Present — Serenia's Ruined Street
The spot where Kairos vanished still felt wrong.
Like the air remembered the shape of him.
Ryo stood over the smear of blood where Yua had fallen, staring so hard his eyes burned, jaw clenched until it ached—because if he looked away, even for a second, it would become real in a way he couldn't undo.
Kyou Ren's breathing came out sharp—ragged through his teeth—his hands shaking like he wanted to strangle the world itself. Mei was still kneeling, palms slick with Satoshi's blood, eyes glassy, barely blinking. Hiroshi stood behind them like a ghost that hadn't realized it died.
And Yua…
Yua wasn't here.
Only the faintest, cruelest imprint—like the outline of her presence had been ripped off the pavement.
Ryo's fingers flexed. Nails dug into his palms again.
(He remembered her voice.)
(He remembered her quiet.)
(He remembered the way she said his name when she thought no one was listening.)
His throat tightened.
Kyou's voice came out low, broken in half. "…We're getting her back."
Ryo didn't answer.
Not because he disagreed.
Because if he opened his mouth, something feral would crawl out.
And then—
(That memory came.)
Not the blood.
Not the screaming.
Not Kairos' hand around her wrist.
Something softer. Something stupidly normal.
A week ago.
Back when time still pretended to be gentle.
Flashback — One Week Earlier, Serenia
Morning in Serenia didn't feel like the Hunting Realm.
It didn't sharpen itself into a weapon.
It just… happened.
Sunlight spilled across tiled rooftops. Wind carried the smell of bakeries, street vendors, cheap coffee, and the river that cut Serenia in half like a lazy vein of glass.
School bells rang in the distance.
The children laughed.
Somewhere, a dog barked at nothing important.
And Yua Aihara stood on Ryo Kenzaki's front porch like she was waiting for an enemy that would never come.
Her posture was straight. Shoulders squared. Dark blue eyes scanning the street like it was a battlefield.
Her hand rested near the hidden sheath under her coat.
Always ready.
Ryo leaned on the doorframe with a toothbrush in his mouth, hair a disaster, pajama pants still on. He squinted at her.
Ryo: "You do realize you're guarding my house like it's a fortress." (Muffled. Amused.)
Yua didn't blink.
Yua: "It has windows." (Judgment.)
Ryo: "…Yeah. Houses do." (Deadpan.)
Yua: "That's a vulnerability." (Serious.)
Ryo pulled the toothbrush out, pointed it at her like a commander giving orders.
Ryo: "We live in Serenia. The most dangerous thing here is Mrs. Kanno's chihuahua." (Warning. Grave.)
Yua's eyes narrowed a fraction.
Yua: "Small targets are harder to strike." (Unimpressed.)
Ryo stared.
Ryo: "…You're insane." (Fond. Absolutely losing.)
From the side of the porch, a shadow shifted.
Kyou Ren sat on the railing like he owned it, arms folded, one leg dangling. His hair caught the sunlight like a blade edge. His expression was already bored—like the world owed him entertainment and failed every morning.
Kyou: "She's not insane." (Flat.) "She's just allergic to happiness."
Yua's gaze slid to him.
Yua: "And you're loud." (Dismissive.)
Kyou's mouth twitched like he wanted to laugh but refused on principle.
Kyou: "See? That's the problem. She thinks peace is an insult."
Ryo: "Can we not start the day with you two trying to verbally assassinate each other?" (Sighing.)
Yua: "He started it." (Instant.)
Kyou: "She existed." (Instant.)
Ryo: "…I hate both of you." (Lying.)
Yua's eyes flicked to the inside of the house—like she was measuring all the soft, harmless things Ryo lived with. The framed photos. The shoes by the door. The little wind chime that rang whenever the breeze felt like being kind.
Her hand drifted to her neck.
The pendant.
Gentoki's pendant.
It rested against her collarbone like a promise made too young.
She didn't notice her fingers tightening around it until Ryo's voice softened.
Ryo: "You okay?" (Quiet.)
Yua's grip loosened. She let the pendant fall back into place.
Yua: "I'm fine." (Automatic.)
Kyou's eyes narrowed—not at her words, but at how fast she said them.
Kyou: "That's what dead people say." (Too honest.)
Ryo shot him a look that could've started a war.
Ryo: "Kyou."
Kyou lifted both hands like he was surrendering. (He wasn't.)
Kyou: "What? I'm just saying—she talks like she's already writing her last words."
Yua's gaze stayed forward.
But her voice lowered, barely audible.
Yua: "Hunters don't get to talk differently." (Truth. Bitter.)
Ryo's smile faded.
The air between them shifted—subtle, but real.
Serenia's peace wasn't fragile because it could break.
It was fragile because it was never meant for them.
Ryo exhaled and clapped his hands once, forcing brightness back into his tone like he could bully the universe into cooperating.
