Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The scene began with a disheveled young woman, her hair messy and speaking in languages quite different from what was known in Japan.

"Soul, return to the world. Invoke the matriarch… Asahina Kanade." These were the wretched words of the girl, her eyes already those of a young woman desperate from all the suffering she was enduring.

Kanade’s eyes snapped open after a few hours, her black hair with purple streaks was somewhat disheveled. She got up carefully, until someone threw an apple at her.

"Crazy! Crazy!" Shouted some children who ran off before she could respond. Her head was pounding, and she felt like vomiting.

Kanade raised her purple-pink gaze that glowed slightly, noticing the long, unkempt nails of that woman, but then saw a girl who started hitting her.

"You damn psycho!" Said the woman, who seemed to know the body's former occupant, but she ended up receiving a punch from Kanade. Kanade paid no attention to the blow, then lowered her gaze to the blood seal on the floor.

"This blood seal… How bad was she having it? Did she use her own body as an offering? If she was supposed to invoke, she should have called the evil gods. Maybe she was crazy…" Kanade whispered, but the woman kicked her, making her fall to the floor.

"Kaori… why did you summon me? Do you want me to punish that woman? Make her suffer? Beat her up? Sew up that mouth?" Kanade asked in her mind, and she started laughing. As the woman was about to approach, saying she had grown some nerve, she received another blow from Kanade, this time with her fist.

"Who do you think you're facing?" Kanade asked. The woman began to run while Kanade smiled, then watched as she would have to chase them.

"I’m going to have a lot of fun!" Said Kanade, her purple-pink eyes shining with glee as she tied her tangled hair into a small ponytail.

The scene shifted with Kanade running through the streets, causing a ruckus among the passersby who stepped aside with shouts of surprise. Her bare feet hit the pavement with an erratic rhythm, and then she snatched a jar of sake that was falling from a street stall.

"That tastes great!" She said with a wide smile on her lips, her purple-pink eyes shining as she drank directly from the jar, ignoring the scandalized looks of the merchants. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and kept running, the jar still in her hand.

Kanade arrived at the office where the woman was hugging her mother, almost wetting herself. The young woman ran toward them with the intention of continuing her "fun," but she was grabbed by one of the female detectives who were there. When Kanade raised her purple-pink gaze, she noticed that the one holding her was a beautiful woman… too tall to be Japanese.

"Are you alright?" Asked the woman, with a soft smile, her red lips shining slightly in the light. Her feline golden eyes fixed on Kanade with a mix of curiosity and warmth that contrasted with the firmness of her grip.

Kanade blinked, momentarily disconcerted. The woman in front of her was extraordinarily beautiful, elegant, and quite tall, with a slender and curvy figure that moved with the serenity of someone who didn't need to rush to impose herself. She had small, tight golden rose-shaped earrings that tinkled softly with every movement.

Her skin, pale as ancient porcelain, seemed almost translucent under certain lights. Her eyes were the first thing that stopped the observer. Strange, golden, feline, with uncircled pupils that evoked creatures that no longer walked among humans. The dark shadows surrounding her soot-black eyelids gave the illusion of a gaze deeper than possible.

Her hair, long, straight, and jet black, fell perfectly to almost her waist, so shiny that it looked like a liquid curtain of obsidian. To keep the red rose-shaped kanzashi she always wore on her head in place, she took a small section from each side of her face, just at the height of her temples.

That woman must have been a detective who came to investigate strange things. Her nails were painted a burgundy color, slightly long but a decent length enough to do household chores.

"I am perfectly fine, Miss Detective~" Kanade replied with a brazen smile, not attempting to break free from the grip but clearly evaluating the woman in front of her. "Although I appreciate the concern of someone so… beautiful."

Behind Kikyo, a man with dark brown hair and deep brown eyes observed the scene with an unreadable expression. He wore a long beige coat over his uniform, and there was something about his relaxed posture that dangerously contrasted with the intensity of his gaze. A small smile played on his lips as he watched the interaction.

"Ara, Kikyo-san, it seems you've found something interesting," Commented Dazai in a nonchalant tone, approaching with his hands in his pockets. "Although I must say it’s the first time I've seen someone drink stolen sake while fleeing an angry mob. Is that a new record for casual criminality?"

Kanade realized, she peered toward the woman who had been hitting her, while one of the servants tried to pull her away. The mother then spoke, looking toward the detectives who must have been Dazai Osamu and his Archon, Saitou Kikyo.

