To You, As The World Burns Pt. 2

The ordeal was far from over, and the city’s deep blue skyline remained disturbed by a distant red hue. Even the shadows could not rest.

Hinata groaned as she crouched and moved behind broken pallets and stacked liquor crates. She found a tight space and leaned against a wall, catching her breath, which became more ragged after another run-in with Lambert’s men.

She cracked open a bottle of wine from a rotting crate and poured it on her shoulder and on her thigh, where another cut throbbed.

She shook her head in disbelief. She had underestimated them. The momentary peace she enjoyed might have dulled her instincts.

The pulsing pain kept her awake, and she squinted hard whenever her eyelids felt heavy.

Her senses seemed to have slowed. But she couldn’t mistake the sounds closing in on her.

Lambert’s mercs were smart and methodical. The plan was to flush her out slowly, waiting for her gas to run out as the night dragged on.

In that small, cold space, frustration welled back to the surface.

“Why do I still care?”

Crow’s face flashed before her eyes. The kindness. The food. His attempts to make her feel welcome and not alone.

Something stirred from within. The thought gave her a flicker of hope.

Then she remembered why she left in the first place.

“What if he’s the same?”

Hinata exhaled as the footsteps grew louder. Her body begged for rest, but time was running out.

Her bloodied fists clenched tightly. Her heart hammered furiously.

She stopped caring when the cap was torn from her head. When she was sold out to die. When she held the fort alone, and no one came.

Her lips curled into something between a sneer and a grin.

“No more running.”

She cracked her knuckles.

“No more trust.”

She exhaled.

“You want blood?”

She turned and marched out of the dark. Cold and focused, almost mad.

“You will drink yours.”

— • —

Crow ditched his bike the second he crossed the barricade.

His boots hit the ground hard as he darted down a narrow alley, heart pounding, eyes scanning every shadow, every figure.

The air reeked of tension. Glass crunched beneath his feet.

He squeezed into a mob, hoping he’d catch Hinata among them. He reached out to someone wearing a hoodie, only to apologize a second later.

He saw visions of the unimaginable. Of her fists held up, even if the world collapsed around her

“Hinata!” he shouted, voice a little hoarse and shaky.

No answer.

He turned sharply, skidding on wet pavement. He caught a moving silhouette. Nothing.

Must be his mind playing games now.

“Please,” he thought, weaving between flickering streetlights. “Please let me find her in time.”

— • —

The alley went silent, save for a heartbeat.

Slow, heavy steps echoed. Hinata’s eyes snapped in its direction.

Lambert stepped forward, his massive form a phantom through the dim light. His stride was confident, like a hunter about to claim his prey. Behind him, the mercenaries flanked the sides of the alley.

“Stand back,” Lambert said, not bothering to look at his men.

Hinata stood firm on her ground, fists up in a tight stance.

Lambert stopped just feet away, towering over her.

“Look at you, Empress,” he sneered. “Barely standing. Starving like a dog.”

Hinata didn’t react.

“You’ve grown weak,” he continued, his voice dripping with contempt. “I can smell it. Peace. Freedom. All that nonsense.”

Then, he flashed out of sight.

The first punch came from below, shooting at her ribs. She blocked it, the impact sending waves through her body. An invisible right hit her injured shoulder, driving the pain deeper into her bones.

For a hulking man, he was insanely agile. Hinata braced herself to keep up.

She fought back with a one-two, tagging his chin and jaw, but Lambert didn’t flinch. Hinata whirled into a roundhouse. He grabbed her leg mid-kick and swung her across the alley.

Hinata managed to twist her body mid-air and land on her feet, but she lost her balance and stumbled backwards.

She struggled to move, but he was already on her throat, strangling her off the ground. Her legs kicked in vain. Her fingers clawed at his arm, but the grip was too strong.

Lambert’s face contorted with mad bloodlust.

“You used to be a beast,” he said, tightening his grip. “Now look at you. A stray dog pretending to be normal.”

Hinata’s vision blurred, fighting for her breath.

“Peace makes people weak,” he muttered.

Hinata gnashed her teeth. She pressed her thumbs hard on his eyeballs to buy her some time. He growled, tossing her angrily like a ragdoll.

She hit the concrete with a brutal thud, her body crumpling in pain. She tried to breathe, but what came out were short gasps.

Her hands twitched, her knees scraping against the pavement as she tried to push herself up.

Lambert roared like an enraged bull. He charged at her full speed; arms cocked far behind him for a final strike.

“Move... I have to move...”

She felt something warm spill down her head. Her vision turned red.

The footsteps stopped.

The killing blow. No time to react.

Then—

CRACK.

The grotesque sound shattered space around them, a shockwave as if the earth had split apart.

Lambert’s head twisted violently as a steel pipe squared against his jaw, launching him into a pile of bins, wooden crates, and trash.

Hinata’s world spun as she gasped for air, cold-showered with massive relief.

She barely noticed a figure stepping forward, between her and death.

The world burned around them. Everything flickered orange, smoke snaked everywhere, and ash drifted like feathers. They embraced the figure like a cloak catching fire.

Not a savior. Not a hero. Someone who crossed beyond the line.

Gone was the playful sarcasm. The easy smile. The warmth that welcomed you without judgment.

His shoulders were rolled back and relaxed, his chest rising with deliberate, slow breaths. In his grip, the steel pipe was the executioner's blade.

And his stance radiated a grim warning.

Hinata blinked slowly through the shade of red, her breath hitching in her throat. Her lips parted, and a weak voice found its way out.

“…Crow?”

He didn’t turn. No words.

He reached into his jacket with his other hand and drew something out.

Hinata’s eyes widened as he carefully, almost tenderly, slid her cap back onto her, tugging the brim low over her eyes. He then gave her a soft, firm pat on the head.

Her shield against the world.

Crow straightened up, rising to his full height and marching forward, his weapon glowing red-orange.

And his voice, low, steady, and assuring.

“I’m here.”