Ryo: "Okay. Today's agenda." (Overly formal.) "We're doing something normal."
Yua: "Define normal." (Suspicious.)
Kyou: "He means something stupid." (Certain.)
Ryo: "We're going to the market." (Proud.) "Then the arcade. Then—" he grinned, "—ramen."
Yua's eyes narrowed.
Yua: "Your ramen again." (Disbelief.)
Ryo: "It's not my ramen." (Offended.) "It's—"
Kyou: "It's mid." (Instant.)
Ryo: "—the best ramen in existence."
Kyou: "Mid."
Ryo: "You have no soul."
Kyou: "I know." (Casual.)
Yua looked between them like she was watching two stray dogs fight over garbage.
Then—
The corner of her mouth moved.
Not a smile.
Not yet.
But the idea of one.
Ryo caught it.
(And pretended he didn't, so it wouldn't run away.)
Serenia Market — Late Morning
The market was loud in a way that didn't threaten you.
It was noise made from life, not war.
Vendors shouted deals. People bumped shoulders without reaching for weapons. Fruit smelled sweet. Fried food smelled like sin.
Yua walked between Ryo and Kyou like she was escorting two civilians through an active combat zone.
Which—honestly—she kind of was.
Ryo stopped at every stall.
Ryo: "Try this!" (Excited.)
Yua: "No." (Immediate.)
Ryo: "It's mochi!"
Yua: "It's sounds weird." (Serious.)
Kyou: "She thinks sugar is a trap." (Smug.)
Ryo shoved a skewer of something grilled into Kyou's face.
Ryo: "Eat. You're angry because you're hungry."
Kyou didn't take it.
Kyou: "I'm angry because the universe is incompetent." (Matter-of-fact.)
Ryo: "Same thing."
Yua paused at a stall selling wind chimes.
Little glass bells in different colors caught the sunlight, each one painted with tiny patterns—flowers, koi fish, stars.
She stared like she didn't know what to do with something that existed just to be beautiful.
Ryo noticed and wandered closer, tone casual.
Ryo: "You like those?"
Yua didn't answer right away.
Yua: "They make noise." (Neutral.)
Ryo: "That's… the point." (Confused.)
Yua: "Noise reveals your position." (Hunter brain. Relentless.)
Kyou: "She's impossible." (Half-laughing.)
Ryo leaned in, lowering his voice like he was sharing contraband.
Ryo: "Listen." (Soft.) "In Serenia, noise reveals… that you're alive."
Yua's eyes flickered.
Like the sentence hit a place she kept locked.
For a second, her fingers hovered near one of the chimes.
Then she pulled back.
Yua: " Being alive is temporary." (Quiet.)
Kyou's expression hardened, but he didn't joke this time.
Kyou: "So is everything else in a sense." (Low.) "Doesn't mean you don't touch it."
Yua's gaze snapped to him.
Yua: "You don't talk like someone who believes that." (Accusation.)
Kyou's lips curled.
Kyou: "I don't." (Honest.) "But I'm trying to be less of a piece of—"
Ryo: "Trash?" (Helpful.)
Kyou: "—work." (Correction.)
Ryo: "Coward." (Delighted.)
Yua's eyes narrowed again, but the tension cracked.
She turned back to the chimes, hesitated, then reached out—just barely—tapping one.
A soft tink rang out.
Small.
Harmless.
Like a sigh.
Yua's shoulders loosened by a millimeter.
Ryo didn't say anything.
But his smile returned—gentler this time.
(He filed the sound away like treasure.)
Arcade — Early Afternoon
The arcade was bright enough to hurt.
Lights flashed. Machines beeped. Music looped the same ten seconds of victory forever.
Yua stepped inside like she'd entered an alien temple.
Yua: "…What is this place?" (Appalled.)
Ryo: "Paradise." (Reverent.)
Kyou: "A stupid fantasy but time for winding down." (Judging.) "I love it."
Ryo dragged them to a fighting game cabinet.
On the screen, two characters clashed in a storm of pixels and exaggerated violence.
Ryo cracked his knuckles like he was about to duel a demon king.
Ryo: "Alright. Rules." (Serious.) "Winner gets to pick dinner."
Kyou: "You're about to lose." (Certain.)
Ryo: "You wish."
Yua stared at the screen.
Yua: "This is combat training?" (Trying to understand.)
Ryo: "Yes." (Lying.) "Advanced technique."
Kyou leaned toward Yua, pointing at the screen.
Kyou: "Pick the one with the sword." (Whispering like it mattered.)
Yua: "Why?"
Kyou: "Because you're emotionally attached to sharp objects." (Smug.)
Yua's eyes sharpened.
Yua: "And you're emotionally attached to being insufferable."
Kyou: "Correct."
Ryo groaned and shoved coins into the machine.
The match started.