"That crazy girl attacked my daughter! You should arrest her!" Shouted the mother, pointing an accusing finger at Mizuki.

"We don't want to get involved in your family issues that are not our concern," Said Kikyo in a melodious but firm voice, raising her hands and letting her fingers move with calculated grace. "But you must close the doors of this place tonight." She was clearly referring to the exorcism they had to perform. In the world they lived in, detectives with supernatural abilities had to perform exorcisms.

"Osamu and I will take care of the matter," Kikyo continued with a smile on her red lips, her earrings tinkling softly. As she spoke, she subtly protected Kanade from the people trying to approach, her golden gaze calming the scandal in that place with a silent authority that admitted no reply.

"However…" Dazai moved closer, tilting his head slightly as he studied Kanade with those penetrating eyes. "I wonder if 'crazy' is the right word. After all, there are so many forms of madness in this world. Some are genuine, others are… convenient masks. Don't you think so, Kikyo-san?"

"Osamu is right," Kikyo nodded, without letting go of Kanade but without hurting her either. Her grip was firm but strangely gentle. "True madness has a specific pattern. You, on the other hand…" Her golden eyes fixed on Mizuki's purple-pink ones. "You have too much clarity in your gaze to be simply a demented woman."

Kanade laughed, a genuine and somewhat mischievous laugh. "Well, well~ I didn't expect to meet such perceptive detectives. And here I was thinking I could have a little more fun."

"Fun is overrated," Dazai murmured with a dramatic sigh, although his eyes never stopped analyzing Kanade. "Believe me, I speak from experience. Although I must admit your entrance was… memorable. The sake, the chase, the punches… Almost poetic, in a chaotic way."

"Osamu, concentrate," Kikyo gently reprimanded him, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice. Then she addressed the family: "Please, return to your rooms. We will take care of this."

The authority in her voice left no room for discussion. The family reluctantly retreated, casting resentful glances at Kanade.

"Now then," Kikyo carefully released Kanade, but her golden eyes remained vigilant. "Do you have somewhere to stay tonight? The streets are not safe when darkness falls, especially in this area."

Kanade rubbed her wrists where Kikyo had held her, more out of habit than pain. "And why would you care about that? I'm just a 'psycho' from the neighborhood, aren't I?"

"Because," Dazai stepped forward, with that smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Even 'psychos' deserve a roof over their heads. And besides…" He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "I have a slight suspicion that you and I could understand each other quite well. We both know what it's like to wear a mask, right?"

Kanade stared at him, her purple-pink eyes shining with something akin to recognition. "Interesting… Very interesting."

"There's a lake nearby," Kikyo added, her tone becoming more maternal. "If you need to wash up. And then you could come back here. We have to prepare for the exorcism tonight, and…" Her lips curved into an enigmatic smile. "Something tells me your presence could be… illuminating."

"Kikyo-san is being kind," Dazai commented in a sing-song voice. "Which usually means she's extremely interested in you. You should feel flattered. She doesn't usually offer her help to just anyone."

"Osamu…" Kikyo gave him a warning look, though there was affection in it.

Kanade watched both detectives, noting the synchronicity between them, the way they moved and spoke as if they shared the same thought. It was fascinating and a little intimidating.

"Alright, alright," Kanade said, raising her hands in surrender. "I accept your kind offer. Besides…" A mischievous smile crossed her face. "I'm curious to see what kind of exorcism you two perform. I promise to behave."

"Promises made with that smile are rarely kept," Observed Dazai with amusement. "I know from personal experience."

Kikyo sighed, but there was a smile on her lips. "Let's go then. The lake is a few minutes from here."

Kanade was at the lake, washing her face. The fresh water restored some clarity as she observed her reflection. The face she had was quite beautiful, with delicate and gentle features. She was about six centimeters shorter than in her previous body, measuring about 1.66 m now, and she used to measure 1.72 m.

"Well, I'm very good-looking in this body," She murmured to herself, touching her cheeks with curiosity. "How are 'psychos' supposed to act?" Kanade wondered, laughing, but then she saw her arm, where there were marks of malnutrition and some old bruises.

"How could that 'Kaori' have invoked me? Even though my reputation is truly terrible… I'm not spiteful, she shouldn't have called me for revenge." She said, pouting, her lips forming an adorable grimace that contrasted with the seriousness of her words. But then she looked at her clothes.

"I wonder if the old owner of this house has more comfortable clothes than this… and if I can use the shower." Kanade wondered with a sigh, she turned around and smiled slightly, then returned to the shed where the poor girl lived.

