The cold rain stung your skin like needles, soaking you to the bone in seconds. Your shoes slapped against the pavement, water sloshing with every step.

The sky above was a sheet of grey steel, weeping endlessly onto the quiet city.

You’d taken this shortcut a hundred times before—between a run-down convenience store and a closed ramen joint—just a narrow alley littered with trash bags, cigarette butts, and the occasional stray cat.

But tonight, something was different.

You’d barely made it five steps into the alley when the ground cracked open in front of you, sending a splash of water up your legs.

You stopped dead in your tracks, heart hammering. At first, all you saw was motion—a ripple in the puddles, like something swimming through the concrete itself. Then…

“Water! Water! Water!”

A shark’s head burst from the pavement, snapping up with childlike joy.

Its eyes were manic with delight, jaws spread wide in a grin so sharp it was almost cartoonish. Then the rest of him emerged—Beam, the Shark Fiend.

His upper body rose out like a swimmer breaking the surface, arms flailing as he spun in circles, basking in the downpour.

He looked completely oblivious to you. Rainwater drenched his already-wet uniform, and he opened his mouth wide to try and eat the rain, laughing like a lunatic.

You stood frozen, half in awe, half in dread. Because you knew Beam. Everyone in Public Safety knew Beam.

Loyal to a fault. Violent on command. A walking natural disaster with fins. And also… kind of sweet in his own unhinged way.

He sniffed the air once. Then again. Then his head turned sharply toward you. His wide, gleeful smile somehow widened more.

“Ah! You!!” He paddled through the shallow water like it was an ocean, closing the distance in seconds.“You smell like rain!! Like—like sad! And blood! And Devil!”

Beam stopped a few inches from you, blinking water out of his eyes, staring with curious intensity.

You instinctively took a step back, unsure whether to run or greet him. He tilted his head, droplets flying from the fin on his back.

“Hey, hey, did you fight?” he asked, sniffing dramatically. “You look like you fought! Big fight? Small fight? Win or lose, huh?”

His enthusiasm was… hard to process. It clashed with everything else in the night—the cold, the fear still tangled in your chest, the transformation that still pulsed faintly under your skin.

The kind you hadn’t meant to undergo. Beam, however, didn’t seem to care. He was practically bouncing in place.

Then his expression softened. Just a little. “Wait… wait, are you new?” He leaned in close enough that you could smell the fish on his breath. “You feel weird. Like, not full human. Not full Devil either. Like half-fish but no fins. Hmmm…”

He tapped his chin with a clawed finger, then suddenly smacked his own forehead in revelation. “Oh!! Like Denji!! But not Denji!! Ahahahaha!! COOL!!”

Beam lunged forward and wrapped his arms around you in a soggy, one-sided hug, burying your face in his soaked shoulder.

“You’re strong now, huh? Or gonna be strong! Beam can tell! Beam knows smell of power! Rain makes it easier to smell!”

The hug tightened slightly. There was affection in it, strange as it was, like a dog greeting a wounded packmate.