Kyoto.
[12:14 PM]
Inside a dorm drenched in spiritual residue, Jin stood still, his chest rising and falling in heavy, breaths. His knuckles were bruised, his face marked with streaks of blood and grime. Shallow cuts laced his arms, reminders of the battle just moments ago.
"…Why," he muttered, fists clenched tightly, "why is it not collapsing yet?" he placed his hand on his blades.
As if to answer him, a screech tore through the silence. A malformed spirit, jaw dislocated and eyes like shards of glass, lunged from behind—its jagged bone blade gleaming.
But it never landed the strike.
A slash at first. Then a crack of blue light split the air, a laser-thin beam pierced the spirit. Its head popped off cleanly, bouncing with a hollow thud as the body evaporated midair. The wind carried away its remains like dust in sunlight.
A voice followed.
"Yoo. The infamous Anti-Spirit Keeper himself," came a cocky, familiar tone.
Jin turned, still breathless, and saw two figures approaching from the dorm's entrance. One wore combat trousers and a white vest, a wide grin on his face, a heavy gun slung over his shoulder. The other with a dark blue coat and efficient calm in his gaze.
Ken Yunai and Shougo Matsuda.
"Ken. Matsuda." Jin's voice was low, but alert.
The dorm now collapsed entirely. Now, they stood in a clearing among towering trees. The dorm's shattered pieces floated in the air like black snow.
"Wasn't expecting both Spirit Keepers to come from the same guild," Jin muttered, dusting off his hands. His tone was observational, not surprised.
Ken approached, raising a fist for a bump. "Your boys told us there were a ton of dorms to clear out. But we only found four standing. Guess someone couldn't wait for backup."
Jin didn't return the gesture. "I'm not into fist bumps. Or handshakes. Did you forget?"
"At last," Matsuda exhaled, folding his arms. "Someone I can relate to."
"Told you you'd like him," Ken grinned, nudging Matsuda in the ribs.
"…Ow," Matsuda replied dryly.
Ken turned back to Jin, clearing his throat. "Ahem. I mean, you could at least thank us. Y'know, for saving your life and all."
Jin raised an eyebrow. "Did your gun slice its head off?"
Ken blinked. "Well… I mean, it was… um… Damn your reflexes. How did you even get a clean cut from backing it."
Jin walked past him without responding. Matsuda followed suit, stepping beside him with quiet ease.
Ken jogged to catch up. "This your first senior mission, Matsuda?"
"Yes," he replied.
Ken threw his arms in the air. "Great. Just great. Now I've got two introverts to handle." he sighed "Just glad Ayaka isn't here too, would've been worse. Although she's kinda more fun than you guys."
Jin, unfazed, asked Matsuda, "First field test?"
"Not the first actually, but it's been…illuminating," Matsuda replied.
Ken groaned. "Hey Jin, you gotta teach those moves. For when I decide to start using a sword."
"Not happening," Jin replied without hesitation.
"Aw, come on!" Ken sighed, dragging his feet dramatically as they disappeared into the trees.
Tokyo – Ome District.
Meanwhile…
Takami stood outside his house, locking the door behind him. His hoodie jacket was zipped all the way up, sleeves pulled low, and hands in the pockets.
He stopped a taxi and sank into the seat, eyes distant. As the city passed by, the weight of what he was about to do sat heavy on his chest.
Twenty minutes later, the taxi stopped in Shinjuku.
He stepped out and looked up at the modest apartment complex before him.
"Building 7-B. Apartment 32. Third floor," he murmured, recalling every detail from the words of the captain.
He climbed the stairs slowly, like each step carried an emotional tax. On the third floor, he stood before Apartment 32. He took out the photo, the one he was given last night.
The doorbell echoed once. Then, hurried footsteps. A soft clack of the lock turning.
The door opened.
A girl stood there, shoulder length purple hair. The same girl from the photo. Her eyes lit up for a split second, hope blooming, then fading just as fast. Takami could almost feel the disappointment hit her like a slap.
He tried to meet her eyes but couldn't. "Mina? I… I'm here to—"
"Yeah," she said quietly, eyes locked on the photo in his hands. "Come in."
She already knew.
He stepped inside and she gently shut the door. "Have a seat."
Takami sat on the edge of the couch. Mina sat across from him, but her head was low, hair falling over her eyes.
Takami swallowed hard. "He asked me to tell you that… he finally went on that long journey he always talked about."
She cut in softly, her voice hollow, "The 'long journey' story. The one he always told me as a kid."
She chuckled bitterly, but it cracked under the weight of the truth.
"I'm not ten anymore." Her voice quivered. "He's dead… isn't he?"
