Akihabara, fifteen minutes before Ichirou was reborn.

Everything seemed peaceful in Ichirou’s room until faint noises drifted in from the kitchen. The sounds quickly escalated into screams, ones he had never heard before. His heart began to race with unease.

As the minutes passed, a terrifying scream pierced the air, making Ichirou’s skin crawl. Tears welled up in his eyes as a strong feeling of fear pushed him to check what was happening. He moved cautiously toward the kitchen, his hands shaking, and peeked around the corner. What he saw made his world crumble. His father, face twisted in anger, was holding a knife. Before Ichirou could even understand what was going on, his father drove the knife into his mother. Ichirou froze, unable to breathe, completely horrified by the sight.

“No, no, no…” Ichirou whispered, covering his mouth as if trying to hold back the reality of what he'd just witnessed.

He was paralyzed, unable to move, as his mind went numb. The sound of distant police sirens barely registered in his ears as his father, panicking, bolted from the scene, disappearing into the night.

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Ichirou finally forced himself to crawl toward his mother, his sobs growing louder as he clung to her lifeless body. The door rattled with heavy bangs, followed by a stern voice: "This is the police! Open up!"

But Ichirou couldn’t think straight. His world was crumbling around him. His breath hitched as he spotted the bloodstained knife beside him. His hands, shaking uncontrollably, reached for it.

The banging on the door grew more intense, each thud echoing like a countdown. Ichirou’s heart raced as he slowly turned the knife toward his neck. Tears blurred his vision. "I’m sorry, Mom," he whispered, his voice barely audible as his hand trembled.

With a loud crash, the door burst open. Two police officers rushed into the apartment, their flashlights cutting through the darkness and landing on Ichirou’s pale face.

"Don't do it!" one of the officers shouted, his gun trained on Ichirou.

But it was too late. In one swift motion, Ichirou plunged the knife into his own neck. The officers lunged toward him, trying desperately to stop the blood that poured from his wound, but his body was already going limp.

The apartment was bathed in a pool of crimson. Blood was everywhere, painting the scene of horror.

“Is he gone?” the second officer asked, his voice trembling.

The first officer shook his head grimly. “By the time paramedics get here, he’ll have lost too much blood…”

Ichirou’s body lay motionless, his life slipping away.

In the depths of the darkness, as his vision faded, a soft light began to emerge. “Is this… death?” he wondered, his voice echoing in the void as the light slowly grew