RE;ACTING

They walk off the beach until the houses of the Moria District realign. A huge theatre rises ahead.

“Left or right, what is the correct answer? Maybe the over exaggerating theatre in front of us.” Jean says, grin crooked.

“Hehe. But hey—it’s a theatre. Let’s go in,” Zuru says.

They step inside. The hall is vast: carved gold, velvet seats, a hush that feels rehearsed. At center stage stands the brown-haired girl—older now, spotlighted in red.

They take the first row.

“No… he’s gone. How can I act alone?” the girl whispers to the crowd.

“I can help,” Jean answers, standing. “Is it the play Royce and Amelia?”

She nods and takes his hand up. Up close, her dress is red, like blood.

“It’s the final scene,” the girl says, voice tight.

The set shifts with a breath. A noir city is fading on the set. A fedora settles on Jean’s head; a dark suit wraps his frame. The girl in red waits under a streetlamp.

Movement behind him. Three men in suits also the manager from before in the front .

Gunshots crack. Jean’s coat jerks; bullets punch his stomach. He spreads his arms, shielding her.

“Hey—run, honey!”

“No! You’re my friend—”

“Even so… don’t die, run!”

Another shot. He coughs blood, staggers—and smiles past the pain at Zuru, at the audience.

“Honey, I will act—to protect you. Always.”

The girl lunges back and hugs him. “I don’t want my love to die! Ruz!”

She kisses his cheek. A soft “woof” echoes. Ruz steps into the light.

Jean brushes the girl’s hair from her face and looks at her light blue eyes. He jumps down from the stage and returns to Zuru. His stage clothes unspool into nothing; the wounds heal.

Zuru grips his hand. “What are you? You got shot. You helped her. You didn’t fear them. Why save her at all?”

Jean looks to the stage. The three men close in; the manager strides at their center, two bodyguards in tow. The scene continues exactly as before.

“You don’t know what I’m saving,” Jean says, voice colder. “Who I’m saving. Not everything ends with a hero. Sometimes tragedy arrives, and you can’t stop it. Sometimes, if you want to protect someone—”

Onstage, the girl runs with Ruz. The trio chased them into a corner. The manager studies the torn dress. His face is full of scratches.

“The dog needs to be punished,” he says. “And why run? Don’t you want to be famous?”

“I have contracts,” the girl snaps. “My talent is enough—let me go. I don’t want this.”

Ruz growls, to the manager.

The manager raises a gun to the dog’s neck.

Their eyes shine—Ruz’s dark blue, the girl’s light blue—together like the ocean.

The girl lunges forward. Ruz snaps at the manager’s wrist—

The gun goes off.

Ruz collapses.

“NO!” she screams.

The bodyguards pulling out knives.

“You have great eyes,” one man says, hungry. “Stunning.”

“Time to take them,” the manager murmurs.

The girl sinks to her knees over Ruz and sobs. Buildings tilt. Streetlamps fall. The act ends in blackout.

Only one thing remains: the red bandana drops into the girl’s arms.

“In this case… every effort is wasted, every effort to save her for a cruel fate” he says, “Ruz, I am sorry? For your fate but don't cling to that.”

Zuru turns to Jean with wet eyes. “You knew it. Now what—do you end me?”

The city dissolves, the theatre fades. Only the beach remains. Ruz stands beside Zuru.

Jean sits in the sand. “Those corpses were the three men, right?”

Zuru nods.

“Your friend died ten years ago. The deaths now—those were innocent. The manager died a long time ago here on the beach. These three men now were innocent. But you don't know about it. It was a long time ago, and you don't know who to avenge anymore, do you?”

“No—they— You don’t know! They were guilty!!!”

“The Moria horror stories, Zuru… or Tsuru.” He holds her gaze. “You hit everyone tied to show business. You’re rampant. A revenge ghost. That's why you can't remember their faces! But—”

Zuru surges with Ruz. The dog bites Jean’s forearm—Jean only pets his head, then rests his other hand gently on Zuru’s hair.

“I never said you’re wrong,” he says. “You avenged her. Now take a new step. Say goodbye. You did well.”

“Nobody protected her,” Zuru chokes. “Then—nobody!”

“I will,” Jean answers. “Promise.”

Zuru cries. Ruz whines, teeth loosening. They fold into Jean’s chest.

“Why are you so… kind? It doesn’t make sense.”

Jean stares at the slate ocean. “I know how this world feels. The emptiness. The itch for revenge without power. I… vibe with your girlfriend. And with you, Zuru. No—Ruz.”

The dog releases his bite, drops the bandana into Jean’s palm. The heart necklace snaps from Zuru’s neck and clinks against the cloth.

“Give it to her?” she asks.

Jean catches both.

Zuru rises on her toes and kisses his cheek. “Blond beauty… thanks.”

A gigantic wave forms images and washes away the domain.

Jean is back at the ramen stand, arm bleeding through the bandana now tied there with the heart necklace knotted over it.

Joulier slides a bowl across. “Hey—everything okay?”

Jean lifts noodles with the chopsticks, and exhales. “Just doing my job.” He glances at the bandana-banded arm. “Hey, Joulier, want the truth behind the Moria horror stories? It’s a sad one.”

“Tell me, Jean.”

Keiya City | District Starlight | Hospital | Morning

A white door bears a plaque: Tsuru Kokoro.

Inside, a girl lies motionless beneath a blindfold. Skin pale. Bones sharp. Coma stillness.

On the bedside table: a red bandana and a heart necklace.

Her fingers flutter. They find the bandana, the necklace.

A weak whisper.

“...Ruz.”