Cold Interference: Tag Out, Mosa Saint!

The battlefield was still.

Trees stood broken across the clearing. Some were split clean down the middle, edges smooth like they’d been cut by something impossibly sharp. Others were worse. Crushed inward like something had grabbed them and folded them over themselves.

The ground told the rest of the story.

Deep impact marks. Long drag lines. Scattered debris. Snow pushed aside in rough streaks where bodies had been thrown, slammed, or skidded across the surface. The air itself felt heavy. Like it remembered what just happened. Tatsuchi stood in the middle of it.

Barely.

Her legs shook under her. Not violently. Just enough to remind her that they weren’t going to hold much longer. Her breathing came uneven, shallow, like her body wasn’t sure if it wanted to keep going. Her fingers tightened weakly around her blade.

But she didn’t let go.

Not yet.

Not while they were still here.

Across from her, Brass exhaled through his nose. “Mosa, fucking, Saint,” he said. “What the hell did I tell you about interrupting me?” There was no wound in his chest. No blood. No tear in his clothes. But something had happened.

The space where Mosa’s kunai had struck him looked off. Like the air hadn’t settled back into place yet. Like reality itself had been pushed out of alignment for a second and hadn’t fully corrected. Mosa stood between them, her back to Tatsuchi. Her posture was straight.

“You took too long,” she said. Her voice was flat. Brass rolled his shoulder once, more out of habit than anything else. “I was handling it.” “You were dragging it out.” 

“I was enjoying myself.”

“You always say that.”

He clicked his tongue.

“Because it’s always true.”

Silence settled for a moment. Then Brass tilted his head slightly. “You remember the last time you did this?” he said. “Jumped in without saying anything?”

Mosa didn’t answer.

Brass let out a short breath through his nose. “Dr. Graves was about two seconds away from plucking your eyes out because you didn’t explain yourself.”

Her shoulders shifted just a little. A breath left her, quieter this time. “…You’re still talking about that?” she muttered. Brass smirked. “Yeah. Because it happened.” 

“You didn’t die.” 

“That’s not the point.” She turned her head now, just enough for him to catch the edge of her expression. Annoyed. Not cold anymore. Brass let out a quiet laugh. “You sound just like him now.” Mosa didn’t react to that. At least, not how he expected.

Instead, she clicked her tongue and turned fully toward him, arms folding across her chest. “You always do this,” she said. “You drag fights out until something goes wrong.” Brass laughs. “And you jump in like you know everything,” He shot back. “I do.”

“There it is!”

“You’re impossible, you know that?;”

“And you’re annoying!”

“Do you want me to leave next time?”

“No.”

“…Exactly.”

A pause.

Then she sighed, like she’d had this argument too many times already. “Anyway, the boss wants you back.” Brass blinked.

“…Now?”

“Yes.”

“For what?”

Mosa didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached into her sleeve and pulled something out. A folded sheet of paper. Brass stared at it. He had kept copies of papers he received in order to stay neat. And somehow Mosa had gotten the copy of his contract.

His expression shifted. “Read it.” He stepped forward and took it from her and unfolded it. At first, it looked normal. Clean writing. Official formatting. The kind of document he’d seen dozens of times before.

Then the ink moved.

His eyes sharpened. The letters twisted as if they were alive. Black ink bled outward across the page in thin, branching lines. The words stretched, warped, collapsing in on themselves until they stopped looking like language entirely.

The paper darkened.

The ink thickened and turned blood red.

And then, a face formed.

A jester.

Its grin stretched too wide. Its eyes hollow. Its mouth opened slowly, wider and wider, like it was laughing without sound. Brass didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Then, without a word, he raised his revolver.

Fired.

The shot tore through the paper. But it didn’t rip. It didn’t burn. It just… came apart. The entire sheet collapsed into fine black dust that scattered into the air and vanished before it even touched the ground. Silence followed. Mosa watched him carefully. Then she took a small step back. “Say it,” she said. Her head was down but her eyes were looking straight at him. Brass lowered his arm slowly. His expression had changed. No smirk. No amusement. Nothing. “That…” he said quietly, almost under his breath. "wasn’t from him.”

