yuzu said gently, her smile warm despite the exhaustion in her eyes. "Some people don't even have this."
"Yeah..." Buffy cut in. Redacted glanced at her. "Let's be grateful for what we have."
Buffy tilted her head to the side, and even through the helmet, something about her posture radiated warmth—something soft, genuine. The kind of warmth that made the cramped kitchen feel like home.
Yuzu's face lit up. She reached across the table and pulled Buffy into an awkward hug, nearly knocking over her bowl. "Awww, you're so cute!"
"Hmph." Redacted turned back to her bowl, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward despite herself.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang, followed by a sharp knock.
Aoto was already halfway out of his seat when Redacted stood. "I'll get it," she said, walking toward the door. Her footsteps echoed softly against the wooden floor. "Who is it?" she called out.
Silence.
Nothing but the faint sound of breathing on the other side of the door. Another knock. Louder this time. More insistent. More demanding.
Redacted reached for the handle and pulled the door open. "How can I hel—p"
The words died in her throat.
A gun. Pointed directly at her face.
Behind it stood a figure in a black mask, eyes cold and unblinking. Two more masked figures flanked him, weapons drawn and ready. One of them raised a gloved finger to his lips.
Shh.
"Re-chan?" Aoto's voice came from behind her, concern creeping into his tone. "Is there something wrong?"
Redacted's heart hammered in her chest. Her mind raced through possibilities, each one worse than the last. She forced her voice to stay calm, forced the words out steady. "No, no. It's nothing."
Aoto's eyes narrowed.
"Now open it," the masked man whispered, his voice low and cold. "Wide."
BOOM.
The gunshot shattered the night. One of the masked men flew backward, a spray of red mist erupting from his chest. He crumpled to the ground, body twitching, blood pooling beneath him in the dim light.
Click-click.
Aoto stood in the hallway, shotgun in hand, eyes hard as stone. The smell of burnt gunpowder—sharp, acrid, chemical—immediately filled the entryway. "Get inside. Now."
The other masked man panicked. Redacted moved on instinct—snatched his gun and fired. Two shots. Head and chest. He dropped instantly.
But it was already too late.
Gunfire erupted from reinforcements outside. Bullets tore through the wooden door as Redacted slammed it shut and locked it. She pressed herself flat against the wall.
"GET DOWN!" she screamed.
Another masked man rained bullets into the house, the barrage relentless. Redacted stayed pinned to the wall while Aoto took cover in the living room with Yuzu and Buffy. The sharp crack-crack-crack of automatic weapons filled the house, drowning out everything else. Smoke began to fill the air.
Then, suddenly, it stopped.
Crash.
The sound of breaking glass came from the back of the house. Sharp and sudden. Then another window. Then another. The sound of boots hitting the floor inside.
Redacted and Aoto's eyes met across the room. They were coming in from all sides. Aoto signaled to Redacted—a sharp, quick gesture. His lips moved, forming words she couldn't hear over the ringing in her ears, but she understood.
Come here. Now.
Redacted sprinted across the open space, keeping low. She slid behind the couch next to Aoto and Yuzu, breathing hard. The smell of burnt gunpowder clung to everything.
"Darling," Aoto said, his voice rough but steady as he looked at Yuzu. "Take Buffy. Hide somewhere safe. Re-chan and I will handle them."
Yuzu's head was bleeding. A stray bullet had grazed her temple, blood running down the side of her face in a dark stream. Her eyes were wide, glassy with shock and fear, but she nodded. She bundled Buffy into her arms and ran toward the back hallway, disappearing into the shadows.
Redacted and Buffy's eyes met for just a moment before Yuzu pulled her away. Redacted smiled—small, soft, reassuring.
It'll be okay, that smile said. I'll protect you.
Then the footsteps came. Heavy boots on wooden floors. Getting closer.
"I'll take the outside," Aoto said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You take inside."
Redacted nodded.
She moved into the living room, her back pressed against the wall. Her breathing was controlled now, focused. She could hear them—breathing, footsteps, the metallic click of a magazine being loaded. She stepped out, aimed, and fired.
BANG.
The masked man staggered back, clutching his shoulder, blood seeping between his fingers. "Ahh—shit!"
The gunshot left her ears ringing—a high-pitched whine that made everything sound muffled, distant, like she was underwater. He dove behind the overturned table. Another figure appeared in the doorway. She kept firing, forcing them back.
Aoto ran forward and exited the house through the window, breaking the glass as he dove through. Outside, he met an enemy immediately. The masked person opened fire, surprised and caught off guard as he dropped and rolled, narrowly dodging the bullets.
