Chapter Text
2017
“It’s kinda risky, don’t you think, Takemichi?” Naoto’s fingers flew across his laptop keyboard, the glow of the screen reflecting in his glasses. “We only have a few hours before that whole fight goes down in the past.”
Takemichi huffed, pacing in small circles before finally flopping into the chair across from him. His knee bounced restlessly. “I know, I know—but we have to find this Hitori girl, she has the info we need to prove Kisaki is a pyscho. All I remember is her is… bright orange hair, tan skin. And Meiko knows her.”
Naoto paused mid-typing, looking up with a raised brow. “Who?”
“Meiko?” Takemichi repeated, then froze, smacking his forehead. “Oh—right. Sorry. She’s someone I met back there… her and Chifuyu. They’re kidnapped now, thanks to Kisaki.” His voice dropped lower, almost to himself. “And after this… I just hope Meiko goes back to scamming people instead of being dragged into all this.”
Naoto’s brow furrowed. “Chifuyu… Chifuyu…” he muttered under his breath, searching his memory. Then his eyes flicked back up. “Chifuyu Matsuno?”
Takemichi’s eyes lit up, snapping his fingers. “Yeah! You know him?”
Naoto hesitated, then slowly turned his gaze back to the screen. “Not personally. But… I do know he was arrested in 2009. For assaulting a woman.”
The room seemed to go quiet.
Takemichi stiffened, a nervous laugh slipping past his lips. “Wh—what? No way. Chifuyu would never do that.” But the look in Naoto’s eyes made his throat dry.
“What woman?” Takemichi finally asked, his voice tight.
Naoto shrugged slightly. “The police never identified her. They only had a security video from the entrance of a hospital. From what witnesses said, her face was barely recognizable from how badly she’d been beaten.”
Takemichi sank back into the couch, shoulders heavy. “…Wow. Okay then…” His thoughts churned. What if it was Meiko? By 2009, she’d be seventeen. Would that be enough for them to call her a woman? Chifuyu and Meiko never seemed to get along properly.
He swallowed hard. “…Maybe we should talk to him,” he muttered. “If anyone knows where Hitori and Meiko are, it’s Chifuyu. And Meiko—she could help us. She knows her way around things… cameras, leads, information, anything.”
Naoto’s head tilted. “Wait, cameras? That’s police-secured data. How would she—”
Takemichi cut in with a weak chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “Meiko and Hanayo don’t exactly… follow the law.” His eyes shifted away, guilt creeping across his face.
Naoto exhaled and turned back to his laptop. “Fine. Then my job is to figure out where Chifuyu Matsuno’s been hiding. He’s still part of Toman, so he won’t be easy to track.”
Takemichi nodded, pulling out his phone as if to help. “Maybe I can check the news for leads…” he murmured, thumbing through the headlines.
The article on his screen blurred as his vision swam. He blinked, hoping he’d misread it—he had to have misread it. But the words stayed the same, staring back at him. His stomach dropped, ice flooding his veins.
His disbelief twisted into raw terror.
“Bloody Night Leaves 4 Dead — Including Missing Girl from 2011”
On the 5th of August, four bodies were discovered scattered across ___ Local Park.
Three of the deceased were identified as Hanma Shūji, Usanami Rini, and Fūun Kumo — all known members of the notorious Tokyo Manji Gang.
The fourth victim was identified as Hui Yoshida, a young woman who had been reported missing in 2011. Her body was later recovered in a men’s public bathroom within the park grounds.
Authorities have yet to release further details surrounding the incident, but the discovery has reignited questions about both the Tokyo Manji Gang’s violent activities and the mysterious disappearance of Hui Yoshida more than a 5 years ago....
“That’s messed up…” Takemichi felt his stomach lurch, bile rising in his throat. The police report had been graphic—blood everywhere, a body riddled with bullets, the kind of grotesque scene out of a horror movie. The brutality had been so overwhelming that several officers who’d arrived on-site quit their jobs afterward.
Takemichi squeezed his eyes shut. His heart had already known Hui was in danger the moment he left her behind, but he hadn’t imagined she’d been treated like that.
“There’s no denying it now,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Hui’s tied up in something with Toman that’s getting her this kind of treatment. But how…?” His brows knitted as he tried to piece it together. “She always had this cycle—help us, panic, disappear, then come back just to do it all over again. But… what if she did something to break it this time? What if that’s what got her into this mess? No…” He shook his head violently. “She’d never…”
“What are you mumbling about now?” Naoto’s voice cut in, flat but curious. He raised an eyebrow. “Well?”