Mosa nodded once. She already knew. Brass leaned slightly closer to her, just enough that his voice wouldn’t carry. “…We’ve got a problem,” he murmured. Her eyes didn’t move, but she heard it. Behind them, Tatsuchi’s breathing was uneven. Her vision swam. The edges of her sight blurred, darkened, but she forced her eyes to stay open.

Forced herself to focus. Their mouths moved. She couldn’t hear everything. The ringing in her ears drowned most of it out. But she could read enough. One word stood out.

“Traitor.”

Her fingers twitched against the snow. Brass exhaled slowly. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.” For once, there was no playfulness in his voice. Just annoyance.

Mosa turned slightly away. “We’re done here.” Brass glanced past her. Tatsuchi was still standing. Still holding her weapon. Still trying to move toward them. Even now. Then his eyes shifted. Itaka. Unconscious.

Her jaw was shattered, blood drooling from her mouth and staining the snow beneath her. Brass sighed.n“…Yeah. Guess we are.” He stepped back. Mosa lifted her kunai again. But this time, she didn’t strike anything.

Instead, she dragged the blade slowly through the air in front of her. And the world split. Like fabric being cut clean down the middle. The space in front of them peeled open, revealing something that didn’t belong. Just a shifting void where reality didn’t line up correctly. Mosa stepped forward without hesitation.

Brass followed. Then stopped. He turned his head slightly and looked back at Tatsuchi. “You’re interesting,” he said. His tone had lightened again. But there was something underneath it now. Something real. “I was holding back, you know.” Tatsuchi’s lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

Behind her, Itaka awoke, still barely conscious, let out a weak, breathless sound that might’ve been a laugh.

“…Liar…”

Brass smiled.

“Not. Even. A little.”

He tapped his chest lightly. “Do you seriously think this is everything I’ve got?” He shook his head, laughing under his breath. “No, no, no… it was starting to strain my soul, honestly.” Neither of them believed him. He could see it. And it made his grin widen.n“Work harder next time.” His voice dropped. “I’m starving.” The air grew heavier.

“There are more like you out there,” he continued. “Kids blessed by the Ten Fates.” His eyes locked onto Tatsuchi. “And the hunger?” he said, tapping his temple. “It grows in you too. Same as us.”

Another pause.

Long enough to settle. “You’re not there yet.” He took a step backward. “Not damn close.” He stopped one last time to look at her properly. “…Let’s meet again.” A faint smile.

“In His Majesty’s new world.”

Then he turned. And walked through. The tear sealed behind them instantly. Like it had never been there. The forest went quiet. Tatsuchi stood there for one more second. Then her grip gave out. The blade slipped from her hand.

Her knees buckled.

And everything went dark.

The last thing she saw.

Movement.

Footsteps cutting through the snow.

A flag.

The Tomidoru have finally arrived. 

It went all black

                            …

The eighth month of the two thousand and nineteenth year since the beginning. August 29th within the Year of Valor. The first of the 10-year cycle.

12:54 PM.

The room was quiet.

Soft light filtered through red-stained glass windows, painting the walls in muted shades of crimson and gold. The air smelled faintly of medicine. And something sweeter beneath it.

Flowers.

Pale rosebuds sat in a vase beside the bed unbloomed. Tatsuchi’s eyes snapped open. She gasped. Air rushed into her lungs too fast. Too sharp. Her chest tightened as she tried to breathe again. Everything felt heavy. Like she had been gone too long.

“…Where…”

Her voice cracked. She looked around at the walls, ceiling, and lights. None of it familiar. Her heart started to race. She tried to push herself up.

Pain.

