Showdown

An oni masked man stopped Ryuji.

“I’m here for … Yukikaze.” Ryuji stated and tried to pass.

The man shifted to block him again. Ryuji shoved past him.

He wished he hadn’t looked.

Sayuri-san’s bright orange and red kimono was half-unraveled, nylon rope biting into her wrists and gagging her mouth. She’d been tossed onto the concrete like a forgotten piece of luggage..

Six more red masks stood around her—too many, far too many.

A slender figure sat on a rustic oil barrel beside her, cigarette glowing between their fingers, and a walkie-talkie rested his other hand. Ash smoke danced around his face.

Ryuji scanned the area, no sign of the kidnapper in dark grey jinbei.

He felt the white flower origami shuffle in his pocket. That man must be still close by.

“Hey brat, stop right there.” The oni masked man caught up to him and tried to grab Ryuji’s shoulder.

“Let her go,” Ryuji demanded, voice raw from running. “I’ll take her spot.”

“It’s the rat who squeaked to the Yukihana-ikka bitch.” The lieutenant flicked his cigarette aside and rose to his feet in one fell swoop.

Sayuri-san muffled a cry and twisted toward Ryuji. They’d tied her legs too.

“Don’t worry, she’s not damaged. Yet. Where’s the money?” The lieutenant swaggered over to stand between Sayuri-san and Ryuji.

The lieutenant was about his height and carried a katana on his left hip. The ornate scabbard reflected the night light bouncing off the river.

“I’m not with them.” He answered. “I like to take her spot instead.”

The masked man placed his hand on Ryuji’s shoulder.

The lieutenant looked at his golden watch. “They still got five minutes.”

He flicked his hand, and the men released Ryuji.

He lifted the walkie-talkie. “Report.”

Three voices crackled back.

“Return to the meeting point,” he ordered.

His gaze slid back to Ryuji. “So which one did you take out, team three or team six?”

Ryuji’s stomach tightened. He and Yukiharu-san had taken one each.

Who was the third?

The kidnapper.

“Where’s the man in dark grey jinbei?” He asked back.

The lieutenant’s voice boomed across the concrete. “Brat, I’m the one asking questions. And I’ve got time to kill.”

He unbuckled his watch and handed it off with the walkie-talkie. “Don’t scratch it.”

He lifted his left hand, index and middle fingers together, ready to bind.

Ryuji mirrored, fingers shaking.

Yukiharu-san will come to save Sayuri-san. They had been friends their entire lives. She’d never abandon her like this.

She just needs more time to get here.

Ryuji believed.

At least he didn’t want her to see her friend in such a state. He could release her from the binds.

The silence stretched and both watched each other’s fingertip.

One of the men lit their lighter and sparked both to bind.

Lieutenant went for his sword. There was enough distance for Ryuji to react to defend a blade strike.

The hilt lit up like the lighter spark.

Ryuji hit the ground hard, rolling across the cold concrete.

A streak of fire carved a smoking line where his chest had been a heartbeat earlier. His sleeve smoldered at the edge.

The lieutenant let out a low, pleased hum.

“Well now,” he said, lips curling. “You didn’t die.”

He stepped forward, the tip of his flaming blade lowering like a predator lowering its head.

“Good. I hate it when they fall over on the first swing.”

He waited for Ryuji to stand, dragging the flaming blade across the concrete, leaving scorched black lines in lazy arcs.

“Try to stay alive for at least two minutes.”

Ryuji forced air into his lungs. He had to figure this out before the next strike.

Could his scales block it? Was the flame a physical blade or just a stream?

He glanced at the scorched line on the ground. It was longer than the blade’s current length.

So it could extend.

It could fire.

And right now, it was holding a steady form.

Either the lieutenant needed to charge before firing—or he was feinting.

Like Himura had.

Whatever the case, Ryuji had to redirect the flame. Sayuri was behind him. Her wide eyes reflected the burning edge.

The lieutenant lunged, blade carving another black line.

Ryuji charged straight in, betting the blade had no real form.

The flame vanished. Darkness swallowed the space between them.

The lieutenant pivoted, hilt snapping up for a point‑blank thrust.

The end of the hilt glowed—furnace‑bright—ready to fire straight into Ryuji’s chest.

Ryuji threw out his hand. Four scales snapped into place, forming a pyramid just as the blast erupted.

The flame split into four streams and fanned outward. Both of them froze for a heartbeat, equally startled.

Ryuji used the opening to slip past him—Sayuri was behind him now.

The lieutenant hummed, amused. “Now you can’t dodge.”

Ryuji’s stomach dropped.

He’d messed up.

He needed to reposition.

Or… maybe not.

If Sayuri-san was worth fifty million yen, the lieutenant wouldn’t risk harming her before Yukiharu-san arrived.

The thought twisted his gut.

He hated himself for even thinking it.

He forced his focus back to the blade.

Was the lieutenant stalling to charge up again?

Maybe.

He’d said he was “killing time,” so he’d either wait for the deadline—or until he got bored of Ryuji.

Ryuji straightened his posture, searching for any advantage he could find.

“For an adult, you can’t even strike a high school student with a weapon,” he huffed, trying to bury the tremor in his breath.

The lieutenant scoffed. “The hell did you say, kid? Don’t get too cocky. It will cost you.”

“You’re not terrifying. You know who was? The man in jinbei. He snuck up on me without getting noticed and whisked the girl away. I don’t even think he had a weapon. Just bare hands.”

“That so? A nobody in a jinbei scared you more than me?” Lieutenant took a slow step forward. “I’ll have to fix that.”

“What… with that charging attack again?”

He forced his shoulders back, trying to look steadier than he felt.

“I figured it out. You weren’t expecting me to block it. And I—”

He swallowed.

“You haven’t seen my full power yet.”

A shiver crawled up his spine.

Talking like a manga hero made his skin crawl, but he needed the lieutenant to hesitate.

The lieutenant lunged without a word, following the same line his blade had scorched into the concrete.

Except he didn’t.

He veered right, boots hitting the ramp, using the incline to launch himself upward.

Flashier.

Showier.

Ryuji’s heart hammered — but that made it predictable while airborne.

He braced for the flicker tactic, eyes locked on the flaming blade.

That was his mistake.

The lieutenant dropped out of the air with a kick.

Ryuji’s breath exploded out of him as he slammed into the concrete, the world tilting sideways.

“You focused too hard on the weapon,” the lieutenant murmured.

Sayuri-san screamed through the gag.

He lifted the flaming blade, slow and deliberate, like a man savoring the final stroke.

“Thanks for the entertainment.”

Ryuji braced for the end.

In the end, he wasn't able to save Sayuri or stall time for Yukiharu-san.

Instead of burning flame, a creeping cold slid over his skin. Fog spilled across the underpass, swallowing the concrete in white.

“It’s here.”

The lieutenant kicked Ryuji aside and turned toward the river, blade lowering.

A thin curl of steam slipped from Ryuji’s mouth, and then he heard the rush of water parting somewhere in the fog.

A figure emerged: long hair drifting, white kimono trailing like mist, a blank white mask staring ahead.

She glided along the Sumida River on a disc of ice.

Yukiharu Hanako arrived.

Ryuji believed.