A month later.

Dazai spent his fourteenth birthday in the Port Mafia.

The head of the Port Mafia lay bedridden, his mind in madness. Taking advantage of the organization to enhance Hyakki’s familiarity with firearms and cold weapons, Dazai used the opportunity to send Hyakki out to deal with bad guys, reducing his time spent at headquarters. The old man was interested in Hyakki, but unfortunately, it was an interest in destruction and devastation.

From initially admiring Hyakki’s unwavering vitality to quickly feeling jealous of it, it only took a short time.

If devouring Hyakki could grant him vitality, the old man would probably not hesitate to give the order.

That is human nature.

The good, when faced with Hyakki, would be stirred with shame and sympathy, cherishing their hard-earned health. The evil, in front of Hyakki, would have their ugly faces illuminated, reflecting their true selves.

Back in the “den of bandits,” Dazai taught Hyakki to write with his right hand.

“Birthday.”

【Birthday.】

Hyakki, recognizing the word, grasped the meaning Dazai intended to convey.

Was today Dororo’s birthday? What month and date was it? He hadn’t prepared any gifts.

“June 19th.” Dazai wrote the date again, not holding much hope for Hyakki’s literacy, at most just trying to inject something related to himself into Hyakki’s mind out of boredom.

The black-haired youth, deemed a “literary illiterate” by Dazai, lowered his head, as if contemplating the watermarks on the table.

His face was partially obscured by his bangs, a handsome devoid of emotion.

Then, Hyakki’s finger joints moved, and he wrote with his index finger dipped in water.

【Happy Birthday.】

“Wow!”

Dazai cheered childishly, grabbing Hyakki’s hand and swiftly writing out a line of characters: “Hyakki, do you know how to read? When is your birthday? Where are you from, and who taught you how to write…”

A flood of words overwhelmed Hyakki, as if he saw drifting Japanese characters in his darkened vision. They pieced together into the language he had long forgotten, stirring up me Dr. Dr. Mori  of his past life. Hyakki’s native language was Chinese, and he had only learned Japanese for a short time, mainly relying on anime and TV dramas to lay the foundation. Remembering the few characters after fourteen years was already quite difficult.

He struggled to decipher the content written by Dororo, half guessing and half understanding some of it.

In essence, Dororo was asking about his past.

How should he respond?

Hyakki’s mind went blank for a moment, reminiscent of being asked to write an English essay as a child. He seemed to have some vocabulary in his mind, but he couldn’t seem to string together a coherent sentence.

This lifetime, nearing illiteracy, he remained silent, opting to rely on a universal solution.

Drawing.

He drew the simplest smiley face for Dazai.

Three lines formed the universally recognized expression of goodwill that humans emit to the outside world.

Dazai stared at the crooked smiley face, then back at Hyakki’s expressionless face, his shoulders slumping. “Idiot, who taught you that? You don’t even know what a smile is.”

After asking so many questions, he only got a smile in return. Was it a loss or a gain?

As Dazai pondered what expression to respond with, his cheek was touched by a cool finger. Hyakki, now gentler than before, made contact with an unusually soft touch.

Dazai didn’t like physical contact, his eyes squinting slightly, but he didn’t entirely reject it.

After all, it was just a puppet.

The next moment, this makeshift black-haired youth gave up exploring the bandages entwined around Dazai’s face and embraced him head-on. Dazai’s slender body, surrounded by prosthetic limbs, trembled slightly as he received a birthday blessing from Hyakki. What transmitted from his chest was the warmth and heartbeat of a fellow human that no one could resist.

“Is there anything worth celebrating about birthdays?” Dazai murmured in Hyakki’s embrace.

And you?

What did you feel when you were born? Did anyone embrace you, even though you were like a monster?

With this thought, it seemed that our world was not entirely beyond redemption.

Dazai closed his eyes, concealing the most authentic part of himself, using cunning and wisdom to defend against others’ harm. Strands of hair fell over his eyes as he enjoyed a moment of tranquility, observing the world from the sidelines.

“Hello, Hyakki.”

In the darkness, Hyakki saw the white flames he was embracing burn healthily.

The flames, slightly smaller than himself, couldn’t quite form a human shape, their contours blurred. Yet, unlike before, they didn’t seem lonely or helpless. In his embrace, they quietly emitted the radiance of life.

What is Dororo?