“Oh!” Takemichi shoved his phone into his pocket, forcing a nervous laugh. “Just… thinking about Hui.”
“That girl from the last timeline?” Naoto tilted his head. “What about her?”
Takemichi leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’m trying to figure out how she’s connected to Toman without actually being in Toman. She’s always on the edge—helping, then panicking, then running away, then coming back. Just repeating it all again.” His voice dropped, frustrated. “Now it’s just—”
“Then put her in Toman’s business.”
Takemichi froze. “What?” He furrowed his brows. “Didn’t you just hear what I said—”
“Before and now, she wasn’t part of Toman,” Naoto said firmly, turning his chair toward him. “That’s why she ended up as a hostage and got brutally tortured. If her cycle continued, her fate would never change—it would only shift the date she was kidnapped. So…” His eyes narrowed. “Break the cycle. Force her into it. Keep her in Toman’s fights. Don’t let her panic. Don’t let her run.”
Takemichi scratched the back of his neck, uneasy. “But wouldn’t that just make her more of a target? Easier to kidnap?”
“Not if she’s important,” Naoto countered. “If she becomes someone Toman relies on—especially someone tied to Mikey—they can’t pull that shit.” He added, “Draken mentioned her once. Mikey too.”
Takemichi blinked, surprised. “Yeah, I guess those two are close… but Hui doesn’t like Mikey. Or anyone.”
Naoto smirked faintly. “Even better. Then make her his best friend. If Kisaki has to deal with Hui as Mikey’s shadow, his plans fall apart.” He clapped Takemichi’s shoulder. “Simple.”
Takemichi forced a grin. “Right… simple. Now, uh… how do I do that?”
Naoto had already turned back to his laptop. “Figure it out yourself.”
“Eh!? How am I supposed to figure that out!?” Takemichi’s voice cracked in exasperation. “Hui would never dive headfirst into a fight unless she had something to gain—” He froze, a memory flashing in his mind. “Wait. A lead.” His eyes lit up. “She mentioned a lead once before she ran off…” He turned quickly. “Any ideas?”
Naoto split his laptop screen, pulling up records. “Hui Yoshida… deceased… deceased… deceased…” His scrolling stopped. “Unknown.” His eyes narrowed. He clicked further. “…And missing.”
Takemichi leaned in. “Missing? Who?”
“Her older brother,” Naoto explained. “Case never resolved. Disappeared without a trace.”
Takemichi’s eyes widened. “That’s why she wanted to know about the old generations of Moebius…” His mind raced, then he blinked. “Wait—you said ‘unknown.’”
“Yeah. Her father. Completely unlisted.” Naoto’s fingers flew across the keyboard again. “But I’ll dig into that later.” His tone shifted. “Also, about Chifuyu, Meiko, Hitori… you mentioned someone named Hanayo.”
“Yeah, Hanayo."
“I find it hard to believe two random girls could pull security footage, dig up leads, and bypass police tech that easily,” Naoto said flatly. “The only way that’s possible is if one of them has serious knowledge—coding, bypassing firewalls, hacking systems… the works.”
Takemichi shrugged, scratching his neck. “So you’re saying…?”
Naoto’s eyes narrowed. “Have you even seen Hanayo?” he asked, glancing over.
Takemichi shook his head quickly.
Naoto leaned back in his chair, muttering almost to himself. “That makes things ten times harder. But… if I connect the dots, there’s only one answer.” His voice dropped, disbelief lacing every word. “The only person who could’ve been around your age back then and still have access to that kind of tech is… Hanayo Tomiya.”
His head snapped toward Takemichi. “HOW THE HELL DID YOU GUYS GET HER!?”
Takemichi stumbled back at Naoto’s sudden outburst, throwing up his hands. “I-I didn’t! Meiko—she’s the one who—”
"Her family owns a five-star hotel in Ginza!? That’s where she’s staying currently." He paused, his eyes widening at the details. “Tomiya, Hanayo. Net worth: over ninety million yen!?" He whipped around to Takemichi slowly. “…EXPLAIN!?” his voice high pitched.
Takemichi scratched his head nervously, his laugh weak. “I didn’t meet her… Meiko did, she's just the phone girl.” He leaned closer to read the screen. “Tomiya Hanayo…” His lips tightened, then he looked straight at Naoto. “How do you know it's her?"
