The ruins of the old tower groaned under the heat. The stone floor cracked in long, jagged lines, glowing faintly red as if molten blood was pulsing beneath it. Dust and ash swirled through the air, settling on broken walls and burnt timbers. And at the very center, where the light of the eclipse cut a cold line through the crumbling ceiling, Kaito lay unmoving.
His body was still—breathing shallow, as though his chest rose only by instinct. Around him, the ground sizzled, flames licking out in faint crescents, devouring the wooden planks and gnawing at the stone foundation. The heat was strange, unnatural. It wasn't fire born from oil or spark—it was fire born from energy, from something inside him bleeding into the world.
"...Kaito…" Arthur's whisper trembled, his voice breaking as if speaking the name of his friend could keep him from slipping away. His hands shook violently, but he could not bring himself closer to the heat that radiated around the unconscious boy. He reached out, then drew back, the air stinging his skin.
Alia stood beside him, eyes fixed on the rising flame-lines spiderwebbing outward. Her instincts screamed.
"This whole place is going to collapse," she said sharply, grabbing Arthur's arm. "We can't stay here."
Arthur turned to her in shock, his lips parted, unable to accept the words. "But—he's there! He's right there! My best friend is—he's—" His throat closed, and his voice fractured into sobs he tried desperately to suppress. The sound cracked something deep in him. His shoulders shook, his teeth clenched hard enough to hurt.
Mina, standing just behind them, placed her hand firmly on his other arm. Her eyes, usually bright and curious, were sharp now, filled with fear that was carefully restrained. "Arthur. If we stay here, we'll die. If we die, we can't do anything for him. Kaito wouldn't forgive us for being useless."
Alia's grip tightened. Without waiting for Arthur's answer, she tugged him, and together with Mina they pulled him toward the shadowed stairway at the back of the tower. The stairwell was narrow, cracked with age, but it led downward, away from the searing heat.
Behind them, the chamber roared faintly as wood collapsed and smoke thickened. All around, others who had witnessed the strange eruption were already fleeing—their silhouettes rushing down other exits, desperate to escape the spreading waves of destruction.
Arthur's head twisted back, his tear-stained face catching one last glimpse of the boy who lay at the center of the chaos. Why does it always have to be him? First kidnapped… now this? Why does it always have to be Kaito…?
---
Two kilometers away, the eclipse itself hovered above the horizon like a dark crown, blotting out the sun's brilliance with an otherworldly halo of black and crimson light. Its power licked across the land in faint ripples, and those who were sensitive felt it like a chill down their spines.
Kuro stood alone on the ridge of shattered stone, his figure sharp against the dimming sky. His eyes reflected the eclipse—mirror-like pools of shadow threaded with scarlet fire. He watched the scene from afar, utterly motionless, his expression unreadable. And then, faintly, his lips curved upward.
"It's beautiful," he whispered, the words trailing into the wind. His voice carried not joy, but reverence—a cold admiration for the phenomenon unraveling before him. His gaze lingered on the pillar of faint heat and flame rising from the tower ruins, the very place where Kaito lay.
Samuel stood a short distance behind him, fists clenched, jaw tight. He had been staring for long minutes, unable to tear his eyes away from the catastrophic spectacle. The sight of the burning tower, the escaping people, the strange, unstable surge of power spreading out like a ripple of fire—it filled him with dread. His forehead was damp with sweat despite the coolness of the eclipse wind.
"Kuro…" Samuel's voice shook, tension strangling his throat. "Do you even understand what's happening? That—he's not just going to burn that place down, he—he's going to…" He stopped, unable to voice the truth.
Kuro did not look at him. His eyes remained fixed on the beauty of collapse. "It doesn't matter what you think, Samuel. The eclipse is simply… showing us its truth. And he—" A pause, deliberate. "—he is becoming part of it."
