Chapter Start
Kyle sat in silence, eyes fixed on the empty space in front of him.
The echoes of the emergency meeting still rang in his ears.
But now… his mind was somewhere else—
sharper, colder, calculating.
"Who could've done this?"
"Who had access to the Head's office?"
"Who even knew about the strategy files?"
His thoughts raced.
Every name, every face from the academy flashed before his eyes.
Students. Staff. Even allies.
"Someone knew exactly where to strike."
His jaw tightened.
"This wasn't random."
"It was planned… and personal."
A shadow passed through his eyes—
not of fear, but of growing suspicion.
Kyle slowly leaned forward, elbows on his knees,
whispering to himself,
"Who are you…?"
"And how long have you been watching us?"
A storm was building inside him.
And this time, he wouldn't wait to be attacked.
Kyle didn't even realize when sleep had taken over.
One moment he was drowning in thoughts—
the next, silence.
The tension in his body had slowly faded as his head leaned back against the couch.
His eyes, once sharp and searching, had shut under the weight of exhaustion.
The chaos of the day, the betrayal, the doubt—
it all melted into a restless slumber.
But even in sleep…
his fists remained clenched.
And his mind, somewhere deep, still refused to rest.
As if the war wasn't just around him—
…it was inside him too.
In his dream, Kyle found himself standing on the edge of a roaring volcano.
The sky above was crimson, the ground beneath him cracked with heat.
Ash floated through the air like dying snowflakes.
He turned—and there was Shun.
Eyes cold. Expression unreadable.
Before Kyle could say a word,
Shun stepped forward…
And pushed him.
Kyle's body lurched—
falling—
the molten fire below pulling him in like a mouth waiting to consume.
And as he fell, the last thing he saw
was Shun…
silently watching.
No anger.
No regret.
Just… stillness.
Kyle jolted awake, gasping for breath,
his heart pounding like a war drum.
"Again… that dream."
His voice was barely a whisper,
but his mind screamed:
"Why does it feel so real?"
Kyle's breath was still uneven, his skin damp with sweat as he wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.
The dream's echoes were still loud in his mind.
Just then, the door creaked open.
Shun stepped in, completely unaware of Kyle's turmoil, and casually said,
"Kyle, I need a spaghetti recipe. Got any ideas?"
Kyle looked up at him, stunned—
His nightmare still clinging to the edges of his consciousness.
For a moment, he just stared.
And then, a bitter smile crept onto his face.
"Spaghetti, huh?"
He leaned back, running a hand through his hair.
"Sure. I've got a few ideas…"
His voice was calm, but his eyes… still carried the fire of the dream.
Shun raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, his tone half-serious, half-playful.
"Sure, tell me then. And come on, don't just sit here sulking like you're in some tragic movie."
He walked over, grabbed Kyle's wrist lightly, and added with a smirk,
"This place is way too depressing. You need air, and I need spaghetti."
Kyle let out a dry chuckle, finally standing up.
"Fine," he muttered, brushing his shirt.
"But don't complain later if your kitchen turns into a war zone."
Shun laughed.
"You bring the chaos, I'll bring the sauce."
And just like that, the heavy air began to lift—if only for a moment.
As they walked down the corridor, the soft echoes of their footsteps bouncing off the academy walls, Shun suddenly glanced sideways at Kyle.
His voice was casual—too casual.
"Rin told me…"
He paused for a second, then added with a faint smirk,
"That you liked her."
Kyle's pace faltered for a heartbeat.
"And," Shun continued, turning slightly to look him in the eye,
"she said she liked you too."
There was no malice in his tone—just curiosity, and maybe something more hidden beneath the surface. A quiet tension hummed in the air as Kyle kept walking, silent… unsure whether to deny it, accept it, or ignore it altogether.
Kyle's expression turns unreadable.
Without responding to Shun, he quietly slips his hand into the pocket of his trousers and pulls out a small, half-crushed cigarette box.
He opens it, takes one out, and places it between his lips.
The atmosphere suddenly feels heavier.
A soft breeze brushes past them as Kyle looks straight ahead, not lighting the cigarette—just letting it sit there, like a shield between him and the conversation he doesn't want to finish.
Shun watches him silently for a moment, his smirk fading.
The silence says more than words ever could.
Kyle flicks the lighter once—
click... nothing.
He flicks it again, and this time, the flame holds steady.
He leans in, lighting the cigarette slowly. The orange ember glows as he takes a drag, holding the smoke for a second before exhaling—calm on the outside, chaos underneath.
Shun, arms crossed and gaze fixed on Kyle, lets out a quiet sigh.
"So… you're a victim of this too," he says, voice low, not mocking—just honest.
