The days of hiding from the Port Mafia inevitably arrived.

For Hyakki, being hindered in his movements led him to express his questions by simply standing there, while Dazai’s response was straightforward. He would take Hyakki to a battleground, utilizing his formidable combat prowess to eliminate some of the Port Mafia’s hostile factions, thereby signaling “goodwill” to the Port Mafia.

No organization desires a powerful enemy. However, they do appreciate a powerful ally with fatal weaknesses.

Such a display of vulnerability was unacceptable to those with proud and righteous characters. Dazai could only say that Hyakki completely transcended these two categories, freeing himself from society’s judgment of a normal person.

Hyakki’s understanding of the world was as simple as life’s flame itself.

Life and death, good and evil, safety and danger.

He didn’t need to ponder overmuch; his intuition guided him away from mortal peril, leaving his fate to the heavens, while he aimed to grow towards slaying demons.

During this time, Dazai acted as Hyakki’s guide, also responsible for retrieving his prosthetic limbs and creating the illusion of Hyakki obeying him.

Well then.

He admitted it wasn’t exactly an illusion; Hyakki never objected to his actions, similar to an exquisitely aloof puppet with Dazai holding the strings, enjoying testing the extent of Hyakki’s trust. However, this puppet had one key difference: if Dazai were to leave Hyakki’s “line of sight” or let go of the strings, Hyakki would act on his own, inadvertently disrupting Dazai’s plans.

This was essentially like receiving a semi-automatic puppet from a counterfeit merchant!

Dazai silently chuckled to himself.

As a result, he abandoned his original plan — to infiltrate the Port Mafia by faking his own suicide or injury. While this approach had the highest success rate, the variables involved with Hyakki were too great. Dazai wasn’t sure if, during the few days they were separated, someone else might manipulate Hyakki.

Most importantly, he refused to admit that he didn’t want the Port Mafia to treat Hyakki as a mere weapon.

Weapons were easily destroyed.

At less than fourteen years old, Dazai thought maliciously: Even if this person is a weapon… it should be me who wields it, not those Port Mafia guys in their fancy suits.

“Demon Slayer, I’ve shown goodwill to the Port Mafia and demonstrated your value. Now, we’ll wait for the Port Mafia’s higher-ups to decide whether to pursue to the end or to send someone to contact us.”

Dazai stuffed a steaming cup of instant noodles into Hyakki’s hands, eagerly manipulating his fingers to hold the chopsticks, feeling oddly reminiscent of playing with dolls with little girls.

“Ha, I’m not that childish!”

Hyakki’s face became slightly misty from the steam of the noodles, giving his features a softened effect.

After a few wrong attempts, he quickly mastered the use of chopsticks.

He removed his mask.

Hyakki exposed part of his fantastic jaw and mouth, beginning to eat. His teeth reluctantly bit into the noodles; otherwise, they would have difficulty going down his throat.

This was Dazai’s method of correcting his swallowing habit.

Dazai pulled out a tissue and gently wiped Hyakki’s face, showing care for the mask that bore his cold expression. “If I damage this highly realistic mask of yours, I wouldn’t know where to get a second one made.”

Hyakki’s distant action instilled fear in others.

This ensured that nobody would know Hyakki’s true situation and would keep their distance from him.

Unable to hear Dazai’s flattering words or his malicious thoughts, Hyakki, in a sense, was kept away from deception, becoming the last person a manipulator like Dazai wanted to deal with. Of course, at this point, Dazai only had a rudimentary understanding of manipulation techniques and hadn’t received any specific training. Yet, with just his powers of observation and some tricks he had learned, he could easily achieve his goals.

“I don’t have much medical knowledge, and you can’t answer me anyway.” Dazai rested his chin on his hand, staring intently at the partially revealed face he had seen many times recently, immune to its impact. “Your condition reminds me of someone who’s been skinned, had their tongue and eyes removed, and then had their limbs severed.”

Such a tragic scenario sounded insubstantial coming from Dazai’s lips. Hyakki continued eating noodles, not bothering to deliver any lines, pretending to be illiterate for once.

“What kind of person were you before?”

“When did you change like this? Where did you learn to fight?”

“Who installed your mask and prosthetics? The technology to connect nerves and serve as limbs on imitation wood material is too advanced, I’ve never heard of it…”

“I’m quite curious!”

Dazai seemed like a curious student eager for knowledge, but unfortunately, he didn’t have a teacher in front of him.

Hyakki placed the empty bowl on the ground, feeling drowsy. This abandoned warehouse, to his senses, was a safe zone suitable for rest, with no red flames of life nearby.

He curled up and quickly drifted into sleep.

Dazai: “…”

After a while, Dazai picked up the cup of noodles laced with sleeping pills and saw that all the soup had been consumed.