Samuel bit down on his lip, his breath sharp, chest tight with unease. He hated this. He hated watching, hated being powerless, hated that Kuro's voice sounded like prophecy instead of concern. Kaito… hold on. Please, hold on…
---
At the same time, far below, pounding footsteps echoed against the broken streets of the old district. Police officers rushed, weapons ready though none knew what they would face. Among them was a man whose every breath came out ragged with desperation. His face was sharp, his eyes bloodshot, but behind them lay only a father's fear.
"Kaito!" His voice rang out hoarsely though he knew his son could not hear. He sprinted past debris, forcing his way toward the growing column of smoke and wavering fire. His uniform was drenched with sweat, but he did not stop.
Beside him ran Regan Nine and Regan Ten—Kiayara and Riley. Kiayara's long claws glinted faintly in the dim light, flexing with restrained agitation. Her eyes darted to every shadow as though expecting an enemy to leap out at any second. Riley, clutching his folded map tightly under one arm, focused on the path itself, scanning constantly for the fastest route through the maze of ruined streets.
They were efficient, in perfect sync, but even they could feel it—the oppressive heat radiating from ahead, unnatural and suffocating. It wasn't just fire. It was him.
Trailing behind with an unshaken pace was Guren. His steps were steady, his hands relaxed, his face expressionless as ever. Neither urgency nor fear touched his features. While the others radiated desperation or grim focus, he was calm—as though none of this chaos was unexpected to him.
The father cast a fleeting glance at him, and for a second, anger burned in his chest. How can he look like that, when my son is— But there was no time. His boots struck the ground harder, faster, as the tower's ruined spire came into view.
---
Inside the stairwell, Alia, Mina, and Arthur descended into choking shadows. The air was thick with smoke, and every breath burned their lungs. Other survivors stumbled alongside them, coughing, their eyes wide with panic. The sound of children crying, of old men shouting prayers, of boots scraping stone—all mixed into a symphony of desperation.
Arthur's body resisted every step. His legs moved only because Alia and Mina dragged him, their grips firm, their determination unyielding. He stumbled, tears still sliding down his cheeks, blurring his sight. He couldn't stop the images replaying in his mind—Kaito lying on the ground, fire crawling outward like veins of destruction.
"Why him…" he muttered, voice so low it nearly vanished under the noise. "Why is it always him…?"
Alia didn't answer. Her own lips were pressed tight, her heart beating furiously. She didn't have an answer. None of them did.
But Mina did speak, her tone sharp enough to cut through the suffocating despair. "Arthur. Listen to me. If Kaito is still alive in there—then he's fighting. And if he's fighting, then we can't waste that by crying here. If you call him your best friend, then you have to believe in him!"
Arthur's eyes widened at her words. For a second, his sobs quieted. He clenched his jaw, nodding weakly though the tears didn't stop. His voice, hoarse and trembling, finally managed: "…I'll believe."
---
Back in the heart of the collapsing chamber, the flames finally reached higher, curling into spirals of black and crimson that seemed to defy natural fire. They did not spread evenly—they pulsed, in rhythm with Kaito's shallow breaths, as if each inhalation fanned the embers, each exhalation birthed more destruction.
His body trembled faintly. His fingers twitched. His face remained slack, caught between life and the void, but deep within, something stirred. The chemical agony from before, the burning veins, the torment of experiments—it all merged with the eclipse's eerie glow.
And somewhere in the depths of unconsciousness, he thought—not in words, but in the raw ache of survival: It hurts.
The eclipse shuddered overhead.
----
The stairwell groaned under their hurried steps. Each footfall echoed in the narrow space, mingling with the distant roar of collapsing beams and the faint crackle of lingering fires above. Smoke filtered through the cracks in the stone walls, burning their lungs, yet every step downward was a step away from certain death.
Alia led, her grip tight on Arthur's arm, while Mina brought up the rear, scanning the shadows for anything threatening. Their escape was methodical despite the panic that threatened to unravel them. The tower was nearly empty now; most people had fled through the other exits, leaving only a few stragglers whose shouts quickly faded as they ran.
Arthur stumbled, coughing, his hands clenching the stair railing. The heat behind them seemed endless, a reminder of Kaito lying somewhere in the center of the chaos. His chest felt heavy with guilt, with helplessness, yet he moved forward. He had to. For Kaito.
