The air was crisp with the scent of autumn as Kikidori sat at the edge of the abandoned playground near his childhood home. A slight breeze whispered through the rusted chains of the swings, filling the eerie silence with faint creaks. It had always been quiet here—too quiet. But that was the way Kikidori liked it. The silence let him think, let him remember, even if he didn't want to.
Kikidori Yamashiro had always been different. He knew it, everyone around him knew it, but no one ever said it out loud. It wasn't the sharp angles of his jawline or his unnatural red eyes, the color of fresh-spilled blood, that set him apart. No, it was the darkness within him, a shadow that had taken root long ago and refused to let go.
He glanced at the scar on his palm, a reminder of the night everything changed. Kikidori was only ten when he first tasted true fear, the kind that wraps around your throat and squeezes until you can't breathe. His family—if you could even call them that—had been a picture of dysfunction. His mother was a ghost of a woman, hollow and frail, too terrified to meet anyone's gaze, let alone her husband's. And his father? Well, his father was a monster in human skin.
The memories hit him like a freight train.
"Kikidori!" his father's voice boomed, slurred with alcohol. The man's shadow loomed over the tiny boy, his fists clenched and eyes wild. "Where's my money, boy?"
"I—I don't know, Dad. I didn't take it, I swear!" Kikidori's voice trembled, his small frame shaking under the weight of his father's fury.
The first blow came fast, a hard slap across the face that sent him sprawling to the floor. His mother stood in the corner, clutching a cigarette with trembling fingers, her eyes distant. She never stepped in. Not once.
That night, Kikidori learned what it felt like to want someone dead.
The beatings were routine, but what followed was what broke him. It was the night his father killed his dog—a scrappy little mutt named Haru, the only source of warmth in Kikidori's cold, empty world. He remembered the sound of Haru's cries, the way his father laughed as he swung the bat, the splatter of blood on the living room wall.
Something inside Kikidori snapped that night.
He didn't cry. He didn't scream. He just stood there, staring at his father with those unnatural red eyes, his small fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood.
And then he waited.
Two weeks later, his father was found dead in the garage. The official cause was carbon monoxide poisoning—a tragic accident, they called it. But Kikidori knew better. He had planned it meticulously, learning the mechanics of his father's car, blocking the ventilation system, and turning the engine on while the man was passed out drunk.
It was his first kill.
And it felt good.
From that moment on, Kikidori's life became a balancing act. By day, he was the quiet, mysterious kid at school, always keeping to himself but never causing trouble. His black hair and crimson eyes made him stand out, earning him whispered admiration and fear. Girls found him intriguing, boys respected him, and teachers overlooked him. But at night, he became something else entirely.
The darkness called to him, a hunger that couldn't be sated. He didn't kill for revenge anymore. He killed because he wanted to. Because the bloodstains on his hands reminded him he was alive.
But there was one person who kept him tethered to the light, one person who made him feel almost human: Ere'ana.
She was everything he wasn't—bright, kind, and full of life. Her golden hair framed a face that seemed to glow, her emerald eyes sparkling with warmth and curiosity. Ere'ana was the kind of girl who could have anyone she wanted, yet she chose him. She didn't know about the monster lurking beneath his cool exterior, and he intended to keep it that way.
Ere'ana was his sanctuary, the only thing in his life untouched by blood and darkness. He would protect her at all costs, even if it meant hiding the truth. Because if she ever found out what he really was, what he'd done, she would leave him. And Kikidori couldn't bear to lose her.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the playground in shadows, Kikidori stood and slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It was almost time. The hunger was building again, clawing at his insides like a caged animal.
He glanced at his phone, where Ere'ana's name lit up the screen with a message: *Can't wait to see you tomorrow. <3*
He smiled, a rare, fleeting thing.
"Tomorrow," he whispered to himself. "But tonight…"
He turned and disappeared into the darkness, his crimson eyes gleaming like a predator's.
The hunt was on and kikidori walked I to the city with his hood on no one will ever suspect a thing.
The city pulsed with life as Kikidori leaned against the cold brick wall of a shadowy alley. The streetlights cast a faint glow, but the narrow passage remained cloaked in darkness. The perfect hunting ground. The hum of passing cars and distant chatter of late-night wanderers filled the air, but Kikidori heard none of it. His focus was razor-sharp, his crimson eyes scanning the street for his next target.
