The wind howled across the mountain ridge, sweeping fine powdery snow into the air. Mikuya stood motionless amidst the white silence, her dark cloak fluttering in the wind, hair damp with flakes that refused to melt. The snow beneath her feet crunched softly as she took a cautious step forward.
Ahead, at the very edge of the cliff, stood Yuka.
She didn’t turn around.
Her figure was still—arms at her sides, gaze fixed on the icy river snaking far below the mountain. The snowfall danced around her like fragments of a forgotten memory—delicate and cold. Mikuya’s heart beat slowly, uneasily.
“Yuka,” Mikuya called, her voice steady, though tinged with something fragile. “You said you wanted to meet me. Why?”
No answer.
The silence stretched between them, as vast as the drop behind Yuka. The only sound was the sigh of the wind and the whisper of snow hitting stone. Mikuya took another step, eyes narrowed, searching for any sign in Yuka’s posture—anger, pain, hesitation—but there was only stillness.
She didn’t turn.
Didn’t speak.
Only stared down at the river… as if she were waiting for something. Or trying to decide.
---
[The Agency Meeting]
The room was cloaked in heavy silence, only the faint hum of distant machinery buzzing beneath the polished floor. Around the long obsidian table sat the Syndicate's elite: Renzo, Takahiro, Hiroki, Kaito, Lady Hisoka—and more—all watching the man at the head of the table.
Daigo closed the last folder in front of him, its paper edges still warm from recent handling. “The cursed energy training,” he said, his voice level but hollow against the tension in the air. “Seems to be progressing well... for most.”
No one responded.
A thick pause settled between them.
Everyone noticed it—Daigo’s fingers tapping lightly against the folder, his gaze shifting from one face to another. There was something more.
Something unsaid.
But no one spoke.
Until Lady Hisoka leaned back slightly, folding her slender fingers together. “Daigo,” she said, her tone calm yet sharp as glass, “why don’t you stop circling around it? What’s the real reason you gathered us here?”
Daigo blinked, feigning confusion. “I’m not sure what you mean.” “You didn’t call all of us here just to hear how training is going,” she replied, her eyes narrowing. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
Silence again.
Then Daigo exhaled quietly and gave a slow nod. “…You’re right.”
Renzo slammed his hand on the table, impatient. “Then spit it out, Daigo. What is it?”
Tension prickled the air, as everyone else exchanged glances. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be ordinary.
Daigo’s expression shifted—his brows furrowing, his jaw tightening. The seriousness in his eyes made the room feel colder. Heavier.
Even Kaito, composed and unreadable as always, felt a thud in his chest. His fingers curled slightly on his lap. He had a bad feeling.
Finally, Daigo spoke, his voice heavy with weight.
“…It’s about Mikuya Mizuki.”
The room stilled.
Every expression hardened. Eyes sharpened. No one needed to be reminded of who she was—the child who forced the Syndicate’s hand, who made the cursed energy deployment necessary. The one who should have never become this strong.
Kaito’s breath caught for a fraction of a second. Outside, he was stone-faced. Inside, a storm churned.
Renzo scowled. “What about her?” Takahiro leaned forward. “What are you trying to say?” Hiroki’s eyes narrowed. “Is she on the move again?”
All eyes turned to Daigo. The air around the table became almost unbearable.
---
[The Mountain]
Silver moonlight spilled over the mountain’s edge, casting a pale glow across the icy ridge. Flakes drifted down like silent ash, brushing against Mikuya’s cloak as she stood still, eyes on the figure ahead.
Yuka’s arms were tightly crossed over her chest, her back to Mikuya. She hadn’t moved an inch. The way she stood—so rigid, so unnaturally still—sent a ripple of unease through Mikuya’s guarded calm.
Still, she approached.
Step by step through the snow, until she stood beside her.
"You called me all the way up here just to look at the view?" Mikuya said, her voice carrying the faintest ghost of her usual cold amusement.
But Yuka didn’t laugh. Didn’t even turn.
She kept her gaze locked on the river far below—dark, winding, and half-frozen beneath the cliffs.