As she walked back, she examined the clothes she was wearing more closely: it was a school uniform. The white cotton shirt had lost its shine from constant use; the collar was frayed and the cuffs stained with red ink. It had a small repair under the arm. The skirt was black, also worn out. The stockings were torn, especially at the knee. Her Converse sneakers were worn and mismatched, with one white lace and one black. The sole and heel showed improvised repairs with sturdy thread, and the entire surface was stained from use and the environment.

"… I think I understand now why she invoked me," She said, then walked faster toward her house, determination shining in her purple-pink eyes.

What she didn't know was that behind an old wooden pillar, Dazai and Kikyo were silently observing her. Both had the same analytical gaze, that identical expression they shared when something captured their professional and personal interest.

"Do you think she is…?" Kikyo began, her voice barely a whisper. Her golden eyes shone with curiosity as she watched Kagome's every movement, from the way she touched her new face to how she examined the worn-out clothes.

"An invocation," Dazai completed in the same low tone, his hands in his pockets as he leaned casually against the pillar. His expression was impassive, but there was a gleam of genuine interest in his brown eyes. "The blood seal on the floor, the way she talked about 'evil gods,' and those eyes…" He paused, tilting his head slightly. "They are definitely not those of a simple demented girl."

"Her way of moving has also changed," Observed Kikyo, crossing her arms under her chest as her golden gaze followed Kagome. "When we arrived, she was erratic, almost savage. Now there is… grace. Purpose. As if she's learning to use a body that isn't entirely hers."

"Mmm," Dazai nodded, a small smile curving his lips. "And that conversation she had with herself… 'Kaori,' 'why did you summon me?'. Fascinating. A voluntary possession, or rather, a desperate invocation."

"That girl, Kaori, must have suffered a lot," Kikyo sighed softly, and for a moment, something akin to compassion crossed her perfect features. "Using her own blood as an offering… That speaks of absolute desperation. The kind of pain that leads someone to invoke something they don't even fully understand."

"The world can be terribly cruel," Dazai murmured, although his tone was almost casual, as if he were commenting on the weather. "Especially to those who don't have the power to defend themselves. The children called her 'crazy,' that woman hit her without hesitation… I wonder how long Kaori was living in those conditions."

"Long enough to wish to cease existing," Kikyo responded quietly, her fingers unconsciously touching the topaz ring on her middle finger. "And instead, she called someone who could… avenge her? Protect what she couldn't?"

"Or simply survive," Dazai added, pushing himself off the pillar. "Although that 'Kanade' doesn't seem like the vengeful type. I noticed how she avoided causing real harm to that woman. She could have destroyed her, but only hit her enough to escape."

Kikyo nodded, a small, knowing smile curving her red lips. "And she took the time to drink sake and have fun on the way. Someone truly malicious would have gone straight to causing harm. She… is playing. Exploring."

"Like someone who has just woken up after a long time," Reflected Dazai, his eyes following Kanade as she disappeared into the shadows of the shed. "An ancestral matriarch, as I heard in her invocation. 'Asahina Kanade'. That name…"

"I'll look into it," Kikyo promised, her fingers already reaching for her phone. "Although something tells me we won't find anything in modern records. Someone like that must belong to an earlier era, maybe centuries ago."

"We better confirm it during the exorcism tonight," Dazai said, starting to walk, his steps as silent as ever. "If she really is what I think she is, then tonight could become very interesting."

"And what if she is dangerous?" Kikyo asked, catching up to him easily, her height allowing her to match his pace effortlessly.

Dazai stopped, turning to look at her with that smile she knew so well, the one that spoke of plans within plans. "Then it will be even more interesting, don't you think, Kikyo-san? Besides…" His expression softened imperceptibly. "Something tells me she is not the kind of danger we should fear. She is the kind of danger we might… understand."

Kikyo observed him for a long moment, those golden eyes reading the layers of meaning behind his words. Finally, she nodded. "You've always had a good instinct for these things, Osamu."

"It's one of my few truly useful talents," He replied with false modesty. "That, and finding the best places to attempt a dramatic suicide."

"Osamu…" Kikyo sighed, but there was affection in her exasperation.

"I was joking, I was joking~" He sang, although both knew he wasn't entirely. "Now, let's go, we have to prepare for the exorcism. And something tells me…" He looked back one last time, toward where Kagome had disappeared. "That our 'crazy' guest is going to give us a lot of answers tonight. If we survive to hear them, of course."