They opened fire on each other, both running for cover. The masked person took position behind a tree, reloading his gun.
Smash.
"What the—" The man panicked as debris scattered upon impact near him, splinters of bark exploding from the tree trunk.
Click.
His expression went pale as he looked up and saw Aoto pointing the shotgun directly at his face. The man slowly lowered his gun to the ground, hands trembling. In that moment, just as he set the gun on the floor, desperation flashed in his eyes. He snatched a knife from his belt and lunged forward—
Boom, boom.
Aoto fired twice.
"Ahhhhhh!" The man screamed, rolling on the ground in pain, clutching his shoulder so tightly as he tried to crawl away, his hand outstretched, leaving a smear of blood across the dirt.
Huff.
Aoto let out a subtle sigh as he lowered his gun, his hands shaking slightly. "I have to go help Redacted now."
Footsteps. Running. Fast.
Buffy came running out from the side door.
"Huh? Buffy?" Aoto's eyes widened as he saw her covered in blood, crying, her astronaut helmet reflecting the dim light, holding a knife in her hand.
"Buffy!" he shouted.
She looked to her side, saw him, and ran toward him, crying even louder. When she reached him, she threw herself into his arms, hugging him so tightly.
"What happened, Buffy?!" He pulled back slightly, gripping her shoulders. "Answer me! Why are you covered in blood?!" His voice was panicked, desperate.
"Mom... Mom is..."
"Mom is what?!"
"We were attacked and Mom... Mom protected me!" Her voice dissolved into a high-pitched, hysterical wail that tore through his heart, muffled slightly by the helmet.
Aoto's eyes widened in shock, disbelief flooding his face. "Buffy... is she...?"
Buffy nodded, still sobbing.
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay composed. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. "Find a place to hide. I'll go and assist Re-chan. The police will be here soon. We'll hold out till then."
For a moment, Buffy said nothing. She just buried her helmet deeper into his coat. Aoto felt her small body trembling—or so he thought. She squeezed him tighter. Harder. Unnaturally strong for a child.
Aoto gasped. "Buffy, it's okay, you're crushing me—"
Then the trembling stopped. Instantly. The crying ceased completely.
Aoto felt it then. Something hard pressed against his ribs. Just for a split second. The knife. His breath caught.
Then he heard it. Through the helmet's visor, barely visible in the dim light—he saw it. Her face.
The corners of her lips twitched. Then, slowly, they stretched upward. It wasn't a smile of relief. It was a jagged, unnatural tear across her face visible through the clear visor. Her eyes remained dead and wide, staring right through him, while her mouth curled into a silent, manic crescent.
"Hehe."
It was a sound void of humanity, hollow and echoing slightly within the helmet.
STAB.
The blade punched through cloth, skin, muscle. Pain exploded in his chest, white-hot and searing. His eyes went wide, mouth opening in a silent gasp. Her body went still—blank, emotionless, like a doll whose strings had been cut.
"I almost forgot," Buffy said, her voice light, cheerful, innocent, distorted slightly by the helmet. "I have to finish this. I'm having so much fun."
Aoto's face went pale. His mind raced—no, this isn't real, this can't be—
His breathing grew louder, more ragged. Blood soaked through his shirt, warm and sticky, spreading across his chest in a dark stain. Buffy pulled the knife out slowly, almost gently, and let it drop to the ground with a soft thud. Then she reached down and took the shotgun from his weakening grip, his fingers too numb to resist.
"Papa," she said sweetly, tilting her helmeted head. Through the visor, that terrible grin remained fixed in place. "Cat got your tongue?"
"Buffy..." His voice was barely a whisper, blood flecking his lips. "Don't tell me you—"
Behind the astronaut helmet's visor, he could see that smile widen even further—impossibly wide, stretching beyond what seemed natural.
"Yep!" she said brightly, nodding.
BOOM.
The shotgun blast echoed through the night. Aoto's body jerked backward and crumpled to the ground, lifeless, his eyes staring up at the darkening sky. Buffy stood over him, the gun still smoking in her small hands, her astronaut helmet catching the last rays of fading light.
"Hehe."
Inside, Redacted was taking cover in the passageway that connected the living room with the kitchen. She looked outside and noticed the gunfire had stopped. A masked person walked inside cautiously, weapon raised.
Redacted aimed carefully and fired.
BANG.
Headshot. The figure dropped instantly. The person behind him backed up quickly, taking cover. Redacted kept firing, pinning down two of them.
"Shit, we can't even get close! What is this monster?! She's too accurate!"
Redacted's mind raced. I need to draw them away from the house.
She bolted for the exit, bursting through the side door into the yard—and froze.
