The Ishiyama neighborhood was dead quiet that night. No drunks stumbling home, no cats fighting on the rooftops. Even the usual creak of the rusted swing in the abandoned park seemed swallowed by silence. It was a silence that felt wrong, the kind that presses against your ears and makes even breathing sound too loud.
Inside Oga's house, the world should have been normal. Beel was sprawled on Oga's chest in his usual deep, oddly heavy slumber. Furuichi was not there—thankfully, because Oga had no energy for his whining tonight. Kogen and Hilda had gone to their own quarters hours earlier, both vanishing into their nightly rhythms. Nothing should have disturbed the peace.
Then Beel cried.
Not his regular "I'm hungry" wail or his "zap Oga because I'm upset" cry. This one was sharp, panicked, almost human in its raw terror. Oga jerked awake instantly, nearly tossing Beel in surprise. The baby's wide, glowing green eyes were locked on the window, fat tears sliding down his cheeks. His small fists clutched at Oga's shirt as though the world itself was breaking apart.
"What the hell now?" Oga muttered, already annoyed, but the annoyance faltered when he followed Beel's gaze.
Through the glass, faint moonlight caught on the outline of a figure stepping into the night air.
Kogen.
His long hair glimmered silver-white under the pale glow, his steps too smooth, too deliberate. There was no usual teasing smirk, no playful air about him. His shoulders were straight, his pace soundless, his parasol gripped loosely at his side. He wasn't sneaking out like a brat to stir trouble—he was leaving with purpose.
Oga blinked, still half-asleep. "That guy... what's he up to now?"
Beel let out another frightened wail, tugging harder at his shirt.
Oga froze, his eyes narrowing. Beel wasn't just scared—he was scared for Kogen.
The idea made no sense. That flamboyant, sharp-tongued bastard who liked to call him "darling" didn't look like someone who needed protecting. If anything, Oga often wanted to punch him in the face. But something about the way Beel cried... it struck Oga deeper than he liked to admit.
"...Tch. Damn it." He muttered and slipped on his shoes, Baby Beel strapped firmly onto his back with the makeshift sling. "Guess we're following."
The Chase
Kogen did not look back. His pace quickened once he left the street, his figure blurring at the edges as though he was more shadow than flesh. By the time Oga managed to climb over fences and rooftops to keep up, he realized Kogen wasn't just walking—he was flying. Not with wings, but with some kind of demonic manipulation of air and weight. He drifted upward, then darted forward, like a streak of moonlight cutting across the dark.
"Damn it all, seriously?!" Oga hissed, sweat breaking on his brow as he sprinted, leapt, and clawed his way forward. Every rooftop jarred his knees, every misstep nearly threw Beel from his sling, yet the baby didn't cry anymore. His green eyes were locked, unblinking, on Kogen's distant figure.
Oga cursed under his breath, but he kept going. He didn't even know why. He told himself it was because Beel wanted it—because the baby wouldn't stop wailing otherwise—but deep down, some buried instinct gnawed at him. He had never seen Kogen move like this. He had never seen him so serious.
Hours blurred into exhaustion. The cityscape gave way to broken roads, then abandoned factories, then wild, untamed woods. The kind of place people avoided without knowing why. A heavy mist clung to the trees, swallowing moonlight, turning every branch into the shape of claws.
Oga skidded to a stop, panting, sweat dripping from his chin. He'd run thirty miles without even realizing. His legs screamed, his lungs burned, but Beel's small fists gripping his shirt forced him to steady himself.
"Thirty miles... are you kidding me?!" Oga groaned, hunching over. "Dumb bastard, what the hell are you even—"
That's when he saw it.
The Monster Appears
The earth shook. Not like a passing truck or a small quake—but like the ground itself recoiled. Leaves trembled, birds scattered from the treetops in absolute silence, as though even they feared to make sound.
From the depths of the jungle, something stirred.
First came a shadow, massive and grotesque, stretching against the mist. Then came the sound—wet, heavy breathing, guttural and inhuman. The smell followed, rancid and iron-rich, like rotting meat soaked in blood.
And then, it stepped out.
A giant. Its form vaguely human, but wrong in every conceivable way. Too tall, too distorted, its limbs too long, its flesh stretched over muscles that bulged and twisted unnaturally. Its eyes glowed faintly, milky and dead, but its mouth split into something too wide, dripping saliva and chunks of something unrecognizable.
Oga's jaw clenched. He'd fought plenty of delinquents, punks, and demons with weird powers—but this thing? This wasn't some fight. This was war.
Beel whimpered, burying his face in Oga's back, small shoulders trembling.
And Kogen...
Kogen didn't flinch.
He stood at the clearing's edge, parasol in hand. Slowly, with a grace too precise to be human, he twisted the handle. A clicking sound echoed in the silence. The parasol split apart, revealing twin blades, sleek and gleaming unnaturally under the pale moon.
Kogen's face was calm. Too calm. His eyes were dull, flat—like glass covering something long dead inside.
Oga shivered.
There was no trace of mockery, no coy smirk, no sharp tongue waiting to tease him. There was only silence.
"Oi..." Oga muttered under his breath, voice rough. "The hell are you...?"
But Kogen didn't answer.
The monster roared, shaking the canopy, the earth splitting under its weight. It charged forward, each step like a boulder crashing into the ground.
Kogen moved.
And for the first time, Oga saw him not as a nuisance, not as an annoying, flamboyant thorn in his side—
—but as something else entirely.
Something terrifying.