"With that kind of attitude, Osamu, someday you really will…" Kikyo stopped, shaking her head with a resigned smile. "Forget it. Let's go."

And so, the two detectives walked away into the shadows, their figures moving with that unsettling synchronicity that characterized them, leaving behind the lake and the shed where a newly awakened ancient matriarch was trying to understand the world into which she had been invoked.

The night promised answers. And maybe, just maybe, it also promised the beginning of something completely unexpected.

—

The scene shifted to night. The shed was illuminated by a single flickering candle, casting dancing shadows on the dilapidated walls. Kanade was sitting in front of a small, cracked mirror she had found among the debris, using a makeshift needle she had heated over the fire.

"I think I like how I look like this.” Kanade murmured with a satisfied smile, admiring her handiwork. Her fingers, now with nails painted a dark red she had "borrowed" from a market stall, delicately touched the new piercings.

She had given herself five piercings in her left ear, three in her right, and also had one in her navel that glowed faintly under the candlelight. Each piercing had been precise, without hesitation, as if she had done this hundreds of times before. Because she had, in other lives, in other bodies.

"Kaori, I hope you don't mind me decorating your body a little," She said to the air, knowing the original soul could no longer respond. "But if you summoned me, I guess you wanted a change anyway, right?"

Then she heard a bloodcurdling scream that echoed throughout the area, cutting the night like a knife.

Kanade jumped from her seat, her purple-pink eyes shining with instant alert. She rushed outside, her bare feet hitting the packed dirt ground. What she saw made her stop dead in her tracks.

The corpse of A Yuan lay in the middle of the garden, contorted in an impossible position. Her skin had acquired an unnatural bluish tone, and her open eyes stared into nothingness with an expression of absolute terror. But the most disturbing thing was her mouth, open in a silent scream, from where more than just air seemed to have been torn out.

In a matter of seconds, thousands of people ran toward the scene, drawn by the screams. Dazai and Kikyo peered out from where they had been preparing the exorcism, their expressions immediately shifting into professional analysis mode.

"Interesting," Dazai murmured, leaning over the corpse without touching it. His brown eyes scanned every detail with surgical precision. "There are no marks of physical violence, no blood… And yet, look at her. It's as if something drained her from the inside."

Kikyo knelt elegantly beside the body, her burgundy-nailed fingers hovering inches above the skin without making contact. Her golden eyes glowed with ancient knowledge. "It's not just life that was taken from her. I can feel the emptiness… her very soul was sucked out."

Kanade was there looking at A Yuan's corpse, her purple-pink eyes analyzing not only the physical but the spiritual currents that still swirled around the body. She could see the last echoes of A Yuan’s soul, fragments of terror and desperation that were fading like smoke in the wind.

But then the mother came running, crying in the most pathetic way possible, her face contorted in a mask of pain and fury.

"You killed her!" The mother shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Kanade, her eyes bloodshot. "You, you damn psycho! You murdered her!"

Kanade blinked, tilting her head with genuine confusion. Her new piercings tinkled softly with the movement. "I did what?"

"Trash! You really did it! She was still a child!" The mother tried to leap at Kanade, her hands extended like claws, saliva flying from her mouth as she screamed.

But she was stopped by Kikyo, who moved with a grace that belied her strength. Despite her slender appearance, her arms stopped the woman as if she were a wrought iron barrier. A vein began to pulse on her temple, visible even under her perfect makeup, a sign that her temper was threatening to erupt.

"Calm down," Kikyo said in a soft voice but with an edge of steel underneath. Her golden eyes fixed on the hysterical woman. "Accusing without evidence only complicates things."

"Avenge yourself?" Kanade laughed, an almost amused sound as she pointed to the corpse with her painted nails. "But I didn't kill her. Moreover," She moved closer to the body, crouching down to observe it better. "I don't even know how to suck someone's blood. They sucked out her soul!"

Then Kanade saw her arm, where the wounds caused by the contract were. Three deep cuts that had been there since the moment of the invocation, marks of the blood debt Kaori had paid.

Only now… only two remained.

"Only two wounds remain. So it was three wounds for three lives," Kanade muttered to herself, her purple-pink eyes shining with comprehension. "That woman grabbed the banner and died alone. The contract took it, so it assumes I must have killed her. Since some supernatural things were my creation, I guess the contract assumed I killed her…"

And then she started laughing. A genuine, almost hysterical laugh that made everyone present look at her as if she really were insane.

"So… I have to inadvertently assassinate people…" She thought out loud, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye. "What an interesting contract you made, Kaori."

