Dark reveal(Gore)

The camaraderie was palpable. Devil Hunters, each with their own tales of gore and glory, laughed and shared stories. But amidst the jovial atmosphere, Fushi's voice rang out, recounting a recent mission. "Yeah, my rookie got taken out last week," he said, almost too casually. As if such tragedies were mere footnotes in their profession.

The table grew quiet. While death was an occupational hazard, no one expected it to strike so close, so soon. Kobeni's face turned white. Her heart raced, and her mind went to one place: Ryota.

Her brother. Her responsibility.

She sprang up, rushing over to Ryota, scanning him for injuries, signs of distress, anything that hinted at the lurking dangers that might claim him too.

"Kobeni, stop, it's embarrassing," Ryota protested, trying to wiggle away from her overbearing care.

She didn't heed him. Her hands roamed over his body, checking for wounds, feeling for irregularities. She had always been protective, but this? This was almost... invasive.

Ryota could feel his body responding to her touch, a reaction he neither expected nor wanted. He felt trapped in a whirlwind of emotions - embarrassment, concern, arousal. He gritted his teeth, desperately trying to suppress the surge of desire threatening to overpower him.

"Kobeni!" he managed to gasp, trying to break free from her intense scrutiny.

She finally relented, pulling back and looking into her brother's eyes. "Promise me you'll be careful," she whispered.

Ryota nodded, cheeks flushed. "I promise."

Kobeni pulled away slightly, her eyes glassy with tears. "Ryota... I tried to kill you," she whispered. "After all that, I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you."

Ryota's face softened, "Kobeni, that was—"

Before he could complete his sentence, Denji interjected with his trademark lack of tact. "Man, sounds a lot like incest."

Kobeni's face turned scarlet, while Ryota tried to shoot Denji a warning look, but it only made him chuckle.

Aki, always one to be straightforward, didn't help matters. "Ryota, you've got a perversion disorder, right?"

Himeno chimed in, her tone teasing, "What is it, nymphomania?"

Makima cleared her throat, drawing attention to herself. "It's called Hypersexuality Disorder. It's characterized by a pattern of behavior involving intense preoccupation with sexual fantasies, urges, and behaviors, leading to distress or impairment in one's life. It's not about enjoyment or pleasure but a compulsive behavior."

Denji, never one to keep his thoughts to himself, interjected, "So, like, he's always thinking about doing it?"

Power chimed in, her tone a mix of amusement and genuine curiosity, "Does that mean he looks at everyone in that way?"

Himeno smirked, "Must be a tough life, always distracted."

Kobeni looked mortified, her protective instincts for her brother going into overdrive. "Stop it! This isn't something to make fun of."

Aki, ever the serious one, added, "It's a genuine disorder. We shouldn't be making light of it."

Ryota, throughout this, felt like he was sinking into the ground. He wished he could just disappear, his face red with embarrassment. Instead, he retreated into his mind, losing himself in his thoughts to avoid the uncomfortable conversation surrounding him.

Kobeni's eyes darted nervously around the room, hesitant to speak. But she took a deep breath, her gaze fixed on the table, voice barely above a whisper. "The reason Ryota developed this perversion disorder... it's because of our mother. When he was just 5 years old, she... she did things to him, used him in ways a mother should never even think of using her child."

A hush fell over the group. The fun atmosphere from moments ago had evaporated instantly, replaced by a chilling silence.

Denji's usual playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a serious and sympathetic look. "I... I joked about some inappropriate stuff before, but hearing this... I can't even imagine."

Aki, often stoic and reserved, had an expression of deep anger. "There are devils we fight outside, but it seems there are bigger devils living among us."

Power, often tactless, looked genuinely horrified. "Humans can be scarier than any devil," she muttered, her voice carrying a rare note of sadness.

Ryota, always the rock of the group, seemed the most affected. His eyes distant, he murmured, "It's a past I try to forget every day, but it never really leaves you. The scars... they're always there."

In the realm of his own psyche, the memory unfolded before Ryota's eyes, stark and unfiltered. He watched as his younger self struggled under the weight of his mother's sick desires, the twisted mockery of maternal care etched into every gesture.

The Illusionary Devil, a shadowy presence beside him, whispered, "This memory... it's a testament to your strength, enduring this darkness."

Ryota's gaze remained fixed on the scene, his expression a mix of sorrow and determination. "You're right. I endured, I survived. But I refuse to remain shackled to this pain."

As his mother's actions played out before him, Ryota's voice resonated with a mixture of sorrow and newfound resolution. "You may have scarred me, mother, but I won't let you define my life. Your actions were monstrous, but I won't become a monster myself."