“Because it makes sense. Her family doesn’t just have money—they own a tech company. They’re known for coding, advanced security systems, surveillance. If you connect the dots, it’s obvious. You mentioned Meiko and Hanayo getting security footage? That’s not luck. It’s simple when your family owns half the cameras in Tokyo. Getting access wouldn’t take a miracle. It’d take one password.... and a bunch of firewalls but whatever." He brushed off.
“Well, can we meet her?” Takemichi asked carefully, still half-defensive after Naoto’s sudden yell.
Naoto gave him a confused look, his brow knitting. “How? That’s a woman worth millions.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, skeptical but calculating.
Takemichi’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “Then let’s go to the hotel!” he blurted, suddenly standing. His chest puffed out with determination, even if his legs trembled beneath him.
Naoto glanced at the clock on the wall, lips flattening into a line. “…It’s practically ten at night,” he muttered, half expecting Takemichi to back down.
But Takemichi only shook his head, eyes burning with urgency. “We’ve got to try!” His voice cracked with desperation, but he pushed forward anyway, rattling off names like they were lifelines he refused to let go of. “Hanayo, Chifuyu, Meiko, Hitori… and then Hui’s father if we got time."
He moved to the door, gripping the knob with clammy fingers. The cold metal bit into his palm as if testing his resolve. For the first time since he’d stormed to his feet, Takemichi paused—his own heartbeat pounding so violently it echoed in his ears.
Naoto watched him quietly, the glow of the laptop screen casting a pale light across his unreadable expression.
Takemichi swallowed hard, his throat dry. His lips parted, and a whisper slipped out—half prayer, half plea.
“God, Hanayo… you better be there.”
__________________________________________
The sheer scale of the hotel made Takemichi and Naoto feel like tiny rats scuttling at the feet of a giant. Naoto, somehow, still carried himself with a calm, composed air—like a slightly more dignified rat.
The hotel was a marvel for architects but a nightmare for engineers. Its flowing, organic shapes seemed to defy logic, twisting and curving in ways that made the building feel alive. The color palette was restrained yet striking—soft greys and crisp whites accented with hints of warm yellow, almost like flecks of gold catching the light. Massive glass windows stretched across the facade, offering a full view into the grand lobby below, where soaring pillars rose like guardians of the space. Every detail felt deliberate, elegant, and impossibly complicated, as if the building itself were a challenge daring anyone to understand it fully.
Takemichi shot a nervous glance at Naoto, sweat beading at his forehead. “You think I’m… ready for this?”
Naoto’s eyes flicked over Takemichi’s rumpled clothes, taking in the way he fidgeted. A pause. Then he nodded, a faint sarcastic smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. Perfect.”
Takemichi’s awkward smile faltered. “Naoto…” he muttered.
Naoto rolled his shoulders. “Oh, shut up and let’s go.” He strode toward the hotel’s revolving door.
Takemichi trailed behind, pushing his way through the door, only to be hit by the crisp, clean scent of lavender.
Inside, the hotel was just as breathtaking as the exterior. Marble floors gleamed under the chandeliers, gold-like pillars stretched toward the ceiling, and a statue dominated the center of the lobby. Every detail screamed wealth and elegance.
Takemichi couldn’t take his eyes off anything. The place made him feel smaller than ever. Around him, businessmen, CEOs, and wealthy families moved with effortless confidence, and he suddenly felt painfully out of place.
Naoto flicked his head sharply.
“Ow!” Takemichi’s hands shot to his forehead. “Excuse me!?”
“Focus,” Naoto sighed, eyebrows furrowed. “How the hell are we supposed to meet Hanayo like this?” He smoothed down the wrinkles in his suit, trying to appear composed despite the obvious stares.
Takemichi felt the weight of the onlookers too but forced himself to ignore it, pushing forward with clenched fists.
“Should we ask the front desk? You did say she’s staying here currently,” Takemichi suggested, his voice low as he glanced around at the marble lobby, wary of the watchful eyes.
“As if the front desk would let us talk to one of the richest women in Japan,” Naoto murmured, his tone flat but laced with disbelief. He adjusted his tie, scanning the luxurious surroundings as if calculating their chances.
He tugged lightly at Naoto’s sleeve. “Naoto… if there’s something important going on, like a charity, wouldn’t the family… y’know… come down to join?” His voice carried a strange mix of hope and nerves.
