Kanno Hinata

Framed by glass shards and dust, the girl’s black, wavy hair tumbled wildly around her face, shimmering like molten steel in the sunlight. Her fierce blue eyes were sharp and intense, glowing with life and danger.

Crow’s chest tightened, and his pulse raced. His mundane afternoon suddenly burst into a kaleidoscope of pastel pinks and shimmering purples. His mind whirled with wedding bells, ice cream cones shared under sakura trees, and happily-ever-afters that could only exist in a rom-com finale.

It was utterly absurd. A surreal moment that felt like a fever dream his sleep-deprived brain would conjure.

Then, her voice hissed cold through the air.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted.

Crow froze.

He had no chance to process the moment. A mob of pursuers sprang from the broken glass pane like animals out for blood.

The first man lunged at her, his fist shooting like a bullet. She countered, tagging his jaw.

Hands came from behind, but were too slow. A fist to the throat, a knee to the stomach, and a quick pivot. She grabbed her attacker’s wrist, slamming his face to the pavement.

Her style was raw, efficient, and fluid—no flashy moves, no wasted effort. Every strike delivered to a vital weak point.

But for one that dropped, two more seemed to take his place.

Her muscles tightened with each passing second. Heat surged in her veins, fueling her every move, but she knew she couldn’t keep this up for long.

She needed an exit. After a quick scan, she found an alley and a narrower passage that could lead her out.

With a grunt, her legs pushed forward with relentless power. Her breath was ragged, her heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to keep moving.

She weaved between startled pedestrians, vaulted over walls, and skidded around corners, nimble as a leopard.

Still, the sound of footsteps behind her grew louder, closer.

Unfamiliarity soon proved to be a bad enemy. Each turn felt like a dead end, another spot that wasn’t in her mental map. Panic started clawing at her chest, but she shut it down with sheer will.

Then— a cul-de-sac.

The grimy walls towered over her. Exits were sealed. A queue of shadows surrounded her.

She clenched her fists, knuckles cracking like the cocking of a gun. The smirk that tugged at her lips was one of deadly amusement. If this were the end, she’d leave them too shell-shocked to talk.

A finger snap hushed the silence.

She glanced up to see a figure in a dark, pristine suit, a posture of confidence and control. The man talked business over the phone.

“Yes, sir. We got her.”

A gravelly voice came from the phone. “Take her alive. At all costs.”

“Got it,” the Agent said smoothly, slipping the phone back into his pocket. His gaze turned to her as he fixed his coat.

“It’s a shame that you went this far,” he said, oddly casual. “You didn’t have to run. They worshipped you down there.”

She spat to the side. “Don’t flatter me.”

He chuckled. “It's true! You think this place fits you? It doesn’t. It’ll spit you out.”

She curled her fist. “Keep talking. I’ll start with your teeth.”

He clicked his tongue and clapped. “That’s it. That fire. Always liked that part. But soon, you’ll find that hell’s the only place left for you. The only place that values your worth.”

That was the final demand. But the girl stood firm, hand outstretched to convey, “Bring it.”

The Agent sighed, a trace of regret in his voice, as he adjusted his tie and raised a hand to signal capture.

Then— a monstrous roar echoed around the alley.

Before anyone could react, several goons were already airborne, crashing against walls and littering the ground. A motorcycle revved like a rabid beast, its headlight glinting hellfire. The rider’s silhouette was fused with reckless abandon. The bike launched at full speed, scattering bodies like ragdolls.

The Agent casually stepped aside, observing the vehicle’s murderous, almost suicidal charge.

The motorcycle opened up a path. The faceless biker extended a gloved hand toward the astounded fighter, his voice urgent.

“Get on. Now!

She narrowed her eyes at the outstretched hand. Trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford. But his hand remained, melting her hesitation.

“We don’t have time! COME ON!”

With a curse under her breath, she grabbed his hand and swung herself onto the seat, just as the engine roared back to life.

The motorcycle swerved, cutting a sharp arc before surging towards the Agent.

He barely stepped out of its way, his trench coat billowing in the gust that followed. He watched as the vehicle sped away.

A faint beep interrupted him. He pulled out a small device, identifying the coordinates on the screen.

— • —

The motorcycle dashed, weaving between cars at breakneck speed. The world blurred in a streak of shadows and lights.

For a moment, the girl found herself lost in the thrill of the ride. The wind whipped against her face, cold and sharp, but liberating—a welcome rush that made her forget the pounding footsteps and cold glares chasing her.

Then, she felt it—a faint pressure at her collar. Her fingers flew to her neck, brushing against a tiny, cold button that lodged below her jawline.

With a scoff, she tore the device off, hurling it away without care.

On the Agent’s screen, the signal froze. His lips curled into an amused smile.

Turning, he tugged on his coat, his voice unruffled, confident.

“Pull back. We lost her.”

— • —

The motorcycle rushed through the urban sprawl like a comet. Worn-down buildings and a long bridge soon became quiet streets and rows of sleepy houses.

For the first time in ages, calm rose in her chest. As the wind eased, her breath followed.

This peace felt nice, but equally terrifying.

The rider remained steady, guiding the bike deep into the quiet neighborhood.

Finally, they slowed as they approached a modest, well-kept apartment building. The rider turned into a narrow driveway, leading to a basement garage. The sound of the engine faded, leaving behind an eerie silence, both heavy and relieving.

The girl's legs wobbled slightly as she took off the bike. But her stance remained firm, her eyes sharp.

“You okay?” the rider asked.

She gave a silent nod.

The rider regarded her for a moment, then tilted his head. “Uhm, Kanno Hinata?”

Her eyes snapped up, widening in surprise and suspicion.

“How did he know?”

The rider slowly removed his helmet, revealing a surprisingly warm expression. For a moment, he looked like something out of a fairytale—like a knight in shining armor who had found his way into her hell. Or maybe, she had stumbled into his little paradise.

“Crow. Crow Asterson.”

Their eyes met. The afternoon sun cast long shadows through the entrance, bathing the moment in a soft, golden glow. And for once, there was no violence, no bloodshed—just two strangers standing in the quiet, waiting for the world to catch up.