The memory shifted, a manifestation of his inner strength. Ryota stood tall now, a guardian of his own mind. His words carried a weight that pierced the darkness, reaching deep within the memory itself. "You violated the trust a mother should hold sacred. You betrayed me in the worst way possible. But I won't let your darkness consume me."

The Illusionary Devil observed, its presence both solemn and supportive.

Ryota's gaze turned steely, his determination unwavering. "You wanted to control me, to break me. But you failed. You're the one who's broken, twisted by your own sick desires."

With a surge of conviction, Ryota's form merged with the memory, facing his mother directly. "Your touch left a mark on me, but it won't define me. I am stronger, I am resilient."

In the dim confines of their home, the room was shrouded in an unsettling stillness. Ryota's mother, bound to a chair, bore the weight of her guilt, feeling every ounce of the darkness that loomed. Her eyes darted around the room, finally settling on Ryota, who stood before her, his countenance unreadable.

"Mother," Ryota began, his voice dripping with a blend of contempt and calm. "You took advantage of me, manipulated my innocence, and tarnished my childhood. Why?"

She hesitated, her voice quivering. "I... I don't know, Ryota. It was a perverse obsession, a need to control, to feel powerful."

Ryota smirked, a cold and haunting expression. "You wanted power, and in your demented way, you found it through me. But here we are now. Tables turned."

She whimpered, "Ryota, please..."

He stepped closer, his face inches from hers. "I learned from the best. You taught me how to manipulate, to control, to dominate. And now, you get a taste of your own medicine."

Tears streamed down her face. "Please, Ryota, I'm sorry..."

He chuckled softly, "Sorry? How quaint. You see, mother, I've been observing, analyzing, learning. Every trick, every twisted game you played, I absorbed. And I've refined it."

Her eyes widened in terror as she realized the depth of Ryota's transformation. "What... what are you going to do?"

Ryota leaned in, whispering into her ear, "I'm going to give you a taste of your own medicine. You'll experience every emotion, every fear, every pain you made me go through. You'll understand what it's like to be utterly powerless."

She trembled, gasping for breath. "Please, no..."

He straightened up, smiling coldly. "Consider it an education, mother. After all, isn't it a parent's job to teach?"

Ryota, in this twisted game of revenge, had become the master manipulator, using the very tools his mother had unwittingly handed him. She had birthed a monster, and now, she was at its mercy.

The Illusionary Devil, an observer of Ryota's emotional triumph, nodded in approval. The memory began to waver, the darkness receding.

As the memory dissolved, Ryota's breathing steadied, his heart lighter than before. The Illusionary Devil turned to him, its voice a mixture of respect and admiration. "You've faced your past head-on, confronted the demons that sought to define you."

Ryota met the devil's gaze, a new sense of resolve in his eyes. "I won't deny my past, nor will I let it dictate my future. However, I don't need or want your sympathy. It's my victims, those who've suffered because of me, that deserve it. My pain is of my own making; theirs was thrust upon them by my actions. Remember that."

With a final nod, the Illusionary Devil faded, leaving Ryota alone with his thoughts. The memory remained, but its power over him had weakened, replaced by a newfound sense of empowerment.

Makima's fingers snapped in front of Ryota's face, pulling him abruptly from his reverie. She studied him for a moment, her face unreadable, then tilted her head slightly.

"Lost in your thoughts, Ryota?" She remarked, her voice as calm and composed as ever. "It's rare to see you so... introspective."

Ryota's eyes locked onto hers, searching for any hint of judgment or pity. Finding none, he managed a half-smile. "Just revisiting some memories. The ones that made me who I am today."

Makima continued to watch him, her sharp eyes missing nothing. "Your past doesn't define you, Ryota. What you choose to do now, that's what matters. Remember that."

She paused, then added softly, "But also remember, everyone has scars — some just hide them better than others."

Makima's expression remained unchanged, but there was a softness in her eyes, a fleeting warmth that was rare to see. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper that only Ryota could hear.

"While I can't fully grasp the depth of your experiences, Ryota," she began, her tone measured, "understand that everyone in this line of work has their own shadows. It's the demons we carry inside that make us more attuned to the ones we hunt outside."

Pulling back, she straightened and resumed her usual, commanding posture. "Don't dwell on what's behind you. Your strengths, as unorthodox as they are, have their place here. Harness them, and let the past fuel your present, not dictate it."

With that, Makima turned away, her attention already diverted to the next task, leaving Ryota with much to ponder.