A simple strike. Nothing special. Nothing devastating—at least compared to the wounds already carved into him.
And yet, it knocks him off balance. Sends him staggering, dazed, dreaming for the briefest instant.
But one instant is all it takes.
The boy's foot follows right behind the fist.
Impact.
Shato is hurled down the concrete road, skidding all the way back to the patch of grass beneath the streetlamp, the very spot where the fight had first begun.
"Wohooo! Homerun!" Ryuu's voice bellows, as he applauds himself and strolls lazily toward the unmoving body.
"Nobody saw it coming, but at the decisive moment the batter swings him straight out of the stadium! Wuuush! The crowd goes wild, on their feet, they can't contain themselves! The underdogs have …"
A black triangle sharpens in his hand and in one smooth motion, he drags it across Shato's throat.
"… won."
The boy finishes the call grinning, whispering, head tilted, body leaning low over his opponent.
"Funny, isn't it? That careless punch, this weird little triangle—supposed to be a blade? Bet it reminds you of someone, hehehihi!"
Shato says nothing.
"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue? You used to be so preachy, remember?"
Shato breathes. Soft, steady. Silent.
"I'm helping him!" Rin shouts from the bridge, sword half-drawn, boot already planted on the thick railing.
But before she can hurl herself forward, Daclan's hand snaps onto her fluttering cloak.
"Trust him, Rin."
He doesn't even look at her—just speaks flatly while binding the deep wound in my stomach with my own robe.
"But …" Rin tries again, but swallows the words.
"He'll have a plan," Daclan adds, tying a knot so neat it could've been sewn there. Rin's blade sinks reluctantly back into its sheath.
"He'd better …" she mutters.
"Come ooon! HELLOOO! This is boring! At least scream, do something! Stop acting like you've got everything under con—Oh …"
Ryuu freezes.
Realizing—too late, or just in time—as Shato's left eye ignites in white.
He leaps back instantly, retreating in a blur.
And at the same time, the body he thought lifeless erupts, engulfed in its own blazing light.
Milliseconds pass.
Fractions of a second.
The smallest tenth of a heartbeat.
Only that single millisecond—Ryuu running, fleeing, swallowing hard— while the white light condenses into a sphere.
And in the very same instant, it explodes.
Although explosion hardly does justice to such perfect symmetry.
Blinding brilliance unfurls, swallowing Ryuu, the bridge, even the walls of the city itself.
Its reach spills through the darkest alleys, lights the farthest corners, blinds even the smallest insects— and, inevitably, wakes unwanted guests.
Like moths drawn to flame, four silhouettes gather atop a nearby rooftop.
"Ohoo … now that looks interesting, don't you think?"
A woman's voice, perched at the edge of the flat roof, legs swinging idly.
Her form is swallowed by a long, dark cloak. Across her face, a gray mask with red-lined eyeholes and rounded ears at the forehead.
A wolf's mask.
"But without sunglasses? There's way too much light, I can't see a damn thing …"
The second voice, deeper, rougher, still feminine, like it had only just grown past childhood.
"Well, you know our leader. No way she'd miss an opportunity like this."
A third voice chimes in—high, childish, playful—beneath the same mask.
"Fiona?" the first one asks, the voice that had named her leader.
"Whatever," comes a fourth, flat with boredom, while another mask leans back and cracks its neck.
"Yippee! Then it's settled!"
The first figure's mask flares turquoise, eyes burning through the holes.
Then orange, pink, and green light follows suit, just before all four push off, dropping from the rooftop, vanishing into the blaze that slowly begins to fade.
"Argh … my eyes!" Rin shouts into the white radiance stretching across the field.
"Why the hell does it have to blind like this?! Hey—Shato's still alive, right?! He owes me dinner after pulling this crap, so he'd better be!"
"See for yourself! Or were you dumb enough to look directly into it?!" Talan yells back, just as loud.
"Unlike you, I'm actually worried about him!" Rin fires back.
"Pfft, as if! You're just feeding those … those … ugh, your stupid complexes again!" Talan stammers, betrayed by his own vocabulary.
"Wait—hold on. It's coming back, slowly … slowly …" Rin ignores him, blinking furiously, whipping her head side to side as if it would help.
"Ahahaha! The dumb goose really let herself get blinded!" Talan cackles, right before Rin finally makes out her hands, the bridge, the battlefield everything.
She hadn't moved an inch. Zane and Daclan stand where they had been, eyes fixed with worry on the chaos ahead.
Only Talan's mocking laughter feels misplaced—coming from behind.
She turns for a second and spots him: tiger-face, paws on his hips, lids squeezed shut, staring proudly in the wrong direction.
A laugh nearly escapes her, but she swallows it down.
Because an uneasy feeling draws her eyes back to the untouched battlefield.
Back to the grass swaying in the light breeze, to the still canal, to the mist-shrouded streetlamp under which Shato still lies bathed in glow.