Dororo originated from the Shan Hai Jing: “Westward, three hundred fifty lilies Mount Lai, where the trees are mostly sandalwood, and the birds are mostly dororo, which eat people.” In ancient times, Dororo meant monsters. Any unknown object, unnamed thing, or creature that seemed human but wasn’t could be called Dororo.

Hyakki himself was a Dororo, yet he was searching for another Dororo.

He thought to himself.

[That’s why I took on this task.]

[The never-ending melody of battle, the collision of souls, the hope bursting forth from despair — aren’t these the reasons why people in the three-dimensional world enjoy the two-dimensional world and are willing to sign life and death contracts to join the Time-Space Administration Bureau?]

[I also long for these things.]

[I want to become a person who can protect others and never give up on the world.]

This world is “Dororo.”

However, his name is Hyakki, and he is the son of heaven.

…

In the blink of an eye, several days passed, and Yokohama entered a perilous period of unrest.

On a dark and stormy night, Hyakki was once again knocked out by Dazai, who brought him medicine. Summoned by the leader, Dazai had no intention of letting Hyakki accompany him this time. Besides, Hyakki detested the old man. He couldn’t bear to see him forced to meet these irredeemable villains every day.

“Stay alert and don’t let anyone who isn’t me get close to you,” Dazai covered Hyakki with a blanket, administering just the right dose of medicine to ensure he wouldn’t sleep too deeply.

Before leaving, Dazai promised in a low voice, “I will cure you.”

Hyakki shouldn’t be confined to a cage.

The Port Mafia, a chaotic and murderous organization, would never treat him kindly. When dawn broke, a new order would emerge, and he would find a way to take Hyakki away from here. Hopefully, the information provided by Dr. Mori  was true, and there was indeed a healing-type esper in Yokohama.

Dressed in shoes that clashed with the surroundings, Dazai made his way to the destination.

— Witness the death of the leader tonight.

As the private doctor of the leader sliced through the old man’s major artery, blood splattered on the wallpaper. Fourteen-year-old Dazai stood in the shadows by the window, his youthful face still innocent, witnessing Dr. Dr. Mori ‘s plot to kill.

After the laughter subsided, Dr. Dr. Mori  looked at him with a blood-stained face.

“Aren’t you worried?” he asked.

“Even if I die, Hyakki won’t die,” Dazai replied ambiguously, thinking that Dr. Dr. Mori  was testing his stance.

“You misunderstand,” Dr. Dr. Mori  said with a smile as he put away the bloodied surgical knife, speaking in an elusive manner. “Haven’t you realized yet? Well, you should have been prepared psychologically when you chose to seek help from me.”

Dazai felt a sinking feeling in his heart, vaguely sensing what Dr. Mori  was implying, but his rational mind didn’t want to dwell on it.

He didn’t care how far he could go in life.

As long as it was interesting…

Seeing the young man fall silent, Dr. Dr. Mori  turned and walked out of the bedroom, adopting a mournful expression. “Dzai, come with me to inform the others,” he said. Dazai no longer played the role of a passive observer, taking a step behind Dr. Dr. Mori , his eyes glancing at the lifeless body on the bed. Invisibly, their footsteps fell into sync, different in form but similar in spirit.

On that day, the Port Mafia convened a meeting of its executives to discuss the death of the leader, a major event entrusted to Dr. Dr. Mori  before his passing. And Dazai was there, a witness to it all!

Throughout the entire day, Dazai faced questioning and scrutiny from all sides.

But he didn’t change his tone.

“Yes, the boss did say that. He chose Dr. Dr. Mori  as the next leader when he was seriously ill.”

Even the most skilled psychologist couldn’t tell if Dazai was telling the truth or lying. His heartbeat, facial expressions, and micro-movements remained unchanged, firmly in control.

Dr. Mori  had never admired a kid like this before.

“Dzai, you’re a natural manipulator, destined to fall into darkness sooner or later,” he thought to himself as he approached, breaking away from the others’ gazes. Placing his hand on Dazai’s shoulder, he said, “Let’s not pressure a fourteen-year-old child anymore. The boss’s interest in him and Hyakki has been going on for more than just a few days. This time it’s purely coincidental, considering the boss’s deteriorating health…”

After various expressions of sorrow and lamentation, Dr. Mori  generously allowed Dazai to go rest.

“Hyakki is waiting for you. Go and rest,” he said.

“Mm,” Dazai obediently replied, then promptly went back to find his companions without any sentiment.

The leader of the Port Mafia could see it clearly. Dazai and Dr. Mori  were not familiar with each other, and no sane person would conspire with someone they barely knew to alter a will, risking their own lives in the process!