---
As they descended, his mind drifted back—not to the fire, not to the smoke—but to a winter day three years ago, when everything had seemed simpler yet strange in its weight. He had been waiting outside the school building for the high school entrance exam to begin, bundled in thick layers against the biting cold. The wind howled, pushing down the empty streets, scattering bits of paper and dust.
It was then he saw her—a stray cat, curled up on the frozen ground, shivering beneath the weight of winter. Its fur matted, its small body trembling, Arthur realized that no one else noticed. People walked past, heads down, hands buried in their pockets, pretending not to see the helpless creature.
Arthur hesitated. He wanted to act, to help, but before he could step forward, a figure moved quietly beside him.
Kaito.
He was almost expressionless, as usual, yet there was a faint shift in his mouth, the hint of a smile that Arthur could just barely catch. Kaito bent down and gently wrapped his muffler around the small cat's frail body.
Arthur froze. His breath caught. He had wanted to talk, to ask why he always seemed so distant, why he never let anyone close. But even as he opened his mouth, Kaito's presence held him back—silent, serene, and yet somehow full of a calm that could freeze the world around him.
Then Arthur noticed something subtle: the corner of Kaito's hair, usually dark, had turned white. Just a streak, just enough to shimmer in the pale winter light. It was a mark of his heritage, of the Catherine line, long persecuted after the Black Age Rebellion twenty years ago. Those who bore the mark were treated as low, discriminated against, a stigma Arthur had only heard about in whispered rumors and hushed history lessons. Yet here Kaito was, giving his warmth—his muffler—to a helpless creature, showing compassion where the world expected cruelty.
Arthur had wanted to speak, but fear and hesitation held him back. He had only watched, heart clenching, as Kaito finished, stood, and turned back toward the street. The faint smile lingered, the kind that seemed almost impossible on his usually stoic face.
---
The memory pressed in on him as their feet struck the stone steps below. Alia's hand on his arm reminded him of the present—the danger, the collapse, the urgency—but the warmth of that moment returned, softening the panic just enough for him to breathe through it.
He remembered seeing Kaito later, with his parents. They had greeted him warmly, asking about the muffler.
"Where is your muffler, Kaito?" his mother had asked, her voice gentle.
"I gave it to a cat," Kaito replied simply, emotionless for the most part, yet Arthur remembered the tiny shift in his tone, the same hint of kindness in his voice that he had seen before.
His parents had smiled. Not at the act itself, not at the triviality of a scarf—but at the thoughtfulness, at the spark of humanity in a boy who had so little reason to show it. Arthur had thought then, and still thought now, that such families, such people, still existed in the world despite all the darkness, despite the discrimination, despite the weight of the Black Age.
---
They continued their descent. Smoke swirled around them, stinging eyes and making it difficult to see the steps ahead. The echo of collapse behind them grew fainter. They were almost free. Arthur's thoughts clung to that memory, gripping like a lifeline as he felt fear and guilt pressing from all sides.
Alia's voice cut sharply through the haze. "Almost there! Keep moving! Don't look back!"
Arthur nodded, forcing his legs to keep pace despite the trembling that had nothing to do with fatigue. Mina kept her hand near her side, ready for anything that might emerge from the smoke or shadows. The stairwell narrowed further, forcing them to move in a tight line, their breathing harsh and ragged.
For a moment, Arthur allowed himself a fleeting thought. Kaito, the boy who had once given a muffler to a shivering cat, who had carried himself with that quiet, almost frozen calm, was out there. He might be unconscious, burning in the center of a collapsing tower, yet he had shown humanity in a way that no disaster, no persecution, no eclipse could erase.
It was the memory that gave him the courage to keep stepping, to keep moving downward into safety, even as the world seemed to burn around him.
---
And then the stairwell curved sharply, opening onto a narrow passage that led toward the outer exit. A faint light spilled in, the first hint of the evening beyond the smoke-filled tower. Alia pushed forward, glancing back once to ensure Arthur and Mina were close behind.
