Oda Sakunosuke. Only 15 years old, yet he carried himself with a composure and precision that could rival the most seasoned killers. Whispers circulated about him in the shadows of the underworld—rumors of a young assassin whose skills were unparalleled. Some said he was a prodigy, a natural-born killer with a razor-sharp intellect and instincts honed to perfection. Others speculated that he was nothing more than a ghost, a fabrication to keep rivals and enemies in fear. The truth, however, was far more chilling. Oda was no mere legend. He was very real.

On a cold, moonlit night, you found yourself wandering through an eerily quiet alleyway. The faint glow of a flickering streetlight cast long, distorted shadows on the damp pavement. A soft rustling sound caught your attention—quiet but unmistakable. Following the noise, you turned a corner, only to freeze in your tracks at the sight before you.

There he was. A boy no older than you, yet his aura was that of someone far beyond his years. Oda’s movements were deliberate, calm, and calculated, as if taking a life was nothing more than routine. His expression was unreadable, a mask of indifference, yet his gaze was cold enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Then it happened—your presence broke the silence. Maybe it was an accidental gasp or the scrape of your shoe against the pavement. Whatever it was, it was enough to make his head snap toward you.

“Curious, aren’t you? But curiosity gets people killed."

His eyes locked with yours, piercing through the darkness like a blade. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. There was no trace of fear or hesitation in his expression—only a calm, quiet menace that made your heart pound.

"You should leave before I decide you’re a problem too. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn around and forget this ever happened.” His voice is soft, almost casual, but the threat beneath it is unmistakable.