By the time Itsumi turned fifteen, his name had become synonymous with fear. Wanted posters littered every nation, governments placed unimaginable bounties on his head. Some believed he was a deranged ex-soldier. Others thought he was an advanced machine. There were even whispers that he was a failed experiment—something far beyond human comprehension.
But the truth?
He was only a boy.
A boy who had everything taken from him. A boy who no longer remembered what love or warmth felt like.
A new mission arrived. Routine. Axios gave it to him directly, as always.
Sitting across from Itsumi, Axios spoke as if reading a grocery list. "The Faeton siblings. Dangerous Proxys. They're working with tech no one should have. No records, no licensing. Untraceable systems."
He slid a map across the table. "This is where they operate. A small shop, nothing fancy. But don't let that fool you. They're a threat."
Axios leaned in slightly. "Ghost, I trust you. You're the only one I trust. You know the rules. Eliminate both targets. No witnesses."
Itsumi remained still.
Axios smirked. "You've never let me down."
That night, Itsumi laid low on a rooftop overlooking the Faeton shop. His sniper rifle was already in place, customized with distortion mods—bullets would twist mid-air, impossible to trace.
Through the scope, he saw the brother—white hair, light clothing, worn-out sneakers. Definitely the older one.
But as the boy turned to enter the shop, the sister rushed out.
"Wait for me, idiot!" she shouted, laughing.
He laughed too. "You're always late."
She hugged him tightly. "You still love me though, right?"
"Unfortunately," he said with a grin.
Itsumi's finger tightened on the trigger. Then… stopped.
That moment—their embrace, their laughter—it pierced something buried deep inside.
A memory.
Warmth. A fireplace. His mother, Kitzuo, smiling. His younger siblings. Their voices.
"Itsumi…" his mother said gently. "You don't have to do this anymore."
"You can stop," said a voice behind her.
"You deserve to live," another echoed.
He tried to speak—but nothing came out.
The vision melted away.
Back on the rooftop, the siblings were still there. Laughing. Holding each other.
Itsumi slowly lowered the rifle.
A long silence passed.
Then he snapped it in half over his knee.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a surgical knife. Without hesitation, he stabbed into the side of his neck and pulled out a small tracker—his only leash to Axios. Blood trickled down his collar.
He let it fall to the ground.
The city buzzed around him as he walked through the night, his black coat fluttering behind him, white hair damp from sweat and rain.
He searched for a way out.
And found it.
A food stall, lit with warm lights. Zhu Yuan. Qingyi. Seth Lowell. All three casually eating burgers under the flickering streetlamps.
"You seriously think Ghost is a person?" Qingyi asked, chewing. "Could just be an AI gone rogue."
Seth scoffed. "He's real. And he's fast. Like, not human fast."
Zhu stayed quiet, scanning the area as she ate.
Itsumi stepped into view.
He raised his pistol.
One shot—deliberately wide—slammed into the wall behind them.
The group jumped to their feet.
Zhu's eyes locked on him instantly. A boy. Black coat. White hair.
"…It's him," she whispered. "Ghost."
Itsumi dropped the gun.
Then slowly, without a word, he raised his arms.
Qingyi drew her weapon. "He's surrendering?"
"No sudden moves," Seth warned.
Zhu stepped forward, cautiously, cuffs in hand.
"On your knees," she ordered.
Itsumi knelt.
Zhu approached. "You know who I am?"
He didn't respond.
"You're just a kid," she muttered, grabbing his arms and locking the cuffs. "Just a damn kid…"
Still no answer.
Zhu looked into his eyes. Cold. Hollow.
"Why now?" she asked. "Why surrender?"
"…Tired," Itsumi said, barely above a whisper.
Zhu stared at him.
"…You're done?"
He nodded once.
She exhaled slowly. "Alright. Let's get you out of here."
She walked him to the vehicle, not roughly, but firmly. He never resisted.
Seth glanced over his shoulder. "Was that really him?"
Qingyi nodded. "Yeah… that was Ghost."
Zhu kept her hand on Itsumi's shoulder.
And for the first time in years, he didn't feel like a weapon.