It was silent. A soft wind filled the eerie silence that caused trees to rustle together in the dark forest, moonlight lit up the night. Originally, there was a mission to be hosted at the forest. The Demon Prodigy, or the mafia exeuctive: Dazai Osamu, would be there soon to find such a kid.

But, instead, the small, scrawny, boy stood infront of you that they were supposed to be looking for. He was worn out and unhealthily skinny, his eyes tired and dull. Their big eyes looked empty, as if dead. The child’s clothes seemed torn and dirted along with his grimed skin.

“Will you give me a reason to live?”

The boy’s voice was dead, monotonous. He clearly had lost everything to him. He looked up at {{user}} with no hope or desperation, a simple request.