Ryo's character moved fast—too fast—button-mashing chaos.
Kyou's was controlled, brutal, efficient.
Yua watched their hands with eerie focus.
(Like she could learn them.)
Ryo: "Stop blocking!" (Yelling.)
Kyou: "Stop being predictable weirdo!" (Yelling back.)
Ryo: "Predictable is also being reliable!"
Kyou: "Being reliable is boring!"
Ryo: "You're boring!"
Kyou: "You're loud!"
Yua reached out and—without warning—pressed a button on Kyou's side.
His character jumped at the wrong time.
Ryo's character landed a hit.
Kyou froze.
Slowly turned his head.
Kyou: "…Did you just sabotage me?" (Dangerously calm.)
Yua didn't blink.
Yua: "You were winning." (Reasonable.)
Ryo burst out laughing so hard he almost dropped the controller.
Ryo: "YES—! Yua, you're a genius!"
Kyou stared at her like she'd committed a war crime.
Then—
He smirked.
Kyou: "Alright." (Low.) "It's like that."
He leaned in, eyes narrowed, and whispered:
Kyou: "Pick a side, Hunter." (Challenge.)
Yua's gaze flicked between them.
Ryo grinned like a child.
Kyou's smirk sharpened like a knife.
And for the first time in Serenia…
Yua's lips curled into something real.
A small smile.
Quick as lightning.
Gone immediately after—like she'd realized she wasn't allowed.
But Ryo saw it.
Kyou saw it.
They didn't say a word.
(They didn't want to scare it away.)
Ramen Stand — Dusk
The sun sank low, painting
Serenia in gold and ember-red.
The river caught the light like molten glass.
They sat at the ramen stand like it was ritual.
Steam curled from bowls. The smell was warm and rich and comforting enough to make you forget monsters existed.
Ryo inhaled like he was praying.
Ryo: "See?" (Triumphant.) "Best in existence."
Kyou slurped once, face unreadable.
Kyou: "…Not mid." (Reluctant.)
Ryo: "That's the highest praise you've ever given anything."
Kyou: "Don't get used to it."
Yua stared at her bowl like it might attack.
Ryo nudged chopsticks toward her.
Ryo: "Eat."
Yua: "If I die, I'll blame you." (Dead serious.)
Ryo: "If you die from ramen, you were already dead."
She took a bite.
Chewed slowly.
Her eyes widened just slightly.
Yua: "…" (Processing.)
Ryo leaned forward.
Ryo: "Well?" (Impatient.)
Yua swallowed.
Yua: "…It's acceptable." (As if granting mercy.)
Ryo slammed both hands on the counter.
Ryo: "YES!"
Kyou snorted.
Kyou: "She said acceptable like she's a king."
Yua: "Kings die too." (Calm.)
The air cooled as the sun slipped lower.
For a while, they ate in silence.
Not awkward.
Just… quiet.
The kind of quiet that doesn't demand anything.
Yua's gaze drifted across the street—at couples walking, kids running, a man carrying groceries, laughter spilling from a convenience store.
Her shoulders loosened without her permission.
Then she spoke, voice so soft it almost got lost under the sounds of the city.
Yua: "Do you ever feel guilty?" (Barely.)
Ryo paused mid-slurp.
Kyou stopped chewing.
Yua didn't look at them.
Yua: "For being here." (Quiet.) "For… wanting this."
Ryo set his chopsticks down gently.
Ryo: "Yeah." (Honest.) "Sometimes."
Kyou's eyes stayed on his bowl.
Kyou: "I don't." (Lie.)
Yua's fingers found her pendant again—thumb brushing the metal like she could polish the past.
Yua: "In Ishikawa… if you relax, you die." (Truth.) "If you smile, someone takes it." (Older truth.) "If you—"
Her voice faltered.
A rare crack.
Yua: "—if you want something that isn't duty… it feels like betrayal."
Ryo's chest tightened.
Ryo: "Yua…" (Careful.)
Kyou finally looked up, gaze sharp.
Kyou: "Who told you that?" (Quiet anger.)
Yua didn't answer.
Because the answer was: the world.
Because the answer was: blood.
Because the answer was: all the bodies that taught her what peace costs.
Ryo leaned back, eyes on the sunset.
Ryo: "In Serenia… people betray each other over dumb stuff." (Half-laugh.) "Grades. Relationships. Money. Pride." (Shrug.) "But you know what they don't do?"
Yua glanced at him.
Ryo: "They don't call you weak for wanting to live." (Soft.) "They call you human."
Yua's throat tightened. She looked away fast.
Yua: "I'm not—" (Automatic.)
Kyou cut in.
Kyou: "Don't." (Low.) "Don't say you're not human. That's what monsters want."
Yua's eyes snapped to him again.
Kyou's voice stayed flat, but the rage underneath it trembled like a blade.