Arthur's chest heaved. His vision blurred with tears and smoke, yet the memory of Kaito's small, quiet smile, the warmth of the muffler around the stray cat, lingered with him, steadying his steps like a small beacon.
As they emerged from the stairwell into the shadowed alley, Arthur thought only one thing: Even in a world so full of fire and chaos, some kindness still exists. And Kaito… Kaito is that kindness.
He didn't yet know if his friend would survive what was happening now, but the memory, the quiet image of a boy giving warmth to someone who needed it, was enough to give him hope. Enough to give him strength.
---
The outside air was cold, carrying the faint scent of smoke from the tower's remnants. The street was littered with rubble, yet relatively empty now. People had fled. The echoes of their cries had faded, leaving only the soft hiss of cooling flames.
Arthur took a steadying breath, clenching his fists. He did not look back. He could not. The past gave him courage, the present demanded focus, and the future—whatever it held—waited just beyond the next corner.
And deep in the corner of his mind, he carried the image he could never forget: Kaito, almost expressionless, giving a muffler to a cold, trembling cat, with a faint glimmer of a smile—and a single streak of white hair catching the winter light.
A symbol of a line that had suffered yet endured. A reminder that even in darkness, kindness could survive.
----
The alley outside the old tower offered no safety, only a brief reprieve from the heat, the smoke, and the chaos. Alia, Mina, and Arthur continued forward, the cold evening air stinging their lungs, yet every step away from the tower felt like progress. Behind them, the echoes of collapse had softened, but the images of Kaito lying in the center of fire still burned vividly in Arthur's mind.
As his feet hit the uneven cobblestones, his thoughts drifted back once more—not to the present danger, but to the years before, to the fragile beginnings of his friendship with Kaito.
---
He remembered the first day they had entered high school. By then, the memories of the entrance exams had faded, yet they had left an indelible mark on him. Arthur had been cautious, hesitant, unsure of where he fit. Kaito had been there too, mostly expressionless as always, his white-streaked hair catching the light in a way that seemed almost otherworldly. Arthur had wanted to speak to him afterward, to form a connection, yet he had never found the courage.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, yet he had never managed a word. Kaito remained distant, enigmatic, yet always present in subtle ways—an invisible thread Arthur could not unravel.
It was during one afternoon, not long after their entrance, that the world had reminded Arthur of its harshness. He was navigating a hallway, smaller than most at the time, still clinging to his childhood frame. The hall smelled faintly of chalk dust and old wood polish, the muted chatter of students echoing along the corridors.
He saw them then—four children. Two boys and two girls. They were surrounding another boy, kicking and taunting him mercilessly. "You're useless!" one boy sneered. "A servant! Just a worthless servant!" Their laughter echoed cruelly, bouncing off the walls like an accusation.
Arthur slowed, unsure whether to pass or intervene. The boy on the floor curled slightly, shielding himself, his tears leaving faint streaks on the dirt-smudged uniform. Arthur's hands clenched at his sides, stomach twisting with helplessness. He wanted to help, to speak, yet he felt frozen by the sight of four against one.
Then the bullies noticed him. Their eyes turned sharply toward him, sizing him up, calculating how to assert control over the newcomer. "Hey! Blond boy," one of them called, the word laced with scorn, "bring some juice from the store. Quick."
Arthur hesitated, his pulse spiking. He had no desire to be drawn into their cruelty, yet there was no way to refuse outright. The store nearby had closed just minutes ago, its shutters down, yet he nodded quietly and darted off, searching for any way to fulfill their demand.
Minutes dragged like hours. The boy on the floor whimpered as he continued to be kicked, each blow echoing like a drumbeat of fear. Arthur's hands shook as he finally found the store manager, pleading for a bottle of juice. Time ran thin. Every second he delayed was another strike landing on the boy, another tear falling unheeded.
---
By the time Arthur returned, ten minutes later, he felt the weight of inevitability pressing down. The boy lay on the floor, tears streaming, bruises beginning to form. The bullies were more agitated now, their voices rising in fury. "Took you long enough, blond boy. Maybe we should teach you some manners too."
