One day, a lucky kid was adopted by a kind single woman.
Until then, six-years-old Kurai had lived in a foster home. No father, no mother, just cold indifference of a world that had already written him off. He was quiet, painfully shy, and achingly lonely.
But the moment she smiled at him...solf, warm, real...something inside him cracked open.
"From now on, I'll be your mommy, Kurai." she said, her voice a lullaby.
And for the first time, he believed it.
For years, she was everything a mother should be. She hugged him when he scraped his knees, laughed at his silly jokes, and tucked him in with stories of faraway kingdoms. Kurai bloomed under her love, his shyness melting into bright, unguarded joy. He was happy.
Then, slowly, everything changed.
She started slipping out at night, returning with the sharp scent of alcohol clinging to her clothes. Then came with men, slick-haired, grinning strangers who left crumpled bills on the counter and bruises on her wrists. One in particular, a man with shake's smile and a mafia's wallet, lured her in with free drugs and hollow promises.
Kurai knew she was looking for love. He understood. He just wanted her to be happy.
But he didn't understood one thing.
One afternoon, nine-years-old Kurai bursts through the front door, clutching a test paper with a big, red "A+" at the top. "Mommy!" he called, racing up the stairs. "Look what I-"
And froze.
A man, -that man- was in her bed, sheets tangled around them. Kurai's stomach lurched. He didn't understand what he was seeing, only that it was wrong, that he shouldn't be here. that he needed to run.
He slammed the door shut and bolted to his room, diving under the covers like they could shield him from the awful, crawling feeling under the skin.
Who was that? What was he doing? Why was Mommy letting him-
The creak of footsteps. The click of the front door. Silence.
Kurai waited, then crept back to her room.
"Mommy?"
No answer.
She was still in bed, half covered by the blanket. He reached out, shaking, and pulled her towards him.
Her head lolled back.
Blood. So much blood. A gaping slash across her throat, her face a grotesque mask of crimson.
Kurai recoiled, a scream tearing from his throat.
"MOMMY! MOMMY, PLEASE- HEY! MOMMYY ?"
Present Day
Kurai jolted awake, his own scream strangling in his throat.
White walls. Sterile air. The steady beep of a heart monitor.
A hospital.
His body ached from the fight with Satomi and Junpei, but the real pain was the nightmare clinging to him like a second skin. His cheeks were wet.
"Ayo, buddy..." Kebe's voice cut through the fog. "Why are you crying?"
Kurai swiped at his face, forcing a weak laugh. "Why did I dream about that again...?"
Kebe's usual smirk was gone, replaced by something raw. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah. Just a dream."
But the lie tasted like blood.