She sighs in relief—only for her gaze to snag on something else.
A black sphere, pulsing with the mist.
Menacing. Alive.
"He … haha … ahahaha! Shaatooo! Was that really all you had?!" Ryuu's voice cuts across the battlefield, taunting, gloating—carried all the way to Shato's motionless body.
"Tch … not an inch more …" Shato mutters to himself, eyes flicking down to his arms and fingers twitching weakly, barely moving.
"Be honest!" Ryuu presses on, arrogant, invincible. "How much have you got left? Five percent? Ten?"
But Shato doesn't answer.
His eyes close instead.
"Time always slips too fast …"
The thought lingers silently, while black and white particles spark at his feet.
Like embers, they dance, scatter, then ignite in a torrent of light, swallowing his body whole.
And then, they become a veil. One, perfectly cut into a black halve and a white halve, resembling a perfect balance in some sense.
One, that grows a hand.
Not flesh. Not real.
And yet—real enough.
With five fingers, weight and color split the same.
"Guess next week will be our last training session … But I still had so much to teach you. Haaah …"
Shato exhales, eyes opening as the spectral hand flexes, fingers curling and uncurling.
Ryuu bursts into manic laughter.
"Hahaha! You fight like a zero already! Like the drug already killed the junkie in you!"
The conjured hand freezes—then clenches tight, hovering rigid above Shato's stomach.
"How badly I'd love to beat your ass myself, Ryuu. Heh ... But lucky for me … I've got someone else to do it."
Shato's last thought twists sharp through his mind, as the black-and-white hand suddenly throws its fingers skyward.
Moving with intent, with command, with visible force.
"Huh? What's he doing now?" Rin squints from the bridge, studying the strange finger-motions with a tilted head.
"He's raising his arm," Daclan says flatly.
"I can see that myself!" Rin snaps back.
"Now the thumb. Index finger. Oh—back to a fist. … Wait. Was that just his middle finger?!" Daclan narrates like a bored commentator.
"Do you wa—ugh, never mind! Maybe he's trying to tell us something?" Rin leans over the stone railing, straining for a closer look.
"Mhm … maybe. Or he's just lost his mind, hard to say." Daclan shrugs, earning only Rin's scowl.
"Haaah … I didn't think this would be so much fun! No, really—thank you! You've saved my day!"
Ryuu's voice cuts through the air, dripping with manic joy.
"And you know what? Since I'm in such a good mood now, I've finally decided how this day ends!"
At his words, the black sphere begins to melt—not vanishing, but rippling, molting, swelling larger and larger, inch by inch.
Just moments ago it had seemed insignificant. Forgettable.
Now it breathes. Expands. Threatens.
"I'll cure your addiction! Don't worry, Shato—you won't need the needles anymore! Because here, now, today—five Aces … today your little rebellion finally ends!"
At the same time, the five fingers of Shato's spectral hand rise—then begin to fall, one by one.
First the thumb.
Then the index.
The sphere halts, shrinking in on itself, compressed into a single pinprick.
The chatter on the bridge dies.
Every gaze locks on the scene.
The middle finger falls.
Shato exhales.
The orb holds still.
Eyes narrow, waiting.
The ring finger drops.
A violet glow bleeds across the ground beneath Shato.
Black lightning screams around the marble-sized sphere.
The pinky falls.
His breath catches.
The hand dissolves.
The aura flickers out.
The flame extinguishes.
The marble pulses.
Eyes blink.
The sphere explodes.
A wall of fog bursts outward across the battlefield—violet light envelops Shato, violet brilliance floods the bridge.
Floods Zane.
Shato vanishes. Zane stands in his place.
The fog-wall slams into him and devours everything in one gulp.
The bridge groans. A limp body hits the cold stone, right between Talan and Rin.
The body where Zane had stood.
As if the two had swapped places.
The fog rushes on—faster than their reactions—swallowing the bridge, the grass, the river, everything beyond.
Nothing seems able to stop it. Inside, only the faintest shapes flicker.
"Shato!" Rin cries, immediately kneeling to check his wounds.
"Hi," he greets her dully, not even blinking.
"Why do you always have to push it this far?!" she scolds, tugging aside his cloak, brushing her hand over the gaping wound in his stomach.
"Push it? Please. I know you've got my back if things go wrong," Shato answers, voice trembling now, as the pain finally sinks in.
"Still!" Rin snaps, pulling her hand back and rising—only for Daclan to rest his palm on her shoulder.
"I'm with Rin on this. Even if you lead us, that doesn't mean you get to be reckless. That doesn't make you any better than your protege over there."
He nods at my unconscious body, though everyone already knew who he meant.
"And besides …" he adds, voice low but firm.
"You might be a miracle. Our wounds might heal faster, our blood might clot on its own. But that doesn't make you immortal. And you know that better than any of us, Shato."
