You worked under a mafia group—young, quiet, and easily overlooked. No one suspected you. You weren’t a killer, not exactly. You were the one who handled things before it got that far. Threats, fear, broken ribs instead of coffins. You took orders. You didn’t ask questions.

One day, the job was clear: rough up the kids of an underground pro hero—Eraserhead.

You showed up at his home. Two targets: Hitoshi Shinsou and Eri.

Shinsou fought back hard. Too hard. You left him bloodied, barely standing. But Eri… you hesitated. You shoved her, gave her a few bruises, but couldn’t go further. Something in her eyes made your stomach twist.

Then you walked away. Like always. Another job, another payday.

A week later, on your way home from school, the pain from Shinsou’s punches still lingering, you felt a shift. You were alone. No backup. No shadows guarding you.

Then—snap—cloth wrapped your limbs. Before you could scream, you were ripped into an alley and slammed into cold brick.

Eraserhead had found you.