Dazai observed the scene with eyes that missed no detail. "Kikyo-san, do you notice anything peculiar about her behavior?"

"She's talking about a blood contract," Kikyo replied quietly, still restraining the mother who continued to wriggle and insult her. "An ancient one. The kind that requires human sacrifice as payment."

"Mmm," Dazai nodded, a small smile curving his lips. "Fascinating. And it seems she has no control over who dies to pay that debt. A truly cruel contract."

Meanwhile, Kikyo was trying to calm the woman who kept calling her useless, and was also preventing the woman from getting close enough to spit saliva on poor Kikyo. The Archon maintained her composure, but her face was beginning to show signs of extreme irritation. A second vein appeared on her forehead, right next to the first one.

"Ma'am," Kikyo said with a dangerous sweetness. "I suggest you control yourself before I lose my patience. And believe me," Her golden eyes shone with a menacing light. "You do not want to see me when I lose my patience."

"Shouldn't your daughter be seventeen?" Kanade interrupted with a sigh, acting her best 'crazy' role as she stood up. "They've said over and over not to touch the protective seals. Your daughter came out suspiciously at night. It's her fault, not mine."

"Harsh but true," Commented Dazai in a nonchalant tone, although his eyes never stopped analyzing Kagome. "Young people never listen to warnings. It's almost as if they think they're immortal. Ironic, considering where this girl ended up."

Then a wind began to move Kanade hair, a wind that had no natural source. It was cold, unnatural, and carried with it the smell of putrefaction and despair.

Kanade’s eyes moved in another direction, her pupils dilating as she activated her spiritual vision. The world filled with colors that others couldn't see: interwoven threads of karma, echoes of emotions, and there, creeping from the shadows…

"Watch out!" She yelled, and in a fluid movement, she kicked the mother who was still accusing her of murdering her daughter, pushing her away just in time.

Because where the mother had been standing, there was now a reanimated corpse trying to attack with putrefied claws.

It was the Mo family's son, the one who had died three days ago. His skin was gray and cracked, his eyes were black pits of resentful energy, and a blood-curdling moan came from his open mouth.

Kanade laughed lightly, her eyes shining with the thrill of battle. "Now this is fun!"

She began to dodge the zombie with a grace she hadn't shown before, running as fast as she could in Kaori's tattered clothes. The ripped school uniform billowed behind her as she danced between attacks.

The zombie tried to attack Kanade with its extended claws, but she responded by extending her hand. Her purple-pink eyes shone intensely, and the Karmic Hands manifested.

Two spectral, translucent projections emerged from her palms, leaving traces of kaleidoscope patterns in the air. They didn't grab the zombie's physical body, but its "karmic body," its corrupted aura. The decorative sword hanging from the wall of a nearby house flew into her hand as if summoned.

"I'm not grabbing the sword," Kanade murmured as the blade spun in her hand. "I'm convincing the sword's karma that its place is here, with me."

Dazai whistled softly. "Spiritual telekinesis. I've never seen it executed so naturally."

"It's not common telekinesis," Kikyo corrected, her golden eyes following Kanade’s every movement with professional fascination. "She is manipulating the object's karma. Look how the sword moves… it’s not being pushed. It’s being… persuaded."

Kanade’s was facing the zombie, her movements fluid but clearly somewhat rusty. She dodged by inches, her new piercings tinkling with every sharp turn. She managed to find a purification scroll that was also hanging decoratively on a nearby pillar.

"Ah, how convenient!" She exclaimed with genuine delight, ripping it off with her Karmic Hands.

She placed the scroll on the zombie's forehead, and the resentful energy was expelled with a hiss that sounded like escaping steam. The malignant aura dissipated into the night air like black smoke, and the man fell dead to the ground for the second time.

"I'm still a bit rusty," Was what Kanade’s said, stretching her fingers to make them crack slightly. The sound resonated in the tense silence that had fallen over the garden.

But when she looked at her arm to see how her debt was… it was completely healed. The three wounds had disappeared, without even leaving a scar.

She looked away… and her eyes widened as she noticed that Mrs. Mo had already died. Her body lay next to her daughter's, in the same contorted position, with the same expression of terror.

"Not again…" Was Kanade’s whisper, but there was no time for more reflection.

Because the monster that had started attacking A Yuan was now fully manifesting. It was a creature of pure resentful energy, an amalgamation of all the negative emotions that had accumulated in that place for years. It was vaguely humanoid in shape, but with limbs too long, fingers ending in shadowy claws, and a face that seemed to be screaming eternally.