Naoto’s ears perked up, and he followed Takemichi’s gaze toward the bar. His expression shifted—serious, calculating. “Yeah. Rich people do that.”
The words landed heavy. Suddenly, the chaotic idea didn’t feel so impossible. If Hanayo really was here, then this gala might be their best chance at seeing her without having to talk their way past a dozen security guards.
Naoto started to walk towards the bar entrance, its arch decorated with gold ribbons and clusters of glossy balloons. From where he stood, he could already hear the faint ripple of laughter, the polite clink of champagne flutes, the hum of piano keys drifting from within.
Straightening his posture, he ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down, then brushed the wrinkles from his suit jacket with sharp, deliberate motions. He looked every bit like he belonged.
Behind him, Takemichi shuffled along, fidgeting with his shirt. His slouched shoulders and wide-eyed gawking made him stick out like a sore thumb.
And that was all it took.
A guard in a fitted clean black suit stepped forward, blocking their path with one arm outstretched. His gaze flicked over Naoto once, but lingered on Takemichi with visible suspicion.
Naoto’s jaw tightened, but he kept his face neutral. I knew this was stupid, he thought, teeth pressing together.
Naoto pulled up a practiced smile and adjusted his tie. “Hello, sir—”
“The doors behind you.” The guard’s voice was gravelly, scarred by years of cigarettes. He didn’t even bother pointing—just jerked his chin toward the exit as if dismissing them was muscle memory.
Naoto’s smile faltered. He cursed under his breath, his jaw tightening as he looked back at Takemichi. “Well, that’s it. Plans over.”
But Takemichi shook his head, refusing to budge. His eyes darted past the guard, through the open doorway where the golden light spilled out.
From his angle he could see everything—the glint of crystal wine glasses as they clinked together, the quiet roar of laughter over a poker table where chips and bills were thrown around like scraps, a caterer’s long table stacked with silver trays, platters of food, and bottles of champagne on ice. Wrapped gifts piled high in the corner. The air itself felt heavy with wealth, with arrogance.
And yet, none of it mattered.
Because somewhere in that crowd—behind the silk dresses and expensive suits, the painted smiles and careless laughter—was Hanayo. She could be anyone. Takemichi’s stomach sank. He didn’t even know what she looked like. She could be sitting right there, laughing with a glass in her hand, and he’d never recognize her.
The bodyguard shifted, stepping squarely into Takemichi’s line of sight. His presence alone was enough to blot out the glittering bar beyond. “Excuse me,” he rumbled, his tone flat but sharp. “The exit is behind you.” He repeated it like a command drilled into him—final, unmovable.
Takemichi huffed under his breath. “Not even a conversation?” He grumbled, before spinning on his heel, retreating toward the quieter side of the lobby. His voice dropped to a whisper. “What next?”
Naoto pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling hard through his teeth. “What if she’s not even in there?” He lowered his voice, “Think about it. If this Hanayo really is the one pulling strings with all that tech… then she’s not the social butterfly type. She’s probably the opposite—an introverted, security-obsessed geek.”
Takemichi’s eyes widened slightly. “So… not at the party?”
Naoto nodded slightly and shrugged. “Yeah, probably. If we go by that logic.”
Takemichi nodded along, but his eyes kept drifting back to the bar. He leaned forward on his toes, straining for one more look. “But what if she’s not…?”
Before Naoto could answer, Takemichi shuffled closer toward the entrance, eyes darting between faces.
“Alright, that’s it.”
The guard’s voice dropped like a hammer. He grabbed Takemichi by the collar and yanked him clean off the floor.
“Naoto!” Takemichi clawed at the man’s wrist, his feet kicking uselessly in the air.
“Shit!” Naoto bolted forward, fumbling through his pockets. His fingers brushed over his badge, his mind racing.
The guard’s grip tightened, his glare heavy enough to choke the air. “I think I’m gonna have to call the cops.”
Takemichi’s face flushed red as he gasped for breath—but his eyes, wide and darting, caught something in the bar. Through the chaos of clinking glasses and scattered card games, he finally saw faces clearly. Some glanced his way with mild annoyance. Others outright frowned.
And then—her.
A woman, seated alone with a glass different from the others, something clear and sharp instead of wine. She was paler than the crowd, thinner, her wide-brimmed hat shadowing most of her features. But when she looked up at him, her eyes locked—and widened. She gasped, hand lifting instinctively to her mouth, like she recognized him.