Her father lay on the ground, blood pooling beneath him, eyes staring blankly at the sky. The metallic scent of blood mixed with the gunpowder in the air—copper and iron, thick and nauseating. Her eyes sank. Disbelief washed over her.
Then she saw Buffy. Crying beside his corpse.
"Buffy!" she called out, running forward. She scooped Buffy up and pulled her behind the side of the house, taking cover.
Redacted let out a shaky sigh, trying to relax despite the anger and disbelief coursing through her. "Buffy," she said, her eyes grim. "Shh. Explain to me what happened."
"Mom is... we were attacked when we were hiding and Mom protected me to let me flee. When I ran away outside and saw Dad... he was already like... that."
Redacted closed her eyes. So Mom and Dad are...
She opened her eyes and said firmly, "Buffy. Don't worry. I will protect you."
Small steps inched forward toward them on both sides. Redacted's eyes darted left, then right. "When I give you the signal, you run with me. Everything you've got. Understand?"
But they were surrounded. Redacted tried to fight, tried to subdue a masked person coming toward them—but there were too many.
Hands grabbed her, wrenched her arms back, slammed her to the ground. Her face hit the dirt, and she tasted blood mixed with soil. Boots surrounded her.
A man stepped forward. He lit a cigarette with a small lighter and pulled off his mask. Redacted's eyes widened. Her expression twisted into fury.
"You..." she spat. "You're the one from back then... Nile."
Nile grinned, casual and carefree. He took a long drag from his cigarette. Smoke curled from his lips. "Yo."
"You bastard, you'll—"
Before she could finish, Buffy stood up.
"Buffy, stop! They'll kill—"
Buffy walked over to Nile and stood beside him. The world stopped.
"Good work, Nile," Buffy said.
Redacted was dumbfounded, struggling to even comprehend what was going on. "Buff... y?"
Buffy faced Redacted. Her cold aura sent a chill down Redacted's spine.
"Big sister," Buffy said in an innocent tone. "You still don't get it?"
A pause. Heavy. Terrible.
"I KILLED MOM AND DAD. Tehe."
Redacted's breath hitched. "Huh? What... what are you saying?"
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Buffy's laughter erupted—loud, manic, unhinged. It echoed through the yard, bouncing off the walls, filling the night. It sent shivers through everyone present, even the hardened men holding Redacted down.
"Haha! How dumb can you be?! So fucking funny! You can't even see the truth right in front of you!"
Redacted's memories flashed before her eyes. The family dinners. The laughter. Buffy's warmth at the table just minutes ago. Yuzu's gentle smile. Aoto's protective presence. All of it shattered, crumbling into dust.
Redacted was at a loss for words.
"Why?" The only word that could come out of her mouth. She said it subtly, barely audible.
"Huh? What's that?" Buffy said, leaning in.
Redacted gritted her teeth and screamed, "WHY?!" She broke down. "Why?! Why would you do this?!"
"Money."
A beat of silence.
"Ajui died because we had nothing. I watched her starve, sell herself, bleed for scraps. You think your 'family love' means anything? MONEY is the only thing that keeps you alive in this world. I won't be weak again."
She paused, then continued coldly. "Money is strength in this world. Useless bonds like 'family' bullshit isn't going to take me to the top. At least taking everything here will suffice."
Redacted's voice cracked. "Useless... bonds?" Tears streamed down her face. "WAS THAT WHAT I MEANT TO YOU?! A USELESS BOND?!"
Buffy paused for a moment. Then turned her back.
"Yes."
Redacted's eyes sank as her breathing grew even more ragged. "AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" she screamed.
Buffy took a gun from Nile and pointed it toward Redacted's head.
"Bye-bye, Re-chan."
Redacted looked helpless. "Buff—"
BANG.
Redacted dropped dead.
Buffy walked away and tossed the gun to Nile.
"Damn," he said with a slight grin on his face.
"We're moving out," a masked person said. They all entered their cars and drove away.
Redacted lay lifeless on the ground, her blood spreading, clothes covered in blood, a tear dripping from her eyes. Police sirens wailed in the distance. Faint at first, then growing louder. Closer. The sound cut through the night air with increasing urgency.
But inside Redacted's mind, there was only silence.
Her memories flashed before her eyes one final time—Buffy's laughter at the dinner table, her warmth, the family dinners, Yuzu's gentle smile, Aoto's protective presence. And then, at the end, Buffy pulling the trigger.
The sirens grew louder still. Louder. Louder.
Was it all a lie?
The sirens screamed now, nearly upon them. One word echoed in the darkness of her fading consciousness, a single thought that burned through everything else.
KILL.