Silence stretched. There were no words. Only the ticking of the wall clock filled the room.
"I knew it," she whispered. "I knew this would happen."
Takami glanced at her knees where her tears fell, silent, rhythmic, unstoppable.
"It's not the end of the world if I get hurt…" she said shakily. "But he kept trying to protect me like it was."
Her voice cracked deeper with each word. "I warned him about the spirit. I told him. But he never listens. He never…never thinks about himself."
And then she broke.
She cried like her entire chest had split open. Raw, trembling sobs filling the air. "Why… why did he always have to be the hero for me? I never even asked for that. I just…I just wanted us to live happily…as a simple family."
Takami clenched his fists, eyes burning. "I'm so sorry…"
She wiped her tears quickly, her breathing still ragged. "Sorry but… could you please… come back tomorrow? I just…I just need to process this."
Takami stood slowly. "Yeah. Of course. I'll be here."
As he walked to the door, he passed a photo on the table: her and her dad, both smiling ear-to-ear at an amusement park.
Beside it sat a calendar. Tomorrow's date was circled with bright red ink. Beneath it: "Dad's Day Off."
His heart dropped like a stone.
He opened the door to leave, but before he stepped out…
"…Thank you," Mina said quietly.
He turned slightly, nodded once, and stepped into the hallway. The door closed gently behind him.
Inside, Mina stood frozen, staring at the door.
Then she backed up against it. Her legs gave out. She sank slowly to the floor, back against the wood, knees to her chest.
And once again, she cried. This time alone.
Outside the building – 1:12 PM
Takami stepped out of the apartment complex, hoodie up and eyes calm, but inside he was broken. He raised a hand and hailed another taxi, giving the driver quiet directions to Okutama.
The ride was silent.
When they arrived, the soft grey clouds overhead matched the mood on the ground. Takami paid the driver and stepped out, making his way on foot to the small cemetery that bordered the forest edge.
A small crowd had gathered, most of them locals. Muffled cries and the rustle of shoes filled the silence. He stopped short, far enough not to be seen, but close enough to watch. His back leaned lightly against a tree trunk. From here, he could see the small group of bodies being buried.
The innkeeper.
Two others who couldn't make it.
A part of him felt that staying in the shadows was all he deserved.
The crowd began to thin, people giving their final nods and words of prayer. The restaurant owner, an older man who had messaged Takami that day, paused. His gaze scanned the trees and landed on Takami. Their eyes met. No words passed. Just a small, respectful nod from the man. Takami returned it before lowering his gaze and walking away, steps slow and heavy.
He didn't know what was heavier.
His feet, or his thoughts.
Later that day – 2:14 PM
Hachioji - Tokyo.
The weather had shifted, cloudy skies and cold wind with no rain.
Yona stepped out of a taxi and adjusted her coat. She entered a modest restaurant tucked beside an alley, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. Her eyes scanned the interior, then landed on Jimin who waved her over from a corner table.
"Sorry I'm late," Yona said as she took a seat across from him, catching her breath.
"No worries at all," Jimin smiled. "One sec, just need to make a call real quick."
"Go ahead," Yona nodded, grateful for the pause to calm her racing mind.
Jimin held the phone to his ear. No answer. He frowned, tried again. "Come on, pick up," he whispered under his breath.
Yona tilted her head. "Something wrong?"
Jimin glanced at her, distracted. "Nah, just trying to reach Yuri. She usually helps pass messages to Takami when he goes off-grid, but she's not picking up either."
Yona blinked. Takami?
She knew that name far too well.
"I'm sorry," Jimin said, giving a short laugh, "I shouldn't be dropping names like that. They're just my best friends."
Yona forced a smile, "No, it's totally fine… Actually, uh… Takami Ryusei?"
Jimin perked up. "Yeah, that's him! You know him?"
She laughed, tight, unnatural. "Uh…heard of him before."
Her voice didn't sound like hers.
Jimin tilted his head, sensing something. "Your face changed. Is everything okay?"
"No! I mean, yes. Nothing's wrong." Yona forced another laugh, biting down the inner spiral. "Just a familiar name I wasn't expecting to hear, that's all."
Jimin nodded slowly, not fully convinced, but not pushing either. He raised his hand to call the waiter.
Yona's eyes stayed on him, or more accurately, just past him.
Her thoughts, however, were in freefall.
Takami… Ryusei. Of all people…
The person she'd been observing… was this guy's best friend? She hadn't expected the web to start pulling strings this close. Now she wondered if this was a good or bad thing?
But now?
She looked at Jimin, watching the way he tapped on the menu, relaxed, unaware.
"This just got complicated," she thought.
And she wasn't wrong.