Then, without a word, she stepped to the side—trading places with Mikuya. Now it was Mikuya who stood at the edge, the world falling away beneath her feet, while Yuka stood where she had been moments ago.
The wind whistled through the mountain air.
"I just…" Yuka’s voice came soft, barely audible above the whispering snowfall. “…wanted to see you one last time.”
Mikuya’s heart skipped. The words felt wrong. Too final. Too fragile. A flicker of doubt sparked behind her eyes.
“Yuka?” she said again, her voice quiet but firmer this time.
She took a step toward her—toward her closest friend, her sister in all but blood.
But something was off.
And deep inside… Mikuya felt it.
Something was about to break.
---
[The Agency Meeting]
The air in the briefing room felt heavier than usual.
Daigo, seated at the head of the long obsidian table, finally leaned forward, his fingers laced tightly together.
“It’s about Mikuya Mizuki,” he said.
All eyes fixed on him.
Then, he dropped the weight.
“She’s going down… tonight.”
The silence shattered.
“What?” Renzo barked, already half-risen from his chair.
Gasps spread through the room. Murmurs turned into a storm of questions. Lady Hisoka leaned forward, eyes narrowing. Hiroki frowned, brows knitting together in disbelief. Takahiro’s calm cracked, his lips parting as if to speak—but no words came.
“The girl who survived attacks from Renzo, from Kurogami himself—” “—and more than a dozen elite hunters—” “She didn’t fall then,” another voice added, tension rising. “How the hell is she going down now?”
Kaito sat motionless, but inside, his blood ran cold.
Tonight? Mikuya…?
A storm of panic surged through him. Who? How? Was she in danger right now? He clenched his fists under the table, his only focus now to get out—get out of the meeting, get to her, do anything to stop this.
Meanwhile, the room spiraled.
“The soldiers aren’t even prepared to fight with cursed energy—how are we doing this now?” Hiroki asked, eyes sharp.
Lady Hisoka turned to Daigo. “Just tell us, Daigo. What’s happening?”
Daigo raised his hand. “Calm down, all of you,” he said quietly. His voice didn’t need to rise to command the room—it was the steel behind it that silenced everyone.
“We are not sending any soldiers.”
Renzo slammed his palm on the table. “What do you mean you’re not sending soldiers? Then how many are going?”
Daigo didn’t flinch. His gaze swept across the room, then fell to Renzo. “One.”
A stunned pause.
Then the chaos resumed.
“One person?!” Hiroki’s voice cracked. “Are you insane?” Takahiro muttered. “Who could possibly—” “Who is that one person?” Lady Hisoka asked sharply, eyes glinting.
---
[The Mountain]
The snow continued to fall, silent and cold, blanketing the mountaintop in white. The moonlight bathed everything in silver, casting long shadows over the edge of the cliff.
Mikuya stood still, her breath visible in the freezing air. Her voice was low, almost emotionless.
“…Yuka. What is it that you really wanted to say?”
The wind howled between them, carrying with it the tension that now weighed heavy in the space.
Yuka didn’t respond. Her head remained lowered, and one hand was still buried deep in her coat pocket. Her body trembled—not just from the cold.
Mikuya’s sharp eyes caught the subtle quiver in Yuka’s frame.
She stepped forward. “You’re shaking,” she said. “What’s wrong?”
That’s when Yuka’s voice broke through the night—fragile, laced with panic. “Don’t come any closer.”
Mikuya halted immediately, her boots crunching lightly against the snow. Her gaze narrowed.
Yuka stood across from her now, tears tracing silently down her cheeks. Her hand in her pocket trembled harder, clenched tight around something unseen.
She didn’t look up. Couldn’t.
But Mikuya could see it clearly— Fear.
The kind of fear that didn’t come from the cold.
---
[The Agency Meeting]
The room remained heavy with tension. Snow tapped lightly against the frosted windows, but no one noticed. All eyes were still fixed on Daigo.
Lady Hisoka leaned forward, her voice sharp. “You still haven’t answered. Who is this one person?”
Renzo slammed a fist on the table. “Stop dancing around it and spit it out, Daigo!”
Daigo’s expression remained unreadable. Calm. Cold.