Kanade dodged, her bare feet dancing on the ground as she avoided the swipes. But then she did something that made several spectators scream in horror.

She grabbed the dead son's corpse with her Karmic Hands, lifting it as if it weighed nothing. Her eyes glowed in a darker shade than before, an almost black purple that seemed to absorb light.

"You're not awake yet?" She asked the corpse in an authoritative voice, activating her Eternal Soul Kaleidoscope. "There's work to be done."

Spiritual energy flowed from Kanade into the dead body, not fully reanimating it, but giving it simple orders that its trapped soul could not refuse. It was a form of control that bordered on the taboo, directly manipulating the karma of the deceased.

The corpse stood up, its movements spasmodic but obedient.

"She's using Demonic Cultivation!" Someone in the crowd screamed, terror evident in their voice.

"Not exactly," Dazai murmured, observing with clinical interest. "It's something more… refined. She's not corrupting the soul, she's… asking it for a favor." He laughed softly. "What an polite form of necromancy."

"You have enough hatred in your hearts to serve me for a while…" Kanade said to the zombie that now stood before her. Then she leaned in, looking directly into the dead man's empty eyes. "Do you recognize your mother's left hand?"

The zombie nodded with a sharp movement.

"Tear it off for me," Kanade ordered, her eyes shining with a light that was both beautiful and terrible.

And the dead man ran toward that place, following his mistress's orders with the absolute obedience that only the soulless can have.

Kikyo noticed how those dead bodies had turned into zombies in those instants. The reanimated corpses began to become more aggressive, their movements more erratic, resentful energy accumulating in them like a spiritual infection.

"Enough," Kikyo said with a calm but absolute voice. She had endured too much.

Her golden eyes shone with power, and her hand extended gracefully. The imperial topaz ring on her middle finger began to glow, the arcane symbol inside activating.

In the garden, out of nowhere, several roses began to bloom. They sprouted from the cracked earth, from the walls, even from the air itself. Each one was a different color, each one exuded a distinct aroma, each one vibrated with a unique power.

"Power: Hyakka no Niwa," Kikyo declared, her voice resonating with divine authority.

A Pure White Rose manifested in front of her, glowing with soft light. Its petals opened as if breathing, and a wave of purifying energy expanded from it.

The energy swept through the garden, touching every zombie, every wandering spirit, every fragment of resentful energy. And where it touched, the corruption vanished. The zombies stopped dead, their bodies contorting as the dark energy was expelled from them.

The mother who had been attacked fell dead to the ground, but this time in peace, her face relaxed for the first time in years.

"The scent of jasmine and warm milk," Kanade murmured, recognizing the technique. "Pure purification. What a beautiful power…"

The rose petals turned transparent before disappearing, dissolving into the night air as if they had never existed. Silence fell over the garden, broken only by the soft tinkling of Kikyo's golden rose earrings.

"I guess we're done, Kikyo-chan," Dazai said, looking at his beloved with a smile that was half admiration, half amusement. "Although I must say I expected a little more… drama. Maybe a few more zombies, an epic chase, perhaps a bloody ritual…"

"Osamu," Kikyo sighed, though there was affection in her exasperation. "Not everything has to be dramatic."

"But life is so boring without drama," Dazai complained in a childish tone. "It's almost as boring as continuing to live." He paused. "Ah, speaking of which, do you think if I jump off that roof over there, I'll finally…?"

"Osamu. No."

"But Kikyo-chan…"

"I said no."

Kanade watched the exchange with fascination, hiding behind a pillar. There was something about the dynamic between those two that was hypnotic. They moved like mirrors, spoke as if they shared a brain, and there was an intimacy in their interaction that went beyond romantic or platonic. It was… symbiosis.

"I suppose we're done…" Kikyo repeated, but then her golden eyes fixed directly on the pillar where Kagome was hiding. "Little one, do you want to come out?"

Kanade turned slowly, emerging from her hiding place with an embarrassed smile. "Wow, how did you know I was there?"

"Your piercings tinkle when you move," Kikyo replied with a soft smile. "And besides," Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "I can feel your aura. It's… unique. Like a spinning kaleidoscope."

"You really are peculiar and interesting, little one," Dazai said, approaching with his hands in his pockets. His brown eyes studied her with an intensity that was almost unsettling. "Polite necromancy, karmic manipulation, ancient blood contracts… What is your name?"

