I think I might just go back to Hanayama.
I don't think his offer still stands… but maybe—just maybe, if I begged enough, he might reconsider.
…
What am I even thinking?
God, I'm exhausted.
I'd do anything… anything just to sleep for twenty minutes—five would even be enough.
I grabbed my head with both hands, rubbing my eyes aggressively, trying to shake off the drowsiness.
I hadn't slept for five days—ever since the day I escaped that place.
Sleep was impossible with the constant attacks.
Bike gangs, connected directly to Hanayama's Yakuza.
For five days, they hunted me at my weakest.
While I went to the bathroom.
While I slept.
Even during my most private moments.
The skin under my half-closed eyes had turned a deep black, and my eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion.
Not to mention I was now a wanted criminal.
What did I expect would happen after killing two innocent civilians?
The police, the gangs, the Yakuza… and probably others I didn't even know—everyone was after me.
I rested my head against the wall behind the cheap iron bed I'd stolen from a fat homeless man.
Poor guy. I took everything from him while he was asleep—
food, water, his makeshift weapons. Even his pants weren't spared.
Not because I'm some creep with a fetish for homeless men's underwear.
It was for money.
There's some old guy who buys used underwear in bulk, seals them in plastic bags and sells them through sketchy vending machines—
the kind meant for lonely adults who have no idea that those pants belong to homeless men and not some underage girls
I let my hands drop from my head and sighed.
"Hooof…"
Sleep crept toward me slowly… insidiously.
Until it slapped my face awake.
I opened my eyes wide.
I was sitting on the bed in a square, empty room,
except for a plastic barrel in the corner—
stolen from the same homeless man.
Yes i even stole his personal toilet
It was filled with urine and other filth.
At first, the foul smell helped me fight off sleep,
but now?
I think I'd built up an immunity to it.
So that why i filled it with alcohol and gasoline
To strengthen the smell
The room was pitch dark.
A bad choice for someone trying not to sleep.
Yet, at the same time… perfect if someone decided to ambush me.
Then—
Thud… thud…
Heavy footsteps echoed through the abandoned building
and faint whispers carried clearly in the air.
Two people.... i think
"oh my god…"
I sighed in exhaustion, tilting my head to the ceiling.
"Should I… turn myself in to the police?"
I asked myself, lowering my gaze to the gap under the door.
A faint shadow filtered through the dim moonlight, stopping directly at the doorway.
I tightened my grip on the barrel.
Then the shadow moved away.
My grip loosened—until something I didn't expect happened.
The gap under the door was suddenly blocked.
Sweat poured from my forehead as I waited for any sign, any movement.
Then—
Bang!
The door swung open violently.
Wood splintered into the air, but I didn't care.
I grabbed the barrel and hurled it directly at the figure in the doorway.
The barrel—full of filth—not only hit him…
but embedded itself in his head.
The man was wearing a black suit under a white jacket.
He grasped the barrel, trying to pull it from his head, staggering and screaming.
I didn't give him a chance.
I pulled a lighter from my pocket and threw it at him
.
The moment the flame touched the spilled filth—
Whoooosh!
A small fireball erupted.
sharp scream tore out of him.
"AAAAAAAAAAAH—!"
He collapsed to the ground, clutching his burning face.
"Haaah… haaaah… haaaah…"
The fire had done its work quickly.
After all, it was the face—the most sensitive part of the body.
Then the screaming stopped.
So did the movement.
The man has slipped into unconsciousness..
The moment Yang saw his face, guilt slammed into his chest like a truck.
His face was burned and covered with a grotesque mix of charred flesh and filth.
Even if he survived, the burnt debris glued to his face would remain for years—if not kill him outright.
Was this too much?
Yang hesitated
just for a moment.
These people wanted him dead.
Why should he hold back?
In this life, Yang had sworn never to give in to weakness.
No matter the obstacles, no matter the despair, he would use anything—anything—to stay alive.
....
But as he looked at the man's melted face—
Yang shook his head.
The sadness faded from his expression, replaced by his usual frown.
He stepped toward the door to leave but stopped suddenly
.
He leaned his back against the wall.
He remembered that time…
when they ambushed him as he tried to sneak out the back door of his house—
the moment that ended with his neck broken.
He wouldn't make the same mistake.
He wouldn't take the risk.
But—
from below—
Crack!
A small gap formed in the wall near his foot.
A chain wrapped around his ankle.
And in an instant—
he was yanked violently.
Yang was thrown out of the wall with force, slamming his back into another wall.
"Jaaah!"
lThe impact crushed the air from his lungs, and spit mixed with blood burst from his mouth, then collapsed to the ground, struggling to push himself up.
A sharp pain exploded in his back—something had lodged into it.
A nail… more than one.
He raised his head trying to see the attacker
But—
Crack!
A black shoe struck his face directly.
" ackk ! "Yang clutched his face in pain as blood poured from his nose between his fingers.
"Ah… ah… achoo!"
He sneezed, spraying more blood violently.
He raised his eyes toward the attacker…
to find a blonde boy who looked no older than a teenager, wearing the same outfit as the man Yang had burned—
but the difference was clear:
on his left sleeve was written in kanji:
"In all the heavens and the earth."
The boy raised a wooden sword wrapped in chains above his head.
"Oh…"
Yang muttered, closing his eyes ready for the pain
The sword fell upon his face.
Thwaaak!
The echo of the strike reverberated throughout the abandoned building.
The blonde boy stared at Yang lying unconscious on the ground.
A purplish line of split his face in half,
and his lips were cut from his chin up to below his nose.
"…."
The boy stared at him for a moment, then turned toward his burned friend.
He set the sword aside and bent down to lift him up
The face of his comrade was charred, merged with filth.