Takemichi froze. His stomach twisted. She knows me.
The woman stumbled to her feet, knees buckling. Her head whipped left, then right, as if searching for something—or deciding. Then, suddenly, she clutched her throat with both hands and let out a piercing scream.
The music snapped off mid-note. Every head turned, drinks spilling as people shrieked, half-rising from their seats. Gasps swept the bar like wildfire as the woman collapsed in a heap, her body limp, her hat tumbling to the floor.
The room erupted into chaos.
The bodyguard whipped his head toward the commotion, and with a grunt, he dropped Takemichi onto the marble floor before sprinting toward the woman.
“Ah, shit…” Takemichi groaned, rubbing his sides as he squinted toward the entrance.
Naoto stepped beside him, hands in his pockets, eyes narrowing at the chaos. “That was… weirdly convenient,” he murmured. Then, glancing down at Takemichi, he added, “Let’s get in there and check before everything calms down.”
Takemichi paused, catching his breath, then shakily rose to his feet to follow. “Wait up…”
The crowd swirled around the pale woman sprawled on the red-carpeted floor. Phones were out, calls for ambulances were being made, someone shouted for a doctor, and the bodyguard barked orders, keeping the press and guests at bay. The entire scene radiated importance, as if the woman were a figure no one dared ignore.
“Huh…” Takemichi muttered, frowning. “That’s… strange.”
Naoto scanned the bar, moving carefully through the crowd. “I don’t see anyone who looks like the photos online,” he muttered under his breath, eyes sharp and calculating.
Takemichi scratched the back of his head. “Let me—maybe I can help spot something.”
Before either of them could step closer, a pair of hands clamped onto the backs of their shirts and yanked them into the shadows at the far side of the bar.
“Oi!” Naoto barked, his brow furrowed. “Hey! Could you watch it!”
Eventually, they were dragged into a shadowy corner of the bar, the noise of the crowd muffling behind them. The grip finally released, and both of them stumbled forward.
Naoto spun on his heel, eyes flashing. “Excuse me!” he snapped, straightening his suit jacket. “What the hell do you think you’re—”
Takemichi staggered, breathless, rubbing at his collar. “You really just can’t…” His voice trailed off as his eyes finally focused on the figure before them.
A young man stood there, blending almost too well with the dim light. Black hair messy yet deliberate, cold sharp eyes sizing them up.
Takemichi froze, his heart thudding painfully. “W-wait a minute…” he whispered, his pupils shrinking. “…Chifuyu!?”
Chifuyu tugged sharply at Takemichi’s ear, his voice a hiss. “You’re supposed to be gone!"
Takemichi yelped, clutching his ear. “What the heck!”
"When word got around that you disappeared for days, I thought you’d finally escaped!” He let go and stomped his foot against the marble floor, the sound sharp in the tense air.
Takemichi gave out a nervous chuckle and scrambled for an excuse, eyes darting nervously. “I—I can’t just disappear without saying goodbye to everyone!”
Chifuyu rolled his eyes, expression caught somewhere between irritation and exhaustion. “Whatever.” Without waiting, he turned and stalked toward an empty bar table tucked away in the shadows. “Hurry up.”
Takemichi exchanged a glance with Naoto before following.
“That was… surprising,” Naoto muttered under his breath, eyes flicking to Chifuyu. “Didn’t think he’d be here.”
“Yeah…” Takemichi whispered back. “Coincidence?”
“Maybe not.” Naoto’s gaze hardened, calculating.
They reached the stools and pulled them out, the scrape of the wood against the floor loud against the distant murmurs of the chaotic bar.
Chifuyu slumped onto his seat, elbows resting heavily on the table. Up close, he looked worse than Takemichi remembered—skin pale and drawn tight, dark shadows smudged beneath bloodshot eyes. His posture sagged with fatigue, as though he hadn’t truly slept in days. The faint tremor in his hand as he reached for the untouched glass of water on the table didn’t go unnoticed.
Takemichi cleared his throat, trying to break the silence. “So I can only guess…” His voice trailed off as his eyes landed on something around Chifuyu’s neck. A pair of goggles. Familiar goggles. He blinked, his chest tightening with the sudden recognition. “…Anyway,” he forced himself to continue, shaking his head. “I didn’t think you’d still be in Toman—”
“I’m not.” Chifuyu cut him off instantly, voice sharp enough to sting.
