Chapter 3: Saved by the Skin of His Teeth

The Valkyrie remained there, sword in hand, staring at the albino Dual. Her face showed a displeasure impossible to hide.

"Get out of my face!" she said coldly.

"Come on, beautiful, don’t get so serious."

The young woman’s sword hovered in front of his eyes, barely a breath away from his face.

"I’m not interested in jerks. Leave before—"

The roar of approaching new turbines interrupted her.

Shepard smiled.

"Looks like reinforcements are arriving."

Multiple missiles streaked through the air toward the Duals.
Trigger materialized his pistols and smiled confidently.

"Don’t worry, little one, I’ve got everything un—"

But his body began to take its toll.

"Aghhh… not now, weakling… hang in there a little longer!"

Shepard had already withdrawn from the field as the missiles rapidly closed in.

"Tch… what a pathetic loser," the young woman said with a condescending glance.

She flew straight toward the missiles, cutting and deflecting each one with her sword.

"Weak humans!"

But when she deflected the last one, she didn’t notice where she’d sent it.

The projectile was heading straight for Trigger, who barely managed to stay in flight.

"Oh, come on, seriously?" were the last words he managed to say before the impact.

An explosion shook the street.

A cloud of smoke covered the area… and from it, Trigger’s body plummeted, crashing violently against a car with a metallic crash.

The Valkyrie briefly looked at the spot where the young man had fallen. For a moment, she felt a pang of guilt, but she immediately dismissed it and flew toward her attackers, resuming the battle.

On the ground, Trigger—pained and covered in blood—looked at himself in a broken mirror lying nearby.

"Damn… hope this guy has health insurance."

His vision blurred as he watched the Valkyrie disappear among the explosions.

"What a shame… I wasn’t even any help," he muttered before collapsing.

A flash marked the end of his transformation, leaving Hayato unconscious on the pavement.

Then smoke grenades began rolling around him, whistling softly before erupting in a gray cloud.

Moments later, as the smoke cleared, General Shepard arrived at the impact site.

Only collateral damage remained, the smell of gunpowder and scorched metal… but no trace of the Dual.

Shepard observed the area in silence, analyzing every detail, until the voice on his intercom interrupted his thoughts.

"General Shepard, Bravo Team has lost sight of the Dual Valkyrie."

"Delta Team remains down on the ground. Awaiting your orders."

The general gave one last look around.

"Understood, Corporal. Locate your injured comrades and withdraw."

"And send in the cleanup team to repair the material damage. I want this mess under control."

"Yes, sir."

After a brief static sound, the signal cut out.

"That shifting Dual… and that Valkyrie are a threat," he thought, as the visor of his helmet reflected the fire around him.

He ignited the turbines of his suit and rose into the air, leaving the area, while Liberty’s trucks began deploying among the smoldering ruins.

*****************************************************************************

Two weeks after the incident…

"I won’t lose you again…"

"I promise I’ll always be by your side…"

A blurry voice echoed in Hayato’s mind.

"Who said that?" he thought, but all he heard afterward was a sharp, constant beeping, as if something inside his head was vibrating out of control.

Then came other sounds: the hum of machines, the steady rhythm of a monitor marking a stable pulse.

When he finally opened his eyes, a white light made it hard to see clearly. Until his eyes adjusted to the surroundings, he could make out a smooth, cold ceiling.

"W-where am I?" he muttered in a weak voice.

A deep voice resonated in the room, striking his ears like a hammer.

"Finally awake, sleepyhead."

Hayato slowly turned his head, searching for the source of the voice.

Around him, the tubes, the monitor, and the smell of disinfectant confirmed reality: he was in a hospital bed.

"Relax, kid. You’re still not fully okay," said a deep voice, approaching with steady steps.

The sound of the heart monitor began to speed up, betraying his agitation.

"W-who… who are you?" Hayato asked, trembling.

In front of him stood a tall, sturdy man, dressed as if he had just come from the beach. His floral shirt, open to the chest, clashed completely with the sterile hospital environment.

"My name is Kai Ventura," said the man, calmly observing Hayato’s rising heart rate.

With total ease, Kai slowly approached and opened Hayato’s wallet. From his own pocket, he took out a card, looked at it for a second, and smiled.

"This time everything went well, and we managed to rescue you in time. But… who knows next time," he commented, sliding the card into the wallet.

"What do you mean by that?" Hayato asked, trying to sit up.

Kai looked at him with a tired smile.

"Now’s not a good time, kid," he said, pointing at a camera on the ceiling.

"When you’re calmer, you can come by and talk. I left our address in your wallet."

Kai stood, spun on his heels, and began walking away, raising his hand in a casual farewell gesture. He knew perfectly well that Hayato wasn’t in any condition to keep up… nor to fully understand what had just happened.

Hayato’s pulse slowly returned to normal, and after a few minutes, he managed to sit up in bed.

He looked around, confused. He didn’t know how many days had passed since the incident, nor whether any of it had been real… or a very elaborate dream.

Even so, the Valkyrie’s face remained etched in his mind.

"Yeah… she looked like an angel," he muttered, his gaze drifting to the ceiling.

His thoughts immediately returned to the moment when he had felt his body wasn’t his own, when he watched his hands move without control.

"What happened that day…? Was that really me?" he whispered.

Then something caught his attention… a bouquet of fresh flowers on the table next to the bed.

"Flowers? No way. My mom would never do something like this, they must’ve made a mistake," he said with an ironic grimace.

Among the stems, he noticed a small card tied with a red bow. He picked it up carefully and examined it.

His expression turned to pure confusion.

"Huh?”

“I don’t understand anything…" He turned the card over, noticing it was written entirely in English. "Who brought this?"

It made no sense to him; he barely had friends, much less an American one.

"I guess I should’ve paid more attention in English class," he whispered, placing the card back on the table.