Akira stepped into the street with rage filling his chest. He could no longer think clearly. He no longer cared who was in front of him or why they were passing by. All he felt was that the entire world was against him… and that he had to strike before he was crushed again.
He rushed forward with unsteady but fast steps. The first person who came close tried to move away, but Akira was faster. Without realizing it, he extended his claws and slashed the man, who screamed instantly. The man stumbled back in terror, but Akira didn't stop.
He no longer saw a difference between a child, a man, or a woman… anyone who got too close was met with fear or pain.
Akira shouted in a hoarse voice, choked with tears:
"I'm stronger than all of you! No one can stop me!"
The street began to turn into chaos. Screams, running footsteps, objects falling to the ground. People fled in every direction. Some looked back in horror, others tripped as they tried to escape from the child who no longer looked like a child.
He screamed again as he lunged toward a passerby:
"I'm a monster like you say! And I'll never be a filthy human like you!"
Akira was no longer the child who ran after his mother, nor the child who asked why they hated him. That child disappeared among the screams, the running, and the panic. What remained now… was something else. Something born from pain, fed by anger, and found its only place in chaos.
In one of the narrow alleys, Akira leaned against the wall, gasping. His small body shook uncontrollably. His red eyes hadn't dimmed yet. They were still burning with rage and bitterness, as if what happened minutes ago hadn't ended.
He slowly raised his hand. His fingers were trembling, his claws were still extended. Blood covered their tips. He lowered his hand slightly and looked ahead. At the end of the alley, people were fleeing in disorder. Some had fallen to the ground, writhing in pain. Others dragged themselves while screaming. Blood stains were spread across the stone ground, clear marks of what he had done.
His voice came out faint:
"Did I… do this?"
Something else crept into his chest. A heavy, strange feeling… dark superiority. For the first time in his life, he was not the one running away. He was not the one being beaten or humiliated. For the first time, others were afraid. And yet… he didn't feel relief. He didn't feel victory. He felt only a wide emptiness.
He took a deep, broken breath, then suddenly turned when the sound of fast footsteps reached his ears.
"There he is! The killer werewolf!"
"We reported him! We have to stop him before he hurts more people!"
At the entrance of the alley, a group of men began to gather. Their faces were tense, their eyes burning with fear and anger. Some held sticks and knives. Others clenched stones in trembling hands. Among them stood police officers, their weapons raised, gun barrels aimed directly at his body.
Akira did not step back. He took one step forward, careless of the weapons, indifferent to the shouting. His eyes were completely empty, as if fear had been torn out of him by force. All he could hear was his heavy breathing and the uneven pounding of his heart.
One of the police officers raised his gun. His hand was clearly shaking. He hesitated for a moment, then said in a low voice:
"He's just a child… but… he's dangerous."
Then he shouted:
"If you take one more step, I'll shoot!"
But Akira didn't stop. He kept moving forward. The officer pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot echoed for a moment, then silence fell. Then it was torn apart by a sharp scream… not from the police, but from Akira.
Pain exploded in his right arm. He didn't understand what happened at first. He looked at his arm and saw blood pouring out violently. The bullet had pierced straight through it. The pain was brutal, far more than a child his age could handle.
He stepped back… then another step… before his legs failed him. He collapsed hard onto the ground, clutching his injured arm, his breathing broken, his eyes wide with shock and pain.
Inside him, one confused, unbelieving thought rose:
"They… shot me…?"
He looked at the officers with trembling eyes. This time, it wasn't anger alone filling his chest… but a heavy sense of betrayal. They didn't see a bleeding child on the ground. They didn't see his shaking body or his torn arm. They saw only one thing: a monster that had to be ended.
He lifted his gaze with difficulty. Their fingers were still on the triggers, tense, ready to fire another bullet if he moved, if he tried to stand, if he breathed the wrong way.
His voice came out weak, barely audible between his broken breaths:
"M-mom…"
He didn't understand why he thought of her now. He didn't understand why he suddenly missed her in the middle of this pain. But he understood one thing with cruel clarity… she wasn't here. And she wouldn't come. And no one else would come.
