The Return

Rei didn’t remember deciding to run — his body simply did.

His feet slapped against the soaked pavement, his breath tearing ragged from his throat.

Behind him, Seiko stumbled out of the destroyed courtyard, wild-eyed and bleeding, and the ruins of the flipped police cars lay like crushed toy metal. Some officers dragged themselves up, others stayed down, and all of them — even injured — were already reaching for their radios.

“This is Unit Seven— freak event—! We need backup! Special Unit, now!”

Their voices rose in panic as Rei sprinted through the school gates.

More sirens.

More engines.

More shouting.

Rei’s heart felt like it had grown too large for his chest, pounding against bone until he could barely breathe. Every new sound fed into the storm inside his skull.

Why didn’t I help him earlier? Why didn’t I stop the bully? Why did I follow Ichi? Why did I run?

He turned a corner and vaulted over a puddle that splashed cold across his shins. His thoughts spiraled faster with each breath.

Behind him, a stumbling footstep followed meaning Seiko was still chasing — wounded, furious, out of control.

Rei didn’t dare look back.

Not yet.

They burst into the open city square — normally filled with vendors, students waiting for buses, office workers passing through. Now, every head snapped toward the sound of police sirens and the sight of a bleeding Freak barreling after a panicked schoolboy.

Screams erupted.

People scrambled. Bags were dropped. Bicycles toppled. A vendor’s steaming cart was knocked over as the crowd fled in every direction.

Rei flinched at every scream, his body jerking like each voice physically struck him.

The fear in the air tangled with something deeper — something already clawing at the base of his skull.

The subway.

The memory slammed into him without warning:

Rain turning to blades.

Kuroe’s blood.

His own heartbeat slowing time.

The masked man.

Rei shook his head, trying to shake the images away. “Not now — come on, not now—!”

A sharp pulse of dread flooded him so suddenly he staggered mid-stride.

Behind him, Seiko stopped as well — panting hard, hunched, his hands pressed to his bleeding side. His eyes were glassy, unfocused.

And the police were catching up.

Half a dozen officers sprinted from between buildings, guns drawn, shouting:

“Suspect in sight!”

“Split left and right, don’t let him escape—!”

“Special Unit is two minutes out, hold position!”

Rain hammered down around them — fast, heavy, cold.

Rei squeezed his eyes shut for one breath.

When he opened them—

The rain slowed.

Droplets fell sluggishly, like they were moving through syrup. The world’s sound softened, muffled under a blanket of pressure.

Rei’s lungs locked.

No. No no no— not again—

Seiko looked up in confusion, blinking as the droplets around him drifted like lazy beads of glass.

The police skidded to a halt, staring upward.

“The hell…? Is this another Freak trick?”

“His power’s atmospheric, right?”

“Everyone, hold your fire.”

Rei stood frozen in the middle of the square, drenched but numb to the cold, staring at his own trembling hands.

He recognized this feeling.

He remembered this feeling.

The moment before the rain stopped.

The moment before—

Everything froze.

Every droplet.

Every streak of water.

A sphere of silent stillness enveloped the square.

One officer whispered, “What… what is this…?”

Then two officers — misreading the situation — lunged at Seiko, tackling him to the ground trying to stop whatever was happening.

And the world snapped.

The frozen droplets did not simply fall.

They shot.

Like tiny darts of pressure.

Like needles of compressed force.

They peppered the two officers in rapid bursts — cutting, piercing, and striking hard enough to send them sprawling back with pained cries, covering their faces as blood ran down from where the droplets managed to cut thru the skin.

Rei gasped and stumbled backward, falling onto the wet stone. The shock of cold water on his palms jolted him, but not enough to move. He stared blankly as the officers groaned, overwhelmed and disoriented.

Seiko didn’t move.

He lay stunned on the ground, eyes wide, as if the world had just betrayed him a second time.

“What… what was… that…?” he whispered.

The rain started to fall as normal again.

For a breath, no one moved.

No one breathed.

Then—

A scream cut through the square.

Not Seiko’s.

Not Rei’s.

Not a civilian.

A police officer — one who had stood farther back — was pointing shakily at something behind Rei.

Rei turned.

A man stood at the far edge of the square.

Long black coat, unbuttoned and billowing faintly.

White mask covering his face — featureless except for a single painted teardrop beneath the left eyehole.

And Rei saw his hair sticking out under what seemed like a hoodie.

Blond, with light-blue tips peeking out from under the hood.

Rei’s stomach dropped.

His vision tunneled.

Him.

The masked rider from before.

He didn’t walk toward Rei at first. He simply stood in an area where the rain stood still, just like himself, untouched by panic, untouched by fear — studying the chaos with eerie stillness.

Then he began moving.

Calmly.

Casually.

As if strolling through fog.

The police faltered.

“W-who the hell is that?”

“Another Freak? Back up! Call Special Unit again!”

“There’s two of them—!”

The masked man reached Seiko first.

The boy flinched, shielding himself instinctively.

The man crouched beside him.

For a long moment, he just stared.

Not with pity.

Not with concern.

With recognition.

Seiko swallowed, trembling. “Y-you… you’re…”

The masked man didn’t answer. Instead, he stood — slowly — and looked toward the cluster of officers aiming weapons his way.

Rei, still on the ground, felt his chest tighten.

The masked man’s presence was not loud.

Was not aggressive.

But the pressure around him felt like a heavy, invisible tide — pushing the air, tilting the atmosphere.

The officers noticed it too.

“Stay back!” one shouted.

“We’re authorized to use lethal force!” another yelled.

“Hands where we can see—!”

The masked man tilted his head.

He didn’t raise his hands.

He didn’t retreat.

He didn’t even seem to acknowledge the weapons pointed at him.

His attention flicked briefly to Rei.

Just a second.

Just long enough to send a shiver down Rei’s spine.

Then the masked man looked back at the officers — giving Seiko one last, unreadable glance before fully facing the eight armed men.

The air thickened.

Wind slithered between the still-falling raindrops.

The masked man’s blond-and-blue hair shifted softly beneath the hood.

Something in the square changed — like the gravity beneath their feet tilted an inch off-center.

One officer swallowed audibly.

“He’s doing something—!”

“Back up! BACK UP!”

But no one moved quickly enough.

The masked man stepped forward.

One step.

Soft.

Unhurried.

Yet even that tiny motion rippled through the air like a tremor.

The eight officers tightened their grips, weapons shaking, fear overtaking protocol.

Rei felt the pressure crawl up his spine.

Seiko, still sitting weakly on the ground, stared upward as if caught between awe and terror.

Rei couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

Only one thought pulsed in his skull, pounding with each heartbeat:

WHy is he here?

And the masked man took another step.