Ketsuki Onizawa walked through the empty streets, the soft hum of cicadas filling the night air. He carried the unconscious Tatsumi Matsutani over his shoulder as if she were nothing more than a sack of rice, his bored expression never wavering. The streetlights cast long, eerie shadows over the pavement, but he paid them no mind.

"I only saved her because she looked cute," he thought to himself. "Can’t afford to lose more girls who look good without makeup. We barely have those these days."

After what felt like an eternity of walking, Ketsuki finally reached his home—the Onizawa Residence. Nestled in a quiet district on the outskirts of Shion City, the house stood as a relic of a forgotten era.

The mansion was traditional Japanese in style, with shoji doors, wooden pillars, and a curved tiled roof. A stone pathway led to the genkan, where a pair of old geta sandals lay abandoned. The walls, a mixture of white plaster and dark wood, seemed untouched by time. It was a place of peace. A place of silence. A house too big for one person.

Ketsuki entered, slipping off his shoes before stepping onto the polished wooden floor. The scent of old tatami and faint incense lingered in the air. He carried Tatsumi to a small guest room, laying her down on a futon with as much care as someone placing a bag of groceries on the floor.

He yawned. "She'll be fine."

Without another thought, he made his way to the kitchen. Cooking was one of the few things that kept him entertained. He tied his hair back and started preparing a simple meal—onigiri, miso soup, and some grilled fish. The rhythmic chopping of the knife filled the quiet space.

A few minutes later, movement caught his eye. Tatsumi stirred, sitting up groggily. Her gaze darted around in confusion, her fingers gripping the futon tightly as if she had woken up in another world.

Ketsuki walked in, carrying a tray of food. "Oh, you are awake, good, I can't afford a murder charge...", He then sat the tray infront of her and said "Eat it or don’t. Not like I care."

Tatsumi’s eyes snapped to him, and in an instant, she grabbed the miso soup and threw it at his face. The hot liquid splashed over his shirt, soaking the fabric, but Ketsuki barely blinked. Instead, he sighed, wiping some tofu off his sleeve.

"Really? Do you have any idea how much tofu and green onions cost? You spoiled brat."

His casual attitude sent a fresh wave of fury through Tatsumi. But what confused her wasn’t just his indifference—it was her own feelings. Why wasn't she crying for her gang? Why wasn’t she in mourning?

The truth gnawed at her. She wasn’t mad because they died. She was mad because they were hers, and he took them away. They weren’t her friends. They were just extensions of her own power. She clenched her fists, her body shaking.

With a snarl, she lunged at Ketsuki, throwing wild punches at him. He didn’t even try to dodge. Her fists connected with his chest, his arms, his shoulder—but he didn’t react beyond looking mildly annoyed.

"Tch… You done?"

Tatsumi gritted her teeth and went for a harder swing, but before it could land, Ketsuki sighed and kicked her in the stomach. Not hard enough to seriously hurt her, but enough to send her tumbling backward onto the futon.

She gasped, gripping her stomach, rage burning in her eyes.

Ketsuki dusted himself off. "I’m not in the mood for your temper tantrum. Are you on your period or something?" He let out another yawn before picking up the empty tray. "Want more soup or not?"

Tatsumi was about to yell at him again, but then—

Grumble.

Her stomach betrayed her, the loud noise echoing in the quiet room. Her face flushed red, her anger and embarrassment clashing horribly.

Ketsuki raised an eyebrow. "Hah. Thought so."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

He turned and walked out, returning a few moments later with another bowl. Tatsumi grabbed it aggressively, gulping it down too fast. When she finished, she shoved the empty bowl toward him, scowling. "More."

Ketsuki stared at her for a second, genuinely surprised. "Do you eat like this every day?"

"None of your damn business!" she snapped—before hesitating. She looked away, mumbling, "...Yeah."

Ketsuki leaned against the doorframe, his eyes scanning her for a moment. His gaze lingered slightly longer than usual. She really was pretty. Even with her messy hair, furrowed brows, and the fire in her eyes, there was something striking about her. But he wasn’t about to admit that.

Instead, he smirked lazily. "Yeah, no wonder your tits are that big when you eat like a pig. You should save some food for your brain instead."

"YOU SON OF A—"

Tatsumi wiped the last traces of miso soup from her lips, glaring at Ketsuki as she set the empty bowl down. The atmosphere had settled—at least slightly—from their earlier outburst, but tension still lingered in the air.