Her body locked. “…What…?” The door slid open. Zhenyu stepped in. Slower than usual. A cane in his right hand. He stopped the moment he saw her. “…You’re awake.” Tatsuchi stared at him.

“…Zhenyu?”

“What… happened?”

He walked closer carefully. “A lot,” he said. “But you’re safe.” “No,” she said, shaking her head weakly. “Where are we?” “The Tomidoru residential nursing hall.” That didn’t help.

“How long…?” He hesitated. “…Three months.”

Silence.

“…What?” “Three months and twelve days.” Her eyes widened. “That’s not-” She tried to sit up. Zhenyu moved immediately, grabbing her shoulder. “Don’t!”

“I need to-”

“You really don’t.”

She glared at him. “Why?” He looked away. “…You’re not wearing anything under the blanket.” She froze. Then her face went red instantly. “What?!”

She yanked the blanket up to her neck.

“Why in the name of all Ten Fates am I naked?!” Zhenyu turned his head back to her “Medical reasons,” he said quickly. “Relax.” “That doesn’t explain anything!” “They had to treat your body directly.” “That still doesn’t-” He pointed.

“Also that.” She stopped. “…What?”

“Your chest.”

Slowly, she looked down. At first, she saw nothing. Then she felt it. Something was there. Her stomach dropped. “…What is that?” Zhenyu didn’t react. “We don’t know.” Her breathing slowed. “…Great.” Her hand moved to her hair.

Paused.

She pulled a strand forward. It was white. Not all of it.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Zhenyu laughed, "You're starting to look more like your mother!" Outside, a murder of crows flew past the window. All at once. Wings cutting through the air.

Then-

Pain.

Tatsuchi froze.

Her hand shot to her throat. Her eyes widened. It felt real. Like something had cut clean through her neck. She could feel it. The pressure. The warmth. The blo-

Blood? There wasn't any. There was nothing there. Her hands came away clean. Still, she choked. Her body reacted like it was real. “…What… is…” Zhenyu stepped forward. “Tatsuchi?!” The pain vanished. Just like that. But the shock stayed. Her body went limp. And she collapsed back onto the bed.

Unconscious.

Zhenyu tightened his grip on his cane. “…Get a doctor!”

                                 …

One day later. Tatsuchi woke up slower this time. No panic. Just exhaustion. “I can’t move.” “Yeah,” Zhenyu said. “That’s expected.” Tatsuchi nodded in agreement “Probably won't so for maybe a week. Maybe more.”

“You’re probably right.”

Zhenyu didn’t say anything after that. For a moment, he just stood there, looking at her like he was deciding how much to tell her right now.

Tatsuchi noticed. “…What?” she asked, her voice quieter this time. “There’s more, isn’t there?” Zhenyu let out a slow breath through his nose. “…Yeah,” he admitted. “There is.”

She didn’t like the way he said that. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Then say it.” He hesitated again, but only for a second. “…It wasn’t just you who got hit hard out there.”

Tatsuchi’s grip on the blanket tightened just a little. “What do you mean?” Zhenyu glanced away for a moment before answering. “Asumi… lost an eye.”

A chill ran through her chest. Her mind froze for a second, trying to process it. “…What?” “Her left eye,” he said, keeping his voice even. “They couldn’t save it.”

Tatsuchi didn’t respond immediately. Her expression didn’t change much, but something in her eyes shifted, like the weight of that finally landed. “…She’s still alive, right?” she asked. Zhenyu looked back at her. “…Yeah. She’s alive.”

A tense pause stretched between them. “…But she’s not the same,” he added quietly. Tatsuchi exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening on the blanket. “…And you?” she asked. “You’re walking around with a cane now. Don’t tell me that’s nothing.”

Zhenyu let out a quiet, almost dry laugh. “Yeah. I wish it was nothing.” He lifted the cane slightly, then set it back down. “Major concussion,” he said. “It was bad enough that it messed with my Zyn.” Tatsuchi frowned. “Messed with it, how?”

