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Ken left Himiko at the park and headed into a rather bad area of the town on a mission.

He had some suspicions about his quirk, but the fact remained that he needed to ‘eat’.

It was a Friday, meaning he virtually had the entire weekend to figure things out, adding to the fact that next week was a holiday week and Ken was rather free to deal with this problem.

So he walked around the dirty streets, looking for something.

‘And there it is.’

A suspicious man, constantly scanning his surroundings, sweat rolling down his face in the midst of winter, and clutching his jacket.

Suspicious people often have information, and Ken had a few things he needed to know before he stepped into the streets of Musutafu.

So the pre-teen was now following the mysterious man; he was rather cautious, taking many turns trying to shake off any potential pursuers, though he was obviously inexperienced.

The man didn’t even think to check above him.

Ken, knowing he had absolutely no skill in hiding, chose the simple option of remaining far away and following via roof, though he was surprised nobody paid attention to him.

He reckoned that in this area crime must be high, and so should Vigilantes, leading to him being nothing abnormal.

Or they could just not care about him, already having their plates full dealing with their own lives.

As he mused about his situation, the person he was following had stopped, turning into an alleyway and coming in front of a door with three similar doors on each side.

The man knocked on the doors in a certain manner before they opened, and a bunch of people came flooding out.

They shared a common set of characteristics: the telltale signs of weariness etched in dark circles beneath their eyes, attire that bore the brunt of hard living, disheveled hair reflecting a lack of care, and a wild, almost desperate gleam in their eyes.

‘Addicts?’

The man opened his jacket, revealing all of the “goodies” collecting money while handing out plastic baggies filled with familiar circular and oval-shaped white objects, which the others greedily took.

They started talking, and with Ken being too high up, he couldn't catch any of the information he wanted, so he looked around, spotting a firepool on the opposite side of the building.

He walked over, using it to quietly get to the ground before he turned the corner, using his small figure to hide behind a cardboard box and peer into the conversation.

“—ey Reeves, your pockets are a little more full than normal; what's in there?"

Pulling his jacket out of reach for a smelly and dirty hand, the one named Reeves replied,

“Nothing for you, Dregs.”

The others were unoffended by the name-calling, apparently used to it.

“Come on, man, we were loyal customers.”

Sneering, he replied, “Only because your lot can’t move 5 feet without having to pay tolls because of who owns the area.”

They winced before shuffling back and moving their heads, scanning so that they were within their own confines so nobody would “trouble” them for territory breaching.

"Anyways, I won’t be here these next few weeks.”

“WHAT–”

"HUH."

Heads whipped in his direction, and after again confirming their privacy, the one he was talking to hurriedly asked,

“-you can’t come?” Obvious worry laced his voice.

“Things got a little complicated.”

He wanted to leave it there, but the pensive stare caused him to relent. Rubbing the back of his head, he explained.

“You know how there's been a power vacuum as the C-”

He looked ahead, already noticing that the person he was supposed to be informing was already confused.

‘Dumb Shits who never attended school.’ He cursed in his mind.

*Sigh*

“You do know that the C.R.C. split.”

Receiving a nod, he continued.

“We’ll, all of the small groups can’t control the power and maintain the influence they originally had. That power vacuum has to be taken up by someone, and that puts them in a dangerous position. Whoever takes the power will be facing retaliation, with the C.R.C.’s main base being here-”

Looking ahead, the dealer was talking to empty air as everyone had already tested the contents of their baggies and was currently experiencing the wonderful effects of their special candies boosted by someone's quirk.

“Tch, why do I even bother…oh right, because these dumb fucks give me their money they somehow got, even if I overcharge em.”

He looked at one man who was making out passionately with a box of cigarettes he picked up off the ground.

“And these fuckers want Trigger."

He sneared, “I paid a lot to have it imported from a few districts over. Apparently this thing boosts your quirk, so big syndicates will be drooling over it.”

Shaking his head again, Reeves turned to leave while muttering,

"I can't sleep in the alleyway between 4th and 5th streets. Some dumbass decided to stink the whole place up with a body…I mean, really, we have a river for those kinds of things…Guess I’ll be staying at the passageway under Musutafu Bridge.”

Ken, who was listening in, heard the steps fade away and stood up, patting the dust off himself.

‘A power vacuum shouldn't stay out too long then; I don’t want to get caught up in the frey.’

Picking himself up, Ken navigated his way out of the alleyway and into the street.

A few Yen spent here, some subtle inquiries there, and Ken found himself navigating the dimly lit alley between 4th and 5th streets.

No guesswork was required; the overpowering stench permeated the entire space.

Ken's breath trembled, not out of repulsion but as if drawn forward by an otherworldly allure.

The scent manifested almost tangibly, drowning out any information his other senses should have provided.

In that desolate alley's recesses, behind a battered trash can and an ancient brick building, Ken took deliberate steps, his anticipation mixed with a futile attempt to brace himself. He lifted the lid to reveal a mutilated figure.

Beyond recognition, the body retained a faint trace, discernible only by Ken's heightened senses.

"Doctor!"

Recognition struck. This was the same person who had conducted tests on Ken in the hospital, even footing the bill for a taxi without obligation.

Ken stood stupefied. What brought someone of affluence to this forsaken place?

Confusion lingered; his eyes glazed over, and he descended into a dark void, the entrance receding like a distant door.

In his befuddled state, Ken remained unresponsive to the voices that enveloped him.

"Finally, a meal."

…

As Ken surfaced, he instinctively inspected his surroundings, his hands stained crimson.

A chewy residue lingered between his teeth, prompting a swallow to dispel the nagging disturbance.

The sky had darkened further, with a faint orange glow barely visible. Yet, even in the absence of streetlights, Ken's vision was unimpeded.

"Doc!"

Recalling the grim discovery, Ken rose from his position near the open trash can.

A more horrifying scene unfolded within—a gruesome tableau suggesting a ravenous beast had feasted.

A partially consumed leg revealed bone, cartilage, and muscles, while exposed fat outlined the stomach, indicating discerning tastes.

Half-eaten brain adorned the grotesque display like a macabre decoration atop a Christmas tree.

"Wha-"

Ken's words faltered, only 'food' escaping his mouth.

The bitter taste induced tears from his wide-open eyes.

His mind replayed memories of the grotesque feast—stomping on a head, popping it like a pustule, slurping brain matter, and chewing neurons.

Images of finger bones crunching, eyes resembling Jello, the roughness of skin, and the interplay of sweetness and bitterness flooded his thoughts.

The worst part, however, was not the grisly imagery but the haunting recollection of taste.

The sensation of his rough tongue on the meat, the remembered heavenly flavor—these thoughts tormented him.

“w-wha…the hell is tHiS?”

“You know.”

“w-who?”

“You Know.”

In the tumult of his mind, Ken sought understanding, ultimately stumbling upon an undeniable truth.

It was something obvious, dismissed, or ignored, yet now glaringly evident.

He just ignored it; he didn’t even consi—didn't want to consider the possibility, but he knew.

His quirk—no, no…that ‘thing’ wasn’t a quirk.

His regeneration, the hunger that had long gone from simple reoccurring rumbling to mind-consuming pain,.

Ken had long ago come to the conclusion, this was just the final nail in the coffin.

“I’m-”

“-A ghoul.”

He gripped his head so tightly that the old him would have thought it would burst.

He tried to drown himself in that cold, icy abyss, trying to forget the nightmare he ended up in and deny this inevitable reality.

But the world was unrelenting, and he remained conscious, forced to confront the gruesome scene that had just unfolded.

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