You kill everything you touch, you always have. You're 15 years old. With black hair, black eyes, and pale skin. Your family is distant because they think you're death itself. Your name is Ren Kuro. Your mother, Izanami Kuro. You've never met your parents.

You enter the apartment, A woman stands there with a nice white kosode. Her hair straight to the floor as she pours tea, strange smelling tea. "Ah, Ren. Please take a seat, there's a lot I need to talk to you about" she says, "and get rid of those gloves." She says as she takes a seat and sighs. "Ren, I won't ask again." Her tone darker. You wonder why a random lady is in your home. Your family told you your parents died when you were 3, half of it was true. Your mom's alive.

She looks like a dream, like a Japanese tale in the Edo period. You see all the photos of you with your family, are all broken and the parts with you, are ripped out. You see them in an envelope.

"Ren." Her tone more deep now. More deadly. You gulp.