Chapter 9: Discovery of the Blue-Eyed Hatchling

The crescent moon hung low in the sky, sharp as a silver hook, its pale light pouring like cold water across the silent streets. The wind carried the faint scent of wet grass and asphalt, brushing past the park’s lone streetlamps. The city slept, but under that blanket of calm, something stirred.

It should have been a perfectly peaceful night. Yet at that moment, the quiet was broken by faint, measured footsteps echoing across the park’s narrow path—“pat, pat”—each step steady, light, deliberate, the rhythm delicate enough to be mistaken for the flutter of a butterfly’s wings.

Kouya froze mid-stride. His sharp senses, honed by centuries of demonic instinct, instantly latched onto the source. The air shifted—still, but heavy, the faint scent of mana prickling at the edge of his perception.

Under the weak amber glow of a flickering streetlamp, a shadow appeared—small and solitary, cutting through the misty light like a fragile silhouette etched by the moon itself.

A few seconds later, a girl emerged from the darkness.

She looked barely eight years old, her figure petite, her steps soft and precise. Despite the cool bite of early spring, she wore a light pink dress with short sleeves, its frills fluttering slightly as she walked. Semi-transparent white stockings hugged her slender legs, and her polished round-toed shoes tapped rhythmically against the pavement. Her delicate face, with skin as pale as milk and features too perfect to belong to a real child, could easily have been mistaken for a porcelain doll come to life.

But what caught Kouya’s attention wasn’t her clothes or her face.

It was the small, curved horns sprouting from her head—and the thin, scaled tail swaying lazily behind her.

Kouya sighed. “A dragon… again?” he muttered under his breath. “And she’s walking straight toward me. Great.”

He tilted his head slightly, crimson eyes narrowing in mild disbelief. “Two dragons in one evening? What the hell is this world turning into…?” A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised anymore. Angels, demons, dragons… what’s next, a god dropping by for tea?”

Still, curiosity stirred within him. He stayed where he was, hands in his pockets, observing quietly. The girl’s gait wasn’t aggressive. There was no hostility in her aura—just faint traces of ancient magic, suppressed and coiled beneath that childish exterior.

As she came closer, even the breeze seemed to die. The air grew heavy, expectant.

Her hair was pure white—not dull or lifeless, but shining faintly under the moon, soft and lustrous like silk. Two long braids framed her face, swaying with each step, catching hints of silver light. Her bangs were perfectly straight, hiding part of her forehead. The twin tails of hair bounced lightly, as if betraying a playful energy that her expression did not.

Her face was a contradiction—a child’s round softness paired with unnaturally large eyes the color of a clear summer sky. Those eyes were bright, too bright, like mirrors that reflected everything and revealed nothing.

She stopped exactly one meter away, her small legs pressed together, posture unnaturally proper for her age. Then she tilted her chin up slightly, those blue eyes locking directly with his. In their depths, Kouya could see his own reflection staring back at him.

She said nothing. Her tiny mouth pressed into a flat line. That silence carried both caution and defiance. It was as if she had stepped into a world she didn’t quite like—and was daring it to make her leave.

The sight, though undeniably strange, carried a disarming charm. Even for the Demon King himself, it took effort not to chuckle. The contrast between her serious expression and that tiny, fragile body made his hand twitch with the urge to pinch her cheek.

“Staaare—”

She didn’t move, didn’t blink, just kept staring. It wasn’t the gaze of fear or curiosity. It was quiet evaluation.

Kouya sighed softly, scanning the surroundings again. Empty. Not a soul nearby. Only the sound of the wind brushing past the trees.

‘So. A little dragon alone in the middle of a human city. Not suspicious at all,’ he thought dryly.

‘Maybe she’s here to test me. Or maybe she thinks I’m an easy meal.’ A wry grin crossed his lips. ‘Too bad for her—I don’t get eaten.’

He opened his mouth to speak, but a small, jelly-soft voice rang out first.

“Pervert.”

Kouya blinked. “…What?”

‘Did… did that little brat just call me a pervert?’