This ridiculous thing… might actually be true.

The thought of the leader’s frenzied behavior during his illness left the faces of the higher-ups of the Port Mafia looking grim. A few who leaned towards Dr. Dr. Mori  suppressed their inner joy, exchanging glances to confirm that the Port Mafia was about to undergo a change in leadership.

Seated on one side of the conference table as a member of the executives, Dr. Dr. Mori  covered her lips with her hand, barely noticeable smile playing on her lips.

Finally, the leader was dead.

As Dazai approached the door on his way back, he couldn’t help but hesitate, his hand recoiling instinctively as it touched the doorknob. The words Dr. Mori  had spoken to him echoed in his ears like a curse.

“You should have been prepared psychologically when you chose to seek my help.”

He who walks with the wolves learns to howl.

It was a principle understood by any cultured Japanese person, one that Dazai was certainly not ignorant of. Before meeting Dr. Mori , the worst thing he had ever done was pick a lock and trespass into someone’s home. Even when dealing with the Port Mafia, he had merely engaged in petty mischief, sowing discord without ever causing harm to anyone.

He hadn’t killed anyone.

It was Dr. Mori  who had killed himself, he had merely provided false testimony for him.

This was a good thing. Yokohama would now cease its chaos, and the leader’s death would save more innocent lives.

Dazai used this self-hypnosis method to suppress the evil thoughts that had been swirling within him all day. He didn’t want to jeopardize Hyakki’s trust for the sake of a dead old man. He still didn’t know exactly how Hyakki discerned good from evil, but he guessed that Hyakki would stay away from those with malicious intent and would take action against those who did evil deeds, never making a mistake!

In the distance, Nakahara once again fell into the crosshairs.

In the moment Dazai resolved himself, the doorknob turned, and the door opened from the other side. Hyakki stood there, his figure slim and straight, his expression behind the indifferent mask seeming to bear a question mark.

“Why are you standing outside?” Hyakki asked.

“…” Dazai startled, reflexively wearing a smile filled with truth, goodness, and handsome.

Look.

I’m a good guy who’s saving the city!

The next minute of “eye contact” was a process Dazai didn’t want to recall. He had never been so worried about becoming a bad person in his life.

The white flames outside seemed to sway uneasily in the wind, fluctuating unpredictably.

Hyakki initially thought it was windy outside.

After a moment, he realized it wasn’t the wind but rather the unease emanating from Dazai. The pristine flames of life, which should have been pure and untainted, seemed to be veiled in a grayish haze, unable to dispel the surrounding darkness.

“Don’t be afraid,” Hyakki reassured.

Even amidst a sea of villains, Hyakki suppressed his hostility, prioritizing “Dororo” above all else. He refrained from taking action that might endanger “Dororo” and lead to their capture or death.

He entrusted the task of planning for a brighter future to Dazai, trusting him to handle it while he remained in place. A little more sleep wouldn’t hurt.

Hyakki “gazed” with hollow, indifferent eyes in Dazai’s direction, raising his hand.

Dazai’s eyelashes fluttered. Hyakki’s hand moved from Dazai’s fuzzy head, tracing down to his arm, and finally grasped Dazai’s thin wrist bound in bandages. The cold fingers conveyed a silent but resolute will to Dazai.

This will was superior to Dazai’s fragile will to survive.

It was like the difference between a glacier and ice fragments!

The glacier was deeply submerged in the ocean, while the ice fragments floated on the surface, adrift and approaching the massive glacier. No one knew how long the ice fragments would take to melt, nor if the glacier would be destroyed by the warming world. At this moment, the two of them were not considering a distant future.

Hyakki pulled Dazai into the room, wrapping him in a blanket. Despite the summer heat without air conditioning, Hyakki managed to make Dazai sweat profusely as if he were in a sauna.

“No, stop it, it’s too hot! Hyakki, I’m not cold at all!” Dazai protested incessantly.

Under Dazai’s constant plea for relief, the illusory gray smoke dissipated.

Hyakki persisted. “Dororo, you were shivering from the cold just now.”

Sometimes slow, sometimes perceptive, Hyakki’s sixth sense told him one thing: girls needed to be cared for tenderly, and when they were feeling down, one should find a way to provide warmth.

Hyakki, treating “Dororo” as a potential girlfriend, contentedly guarded this flame.

The flame of life returned to its original state, burning brightly once again.

How wonderful.