He tapped the side of his head lightly. “It’s unstable now. I can still use it, but not like before. Anything beyond basic Nero starts to slip.” He paused for a moment, then added bluntly, “If I push it too far, it just… doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to. And what a technique as advanced as antigravity. It's probably not a good idea to push it when I'm not in full control.”

Tatsuchi stared at him. That wasn’t something you just “worked through.” “…So you’re basically handicapped right now,” she said. Zhenyu gave a small shrug. “Temporarily. Probably.” “You don’t sound convinced.” 

“I’m not.”

A quiet hung over them, only broken by the soft rustle of the blanket as Tatsuchi adjusted it. “…And Itaka?” she asked.

Zhenyu’s expression shifted just a little. “She hasn’t woken up yet,” he said. “Doctors say she will. They’re just not sure when.” That didn’t help. Tatsuchi exhaled slowly, pressing her fingers against her lips. “…Anyone else?”

Zhenyu shook his head. “No one else took damage like that,” he said. “Tomidoru forces got there fast enough to keep it from getting worse.” He paused for a second. “But we didn’t walk away clean either.”

That was the truth of it. Tatsuchi leaned back against the bed slightly, her body still too heavy to really move. Three months. Asumi lost an eye. Zhenyu is barely able to use his Zyn. Itaka is still unconscious.

Her eyes lowered, unfocused for a second as everything settled into place. “…Yeah,” she muttered under her breath. The door slid open quietly. Zhenyu stepped aside and gestured toward her. “…Try to sit up slowly.”

The room was still, the soft hum of the hallways outside the only sound. Tatsuchi’s limbs ached, and her muscles screamed in protest as she shifted, the weight of months of unconsciousness pressing down on her.

The soft light from the red-stained glass windows fell across her bed, casting pale crimson and gold across the white sheets. The pale rosebuds next to her, still tightly closed, seemed to shimmer in the light. Her fingers itched to touch them.

Zhenyu didn’t take his eyes off her. His hair, shaved tightly on both sides to allow doctors to operate on his severe concussion, fell in messy black hair, like a mix between braided locks and a low cut fade. The brown skin on his arms bore long scars from frostbite, zig-zagging across his forearms like reminders of the brutal winter they had survived.

“…Why do you look like that?” Tatsuchi asked quietly, gesturing toward his hair. He smirked faintly. “Surgery required it. Kind of hard to operate on the brain when there's nappy braided hair in the way.” She blinked, then glanced at his arms. “Your arms?”

He flexed them slightly. “Frostbite didn’t do me any favors. These scars will never really go away.” Her chest tightened. She had barely stood a chance out there, and now she saw what it had cost them all. “…And you still came back,” she muttered.

“…Yeah,” he said softly. “We all did, somehow.” The soft murmur of the hall outside faded into nothing as he crouched beside the bed. “Tatsuchi… don’t push yourself yet. You need to heal first.”

She shook her head. “I can’t just… lie here. There’s too much to do.” “Three months out of commission isn’t nothing,” Zhenyu said. His voice was quiet but firm. “You’ve been through hell, and your body knows it. Don’t make it worse.”

A heavy pause settled over them. Zhenyu’s eyes followed hers. “…Take it slow,” he said quietly, gripping the cane tightly. “You’re back, that’s what matters. That’s all that matters right now.”

Her fingers lingered on the rosebud, feeling the pulse of life in the delicate petals. “…Okay,” she said softly. “…I understand.”

The quiet hung again, but this time it was different. Comfortable, almost peaceful, as Tatsuchi let herself sink back into the bed. For the first time in a long while, she felt… grounded.

Zhenyu shifted slightly, then added, “…We’ll figure the rest out. All of it. All of us. Together.” Tatsuchi nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving the roses. “…Yeah,” she whispered again. “Together.”

There is a pause before Tatsuchi spoke again.

“We’re going to Hades Vault.”

“…You just woke up.”

“I know.”

