Shadows in the Rain

The street was still wrapped in a damp, cold gloom that seemed to close in around Axel. The yellowish glow of the streetlamps made the puddles glisten like open eyes. The smell of salt drifted from the sea, mixed with stale moisture and the sweet smoke from a café that still had its window cracked open.

In front of him, the two silhouettes stood motionless, blocking the way like two doors with no handles. The taller one, wearing a wide-brimmed hat, tilted his head with a crooked smile and was the first to break the silence.

“Relax, friend,” he said, voice lively, almost playful. “We’re not here to scare you.”

He spoke as if they were chatting at a bar, not standing in an empty street at night. Axel held his gaze, taking a small step back. His heart thudded in his ears, and his palms were slick with sweat despite the cold.

“If it’s about money…” he said quickly, “I left without my phone. I’ve got nothing to give you.”

The tall one gave a short laugh—half amusement, half mockery. His hands rested in the pockets of a long coat, almost identical to the ones worn by the intruders in Axel’s home. The detail stuck in his mind like a thorn.

“I get it now…” Axel said, pointing his chin at them. “Tell your friends to leave me alone.”

The tall man’s smile faltered. He raised an eyebrow in confusion. Before he could speak, the shorter one stepped forward. He didn’t need to raise his voice—his presence alone was enough. His eyes were still, predator-like, and there was a sharp calm about him that made the skin on Axel’s arms prickle.

“And what were those… friends of ours like?” he asked, subtly stressing the last word with satisfaction.

Convinced they were talking about the two who had broken into his living room, Axel answered without hesitation:
“A grumpy guy with an eyepatch… and a very cheerful blonde.”

The shorter man’s eyes narrowed slightly. His expression barely shifted, but inside, a cold thought sparked with quiet pride: So they found him first… but he slipped away. Lucky me.

“Well… that saves me some explaining,” he said flatly.

It all happened like a whip crack. A dry sound, a hiss slicing the air, and a gust of wind that lifted the damp dust. The short man propelled himself forward as if launched by an invisible spring; a nearby puddle burst apart into a spray of droplets at his step. In his hand, a blade gleamed with a faint, vibrating light.

Axel barely saw a flash before the pain came—sharp, hot, deep. The slash tore across his side; fabric parted like wet paper, and thick, warm blood began sliding down his ribs. His legs gave out. He collapsed to his knees with a ragged gasp.

“Aaagh!” His voice shook as he clutched the wound. The world shrank to the size of his breath—fast, uneven, desperate.

He hadn’t even seen the man move. This wasn’t human. They weren’t common thieves… and, against his will, Lexus and Lucy’s story no longer sounded completely insane. The attacker’s knife hummed with a low vibration, as though still hungry to cut.

The short man wiped the blade with a dark cloth, unhurried, precise, like someone finishing a familiar job. The lamplight broke into sharp reflections along the edge.
“Tyfo, finish it,” he ordered without looking at him. “But don’t touch the face. That’s the only part we need. I’ve already stained my knives enough.”

The tall one—Tyfo—smiled like someone handed a brand-new toy. His eyes lit up with a twisted sort of joy.
“Finally, some fun.”

He stepped forward, splashing through the water without a care. Before striking, he bent his knees and brought his fists up, shoulders set. The stance was firm and precise, the kind of posture that came from knowing exactly how to measure distance and time. The metal knuckles on his hands caught the dying light of the streetlamp. He rolled his neck, loosening his muscles, then leaned forward slightly, sizing Axel up with a gaze that was both playful and cruel.

“In my world,” he said with a crooked grin, “they call this being a Hitter… and I’m one of the veterans.”

The punch came without warning. It landed on the opposite side of the wound—cruel, exact. The impact was thunder in Axel’s body; the air rushed out of his lungs in a muffled cry. Sparks danced in his vision. The asphalt seemed to tilt under him.

“That was the normal one…” Tyfo tilted his head, mocking. “The next one’s stronger. Never thought I’d see the great leader’s face look so full of fear.”

Leader? The word jabbed at Axel through the pain. Are they talking about me? The me from Soul Terra? The image of the living room, the bluish flame in Lucy’s hand, Lexus’s deep voice—all of it came rushing back in a wave. His heart hammered against his ribs. He didn’t want to believe, but some part of him already had.

The sea breeze swept through the street, cold and sharp, carrying the cry of a lone night gull. A cat darted from beneath a trash bag, vanishing into the shadows. The sounds were painfully clear: the drip of a gutter, the faint electric buzz of the lamp, Axel’s quickened breath.

Tyfo stepped closer, knuckles gleaming. The short man—Kahn, though Axel didn’t know his name yet—stayed perfectly still, radiating that calculating calm of someone who thrived on control. His boots left a round print in the puddle.

“Come on, champ,” Tyfo sang. “Don’t pass out yet. The best part’s coming.”

Axel shut his eyes. His jaw clenched. I don’t want to die. Not tonight. He felt the pulse in his wound, the blood trickling down his side, the cold sticking to his skin. He counted a second… two… and waited for the blow.

It never came.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a black fabric he recognized, cutting through the light. He looked up and spotted the mohawk of Lexus. His arm was extended, firm, holding Tyfo’s fist in midair. Lexus’s hand glowed with a bluish light, containing the strike as if it were something solid. The air around them vibrated, charged, on the verge of snapping.

“I figured something like this might happen…” Lexus said, a faint edge of amusement in his deep voice. “And it looks like things just got interesting.”

Tyfo’s expression shifted from surprise to excitement.
“Oh!” he laughed, baring his teeth. “A bodyguard.”

On the other side, a figure knelt beside Axel. The faint citrus scent and the fall of a hood were enough for him to recognize her.
“Axel!” Lucy’s voice was relief made sound. “Hang on, I’ll heal you.”

Her hand pressed against the wound. The touch was warm—almost cool compared to the burning pain. A soft white light trembled in her fingers, and the agony began to unravel, as if someone were carefully untying it from the inside out. Axel inhaled, startled, and for the first time in minutes the air filled his lungs completely.

“How…?” he managed to whisper.

“Questions later,” Lucy murmured, eyes fixed on the wound. “Just breathe.”

Kahn didn’t move. He observed, weighing, calculating, anticipating. He had control, and he wanted everyone to know it. The faintest hint of irritation touched his lips when Lexus held Tyfo’s punch without apparent effort.

“Tyfo,” Kahn said, with a calm that sounded like a threat, “You can hit the face of this one.”

“Okay, boss,” the tall one replied, his eyes never leaving Lexus. “This will be fun.”

Axel looked at all three: the fist caught in light, Lucy’s concentrated expression, Kahn standing still like a shadow with a blade. Every assumption he’d had crumbled one by one. Nothing, since stepping onto that bus, had made sense. And yet, for the first time that night, something did—he wasn’t alone.

Lexus squeezed Tyfo’s fist a little harder. The light on his hand flared, tracing blue lines across his skin like veins of glass.
“I was hoping to stretch my legs,” he said, almost cheerfully. “Let’s see if you’re up to it.”

The sea wind swept through again, stirring a whirl of wet leaves. For a second, the street seemed to hold its breath.

And then, everything moved.