In that moment, he didn't feel fear as much as hatred. Hatred for a world that never gave him a chance, never asked who he was, and never tried to understand him even once. His vision began to blur, faces blending together. He heard heavy footsteps approaching slowly.
"We hit him! He's bleeding!"
"Is he dead?"
"No, he's still breathing. What do we do?"
"The police will take him… he's dangerous. We can't let him live here."
His lips barely moved. A whisper rose from deep inside his chest, soaked with hatred,
"I'll kill you all…"
The police officers approached more carefully. Some tightened their grip on their weapons. Others stepped back without realizing it. Fear was clear on their faces, fear of a child lying on the ground.
"We should kill him now!"
One of them shouted.
"But… he's just a child!"
"Are you insane? That thing isn't human! Didn't you see what he did to those people?!"
"A child? Did you see his claws? Did you see his eyes?! That's a small monster, and if we let it live, it'll grow up and kill us all!"
The voices overlapped, turning into meaningless noise. Akira could barely see. The blurry world slowly pulled away from him.
"We'll take him to the detention center. He's not human… but he's not dead yet."
"Are you sure? What if he escapes? What if he turns into something worse?"
"We have no choice. We can't kill him here in the street… but if he tries anything else, we'll end him immediately."
He didn't hear the rest. His body no longer responded. The light in his eyes faded, and a strange heaviness pulled him down. His small body finally gave up and went limp, sinking into his own blood.
Inside him, one last thought surfaced:
'I… don't want to die… but I also… don't want to live in this world…'
The last thing he felt was cold hands gripping his small body, dragging him away from the blood… and then he sank into darkness.
At the police station, Akira's eyes slowly opened. He tried to move his hands, but chains stopped him. Cold metal was wrapped tightly around his wrists. He lifted his head slightly and was met with a windowless room, gray walls closing in around him. In front of him sat a man in a police uniform on a metal chair, his posture rigid, his gaze cold, carrying neither curiosity nor pity.
He spoke in a voice without warmth:
"Finally awake… you're in prison now, little monster. Do you have anything to say before we decide what to do with you?"
Akira didn't answer right away. He looked at him with steady eyes, without fear or hope. He lowered his head slightly, then whispered in a low voice:
"I'll kill you all someday."
Sharp pain shot through his injured arm. He tightened his breath silently and looked at his hand. White bandages were wrapped tightly around it, stained with spots of dried blood. He stared at it for a long time. He didn't know whether to hate them for saving him… or hate them more for keeping him alive to continue the suffering.
"Oh, I see you're awake."
Akira lifted his head quickly. Behind the cell bars stood another man, his features harsher, shoulders straight, his gaze controlled. A higher-ranking officer, clear from his presence even before his insignia. He looked at Akira as if he were a dangerous criminal, not a child.
He said:
"You were unconscious for almost a full day. Your injury was treated, even though some of my colleagues didn't want to waste resources on a creature like you."
Akira met his eyes and muttered quietly:
"Why?"
The officer raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
Akira said with deadly calm tone:
"Why didn't you kill me?"
The officer answered without hesitation:
"Because we don't know what to do with you yet."
He raised his hand and dropped a small file onto the floor in front of the cell. The papers scattered slightly. At the top, a name was written clearly: Akira.
He continued in a flat voice:
"Akira… a six-year-old child, who nearly committed his first murder. You attacked civilians and caused serious injuries to several people. The police couldn't determine whether you're just an angry child… or whether you are truly…"
He paused and looked at him more sharply.
"…a killer monster."
Akira only stared at him in silence, as if the words no longer mattered.
The officer continued:
"The truth is, we don't know where to put you. We can't keep you with normal criminals because you're too young, and we can't return you to society, because you are simply… dangerous."
The word echoed in Akira's mind. Dangerous. That was how they saw him. Not a child. Not a victim. Not the result of accumulated violence. Just a threat that needed to be isolated. He didn't need a longer explanation.
After a brief silence, the officer said:
"There are people who want to get rid of you entirely, and others who believe you can be studied. But I'm here to tell you one thing…"
He leaned forward slightly and stared directly into Akira's eyes.
"Your life no longer belongs to you."