“I couldn’t think of any other way to leave you temporarily without using this method.” Dazai thought moving Hyakki would be difficult but was surprised by how light he was. He placed Hyakki, who had turned his back, in a corner, covered him with a sackcloth, leaving breathing holes, and then blocked him with some dilapidated boxes, completing the task with ease.

As Dazai walked out, he saw a passing stray cat, quickly averted his gaze, and stealthily concealed his whereabouts to gather intelligence.

The calico cat successfully pretended to be a stray.

Entering the warehouse, it sniffed the air, locating the sleeping Hyakki. His body stirred slightly, showing signs of awakening, instinctively sensing another life flame nearby.

As he vaguely noticed the calico cat’s diminutive life flame, his consciousness slipped back into slumber.

“Meow?”

The calico cat quickly sensed something was amiss.

It used its front paws to touch Hyakki’s hand lying on the ground, feeling as cold as wood. This young man was very alert; why would he maintain such a relaxed state?

Once confirming that Dazai had left, a luminous aura appeared around the calico cat, and its quadruped form began to stand upright. A well-dressed elderly gentleman appeared in front of Hyakki, surveying the surroundings, memorizing the details arranged by Dazai, and then examining the distressing situation on Hyakki’s body.

Not long after, Natsume Soseki came to a startling conclusion: “It’s not recent torture; he has been missing limbs for over a decade?”

He untied the tattered clothes and bandages on Hyakki’s body, examining the limbs and torso, feeling the smoothness of the amputation sites, which had formed over years. Above the amputation sites, the muscle tissue resembled that of a normal person, showing no signs of atrophy or sequela from the amputation.

The youth’s bone age was young, his body wrapped in bandages, skinless, aged around fourteen, showing no signs of malnutrition, with meticulous stitches on the patched clothes.

“The amputation sites are so smooth…”

“Could it be that someone cruelly severed a child’s limbs shortly after his birth?”

In Natsume Soseki’s eyes reflected the heaviness and sorrow of an old man unable to save a child, making him almost reluctant to continue the examination. Facing the youth’s face, devoid of a mask and ears, with its hollow and grotesque features, felt like confronting the depths of humanity’s questioning, something no conscientious person could calmly accept.

This is reality, this is sin.

It was a face Dazai didn’t want to see, but Natsume Soseki saw it and personally replaced the things on Hyakki’s body.

The youth’s body…

Natsume Soseki also noticed that someone had taught Hyakki, enabling him to possess unique combat abilities. Despite having roughly deduced the outcome, Natsume Soseki deeply worried about Hyakki’s future. Anyone could easily snatch him away, but fortunately, the one who did so under his nose was a clever little rascal.

Unfortunately… that little rascal resembled another disciple of his who often gave him headaches, prone to straying from the right path.

“It would be best to have specialized equipment for examination.”

He sighed softly.

Various thoughts floated in his mind, sifted through, leaving behind a few feasible plans.

The three-colored cat’s tail drooped as it brushed against Hyakki’s ankle, concealing its presence before leaving the warehouse. It leaped to a vantage point, perching on a tree branch, unwilling to leave Hyakki alone in the warehouse to sleep, choosing instead to keep watch outside.

Dazai didn’t stay out for more than two hours before quickly returning.

“Still no results.”

He cautiously surveyed the warehouse, surprised to see several small plum blossom imprints indicating that a cat had been there.

It wasn’t surprising; he had seen a cat when he left.

“Still no results,” he said.

Mr. Dazai carefully observed the warehouse and was surprised to see several small plum blossom imprints, indicating that a cat had visited.

That wasn’t surprising; he had seen a cat when he left.

Pushing aside the clutter covering Hyakki, Dazai sat down, resting his hands on his knees, unable to help but smile. The black-haired youth sitting on the ground seemed to be sleeping with his eyes open, breathing steadily. Despite his tattered clothes and the dust particles dancing in the light filtering through the warehouse crevices, the scene was tranquil, as if in another unknown world. In that world, there were no intrigues, no distinctions between rich and poor; there were only two simple shades: black and white.

“But human nature is not just black and white,” Dazai’s eyes darkened slightly.

After days of bustling activity and with a few more bandages added to his body, Dazai sat down and used the now-startled Hyakki as an unconscious pillow, muttering vaguely, “Don’t disturb me, I need to rest for a while too…”

Hyakki’s body rarely showed stiff reactions, especially when he knew who it was.

The pure white flame of life leaned against his left side, gently flickering.

It seemed somewhat unhealthy.

He reached out towards the flame, accidentally brushing against the bandage on Dazai’s forehead. With just a gentle touch, the bandage stained with blood. Dazai didn’t flinch, smiling as if speaking to someone who couldn’t hear him, “I just accidentally tripped and fell on some gravel. Unluckily hit my head.”

