To You, As The World Burns Pt. 1

Crow’s breath hitched. His chest tightened. And suddenly, the world around him faded to grey.

Dylan blinked in confusion. “Wait—Hinata? Like your Arena main Hinata?”

Crow didn’t reply. He snatched his jacket from the chair beside them, nearly knocking it over.

“Hey, hold on, where are you—?” Dylan asked, eyebrows knitting together.

“She’s there,” Crow said, his voice taut as he fumbled for his keys. “That cap, I gave to her earlier.”

“Bro, are you naming random girls Hinata now?” Dylan called out to him. “This is getting unhealthy!”

Crow threw a look over his shoulder as he bolted out of the door.

“Not this time.”

And he was gone.

Dylan looked at the empty doorway, then back at the TV.

“…Alright,” he murmured to himself. “So, either Crow’s gone insane... or I missed a major plot twist.”

— • —

The night was unforgiving, but the pain Hinata carried was worse.

She staggered through an alley, her hand pressing hard against her shoulder where a blade had left its mark. The wound was deep enough to matter, but not fatal. Yet.

Her breath was fast and shallow, but she willed herself, weaving through the backstreets with a surge of adrenaline.

She managed to slip through the sirens, shouting, the sounds of frantic feet. For now, she was alone.

Eventually, Hinata ducked behind a rusted dumpster, slipping between stacked beer crates from a closed supply shop. The smell of spilled liquor and stale hops hit her, but that was better than the scent of blood.

With a quiet grunt, Hinata crouched low, pressing her back against the cold wall, breathing slowly. Her fingers traced the edges of the wound—it bled and hurt like hell.

“Unbelievable,” she bitterly muttered with a scoff.

That woman—the one she’d saved earlier this day. Then, she vividly remembered how she lifted her hand towards her.

Hinata’s thoughts hissed under her breath, anger boiling like acid. “I pulled her out of a mugging and then this?”

She laughed as her fingers trembled—not from fear, but rage.

The Agent’s voice echoed in her head. “This place will chew you up and spit you out.”

Hinata closed her eyes for a moment, gritting her teeth. She’d thought the world above was different.

“I expected too much,” she murmured, her breath easing. Something had cracked inside her. It’s not about pain or betrayal.

It was acceptance—no matter where she went, the rules stayed the same. Kindness only counts when it’s convenient.

Her hand curled into a fist again, gripping a broken bottle neck between her fingers for a second before dropping it.

She needed no weapon. She was the weapon.

Hinata gave herself a pat on the shoulder, calm and composed, for now.

Tonight, they will dance in hell.

— • —

Crow’s motorcycle rumbled furiously, matching the panic in his chest. He kicked off hard, the tires screeching as he tore into the streets.

The wind slapped against his face, stinging his eyes, but he didn’t blink. The city blurred around him, the neon lights flashing past him like figures in a nightmare he's stuck in.

“Please be okay….” he murmured, his voice low, as he swerved around another car.

His fingers tightened on the throttle. The closer he got to the danger zone, the thicker the smoke grew. People ran the other way, their faces painted with fear, but Crow didn’t slow down. He leaned into the wind, pushing harder.

He hadn’t seen her since she walked out that morning. No sign that she’d made it anywhere safe.

“What the hell did you walk into?”

His thoughts swirled. He remembered how she sprawled on the couch like it was hers. How she flinched at his kindness, as though she had never experienced it. Little snippets of her finding comfort in the smallest ways he can offer.

She never said where she was from. He never even asked.

Maybe he should’ve.

He turned sharply down a side alley, the rear wheel kicking up debris as he cut through. The flickering streetlights above made the air feel even more suffocating, and the smoke mixed with the crackling of distant fires.

Barricades. Police tape. Civilians being directed away from the scene.

Crow didn’t stop.

He veered off-road, down a slope, the vehicle rattling as he rushed forward. Somewhere in the thick of this—she was there. Hurt. Lost. Maybe worse.

“I swear,” he whispered under his breath, “if you get yourself killed before I can call you out for not taking the banana bread...”

The horn blared. His grip tightened. His heart hammered wildly.

“Hang on, Hinata...”