Kyle doesn't respond immediately. He stares at the faint trail of smoke curling upward like his thoughts—lost, aimless, burning.
"We all have our poison, don't we?" he finally mutters, almost to himself.
Kyle holds the cigarette between his fingers, then taps the box lightly before offering it toward Shun.
His eyes don't carry any challenge—just a strange, tired calm.
"Do you want one?" Kyle asks quietly.
Shun looks at the box, then at Kyle.
There's a pause—a moment suspended in silence.
"…Nah," Shun replies, a slight smirk on his face. "Mujhe abhi zinda rehna hai."
Kyle chuckles under his breath, not because it was funny—
—but because it was the only thing left to do.
Both of them begin walking toward the kitchen again.
Kyle takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling in the air as he exhales.
Without looking at Shun, he says in a low voice:
"I used to… but now, maybe Rin doesn't feel the same anymore."
"Because of the way I've been acting."
Shun glances at him—
There's no judgment in his eyes, just quiet understanding.
The hallway is silent except for the soft hum of distant academy lights and the faint sound of Kyle's footsteps echoing beside his own.
Ringtone rings.
The sharp sound cuts through the silence.
Kyle pulls out his phone, glances at the screen—
Jason.
He sighs, takes one last drag from the cigarette, and crushes it under his heel.
"It's Jason," he mutters to Shun,
then swipes to answer.
"Yeah?"
His voice is firm, but his eyes show a flicker of unease.
Something about Jason calling at this hour never felt casual.
"Okay, Jason. I'm coming," Kyle says, ending the call with a sharp swipe.
He turns to Shun, a serious glint in his eyes.
"Come with me."
"Now I've got something for you to do."
His tone shifts—less like a friend, more like a leader.
The cigarette haze still lingers in the air as both of them begin walking, the weight of something big silently building between their steps.
Kyle flicks the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his boot without a second glance.
The atmosphere thickens.
Without a word, he turns and begins walking toward his room—Shun following silently, sensing the shift.
Once inside, Kyle drops to one knee and unzips a hidden compartment in his travel bag.
The soft sound of metal clinking fills the room as he pulls out a sleek Magnum revolver.
His hands move with practiced precision—loading each bullet calmly, coldly.
"This isn't just a favour, Shun," Kyle says without looking up.
"It's a warning. What's coming… we might not walk out of it the same."
He clicks the cylinder shut.
The finality of that sound echoes louder than any words.
As Kyle tightens the grip on his loaded Magnum, preparing to stand,
Shun's eyes wander into the bag—
—and freeze on something tucked beneath the extra magazines.
A slightly crumpled photograph, edges worn with time.
He picks it up gently.
"Hey… who are these people?" Shun asks, his voice unusually soft.
Kyle turns his head, and for a moment—just a moment—his cold exterior cracks.
His eyes fall on the photo.
A younger version of Kyle stands between a smiling woman with kind eyes and a stern-looking man, their hands resting on his shoulders. A little girl, maybe six or seven, clutches his arm.
Kyle looks away.
"My family," he says after a pause, almost like the words hurt.
"That was... before everything went wrong."
He doesn't elaborate.
Shun senses the weight but chooses not to press further.
He slowly folds the photo back, placing it beside the weapon, as if both hold equal meaning now.
One reminds Kyle who he was.
The other, what he's become.
Shun pauses for a second, watching Kyle's expression—
the way his jaw tightens…
the way his eyes avoid the photo like it holds a ghost.
Still, he speaks—quietly, but firmly.
"What happened, Kyle?"
The air grows heavier.
Kyle doesn't answer immediately. He exhales through his nose, almost like he's trying to decide whether to bury it again or finally let it out.
He walks a few steps away, his back now facing Shun.
Then, his voice comes—low, rough, tired.
"They're gone."
A beat of silence.
"My father… he worked for the military. Something secret. Something dangerous. One night, men broke into our home—looking for him."
"They didn't find him… so they punished what they did find."
Shun's breath catches slightly.
Kyle continues.
"I was the only one who made it out alive."
"I've been running from that night ever since."
He turns around, eyes darker now—not with tears, but with something far heavier.
"That's why I don't have time for 'love' or 'peace', Shun."
"People close to me die."
He walks past Shun, picks up the Magnum, and snaps it shut.
"That's all the explanation you'll ever need."
In the silence of the room, Kyle tells Shun his father's name.
He says, "Furube Orion."
Shun freezes, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"Wait… Furube Orion… he was your father?"
His voice trembles slightly—like the weight of that name just shifted his entire understanding of Kyle.
Kyle furrows his brow slightly, sensing the shift.
"What is it?" he asks.
Shun, still processing, replies slowly—his voice a mix of surprise and buried memories.
"He… he helped my father too. In several operations… secret ones."
