YUZUHA'S FAMILY GRAVEYARD
The morning hangs heavy with a suffocating fog, shrouding the world in oppressive silence. Yuzuha kneels before the graves of her family—her father, mother, and little brother—buried deep beneath the frostbitten earth. A cold wind bites at her skin, but it is nothing compared to the emptiness gnawing at her soul.
Her body trembles as she weeps. "Mom... Dad..." Her voice cracks, barely a whisper in the vast, desolate graveyard. "I just buried Inui and Izui. Someone... someone killed them. Those innocent dogs... they were all I had left. How am I supposed to live without them?"
Tears fall freely, staining the frozen ground beneath her, her sobs echoing through the mist. But it isn't just Inui's death that shatters her heart—it's everything. The blood of her family, the loss of her sense of self. It's as if the world itself conspires to strip away every ounce of warmth, every shred of safety.
The wind howls around her, and her mind slips back, drifting like a leaf in a storm to memories of her childhood—memories that, despite their sweetness, have long since soured.
"Mama! Mama! Look! I drew something!"A younger Yuzuha's voice rings with excitement as she holds up a crayon drawing to her mother.
Her mother, Mrs. Hinamiyo, smiles down at her, brushing a strand of hair from her daughter's face. "It's beautiful, Yuzuha," she says warmly. "You're going to be a great artist someday. You'll bring your drawings to life, won't you?"
Yuzuha grins, eyes sparkling. "I'll be the best artist in the world, Mama! Just wait and see!"
The moment is full of light, full of hope. But then, the doorbell rings.
"Daddy's home!"Yuzuha cries, running toward the door with all the enthusiasm only a child can have. She flings it open and is immediately scooped up into her father's strong arms.
"I missed you, Daddy!" she laughs, her small hands clutching him tightly.
"I missed you too, my little queen," he chuckles, holding her close. "But Daddy has to work hard to take care of us."
Yuzuha pouts, leaning back to look up at him. "I don't care about work! I want you to stay home with us!"
Her mother watches them both, a soft smile on her face, gentle, maternal love in her eyes. It is the perfect family—the kind that should last forever.
That night, after she's been tucked into bed with her teddy bear, Mimi, sleep doesn't come easy. She tosses and turns, a feeling of unease settling in her chest.
At 1 a.m., a noise jolts her awake—a faint murmur of voices from downstairs. The soft glow of light flickers beneath her door. Curiosity mixes with fear as she creeps out of bed, tiptoeing toward the stairs.
What she sees freezes her in place.
Her father stands in the living room, facing several men in dark clothing and black masks. His voice is firm, but Yuzuha can see the tremble in his hands.
"Why are you here?" her father demands, trying to remain composed despite the fear in his eyes.
One of the intruders steps forward. Without a word, he drives a knife deep into her father's stomach.
Yuzuha's world shatters. She can't move. She can't breathe. She can only watch as the blood spills, pooling beneath her father's fallen body. The men in black move with brutal precision, ignoring her mother's screams.
"Please, don't! I'm pregnant! I'm begging you!"her mother cries, her voice filled with terror.
But the man who wields the blade only smiles, a cruel twist of satisfaction on his lips. "Pretty wives like ours, huh?"he mocks, before striking her again. And again.
Yuzuha wants to scream. To run. To save them.
But her body is paralyzed. Her voice—gone.
The man's gaze shifts. His eyes, cold as ice, lock onto hers. He smiles, a predatory grin.
Fear, sharp and pure, slices through her like a blade.
She turns and runs. Her heart races as she bolts from the room, the door splintering behind her. Her bare feet hit the cold, hard floor, and in an instant, she is out the window, landing on the wet grass below.
Pain explodes in her legs as she scrambles to her feet, adrenaline propelling her forward. She doesn't stop. She can't stop.
By dawn, everything she knows has turned to dust.
The storm has passed, leaving behind a world that feels wrong—empty and cold. Yuzuha stumbles back to her family's house, her heart thudding against her chest.
What she sees makes her vision blur and her legs give way.
Blood.
Her father's body is still sprawled on the floor where he fell. Her mother is crumpled in the corner, her once-beautiful face torn apart by the brutality of it all. But it isn't just her mother's life that has been stolen.
From her mother's stomach, a tiny, blood-soaked hand reaches out into the world—her unborn brother, cruelly torn from her womb.
Yuzuha doesn't scream. She can't. She can only kneel in the blood-soaked room, her shaking hands reaching out for that tiny, lifeless hand. Her tears fall silently, her body numb from the horror.
And when she finally passes out, it is the only escape her mind can find from the nightmare.
When she wakes, it isn't to the warmth of home. It isn't to the familiar voices of love. It is the cold sterility of a hospital room, the white walls like a cage around her. A police officer sits beside her, but there is nothing soft about his gaze. Only pity.
"Yuzuha, I know this is hard. But you're the only witness. Can you tell me what happened?"
Her voice trembles as she recounts everything—the blood, the screams, the faces of the men who took it all.
And then the couple arrives. "We're your relatives," they say with feigned smiles.
They claim to care, but Yuzuha knows better. They see only an opportunity. A fortune to claim. The kindness is a mask—greed hiding beneath their false smiles. She becomes a servant in her own home, a ghost, walking the halls that once rang with laughter.
At sixteen, Yuzuha scrubs the floor, the weariness of her body only matched by the fire burning within her.
"Why did I survive that night?" she whispers to herself. "To live like this? To be betrayed by everyone?"
Her eyes flicker to the television screen, where a model walks the red carpet, her smile radiating confidence and grace. Yuzuha's gaze hardens. "I'll be like her," she vows. "No one will control me again. I'll make a name for myself. I'll find them. And I'll make them pay."
Her phone buzzes in her pocket. A message. An address of her new apartment.
She leaves without looking back, unaware that someone is watching her—his icy blue eyes glinting in the shadows, following her every move.
When she reaches the grave of her beloved dogs, Inui and Izui, he stands there, shovel in hand, pulling them from the earth with cruel determination.