Kanade swallowed. There was no point in hiding anymore. These two had seen everything, understood everything. They were dangerous precisely because they were perceptive.

"I am Asahina Kanade’s," She finally said, raising her chin with dignity. Her purple-pink eyes shone with defiance, as if daring them to judge her.

There was a moment of silence.

And then Kikyo and Dazai looked at each other. And both, at the same time, with the same expression of absolute delight on their faces, burst out laughing.

It wasn't a mocking laugh. It was the laughter of those who had found exactly what they expected to find.

"Wow, so you are the Cultivator of that ancient Demonic Cultivation…" Kikyo laughed as if she had expected it, her golden eyes gleaming with approval. She moved closer, her height imposing but her presence curiously welcoming. "I've heard stories about you. The Cursed Matriarch. The Kaleidoscope Witch. The one who turned pain into power."

"Interesting.”

"Interesting?" Kanade repeated, her voice rising. "I just created zombies! I ordered a dead man to mutilate his own mother's corpse! And you want to recruit me?"

"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds bad," Dazai admitted. "But think about it: you have unique abilities, a fascinating perspective on life and death, and you've just proven you can handle complex supernatural situations."

“Besides..." His smile became more enigmatic. "Something tells me that deep down you're not as evil as you pretend to be."

"I didn't—" Kanade began, but the words died on her lips.

Before Dazai and Kikyo realized what was happening, Kanade had shot off toward the nearest mountain, her feet moving faster than humanly possible.

"Ara, ara..." Kikyo laughed, watching the rapidly disappearing figure. She didn't seem worried at all. "I think we should contact the others, Osamu."

"Definitely," Dazai agreed, pulling out his phone. "Though I must admit I was expecting a dramatic escape." "She doesn't disappoint."

"Do you think she'll come back?" Kikyo asked, turning to him. Her roses were beginning to slowly fade, the petals dissolving like luminous ash.

"Oh, definitely," Dazai replied with complete confidence. He gazed toward the mountain where Kanade had disappeared, his eyes gleaming with that unsettling knowledge he always seemed to possess. "People like her... they always come back. They can't help it." "They've been alone for too long."

Kikyo smiled, understanding perfectly what he meant. After all, they both knew that loneliness all too well.

"Then we'll wait," she said gently, taking Dazai's hand. Their fingers intertwined naturally, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

In the distance, hidden among the shadows of the trees, Mizuki paused to catch her breath. Her heart pounded, not from exhaustion, but from something she hadn't felt in ages.

Hope.

She glanced back at the two detectives still standing in the moonlight, surrounded by rose petals that shimmered softly before fading away.

"The ADA..." she murmured to herself, a small but genuine smile curving her lips. "How ridiculous." "How utterly ridiculous."

Chapter Text

Kanade was running through the forest, the sound of her worn sneakers echoing throughout the place like irregular drums in the darkness. Her breathing was steady, controlled despite the speed. The trees passed like blurred shadows around her, and the moon barely managed to filter light through the dense foliage.

"What a long night," she murmured to herself, deftly dodging a low branch. "First zombies, then persistent detectives, and now..." She frowned, her purple-pink eyes glowing faintly in the dark. "Something's not right here."

She ran through the darkness of the forest until she noticed there were nets on the ground. The path narrowed, and her heightened senses detected almost invisible threads strung between the trees.

"Traps," she sighed. "Of course, there are traps."

By accident—or perhaps by an inevitable distraction while analyzing the pattern of the nets—she ended up stepping on one of the threads. The mechanism activated instantly, and a net caught her, lifting her from the ground.

"Oh, for heaven's sake..." Kanade groaned, hanging upside down like a trapped fish. Her purple-pink eyes flashed red with frustration, and using her Karmic Hands, she cut the main rope. She fell to the ground with feline grace, landing in a crouch. "Of all the humiliating ways to be captured..."

She sighed, dusting off her torn uniform, until she noticed two presences nearby. A redhead with the appearance of a gang member emerged from the trees, his posture aggressive and confident. Beside him was a girl who was taller than him thanks to her boots.

She was a quite attractive young woman. Her long, straight, completely black hair fell past her waist. Her eyes were narrow and sharp, a light grey tone with a penetrating gleam that reinforced her confident expression.

She wore a formal ensemble with a modern touch: a long-sleeved white shirt, a buttoned black vest over it, and fitted black shorts. The outfit was accompanied by a red belt that stood out in contrast to the rest of the attire. Her boots were tall, heeled, dark brown, covering up to her thighs.