“…Someone,” he said at last, “…who is close to her.”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Then, without another word, Daigo turned toward the door. “That is all. This meeting is dismissed.”
“What?!” Renzo barked, standing up. “You didn’t answer the damn question!”
But Daigo didn’t flinch.
And in that moment—those words—Kaito felt the air leave his lungs. Close to her…
His mind went blank, and then flooded with a single name.
The realization hit him like a thunderclap. His stomach twisted. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
The rest of the room erupted in noise. Takahiro, Hiroki, Lady Hisoka, even the usually calm strategists—everyone spoke over each other, demanding answers, demanding clarity.
But Daigo didn’t stop. He walked out, silent, his coat brushing the doorway.
“He’s hiding something,” Hisoka muttered, her sharp gaze narrowing. Renzo growled. “Damn bastard’s playing games again.”
Kaito didn’t speak. His face remained composed, but inside—
I have to move. I have to reach her. Now.
He stood quietly, slipping through the murmurs and chaos in the room. His mission had changed.
Now, it was to stop the betrayal… before it was too late.
---
[The Mountain]
The snow whispered down from the dark sky, dancing in the pale moonlight. It clung to the jagged cliffs and blanketed the world in a ghostly silence. Mikuya stood still, her breath rising in soft, visible puffs, eyes fixed on the girl she once trusted more than anyone else.
Yuka’s arms were tight around herself, as if holding something inside from breaking loose. Her face was pale. Lips quivering.
Slowly, she pulled a trembling hand from her coat pocket. And in that hand—
A gun.
Its dull metal gleamed under the moonlight.
Mikuya's eyes narrowed, not in fear. Not even in anger. Just quiet disbelief. "You’re pointing that at me?" she said, her voice low and razor-edged. "You—out of all people?"
Yuka didn’t answer immediately. Her fingers shook around the trigger. Her lips parted, cracked with cold and guilt.
"Mi..." Her voice cracked. "I’m sorry."
A cold, bitter laugh escaped Mikuya's lips. It was hollow. Lifeless. "Sorry?" she echoed.
Her gaze fell to the gun, then back to Yuka’s tear-streaked face. "Tell me, Yuka… did you hesitate when you made this choice? Or was I just a fool to believe I mattered to you?"
Yuka’s shoulders tensed. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would block out the world—or what she was about to do.
"I… I didn’t want this."
"Then why?" Mikuya asked, stepping forward slowly, blood-red scarf catching the wind. "Why are you doing this?"
The mountain held its breath.
Then—
The shot echoed like thunder.
Pain exploded through Mikuya's chest. She stumbled back, crimson soaking through her dark coat. Her breath hitched, fingers twitching over the wound, now slick and warm with her own blood.
She looked up—not at the moon. Not at the stars. But at Yuka.
The girl who was once her home.
"Why…?" The word was no longer sharp. Just fragile. Like something inside her had cracked and could never be mended.
Yuka’s lips trembled. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She bit her lip until it bled. Her hands trembled.
And then—she raised the gun again.
Mikuya's body tensed. A strange emptiness hollowed her voice.
"You really are going to do it," she whispered. Not in anger. Not even pain. Just a realization. An acceptance.
"I see."
The second shot tore through the silence.
This time, her body crumpled. Her knees gave out, legs folding beneath her like paper. The world tilted. Snow rushed up toward her—or maybe she was falling.
Yuka's eyes widened, horror etched into her features.
Mikuya staggered one last time… before her foot slipped from the edge of the cliff.
And then—
She was falling.
The wind howled in her ears, tearing past her like screaming ghosts. The silver moon disappeared. The river below spread out like a cold, open grave waiting to swallow her whole.
But the pain wasn’t from the bullets. It was from the betrayal.
A wound no curse could match.
Memories flickered in her mind like dying embers—
Yuka’s laughter. Their whispered secrets. Warmth that now felt like a lie. Her blood painted the air.
Her voice barely a whisper.
"Why…? Yuka…"
Then the river claimed her.
The girl once called Mikuya disappeared beneath the black water. The last fragile piece of her trust shattered.
And in the cold dark silence—
She swore.
She would never let anyone close again. Not ever.
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