Naoto leaned forward, skeptical. “No, that’s impossible. Everything online says you’re still part of that bloody gang.”
Chifuyu’s lips twisted into a bitter sigh. “Yeah. And that’s for my safety. Mikey doesn’t check who’s in Toman and who’s out—it’s too many names, too much turnover. But when I walked away in 2009, Hanayo started planting fake stories online. Made it look like I never left, so people wouldn’t start hunting me down for disappearing.”
Takemichi let out a nervous laugh. “Well… then where is Hanayo?”
Chifuyu glanced at him, confused for the briefest moment, then shook his head. “We didn’t expect you to show up out of nowhere. She saw you being tossed around by that security guard and…” His expression flickered. “…she slipped. Reacted when she shouldn’t have.”
Takemichi’s mind snapped back to the pale woman in the hat, the one who had screamed and collapsed. He turned toward the bar, where the crowd was dispersing and the faint wail of an ambulance echoed from outside. His eyes widened. “…Wait. That was Hanayo?”
“Yeah.” Chifuyu leaned back, his voice flat. “She faked it. Distraction. So I could get to you idiots.”
Naoto exhaled, a small nod of approval. “Smart. Guess having someone like her on your side is useful.”
Chifuyu’s lips curved into a humorless chuckle. “It’s just us. Two people. Doing everything we can to bring Toman down.” His voice was low, bitter.
Takemichi tilted his head, hesitant. “…You two… What about Hitori? Or maybe Meiko—”
The words barely left his mouth before Chifuyu’s hand snapped, and cold whiskey splashed across his face.
Takemichi gasped, flinching as the liquid stung his eyes. He blinked furiously, stunned, dripping.
Chifuyu’s eyes burned. “That isn’t fucking funny.” His voice cracked like thunder. His hands trembled against the glass as he slammed it down, “You got amnesia or something?” His words hissed like venom.
Takemichi froze, his mouth half-open. He wanted to ask, wanted to pry, but the way Chifuyu’s whole body seemed to coil with fury and grief stopped him cold. Silence pressed down heavy between them.
Slowly, he wiped his face dry with his sleeve, heart thudding in his chest.
Naoto’s gaze flicked from Chifuyu’s trembling hands to Takemichi’s stricken expression.
He cleared his throat, trying to steady the awkward air. “Me and Takemichi here… we’re also trying to stop Toman,” he said carefully. “And we came to you because we found a lead on Hitori’s whereabouts. It would really help us… with gathering proof.” His tone faltered slightly—he knew he couldn’t explain the real reason. Not without sounding insane.
Chifuyu raised a brow at the mention of Hitori, his lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment he said nothing, then he let out a grunt. “She’s…” His voice caught, and he looked away. “…on house arrest.”
Naoto slid his hand down his face with a frustrated sigh. “Great.” He tried again. “I heard she was caught up in the Valhalla and Toman conflict. That true?”
“Correct,” Chifuyu muttered. “She helped Meiko with… a lot of shit.” His tone hinted there was more, but he didn’t expand.
Takemichi leaned in, eyes wide. “And I heard she had evidence against Kisaki. Something big. Like what?”
Chifuyu finally looked back at them, expression hardened. “A recorder,” he said flatly. “She carried one. With it, she slipped through Valhalla’s cracks. Got things she wasn’t supposed to hear.” He exhaled sharply, fingers tightening around his empty glass. “Kisaki. Hanma. Kumo just couldn't give two shits. The three of them planning the deaths of Baji, Kazutora, and Ai’s brutality. Every word.”
Takemichi’s breath caught. His mind flashed to the blood, the screams, the way it all spiraled that day.
“The reason Meiko never got it,” Chifuyu continued, bitterness dripping from his voice, “is because Hitori got locked in some rusty locker during the battle. She was there until the end. And Mikey…” Chifuyu’s jaw tightened. "By then, everything was useless.”
Chifuyu leaned back, rubbing at his temple, his voice low but edged with anger.
“So Toman went psycho. Turned into another Black Dragon—crime after crime after crime.” His laugh was hollow, bitter. “I had to quit. There was no saving it by the end.”
his tone then softened, almost reluctant, “…And for other reasons.”
Chifuyu shook his head, scowling. “No. Doesn’t even make sense. It was me, you, and Meiko running for our lives. Kumo was on us the whole damn time.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if remembering an old ache. “Her legs were insane—fast, precise. One kick from her and it felt like your ribs would snap in half. We were too busy dodging her to notice anyone else.”
