The man began to speak in a loud, grave, and frightening voice that overpowered the torrential rain.
"What did you think you were doing here, kid?"
In response to this terrifying and authoritarian voice, the boy didn't break his emotionless composure; in fact, he began to glare at the man with looks of pure fury, as if he were angry about being stopped.
"That's none of your business. And why did you save me, anyway?"
"I didn't save you so you could live. If you had died just now, you would have become my problem. Now, beat it, go to another building."
"Oh really? Why should I be the one to leave?"
In response to the boy's defiance, the man had grown angry, but was even more surprised that this small child was talking back to him.
"Because I said so."
"Who are you to think I'd do what you want?"
These words were the final straw, and with a swift movement, the man pulled the pistol from his waist and aimed it at the small boy, who was barely ten years old, standing before him.
Faced with the gun pointed at him, the boy began to laugh, even burst into full-blown laughter. After laughing like this for a few seconds, he took calm and determined steps toward the weapon aimed at him, not stopping until the barrel touched his head. Once the gun made contact with his skull, he stopped and looked up at the fierce and frightening-faced man who was pointing the gun at him.
"Too bad for you. Pointing a gun at someone who is already determined to commit suicide doesn't make them feel a thing."
"Who said I was only going to kill you? All your relatives, your loved ones, and even your mother and father—all of them will die because of you."
"Just a year ago, even the sight of your face would have made me cry and run away. But now, you can neither scare me nor threaten me. Besides, you can't kill people who are already dead again. If you're saying you'll kill the ones who are alive,
you'd be fulfilling my greatest wish. Got it?"
The man calmly put his gun back in its holster and started to stare at the boy with a small, devilish smirk on his face.
"So, there's nothing and no one you love left in this life, is that right?"
"If so, what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to give you a reason to live."
"I refuse."
The man was shocked, even disappointed, by the swift and definitive answer.
"Are you sure? You'll have everything you want."
"There's nothing I want... actually, there is one thing."
"What is it? Rest assured, you'll get that too."
"To kill everyone I don't want to exist with my own hands, in the most savage and agonizing way possible."
The small smirk on the man's face momentarily faded, only to reappear much bigger and more terrifying than before.
"Is that so? I'll teach you the finest tortures and methods of killing, you little devil."
"Look who's talking; you're just a nobody. But since we've reached an agreement, I'll gladly sell my soul to you, demon."
The smile on the man's face suddenly dropped, and with a shocked tone of voice:
"Sell your soul? What kind of deal did you think I was going to make with you?"
"I figured you'd use me for dirty work until I die."
"Nothing of the sort. You will simply become my adopted son and heir after a staged death."
"Oh? I thought you were a real demon. Why didn't you say that from the start? Whose heir will I be, exactly?"
"Do you know KTora?"
"You mean that world-famous mafia? Everyone knows them."
"Good. You will be the owner and head of it."
"Then I refuse."
"What now?"
"I can't be bothered with managing a mafia. I was hoping I'd be a hitman."
"Managing? KTora can manage itself. You will merely be the feared and ruthless person sitting on the chair at the top. Plus, you'll take the seat when you are 30. You still have many years ahead of you."
"In that case, we have a deal."
The man and the boy, two demons, shook hands beneath the violent rain and lightning while Tokyo lay beneath their feet.