“And you can’t move.”

“I know.”

“…And you still want to go?”

“Yes.”

He stared at her.

Then sighed.

“…You haven’t changed.” Before he could say anything else, the door opened. The room shifted. Not physically. But the air changed. Second in command of the Tomidoru clan, the wife of Loki, Lady Signa Tomidoru stepped in.

Fifteen guards followed behind her. Every step felt measured. She stopped beside the bed. “You’re fortunate to be alive.” Her voice was calm. But not gentle. “Your injuries were severe.” She glanced toward the other bed. Itaka. Still unconscious. “…If she doesn’t wake up soon, this will become a problem.” “…What kind of problem?” Tatsuchi asked.

“The kind that starts wars.”

“Other clans will assume you led her into a disadvantage.” She continued “They will believe you planned it.” Tatsuchi didn’t react. But her grip tightened. “There are already rumors,” Signa continued. “Every major clan is dealing with the same issue.”

“…A mole.”

Signa didn’t deny it. “I will personally escort your vice captain to Hades Vault.” A pause. “And only him.” Tatsuchi lowered her head. “…Understood.” Signa turned to leave.

Then paused. 

“…Your parents must care for you deeply.” Tatsuchi blinked. “…What?”

“Pale roses are not in season. Make sure to give Yuta and Kiyoko my warm regards next time you see them.” Then she left. Along with everyone else in the room.

Silence returned.

Tatsuchi stared at the flowers. “…They came all the way out here…?” Her chest tightened. “…Did they really…” She reached out to touch one. As soon as she did, they bloomed. One by one. Right in front of her. Her breath caught.  “…They really did…” A small smile formed. 

Outside the window, someone had been sitting there the entire time.

A boy, her age, leaned back against the stone ledge. Black hair slicked back, broken up by streaks of white that stood out even in the dim light. His posture was relaxed, like he didn’t feel any pressure to move or hide.

His outfit was simple but strange at the same time. A black and white toga-like kimono hung loosely around him, tied with an obi belt. Two black sickle-shaped daggers rested at his sides, one on each side of his waist.

His left arm was exposed, wrapped in black crow feather tattoos that ran all the way down. He looked like he had been there for a while. His eyes were closed. At a glance, he looked asleep. Inside the room, Tatsuchi picked up one of the roses and brought it closer, breathing in the scent. The small smile on her face didn’t fade.

She had no idea he was there. Then his phone buzzed. The sound was enough to wake him instantly. His eyes opened without hesitation, revealing the same shade of purple as hers. He didn’t react much. Just pulled the phone out, glanced at it for a second, and answered. “…Yeah.” His voice was quiet and flat.

On the other end, someone responded right away. “So? That trip to the Harpyra desert actually worth it, or did you just waste your time again?” He didn’t answer. His gaze stayed forward, unfocused. The voice clicked their tongue. “Man, I don’t get how you’re so popular with girls when you don’t even talk.”

Still nothing.

He shifted slightly, resting more of his weight against the window frame. Inside, Tatsuchi turned the rose in her fingers, watching the way the petals caught the light. The voice continued.

“Anyway, change of plans. You need to get back to headquarters.”

A short pause.

“Brass is in serious trouble right now. Like… bad.” That got a reaction. His eyes moved a little. “If you can believe it,” the voice added.

Another pause.

“And stop hovering around your sister like that. It’s weird.” He finally spoke. “…I’m not hovering.”

“…That’s not the point.”

The guy on the other end laughed under his breath. “Yeah, sure.” There was a shift in tone after that. “Just get back here, Ichirou Kuroainaru.” The name hung there for a second. Ichirou didn’t respond right away. His gaze moved through the glass.

Tatsuchi was still there, sitting up in bed with the blanket pulled up to her neck, holding one of the roses like it was something fragile.

She looked calm.

Like nothing had happened.

Ichirou watched her quietly. “…Just wait till I get there, Harley Graves.” The reaction on the other end was instant.