He reached out towards the flame, but unfortunately brushed against the bandage on Dazai’s forehead. With just a light touch, blood seeped through the bandage. Without moving, Dazai smiled and said to an imaginary listener, “I just accidentally tripped and fell on some gravel. Unluckily hit my head.”

Just waking up and unsure of what to do, Hyakki recalled the time when his adoptive father was bedridden. During that time, he could only sit by his side, waiting for his recovery. Even after his health improved, the flame of life still seemed somewhat weakened.

Sick people need care, right?

After accidentally poking the wound and letting it bleed, Hyakki’s hand successfully found its way to Dazai’s head.

He touched the scars on Dazai’s head, where the past “Dororo” once was.

“I’ll protect you,” he whispered.

Dazai tilted his head.

Once again witnessing the characteristics of a semi-automatic puppet – always prone to accidents.

Then, he blinked his dense eyelashes, his expression blank as he mimicked Hyakki’s posture, hugging his own small world, closing his eyes to sleep. It was as if he had entered a head massage mode.

Not bad… except his hair would get messy.

With his tousled hair sticking out, Dazai gradually drifted off to sleep. In his dream, the murky patches of colors seemed to settle down, revealing some semblance of clarity, touched by the light from the outside world.

A translucent dream…

Could the world appear more handsome when viewed through hazy visions?

Dazai couldn’t discern. His limited experiences led him to choose withdrawal and observation rather than actively engaging with this world, the world that Hyakki so desperately yearned to live in.

…

After a heated debate in the upper echelons of the Port Mafia, the boss’s personal physician approached the elderly man, seemingly oblivious to the bloodshot and furious gaze. The doctor offered his medical advice.

“Boss, you need to maintain a good mood to recover.”

“It’s Dr. Mori…”

The boss prioritized his own life above all else, immediately calming down at the doctor’s words, the wrinkles on his face smoothing out.

“Help me to rest.”

Upon this command, Mori Ogai naturally complied, supporting the reluctant boss to his bedroom, the most heavily guarded room in the Port Mafia headquarters, to attend to the needs of this influential leader.

Over the past few months, the boss, who had developed trust in Mori Ogai, murmured, “Dr. Mori, do you think I should heed the advice of those subordinates, let bygones be bygones, and spare the young man who dared to provoke the Port Mafia?”

Mori Ogai bowed and replied, “Your dignity is the dignity of the Port Mafia.”

Such words struck a chord in the boss’s heart. With his condition worsening, he couldn’t tolerate any provocation. What he detested most was others meddling in his affairs, suggesting what the Port Mafia should or shouldn’t do. He was the leader of the Port Mafia, the top figure in Yokohama’s underworld! Anyone who dared to defy him deserved to die!

“I will kill him…” the boss’s voice rasped, rising in intensity.

“Boss, I heard that the young man is disabled in both arms and comes from Leibo Street. Faced with the pursuit of the Port Mafia, he fled Leibo Street in a panic. Our authority in the Port Mafia remains intact,” Mori Ogai calmly interrupted the boss, bringing hot water and medicine for internal use, using this method to halt the elderly man’s self-centered train of thought and make him take the medication that would make him drowsy.

The elderly man on the bed was pacified, ceasing any further disruptive actions that could disturb Yokohama.

Mori Ogai stood quietly by the bedside, looking down at the aging boss.

The intent to kill slowly grew.

But it wasn’t the right time yet…

He nodded to the security personnel responsible for the safety of the leader at the door, without arousing their suspicion, and picked up his medical kit, preparing to leave this place filled with slaughter and chaos.

Walking out of the Port Mafia headquarters, Mori Ogai returned to his clinic near Leibo Street.

He said with annoyance, “The boss is becoming increasingly insane, completely disregarding the crumbling order of Yokohama. If this continues, Yokohama will descend into chaos, and the Port Mafia will be destroyed.”

He took out a letter hidden in the clinic, glanced at it one last time, and reluctantly destroyed it.

“Since it’s the teacher’s request, I’ll help once.”

The black-clad doctor lowered his head and smiled.

“I’m also quite interested in that little devil who dared to approach me. When did he realize that the words of the Port Mafia’s cadres were useless and that mine were more effective?”

Under his palm, a blond girl suddenly appeared, looking displeased as he ruffled her hair.

The humanoid ability user, Alice, said, “Rintaro is up to no good!”

“No, he’s not,” Mori Ogai denied. “Sensei asked me to help a young man being chased by the Port Mafia, without asking me to do anything extra. Perhaps Sensei has some new plan, and as his disciple, I naturally have to help him save this person.”

Others were no longer within the protection range of Natsume Soseki’s letter.

Mori Ogai took Alice’s hand.

“Alice, come with me to meet that little devil.”

The clinic closed.

The conversation between the middle-aged man and the blond girl dispersed in the wind, leaving behind cryptic words.

“Perhaps… it will be… an opportunity… waiting…”