The rebuke hits hard. Shato exhales, drops his head, silent for a moment—then finally mutters, almost sheepishly:
"I've still got the injec—"
"Not an option!" Rin cuts him off, blade flashing free, pressing the flat cold edge under his chin.
"Rin …" Daclan tries to calm her, but she shoves him aside, harsher, angrier than before.
"You're never touching that shit again, understood?! We're five, we're a team, and you stopped being the center of it all a long time ago. If things get tougher, I'll handle it. If someone has to be sacrificed, we've got Talan. If someone needs saving, Zane will step in. So don't you dare bring that drug up ever again, got it?!"
Her voice weakens with each word, growing cold, flat—yet the fury still burns through every syllable.
Then she forces his chin up with the blunt edge of her sword, sliding the curve gently along his mask.
"And now I'm going to be the one to kick that brat's ass."
With that, sheathing her blade in a single swift motion, Rin turns away from Shato and vaults onto the bridge railing.
Her eyes flick briefly to Talan—still slumped, staring blankly into nothing, too dulled even to toss an insult—before she leaps. Off the bridge, into the grass, into the thick black fog … and vanishes.
"Haaah … and once again I'm stuck playing nurse. Just great," Daclan sighs, earning a faint chuckle from Shato before sinking down into a cross-legged seat.
Meanwhile, Zane stands where Shato had fallen, engulfed in pure darkness, barely able to make out his own hand.
He waits, motionless, frozen in place, for no reason … and yet with every reason, once Ryuu's laughter ripples through the endless night.
Shadows behind him twist into shape—Ryuu's shape, born out of nothing.
The boy lunges, fist raised. Zane pivots just in time, catching it flat against his palm. A jolt runs through him as he tries to grasp it, to hold Ryuu.
But the boy dissolves, vanishing as suddenly as he appeared.
"Tch … what's a fight without a handicap," Zane mutters, just as Ryuu reshapes behind him.
Again, Zane spins, intercepts the strike, tries to hold—again the boy slips away, dissolving into mist.
"So … Ryuu. How long are you going to keep playing?" Zane calls into the void, not expecting an answer.
The fog stirs. It churns, shifts, loses form. Then—spears erupt from every angle, aimed at Zane.
He barely has time to blink, barely to turn his mask, before he's surrounded.
Surrounded by a cage of jagged points stopping millimeters from his face.
A breath away from death.
"Wouldn't it be boring otherwise? I'd rather have a little fun before you all end up buried! Ahahahaha!"
Ryuu's laughter echoes through the dark, reaching Zane, who only clicks his tongue and narrows his gaze—watching as the boy strolls into view.
Each step brings him closer, the fog parting to reveal pale skin, that ever-present grin.
Ryuu taps one of the shadow-spears, nudging it forward, just enough to graze Zane's cheek, drawing a drop of blood.
"But somehow, you're weaker than I remember. Killing so many wasn't even worth it!"
His voice is cheerful, head cocked, awaiting no reply.
"What's wrong? As speechless as the others? See—that's why I crave fun. Without it, it's boring. We might as well relive the peaceful tim—"
Ryuu stops. Abrupt.
A blade slices through the void, nicking his cheek.
A bead of blood blooms, his flesh sagging limp, paralyzed.
An instant later his body collapses into black sludge, seeping into the ground, while behind the blade, steady steps announce a white fox mask.
Rin.
Sheathing her sword as she enters the battlefield.
The sludge erupts again, farther off this time, reforming into Ryuu's body piece by piece.
"Didn't expect you of all people here," Zane greets, calm.
"Always playing janitor gets boring," Rin counters coldly.
"Well … the others clearly didn't stop you. Let's hope no more enemies come for the wounded," Zane accepts her excuse.
"And even if they did, Talan would have already—"
Rin stops her tongue. Abrupt. Too abrupt.
"Rin?" Zane asks immediately.
"Let's just hope for the best," she cuts him off, stepping forward, fox mask tilted toward the real problem—the boy's tilted head.
"Ih I idn't ow bettah," Ryuu slurs through his drooping cheek, voice warped, "I'd schay at least you ow that weird lidle girl."
Another droplet of blood slides free.
"Don't pretend. With a cut that small, the effect lasts less than a minute. For you? Half that," Rin answers, monotone, irritated yet detached—a strange mix of disdain and interest.
And sure enough, the boy lifts his cheek again, grinning wide, beckoning her closer with a curl of his hand.
"Could never fool you, Rinn-chen."
She steps forward, whether provoked or simply following her own plan, impossible to say. But she goes. Alone.
Zane can't move a step, still hemmed in by spearpoints.
"Where are you going?" he demands. Rin only waves a hand.
"You too? … Rin, hey! I expected at least you to show some teamwork!"
But nothing he says slows her. The white mask marches on, straight into the boy's provocation.
Not even stopping when Ryuu springs deeper into the fog.
"Man … what the hell's gotten into everyone today …" Zane sighs, words trailing as both figures melt into the mist, vanishing from his sight.