“Oi. Don’t call me that.” Ichirou didn’t reply. “You sound like my dad when you say my full name. It’s weird.”

No response but a sigh came through the phone. “Just hurry up. Have Mosa pick you up. He Jin Ten’i ability is extremely useful for this shit."

The call ended.

Ichirou lowered the phone and slipped it back into his sleeve. For a moment, he didn’t move. He just stood there. Tatsuchi adjusted the blanket around herself and set the rose back down with the others. That small smile was still there.

Ichirou’s hand lifted slightly. His fingers pressed lightly against his neck. There was a slit scar on the nape of his throat. Ichirou turned without a word and stepped away from the window. Inside the room, Tatsuchi sat quietly with the roses, completely unaware.

                                  …

Signa led Zhenyu through the club with a measured stride. The thrum of music and chatter rolled around them. The smell of alcohol and smoke was heavy in the air. People danced, laughed, and drank, oblivious to the quiet passage of the two of them.

Zhenyu kept his gaze forward, silent. Every sense was alert. He noted the subtle shifts in the crowd, who noticed, who did not, but no one interfered. That was the kind of respect or fear that the Tomidoru commanded.

Signa paused at a nondescript door near the back of the building. Two guards stood like statues, their posture perfect, weapons resting at their sides. She waved them aside.

"This way," she said softly, stepping into the corridor. The walls narrowed, lights dimmed, and the sounds of the club faded behind them. They walked in silence for what felt like hours. The corridor sloped downward, the air growing cooler with each step. Finally, after roughly thirty minutes, they arrived at a massive set of reinforced doors.

Signa pressed her palm against a reader on the wall. The doors clicked, then slowly swung open. The space beyond swallowed the light from the corridor.

Zhenyu stepped forward, his eyes widening slightly. Hades Vault stretched before them like a fortress carved into stone. Towering ceilings, pillars etched with runes, and corridors that seemed endless. It felt less like a vault and more like a castle buried underground.

Signa turned to him. "What do you need to know?" Zhenyu raised two fingers. "Two things."

“First,” he said quietly, “ we need to know where a man named Forest Kyōga is."

A guard cracked his knuckles as he started typing on a computer that took up an entire wall. He look like he had been waiting for this moment for his entire life.

“The second,” Zhenyu continued "I personally need information regarding the remaining Mori clan members, if any are left."

Signa’s lips pressed together. For a heartbeat, her composure slipped. The name Mori drew a shadow over her features, but she recovered quickly. "You’ll get your answers," she said finally. "But it will change you."

They moved deeper into the vault. The air was colder now, heavier. Guards passed them silently, eyes sharp. Mechanisms clicked behind walls, seals hummed, and the scent of iron and stone clung to everything.

After winding halls and staircases, they reached a room that glimmered with the faint reflection of countless protective wards. Beyond it lay the heart of Hades Vault.

Signa’s voice was steady, but the weight of her words pressed on the space between them. "Forest Kyōga and the last full-blooded Mori are both currently located on the ninth floor of the Hollow Maw."

Zhenyu’s gaze sharpened. "The Hollow Maw?" She nodded, expression grave. "It is a prison buried beneath the remains of a Titan in the Land of the Demons, Makagiri. Dangerous does not even begin to cover it." A rush of fear seemed to overcome her face. “Not even the Ten Fates themselves would want to dread down there…”

Zhenyu’s fingers flexed around the hilt of his cane. "I'm guessing they are the same person." Signa’s eyes widened just slightly. 

"Yes."

The words hung in the air. Two names, one identity, and a presence that had shaped far more than anyone in the vault realized. Somewhere beyond, the last Mori waited. And for the first time in a long while, he understood the magnitude of what he was about to face.

The doors loomed before them, cold and unyielding. Silence stretched across the vault, broken only by the distant hum of the wards.. The name of his soul surviving family (with the exception of his father, of course.):

Kyosuke Mori.