The hunger was unbearable tonight. It wasn't the kind of hunger food could satisfy. It gnawed at him, a feral need clawing at the edges of his mind. He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. This was a ritual, one he had perfected over the years. He couldn't afford to be careless—not in this world, where mistakes meant prison or death.
Then he saw him.
A man in his mid-thirties, stumbling out of a nearby bar, his shirt wrinkled and stained with spilled beer. He was alone, cursing under his breath as he fumbled with his phone.
"Stupid piece of shit—ugh, where the hell's my Uber?" the man slurred, kicking at the pavement.
Kikidori's lips curled into a small, calculated smile. He adjusted his black hoodie, pulling the hood over his head as he stepped out of the shadows and into the faint glow of the streetlights.
"Hey," Kikidori called, his voice calm and disarming. "You lost?"
The man squinted at him, his bleary eyes struggling to focus. "What the—what do *you* want, kid? Go home, it's past your bedtime."
Kikidori tilted his head slightly, his red eyes gleaming under the light. "I think I can help you. You're looking for something, right?"
The man huffed, annoyance flickering across his face. "Yeah, I'm looking for my goddamn ride. Unless you're gonna magically summon a car, get lost."
Kikidori stepped closer, his movements smooth and deliberate. "I know a shortcut," he said, his voice low and confident. "There's a spot down this alley where cabs stop all the time. Faster than waiting here."
The man hesitated, his drunken mind struggling to process. He glanced down the dark alley, then back at the boy standing before him. "You're serious?"
Kikidori nodded. "Totally. People around here use it all the time. Trust me."
The man muttered something under his breath—something about stupid kids—and staggered toward the alley. Kikidori fell into step behind him, his hands slipping into his jacket pockets.
As they entered the alley, the sounds of the city faded, replaced by an oppressive silence. The man stumbled further in, oblivious to the growing tension. Kikidori slowed his pace, watching him closely.
"So, where's this cab—"
The man's words were cut off as Kikidori moved, swift and precise. He slipped a gloved hand over the man's mouth, muffling his panicked cries, and pressed a thin blade to his throat.
The man's eyes went wide with terror as he thrashed, trying to scream, but Kikidori held him firmly. His other hand reached into his pocket, pulling out a small vial of chloroform-soaked cloth. In one fluid motion, he clamped it over the man's nose and mouth.
"Shh," Kikidori whispered, his voice eerily calm. "No one's going to hear you. Just… stop struggling. It's easier that way."
The man's muffled screams turned to weak gasps as the chemical took effect. His movements slowed, his body sagging against Kikidori's grip. But the fear in his eyes remained.
Kikidori lowered the man to the ground gently, his blade glinting in the dim light. He crouched beside him, his red eyes glowing like embers in the darkness.
"Please," the man croaked, his voice barely audible. "Don't… don't do this. I'll do anything—"
"You always say that," Kikidori murmured, his tone almost bored. "You all beg, you all promise. But it doesn't change anything."
He tilted his head, studying the man's face. "I wonder… do you deserve this? Or are you just unlucky?"
The man whimpered, tears streaming down his face.
"It doesn't matter," Kikidori said quietly. "I'm not doing this because you wronged me. I'm doing this because I need to."
Without another word, he plunged the blade into the man's chest, aiming precisely for the heart. The man's body spasmed once, then went still. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and viscous, soaking into the cracks of the pavement.
Kikidori wiped the blade clean on the man's shirt, his movements methodical. He checked the alley for any signs of disturbance, then retrieved a small plastic bag from his pocket. Inside was a special chemical powder he had spent months perfecting. He sprinkled it over the blood, watching as it fizzled and dissolved, leaving no trace behind.
By the time he emerged from the alley, he looked like any other kid walking the streets late at night. His hoodie concealed his face, his gloved hands tucked into his pockets. No one gave him a second glance.
As he walked home, his phone buzzed with a message from Ere'ana: *Goodnight! Sweet dreams, Kiki <3*
He smiled, a flicker of warmth breaking through the cold void inside him.
"Goodnight," he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the city's hum.
No one would ever suspect a middle schooler.
Hi it's me the writer of this book and that is chapter 1 for you I hope you and WebNovel Likes this book