The amber light of the dying sun spilled into the crumbling hideout, washing the dusty floor with a soft, golden hue. Silence draped the room like a heavy blanket, broken only by the quiet hum of the evening wind as it slipped through broken windows and cracked walls.
Kaito sat near a wooden beam, legs stretched out, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded as he took slow, deliberate breaths. Though his body rested, his mind was far from still. Every minute that passed felt like a step closer to something ominous. He could feel it in the air—the weight of fate slowly pressing down.
Across from him, Sora sat hunched, knees drawn to his chest, hands loosely gripping his arms. His gaze wasn't on Kaito. It was on her.
Mikuya sat near the broken wall, the one that overlooked the hazy ruins of the city. A quiet guardian, silhouetted against the orange sky, she looked like a ghost frozen in time. Beside her, the black cat—the one that had mysteriously appeared and stayed—slept peacefully. Its chest rose and fell in rhythm, unconcerned by the chaos of the world.
She hadn't moved for hours. Just stared.
The city’s skyline flickered in the distance—some buildings still standing like stubborn bones of a once-living giant. But Mikuya's gaze wasn't on the city. It was on something further, something unreachable.
Kaito stood, brushing his jacket off.
“I should get going,” he said, his voice low but firm.
Sora turned slightly, nodding. “Be careful.”
Kaito lingered for a moment, then silently walked past him, his footsteps echoing until they vanished. The black cat stirred as he left, lifting its head. A moment later, it quietly got up and padded away, tail swaying. Mikuya turned slightly, watching it disappear into the fog.
She didn’t say a word.
She just sat there, eyes fixed on the fading cat before her attention returned to the horizon. A soft wind brushed her hair aside, revealing a face both beautiful and broken—etched with sorrow far too heavy for someone her age.
Sora’s lips parted. He wanted to say something—anything. A joke, a memory, a plea to stay. But when his eyes met hers, he froze. There was a silence in those eyes, one deeper than any words could reach. Loneliness. Grief. Emptiness.
He lowered his head, defeated by the distance between them.
Then Mikuya stood.
“I’m heading out for a while,” she said, strapping her katana to her back.
“Wait… now?” Sora asked, startled. “It’s almost dark.”
“I won’t be long.”
He hesitated, then exhaled. “Okay… just don’t stay out too long. It’s getting cold.”
She gave a faint nod and walked out. The door creaked shut behind her.
Fog curled around the building like smoke, swallowing her silhouette.
---
Elsewhere, warmth still existed.
At Nene’s home, the front door was open. Hana, Emiko, and Yuka stood just beyond it, saying their goodbyes under the soft porch light. Their smiles were gentle but forced. The weight of uncertainty lingered between them.
“Today was… nice,” Hana said softly. “It felt like we were normal again.”
Emiko looked down. “Even if only for a while.”
Yuka gave a small nod. Her hands clenched the hem of her sweater.
Nene smiled faintly. “Thank you… all of you.”
The girls hugged one last time. Then, without another word, they each walked away, vanishing into different streets under the night sky—each followed by their own shadow. One of fear. One of doubt. One of guilt.
Nene closed the door and turned. The silence of her home wrapped around her like a winter blanket. She ascended the stairs slowly, step by step, until she reached her room.
Her hand hovered over the light switch… but didn’t move.
A flash of memory hit her.
She was seven again. Mikuya had just stepped into her room for the first time, barefoot and full of energy.
“Whoa! You have so many books!” Mikuya had shouted, running from shelf to shelf, spinning, jumping onto her bed without asking.
Nene had smiled then—truly smiled.
That memory struck her like a blade.
Now, her room was dark. Lifeless. She stepped inside and collapsed onto her bed, sobs wracking her body. Her pillow muffled the sound, but her parents downstairs could hear. They did nothing—not because they didn’t care, but because they didn’t know how to stop a heart from breaking.
---
Beneath the surface of the earth, far below the city, another world existed.
The underground training halls of the Agency were a nightmare sculpted into reality. Concrete walls wept moisture. The air was heavy with the scent of blood, sweat, and fear.
Thousands of soldiers trained like machines—bare-chested, bruised, bleeding, breaking bones just to get stronger.
And watching over them were demons.
Renzo strode between rows like a wolf stalking its prey, barked commands and screamed punishments. Takahiro stood with arms folded, observing with a calm, cold precision. Hiroki silently pushed the weak past their limits, uncaring if they shattered.
A soldier collapsed.
Renzo snarled. “Get up!”
The soldier trembled.
Renzo unsheathed his blade.
“If you fall, you die! If you fall, you’re nothing!”
He raised his sword, fury in his eyes.
“Enough,” a voice called.
Kaito stepped into the arena.
Renzo turned. “This is not your domain, Kaito.”
Kaito met his gaze. “I’m not here to protect cowards. I’m here to make sure you don’t kill the ones who might still stand.”
Renzo scoffed.
“Any word on Kurogami?” Kaito asked.
“No,” Renzo growled. “He’s vanished.”
Kaito’s eyes narrowed. “Then he’s hunting. We need to prepare.”
---
In a quiet office, Daigo stood over a desk.
A soldier entered.
“Report,” Daigo said.
“We’ve traced all known contacts of Mizuki.”
Daigo turned. “Who is the closest?”
“Yuka Fujiguro.”
A long silence.
“Send a unit,” Daigo ordered. “Bring her in. Or kill her if she resists.”
“Yes, sir.”
---
In the heart of the city, the fog was thick.
Mikuya stood on the edge of a tall building, her cloak fluttering in the wind. Her eyes scanned the streets.
Then—movement.
She spotted her.
Yuka.
Surrounded.
Soldiers encircled her with weapons drawn.
Mikuya’s heart skipped.
She jumped.
Moments later, she landed in the alley, blade already drawn.
The soldiers charged. But something was different.
They were using cursed energy.
A blade slashed her arm. Blood burst forth.
“Mikuya!!” Yuka cried.
Mikuya gritted her teeth, pushing through the pain. Her movements blurred, slicing through one soldier after another. Blood stained the pavement.
When it was over, she turned to Yuka, her body trembling slightly.
Yuka stared, eyes wide. This… wasn’t the Mikuya she remembered.
“You’re hurt…” she whispered.
Mikuya knelt, looked at the shallow wound on Yuka’s leg, and sighed.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Yuka nodded silently.
---
It was late when they reached the hideout.
Sora jumped to his feet, heart racing as the door opened.
“Mikuya—!”
Then he saw her.
Bloodied. Weary.
And behind her…
Yuka.
Sora stiffened. His eyes darted between the two girls, trying to piece together what had happened.
Mikuya didn’t speak.
She walked past him.
The silence between them screamed louder than words ever could.
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