"Oh god "
"Haafff…"
The burned man gasped one eye was completely melted leaving only an empty socket
And the other was staring at something behind the blonde in horor
"Relax… relax, it's all over now."
He raised his hand with difficulty, clutching the collar of his loosened jacket.
"b-be...hind…"
The blonde boy tried to turn—
But it was too late.
Yang ambushed him.
He sprang from behind and wrapped his stolen suit tightly around the blondes face.
It wasn't an ordinary suit.
The suit Yang had used to cover the blonde's face wasn't ordinary—it was lined on the inside with rusty blades and needles, scavenged from the floors of abandoned buildings as he moved from one to another.
A brilliant idea was born from desperation.
The only way Yang could turn it into a weapon was to fix the blades inside the fabric, using it as a long-range weapon.
But no matter how he tried it against the gang members, it caused no real damage—the angles of the blades weren't enough to scratch.
So he decided never to use it that way.
He would rely on ordinary weapons… like knives and traps
Until this idea hit him, suspended between life and death:
What would happen… if he wrapped it around someone's face?
So With every ounce of strength left, he grabbed the jacket by both ends and yanked it violently.
The blonde tried to tear it to escape, fingers digging into the fabric in desperation—but it was useless.
Blood soaked the fabric, staining it, and with each pull, his neck bent painfully, as if his bones were being reformed by force.
He tried to stand.
Yang noticed immediately and delivered a swift kick to the back of his legs, sending him back down.
Now that he cant stand up anymore he was completely under Yang's control.
The blonde strted kickng the air and and the ground as he struggled
His black shoes scuffed dark, distorted marks across the floor, and each strike against the ground echoed through the empty building.
in terror, he patted the ground next to him for his wooden sword in a last desperate attempt to hold on to life.
But before his fingers could touch it—
Yang's foot slammed down, crushing his hand against the ground, taking the last chance from him with a muffled scream.
Finally, the boy's hands went limp, and his feet stopped resisting.
Yang pushed his head aside coolly, snatched the wooden sword from the ground, and headed toward the stairs without looking back.
"There's a small clinic behind the building… you'll live if you go now," he muttered to himself, then continued walking.
" haaaaaf ...haaaaf "
Meanwhile, the blonde slowly awoke, gasping.
He grabbed the jacket with both hands and began tearing it to pieces, ignoring the blades and needles that got embedded in his palms, and the blood that spilled from them
He started wheezing
His face was a disaster.
A rusty blade and needle were lodged in his left eye, now a bloody mess.
Deep scratches marred his features, and his gums were pierced with several needles
If you compared his face before and now…
It would be like comparing Cinderella to Frankenstein.
All he could think about was Yang.
How dare this insect?
He knew it wouldn't have ended this way if he had fought Yang face to face.
But his arrogance—blind arrogance—was what made him turn his back on him
Ignoring his superior orders not to turn his back on him no matter what
He gritted his teeth making his gums bleed from between the needles, pain slicing
He had failed.
Just like his dead comrades
the ones he had mocked
.
*How did they get ambushed by that insect? Were they drunk?*
Those past words echoed in his mind, screaming back at him
"Yaaang… Yaaanggg!
Come back! Come back and fight me like a man, Yaaang!"
His voice tore through the air, filled with hatred and embarrassment, echoing like a howl stripped of all dignity.
__________________
Yang staggered out of the building.
Several nails were embedded in his back.
When the blond slammed him into the wall, rusted nails had been driven straight into him—
not by their tips, but by their heads.
That was how hard he'd been slammed.
heading toward the police station with unsteady steps.
But after a short distance, he collapsed to his knees.
The adrenaline suddenly wore off, as if someone had flipped an invisible switch.
At the same moment, pain exploded through every inch of his body—sharp, crushing, merciless.
He bent forward, gasping, as memories from the past week flooded in.
Five people…
One he had stabbed.
A man who showed him mercy, when Yang was begging for mercy the man helped him stand up… only for yang to stab him in the chest.
The second—he blew his head apart with a rock when he stepped on a bear trap he setted.
He too begged… just like yang with the first
And the third… the one he burned.
He didn't even know what he looked like.
Yang swallowed hard, feeling a suffocating weight on his chest and his throat
Every time he killed, it felt as if someone had shat a log on his mouth
With each life he took, the log grew longer on his throat
Breathing became harder—harder than it had been when he was paralyzed—and nausea clung to him constantly.
Now, he was nothing more than a man made of shit
Tho heavier than all of this is remembering the first two people he killed:
A doctor… and a driver.
Both innocent.
Both had passions, dreams, untold stories.
Both believed they were on their way to rescue a man—
no, not a man.
Something worse than that.
A completely different species.
A yakuza.
If only I had been stronger…
I wouldn't had to resort to killing
Dizziness crept into his head
The smell of the invisible shit in his throat has gotten stronger
Yang crawled toward a lamppost, trying to stand but no matter how much he tried he couldn't ' i cant move anymore...im tired ,im bleeding and i just wanna sleep...ive done enough ...no ive done nothing at all...im the same man as i was when i first woke up in this world ...i should just go to hell , i dont deserve another life ' he closed his eyes resting his head on the pole
Suddenly, someone grabbed his right shoulder from his right side
Yang slowly turned his head, his eyes barely open
Two officers—one man and one woman—stood next to him
The man had grabbed his shoulder.
"Are you okay, sir? How much did you—"
He stopped suddenly, staring at him in alarm.
"Wait… sir, you don't look well. You're bleeding heavily—"
Before he could finish, Yang slapped him "im a killer, take me to jail before i kill you too" yang said before falling on the ground leaving both officers looking at him dumbfounded