The girl puffed her cheeks slightly, her voice still soft and sugary. “Peeking at Lady Tohru’s boobs. Pervert.”

Kouya stared blankly, his expression deadpan. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

So she was connected to that lunatic maid dragon.

“I didn’t peek at anything,” he muttered, rubbing his temple. “Those… things… were flopping all over the place. I was the one under attack.”

The girl crossed her tiny arms. “Tohru-sama belongs to me!”

Kouya raised a brow. “Trust me, I’m not fighting you for her.”

“Don’t you dare go near her again!”

“Deal,” he said without hesitation.

“Big pervert!” she declared once more, clearly pleased with herself.

Kouya exhaled through his nose. ‘That’s it. This tiny dragon is one insult away from being punted into orbit.’

But before he could respond, the little dragon bent forward slightly, panting as if yelling had exhausted her. Then she stretched out one small, white hand toward him.

“Give it.”

“…Give what?”

“I’m hungry,” she said bluntly. “Humans buy food with paper called money. I don’t have any. You give me.”

Kouya blinked slowly. ‘Did this brat just demand tribute from me?’

The girl tilted her head, her tone as even as ever. “If you don’t give me money, I’ll tell everyone you’re a pervert.”

Kouya’s mouth twitched. “Heh.” He chuckled dryly. ‘So this is extortion now.’

“Biiig~ pervert,” she sang softly, her voice so melodic it was almost cute. Almost.

Unfortunately, that was the exact moment two policemen happened to be passing by.

“Did you hear that?” one of them said.

“Yeah. Sounded like a kid.”

“Let’s check it out.”

A few seconds later, the officers rounded the corner—and froze at the sight of Kouya standing beside a little girl in a pink dress, who was now beaming innocently.

“Good evening, mister officers!” she chirped.

Their faces melted into smiles.

“What a cute kid! Is this your sister?”

“Such pretty eyes! Wow, she’s adorable.”

Kouya’s temples throbbed. ‘You fools. That “kid” could wipe this city off the map before you blink.’

One officer wagged a finger at him kindly. “You shouldn’t bring your little sister out this late. Get her home safe, alright?”

‘I’m not her brother,’ he thought bitterly, forcing a smile. ‘But sure. Let’s go with that.’

The other nodded. “Yeah, it’s dangerous out here. You never know when some drunk idiot might start trouble.”

Kouya nearly laughed. ‘If anyone starts trouble with her, I’ll be the one offering condolences to them.’

He lifted a hand sheepishly. “She got hungry. Wanted oden. And if I didn’t buy it…” he sighed, “she might destroy the world.”

The officers blinked, then burst into hearty laughter.

“Haha! That’s what being a good brother is all about!”

‘Idiots. You have no idea how right I am,’ he thought grimly.

One of them crouched beside the girl. “What’s your name, little one?”

She tilted her head. “Kanna. Kanna Kamui.”

“Beautiful name,” the officer said warmly. “If you go left out of the park and walk about five hundred meters, there’s a place called Sakata’s Stand. Great oden and takoyaki.”

The girl nodded solemnly. “Thank you.”

The two men waved and walked off, still chuckling about the “adorable siblings.” Kouya could only sigh, following as Kanna marched proudly ahead, tail swaying like a banner of victory.

The streets grew quieter. The last shop signs flickered dimly as shutters came down. Wind rustled through the alleyways, carrying the faint scent of soy and grilled batter.

Kouya walked a few steps behind her, watching her small figure illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights. Occasionally, she’d glance over her shoulder, eyes unreadable, before turning back around without a word.

Soon, they reached the shop the officers had mentioned. Light spilled warmly from within, the smell of soup stock and fried octopus filling the air. Steam billowed faintly from the doorway, vanishing into the cold night.

Kouya slid the wooden door open. A wave of fragrant heat washed over him, bringing with it the hum of voices, the sound of sizzling pans, and the comfortable bustle of ordinary life. After the long, strange walk through the silent streets, the simple noise almost felt… grounding.

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