—
The air thickened with tension. Hoshiro lowered his blade slightly, heart pounding beneath the mask. Ayame's golden eyes glowed like embers—familiar, but distant. Cold. Changed.
Kazuki, still recovering from the blast, looked between them. "Wait… *that's* Ayame? The one who—?"
"Yes," Hoshiro replied, his voice low.
Ayame stepped forward. Her cloak rippled, revealing a sleek battle suit marked with the Crimson Syndicate's sigil—a twisting flame. Around her, enforcers stopped fighting. Even the mutated creature from earlier slinked into the shadows.
"You shouldn't have come here, Hoshiro," she said. "This place isn't meant for heroes."
"I'm not here as a hero," he replied. "I came looking for answers. And I found you."
A pause.
"I died in that fire," Ayame said quietly. "You just never noticed."
Her hand moved, summoning a curved blade of dark energy. The very air trembled with its heat. "Now… let's see what your justice is worth."
She lunged.
Hoshiro barely blocked in time. Their blades clashed, aura meeting aura in a flare of light and sound. She was fast—faster than he remembered. Every strike tested his balance, his instincts, his heart.
"You left me!" she screamed mid-swing.
"I thought you were dead!"
"You didn't look hard enough!"
The impact of their auras cracked the floor, shattered the consoles, and sent waves through the lab. Kazuki tried to intervene—but a force field locked him out, trapping Hoshiro and Ayame in a duel of ghosts and guilt.
Finally, they paused—both breathing hard, blades still locked.
"You don't have to do this," Hoshiro whispered.
But her expression was unreadable.
"I already did."
—