Arthur swallowed hard, holding out the juice. His heart pounded as the words of the bullies cut through him. He couldn't speak, couldn't act quickly enough. The tension coiled tight around his chest, suffocating him. He knew he was about to be struck himself.
Then, like a shadow breaking through the sunlight, Kaito appeared. He was quiet, expressionless as always, yet the presence of his energy felt like a sudden stillness in the chaotic hallway. Arthur's pulse leapt—not out of fear, but relief.
The bullies noticed him immediately. "Hey! Catherine boy! Wanna save this little blond boy?" one of them mocked, stepping closer.
Kaito said nothing at first. He simply stood there, tall, calm, letting the words pass around him like they did not exist. The bullies pressed forward, laughter twisting cruelly, but Kaito's gaze was unwavering, unshaken.
"Move on," he finally said, flatly. No anger, no emotion—only the quiet certainty of someone who did not tolerate chaos.
The bullies laughed again, stepping toward Arthur, ready to strike. "What's the matter? Going to cry? Need a friend to protect you?"
Arthur's throat went dry. He shook his head violently, his voice barely a whisper. "No… please… don't…"
Two minutes passed like eternity. Arthur could feel the strikes about to land. The hallway had become a pressure cooker of tension, walls echoing with threats and impending violence. And then Kaito acted.
He raised a hand, calm, deliberate, and in that silent motion, the world seemed to stop. Arthur saw the bullies flinch, hesitation creeping into their movements. And then, without a word of fury, Kaito brought the teacher around the corner.
The bullies froze. The authority figure's eyes widened as she took in the scene, but she did not need to ask questions. The tension alone explained everything.
The bullies, realizing they had been caught, hissed threats at Kaito. "We'll get you for this! You'll regret it, Catherine boy!" Their voices trembled with rage, yet the certainty of punishment kept them from stepping closer. And then, almost in a rush, they fled down the hall, disappearing into the echoes of the school building.
Arthur collapsed to his knees, the adrenaline leaving him weak, shaking. He looked up at Kaito, who had returned to his usual stillness, expressionless yet somehow… there was that faint hint of a smile again. The same faint smile Arthur remembered from the winter day with the cat, subtle, almost imperceptible, but enough to warm the corners of his heart.
He wanted to speak. He wanted to thank him. But the words stuck in his throat. Once again, Kaito remained distant, a calm figure of composure, and Arthur understood—some things were not spoken. Some things were shown, through actions, through the quiet gestures that required no words.
---
The stairwell behind them creaked under their hurried steps, pulling Arthur back to the present. His breathing was harsh, yet the memory lingered, embedding itself like a shield inside him. It reminded him that Kaito had always been there in his quiet, distant way, protecting, guiding, giving warmth to those who needed it—whether a shivering cat or a terrified classmate.
Alia's voice broke through his reverie. "Hurry! We're almost clear!"
Mina nodded, keeping pace with the group. Arthur's mind raced with the memory of Kaito's calm, unwavering presence, letting it bolster him as they moved.
Outside, the cool air washed over him, carrying the faint scent of smoke and rubble. The tower had been left behind, its inferno slowly dying, its chaos fading into memory. But the image of Kaito remained vivid, intertwined with the memory of that hallway, the stray cat, and the teacher's timely intervention.
Arthur clenched his fists. No matter what happens now… no matter the flames, the eclipse, the dangers ahead… I know him. I've seen him. He's always there. And I will follow him, no matter what.
---
The evening shadows lengthened, stretching across the ruined streets. The group moved cautiously, yet every step felt lighter than before. There was danger ahead, yes, but also hope. Hope anchored in the quiet, unwavering presence of someone who had already shown what it meant to act with courage and kindness in the face of cruelty.
Arthur allowed himself a faint, shaky breath, letting the memory carry him forward. For the first time in a long while, he felt that perhaps even in a world filled with fire and chaos, there could be moments of grace. And Kaito—his friend, his constant, his enigma—was the embodiment of it.
---