Kyou: "Kairos talks like you're a thing." (Hate.) "A tool. A disappointment." (Spitting the word.) "If you start believing it too, he wins without touching you."
Ryo's fists curled under the counter.
(He didn't like hearing Kairos' name here.)
Not in a place that smelled like broth and warm air and temporary peace.
Yua's fingers tightened around her pendant.
Yua: "He doesn't—" (Defensive.)
Kyou: "He does." (Certain.)
Ryo's voice came out quieter than either of them expected.
Ryo: "We won't let him." (Promise.)
Yua's eyes flickered.
Yua: "Promises don't stop rifts." (Truth.)
Ryo met her gaze fully.
Ryo: "No." (Agreeing.) "But we do."
Kyou scoffed, but it wasn't mocking.
Kyou: "Yeah." (Dark.) "We do."
For a second, the world narrowed down to three bowls of ramen and a sunset bleeding out across the sky.
And Yua—Yua looked almost peaceful.
Almost.
Then she reached into her pocket and pulled something out.
A small, cheap wind chime.
Not glass. Metal.
Simple.
She held it between her fingers like it was fragile.
Yua: "I bought it." (Quiet confession.) "Because… you said noise means you're alive."
Ryo's heart lurched.
Ryo: "Yua—"
She cut him off, eyes narrowed like she was angry she was doing this.
Yua: "Don't make it sentimental." (Threat.)
Kyou leaned in, squinting.
Kyou: "That's adorable." (Smug.)
Yua: "I will throw it at your head." (Immediate.)
Kyou: "Even more adorable."
Ryo laughed—soft, warm.
And Yua's mouth twitched again, like the smile wanted to return.
(Then she sobered.)
Yua: "If something happens…" (Quiet.) "To me."
Ryo's laugh died instantly.
Kyou's gaze sharpened.
Yua kept looking at the wind chime instead of them.
Yua: "Don't do something stupid." (Command.) "Don't burn the world."
Ryo's voice came out rough.
Ryo: "That's not fair." (Hurt.) "Don't talk like that."
Yua swallowed.
Yua: "I have to." (Duty.) "Because if I don't, it means I'm pretending nothing can take me." (Truth.)
"And that's how Hunters die."
Kyou's jaw clenched.
Kyou: "I'll burn whoever takes you." (Simple.) "Not the world."
Yua's eyes widened slightly.
(Like she wasn't used to being included in someone's vengeance.)
Ryo's voice dropped even lower.
Ryo: "No one's taking you." (Promise. Stupid. Necessary.) "Not while I'm breathing."
Yua finally looked up.
Her eyes held that familiar frost—stoic, controlled—
But underneath?
Something softer.
Something that wanted to believe him.
Yua: "Then keep breathing." (Quiet.) "Ryo."
He nodded once.
Ryo: "I will."
Kyou rolled his eyes, but his voice was quieter when he spoke.
Kyou: "Yeah." (Low.) "Do that."
The wind chime caught the breeze.
A small tink rang out.
And for a heartbeat—
They were just three teenagers eating ramen at sunset.
Not Hunters.
Not weapons.
Not tragedies-in-progress.
Just… alive.
Present — Serenia's Ruined Street
The memory shattered like glass.
Ryo blinked hard, breath catching in his throat.
His gaze dropped to the pavement again—
To the blood.
To the absence.
To the spot where the world had opened and swallowed her whole.
(He could still hear that wind chime.)
And it made something inside him snap.
Not loudly.
Not with drama.
Just a clean, deadly decision.
Kyou's voice came again—hoarse, trembling.
"Ryo."
Ryo slowly turned his head.
Kyou's eyes were red-rimmed with rage, but clear with purpose.
"…Say it," Kyou demanded. (Desperate.) "Say we're getting her back."
Ryo's fists tightened.
His voice came out like iron dragged across stone.
Ryo: "We're getting her back." (Vow.)
Mei flinched at the sound—like the certainty hurt.
Hiroshi swallowed, eyes glossy.
Ryo stared at the void-scar on the air.
And in his mind, he saw Yua holding that cheap little wind chime like it was proof she could exist outside of war.
He inhaled.
Deep.
Steady.
Ryo: "Kairos…" (Low.) "You took her like she was nothing."
His eyes sharpened—cold, luminous with something that didn't belong in a human boy.
Ryo: "So I'm going to take everything back." (Promise.) "And I'm going to make you feel what absence really means."
Kyou's hand trembled as he clenched it into a fist.
Kyou: "…And when we find her—"
Ryo didn't look away.
Ryo: "We'll bring her home." (Certain.)
Because he remembered what she asked.
Keep breathing.
Ryo's breath steamed in the cold air.
He stepped forward.
And somewhere—far beyond Serenia's sky—
A wind chime that didn't belong to this world kept ringing softly in the dark.
🌀 End Of Chapter Forty Two