Chapter 3 : Beneath the weight of silence

The rain poured relentlessly, drowning the city in a curtain of silver. Each drop pounded against the pavement like a war drum, a cruel symphony that mirrored the storm raging inside Mi Kuya’s heart. The neon lights of distant buildings flickered in the downpour, their glow distorted by the water streaming down her face. She didn’t wipe it away. She barely felt it.

Her black dress clung to her like a second skin, heavy with rain, but she didn’t care. The cold barely registered. The numbness inside her was worse. More suffocating.

Because Saito was gone.

Her only family.

Taken.

Mi Kuya’s fingers curled into fists, nails biting into her palms as she moved through the empty streets. Her boots splashed through puddles, the sound lost beneath the rolling thunder above. The Agency had stolen everything from her. They had crushed her world under their merciless grip, leaving only silence in its wake.

She had barely managed to escape their clutches, but she knew they wouldn’t stop hunting her. She was a loose end, a shadow slipping through their fingers, and the Agency didn’t tolerate loose ends. They would come. They always did.

That’s why she needed to disappear—at least for now.

Rumors whispered through the city about an abandoned structure on the outskirts of town. A relic of the past, long forgotten by the world. A place untouched by prying eyes. If there was anywhere she could find even a moment’s rest, it would be there.

Her crimson eyes narrowed against the rain as she approached the building. It loomed before her like a specter from another time—cracked walls, broken windows, a heavy silence that swallowed the sound of the storm. The door, barely hanging onto its rusted hinges, groaned as she pushed it open.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of dust and decay. The wooden floor creaked beneath her weight as she stepped in, her senses alert. Shadows stretched across the walls, twisting and shifting in the dim light that filtered through the cracks. It was a dead place. Empty. Forgotten.

It would have to do.

She moved further in, each step measured, cautious. Her katana rested against her back—a silent promise of vengeance, a reminder of what had been stolen from her.

Her brother’s katana.

Her grip tightened. The weight of it was more than just steel. It carried the burden of her grief, the weight of her rage. Once, it had been a symbol of protection. Now, it was a blade forged in loss.

She lowered herself onto the cold, crumbling floor, pressing her back against the wall. The exhaustion, the hunger, the storm of emotions—it all pressed down on her at once. But she refused to break.

Not yet.

She reached for the katana, her fingers trailing over the familiar grooves in the hilt. Saito’s hands had once held this blade. It had been his lifeline, his weapon, his soul. She could still see him in her mind, standing tall, his stance unwavering as he trained under the cherry blossoms of their childhood home. His voice echoed in her ears, steady and warm.

"The blade is more than a weapon, Mi Kuya. It’s an extension of you. Treat it with respect, and it will never fail you."

She squeezed her eyes shut.

But it had failed him.

Or maybe he had failed her.

She didn’t know anymore. The line between guilt and grief blurred until she couldn’t tell which one cut deeper.

The Agency had come for him first. They always went after the strongest link before shattering the weak. And she had been weak. She hadn’t been there. Hadn’t stopped them.

She should have fought harder. Should have died alongside him.

A sharp gust of wind rattled the old structure, making the walls groan in protest. Mi Kuya exhaled slowly, forcing the burning in her chest to subside. The past was an open wound, one that bled no matter how tightly she tried to close it. But grief would not bring Saito back. Regret would not undo what had been done.

All that remained was vengeance.

She would find them. Every last one of them. And she would make them pay.

The rain outside pounded against the building, a relentless force of nature refusing to be ignored. It matched the pulse in her veins—steady, unyielding. She leaned her head back against the wall, watching water drip through the cracks in the ceiling. Each drop was a silent metronome, ticking away the seconds, reminding her that time had not stopped for her loss.

Her breath came slow, controlled. In and out. The rhythm of survival.

She closed her eyes, but the darkness behind them was no different from the one she lived in now. Shadows of the past lurked there, waiting, whispering. Saito’s laughter, his warning words, the sound of his last breath.

Her fingers dug into the fabric of her soaked dress.

The Agency would come for her. She had no doubt. They would hunt her like an animal, just as they had hunted him. They were ruthless, relentless. A machine that never stopped moving.

But neither would she.

The storm raged on outside, but inside, she remained quiet. Her pulse was steady. Her grip firm.

This was only the beginning.

Tomorrow would come.

And when it did, she would be ready.

For now, the shadows were her only allies.

And for the first time since Saito’s death, Mi Kuya allowed herself to close her eyes. Not in surrender. Not in weakness.

But in preparation.

The war had only just begun.

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