Shun looks down for a moment, then back at Kyle.
"I never met him, but I've heard the name. My dad spoke of him with… respect."
Shun raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk trying to cover the curiosity in his eyes.
"So… where exactly are you taking us, Kyle?" he asks, his tone casual, but his gaze sharp—he knows Kyle doesn't do anything without a reason.
Kyle doesn't look up as he snaps the Magnum shut, the cold click echoing through the room. He slides the weapon into his side holster, his expression unreadable.
"There's been a report," Kyle says finally, his voice steady but edged with urgency.
"A case came in not long ago. Unusual activity. No details yet—just enough to know it's serious."
He grabs his jacket, throwing it over his shoulder, then looks back at Shun with the slightest hint of a grin.
"We're not just going for a walk, Shun."
"We're going to dig for answers."
Then, saying nothing more, the two of them leave the academy and head toward Tokyo.
No words—just the sound of their footsteps echoing down the corridor…
Kyle walking a step ahead, focused and silent.
Shun following, eyes narrowing slightly, already sensing this won't be just another routine mission.
The academy gates close behind them as the city lights of Tokyo await—
unaware of the storm that's about to arrive.
Two hours later, they arrive in Tokyo.
The city is buzzing—neon lights flickering, streets alive with the hum of late-night traffic and distant chatter.
But Kyle and Shun move through it with purpose, not stopping to admire the sights.
Their car slows near a quiet alleyway in one of the older districts.
Kyle kills the engine, steps out, and adjusts the cuffs of his coat.
Shun looks around, a bit confused.
"This doesn't look like an investigation site," he mutters.
Kyle, not breaking stride, replies coldly—
"That's because the real trail doesn't begin on paper."
He disappears into the shadows of the alley, and Shun follows without another word.
Then, the two of them reach the edge of a forest—
Dark, dense, and unnervingly quiet.
As they walk deeper, the distant flicker of red and blue lights begins to pierce through the trees.
They reach a clearing… and what they see stops them in their tracks.
Yellow police banners flutter in the wind, marking the area as restricted.
A small, isolated house stands ahead—
or rather, what's left of it.
Flames still flicker weakly from the charred roof. Smoke rises into the night sky, and the air smells of burnt wood and something far more sinister.
Shun stares at the scene, stunned.
"What the hell happened here?"
Kyle narrows his eyes, scanning everything.
"This isn't just arson…"
He steps under the banner, ignoring the warnings, and mutters—
"Something's wrong. Very wrong."
The two of them glance at each other—no words, just a silent agreement.
Then, without hesitation, Kyle pushes the police banner aside, snapping it as he steps through. Shun follows right behind.
Their footsteps crunch against burnt debris as they make their way into the scorched remains of the house.
Walls are blackened with soot.
The air is thick and choking.
Furniture lies broken and twisted, like it had been thrown around by something unnatural.
Kyle kneels near a corner where the fire didn't completely destroy the floorboards.
He brushes away the ash carefully.
"There's no sign of accelerant…" he mutters.
"This wasn't a normal fire."
Shun walks over to the walls and notices strange markings barely visible beneath the burn—like symbols etched in a hurry.
He calls out, "Kyle… you might wanna see this."
Kyle stands and walks over, eyes narrowing.
"This was a message."
Shun swallows. "From who?"
Kyle's voice drops, cold and certain:
"The same thing I saw at the fair."
Shun's face goes pale.
"The shadow?"
Kyle nods once.
"They're back."
Suddenly, Kyle's phone screen lights up — a notification appears.
He quickly pulls out his phone and checks the screen —
"Anonymous Source: You're not ready for what's coming. Stay away from the truth."
Attached below is a blurred image —
It shows a masked figure standing on the edge of a building rooftop. Behind him, there's a faint wave of shadowy flames, the same kind seen during the fire incident.
Kyle's expression turns serious. His eyes stay locked on the screen.
Shun asks softly,
"What happened? Who's it from?"
Kyle turns the screen toward him.
"It's... a warning."
"And whoever sent it... they want us to back off."
Just moments later, another message arrives from the same anonymous number.
Kyle's heart skips a beat.
He quickly taps to download the image—
The screen flashes... and then the photo loads.
His eyes widen.
It's Rin.
She's tied to a chair, her arms restrained, her head lowered. The background is dim and unclear — but her condition looks rough.
Across the image, in bold, threatening text, it reads:
"Do you still want her now?"
Kyle's hand tightens around the phone.
Shun, sensing the tension, steps closer and asks,
"What is it…? What did they send now?"
But Kyle doesn't answer right away —
His jaw clenches.
His breathing grows heavier.
The fire in his eyes is back.
And this time,
he's ready to burn the world down.