She crossed her arms. "Alright, freak. Start talking. What the hell was that thing? And what the hell are you?"

Ketsuki sighed, leaning back against the wooden post beside him. "That thing was a level 3 monster. More specifically, a Stray. That’s what we call creatures that roam outside of control."

Tatsumi’s brow twitched. "Outside of control? You mean some of these things are actually tame?"

Ketsuki nodded. "Some. A lot of them are mindless killers, but others can be trained or even bought—if you know where to look."

He tapped the side of his nose. "Like my Sniffer. It's a parasite that enhances my sense of smell so I can track creatures from a distance. Gross, but useful."

Tatsumi shuddered. "That’s disgusting."

"Yeah, well, so is your personality, and yet, here we are."

She opened her mouth to retort, but he cut her off before she could throw another bowl at him.

"Anyway, you also asked what I am." He let out a tired sigh. "I'm an Endeavor."

Tatsumi narrowed her eyes. "And that means what exactly?"

Ketsuki stretched his arms lazily. "There are four types of people when it comes to dealing with monsters. First, you have Norms—your average, everyday idiots who have no idea any of this exists. They're clueless, powerless, and live their lives thinking ghosts and demons are just superstition."

Tatsumi scoffed. "So, basically everyone."

"Pretty much. Then, there are the Neuros. Scholars, researchers, and information brokers. They study monsters and Ichor but don’t actually fight. They just observe, analyze, and act like they’re better than everyone else."

"Nerds. Got it."

"After that, you’ve got Endeavors—like me. We're the ones who actually fight these things. Hunters, mercenaries, exorcists—whatever you wanna call us. We take jobs, track monsters, and eliminate threats. Or in some cases, capture them."

Tatsumi tilted her head. "So, you get paid for this?"

"Yeah. The pay’s garbage, but it keeps me entertained."

"Then why do it?"

Ketsuki was silent for a moment before shrugging. "Because someone has to."

Something about the way he said it made Tatsumi pause. There was no pride in his words. No passion. Just a statement of fact. Before she could question it, he continued.

"And finally, you have the Cowards." His voice took on a sharper edge, just barely noticeable. "They have the knowledge. They have the power. But they refuse to act. They sit on the sidelines and let others do the dirty work."

Tatsumi furrowed her brows. "Sounds like you hate them."

"Hate's a strong word," Ketsuki muttered, his gaze distant. "But they piss me off."

She didn’t press further, sensing that there was something deeper behind those words.

Instead, she shifted the subject. "And what the hell is Ichor? I’ve heard you say it a few times now."

Ketsuki exhaled. "Think of Ichor as… the blood of monsters. But it’s more than that. It’s a raw, magical essence. It fuels them. Strengthens them. And for some people—like me—it can be used as a weapon."

Tatsumi narrowed her eyes. "Like how?"

Ketsuki held out his hand. "Give me your wrist."

She instinctively pulled back. "The hell?"

"Just do it. I'm not gonna steal your damn wallet."

Still hesitant, Tatsumi extended her arm. Ketsuki placed two fingers on her wrist and closed his eyes for a moment. Then, she felt it—a strange, buzzing sensation, like something crawling under her skin.

She yanked her arm away. "What the hell was that?!"

Ketsuki smirked. "Your Ichor’s waking up. I figured as much. The way your strength flared up earlier when you were pissed off? That's not normal."

Tatsumi’s heart pounded. She clenched her fist, trying to shake the lingering sensation. "So… I have this Ichor thing?"

"Seems like it. Whether you know how to use it or not is another story."

She frowned, processing everything. "So, let me get this straight. There are monsters out there. Some of them can be tamed. Some people fight them. Some people study them. Some people ignore them. And some people have this weird magic blood crap that makes them stronger."

"That about sums it up."

She scoffed. "This is insane."

Ketsuki grinned lazily. "Welcome to my world."

Tatsumi exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. "Alright… fine. I still think you’re an asshole, but I guess I’ll stick around until I figure this out."

Ketsuki raised a brow. "You sure? Most people would run away screaming after learning all this."

Tatsumi met his gaze with a smirk of her own. "Most people aren’t me."

Ketsuki chuckled. "Fair enough." He stood up, stretching. "Alright, you can get out of my house now, go home or something..."

Tatsumi grumbled before getting up and leaving the house, not forgetting to glare at Ketsuki who returned it with the middle finger and a lazy grin.