“Shit… that makes this ten times harder…” Takemichi muttered under his breath, only quiet enough for Naoto to catch.
Naoto exhaled and slid off the stool. “Alright. We’re going to the scene.”
Chifuyu lifted his head, brows furrowed. “Wait, what? Are you some kind of detective now?”
Naoto pulled out his badge just long enough for the dim bar light to flash across it, then shoved it back into his pocket. “Yeah.”
Chifuyu slumped back, letting out a humorless laugh. “Figures. Me and Hanayo were working with one too… until Kisaki had her killed.” His jaw clenched, voice dark. “Fucking psycho.”
Takemichi let out a shaky chuckle, fingers running through his hair as if he could somehow smooth away the tension coiling in his chest. Oh God… Kisaki’s gonna be a problem…
Then he blinked, gears in his brain catching. “Oh yeah! O’clock!” He twisted toward Chifuyu with sudden urgency. “You were in Toman, right? There’s this woman—”
“Have no idea.” Chifuyu cut him off flatly.
Silence fell, thick and heavy, pressing down on the three of them. Takemichi’s mouth opened, then shut, then opened again, words catching in his throat. “What… huh? What?”
Chifuyu finally leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. “She was introduced into Toman after Mikey turned eighteen. Never showed her face. She only spoke through speakers, messages, like a damn ghost. And all she wanted was Hui Yoshida.” He shot Takemichi a pointed glance. “Question her and you’d be hanging by the end of the night.”
Takemichi’s brows knit together. “Why Hui?”
Chifuyu shrugged, almost too casually. “You. And Hui. But make no mistake—they clearly want you dead.” His tone dropped to a murmur, the words heavy.
Takemichi’s chest tightened, his pulse pounding so hard it hurt. He swallowed, voice thin. “O-Okay…” He hesitated, searching for air. “…Then what about Ai?”
A bitter chuckle slipped out of Chifuyu, humorless and sharp. “Ai? She’s on the same drugs Rini was on. Joined out of nowhere right after Kisaki had a little chat with her… and now all she does is mutter about bringing Baji back.”
Naoto grabbed Takemichi by the shoulder, spinning him to face him. “Right now, our main goal is figuring out where Hitori could be. Give your dumb ass a head start,” he said, voice sharp. “Forget the others for now.”
Takemichi’s shoulders slumped as he slowly pushed himself up from the stool. His gaze flicked toward Chifuyu. “Well… you wanna come?”
Chifuyu shook his head, eyes dark. “Nah. I’m keeping a low profile. Hanma and the others are dead. Hui’s dead. Ai… I think I’ll stay in the background, working with Hanayo.” He paused, voice low and almost grim.
“Whatever you’re doing, Takemichi… it’s probably not gonna be worth it. Everyone else is gone. Best move? Pick a different country and save yourself before Kisaki adds your name to his little list of murders.”
Takemichi’s hands trembled slightly as he listened to Chifuyu carefully.
“COME ON!”
Takemichi heard from Naoto.
He was already striding out of the bar, his steps brisk and purposeful, leaving the lingering chaos behind.
Takemichi hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded. Now I really have to do something.
He pushed off the floor and sprinted after Naoto, determination propelling him forward, the echo of his own heartbeat in his ears.
Takemichi shivered as the cold night air hit his face, the city lights flickering off the wet pavement. “So?” he asked, voice tight.
Naoto ran a hand through his hair, eyes scanning the street. “We’re heading to the crime scene. Then we figure out where the lockers are,” he said, gesturing vaguely with his hands.
“But we don’t even know which locker Hitori was in,” Takemichi pointed out, frowning.
Naoto shrugged, almost casually. “Four hours till six. You came back. We’re finishing your mess.” He patted Takemichi on the back, firm and steady as he walked off.
“So… we’re just going to search all night? Until six?”
“Exactly!” Naoto called out, voice sharp against the quiet night, as he strode forward with his hands shoved casually into his pockets.
Takemichi sprinted after him once more, boots pounding against the cold pavement.
Above them, the same woman lingered—platinum hair catching faint streetlight, her steampunk ensemble sharp against the darkness. She perched on the edge like a vulture, eyes locked on Naoto and Takemichi as they moved toward their next destination.
Every step they took seemed to thrill her, a predator savoring the chase… until, in the back of her mind, a tiny flicker of doubt whispered that she had already made her first misstep.