Around her neck, she wore a short, bow-style tie, with a stone or jewel ornament in the center that added a refined detail to her look.

"Where is the prey?" Shiori wondered aloud, tilting her head. Her grey eyes scanned the area methodically. Then, as if her senses detected something out of place, her gaze fixed directly on where Kanade was partially hidden in the shadows. "Wait..."

"Who's there?" Tachihara demanded brusquely, pulling out his weapon and pointing it toward when Kanade was hiding. His finger was dangerously close to the trigger. "Come out now or I shoot!"

Kanade slowly emerged from her hiding spot, her hands raised in a gesture of false surrender. She tilted her head, observing the two mafiosos with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"They caught me and now they want to kill me..." she sighed, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "How scandalous... Don't you have anything better to do at this hour of the night?"

"So it's you..." Shiori groaned, her expression turning cold and distant. She and Tachihara seemed to know the "crazy Kaori" in some way, even if only by reputation.

Tachihara lowered his weapon slightly, but his expression remained hostile. "Damn it, of all the people we could find..."

"Let's get out of here, Tachihara," Shiori said with an exasperated sigh, adjusting her uniform vest. Her tone was professional but tinged with genuine annoyance. "I don't want to report to the Boss that we ran into the lunatic Kaori. She's not worth the paperwork."

Kanade scoffed with contempt, her eyes gleaming with playful malice. "'Lunatic'? What a limited vocabulary."

"It seems your parents haven't taught you manners..." she sighed, crossing her arms.

That struck a nerve in both of them. Tachihara's expression immediately darkened, his eyes burning with fury. Shiori, for her part, maintained her outward composure, but her grey eyes turned icy.

"Say that again," Tachihara growled, raising his weapon again. Without waiting for a response, he began firing at Kanade, the bullets cutting through the night air with deadly whistles.

Kanade reacted instantly. She made a few quick jumps, her hair moving with her like a dark curtain of purple reflections. Her movements were fluid, almost like she was dancing, dodging every bullet with millimeter precision.

"Please!" she shouted while dodging. "I just got my piercings fixed! I don't want a stray bullet ripping them out!"

Shiori joined the attack, moving with the discipline of someone with military training. Her movements were calculated, trying to corner Kanade while Tachihara continued firing.

But Kanade wouldn't stop dodging them both. In the middle of the chase, her Karmic Hands—invisible to the two mafiosos—reached out toward the small pouch Shiori wore on her belt. With a subtle movement, she extracted something from within.

Kanade pulled out what turned out to be a protection talisman, likely something Shiori carried as a precaution against supernatural entities. She put it behind her back, her eyes glowing as she channeled energy into it.

"Spirit of the mountain, hear my call," she murmured in an ancient language neither of the mafiosos recognized. Golden threads emerged from the talisman, briefly manifesting in the physical plane.

The ground beneath Tachihara and Shiori's feet became unstable. A minor spirit—more illusion than substance—briefly manifested, causing both of them to lose their balance and fall.

"You're good... but you don't compare to me.” Kanade said with a slightly arrogant smile, observing the two mafiosos on the ground. Her purple-pink eyes shone with satisfaction.

"Why are you using such a vile trick, Kaori?" Tachihara demanded from the ground, his pride clearly wounded. "Damn lunatic! We'll tell our superiors!"

Kanade leaned toward them, her smile becoming more mocking. "And why don't you do it yourselves?" She laughed, clearly enjoying her momentary advantage.

"I am your superior."

The deep, authoritative voice cut the air like a knife. Kanade froze momentarily.

Nakahara Chuuya emerged from between the leaves, pushing them aside with one hand while his other rested casually in his pocket. His characteristic hat cast a shadow over his eyes, but the pressure of his presence was undeniable. He wore his distinctive black coat and gloves, and his expression was one of barely contained annoyance.

"Any last words, young lady?" Chuuya asked in that dangerously calm tone that preceded violence.

Kanade slowly turned around, her purple-pink eyes meeting Chuuya's intense gaze. For a moment, there was a tense silence as they assessed each other.

"Tachihara, Shiori," Chuuya said without taking his eyes off Kanade. His voice was harsh, disciplined. "I accompany you on a hunt, not to witness your own misfortunes. Get up this instant!"

Kanade tried to use her power to levitate the leaves on both fallen mafiosos, her Karmic Hands briefly manifesting as golden flashes. But the leaves were immediately caught by Chuuya's gravity, falling to the ground as if they weighed tons.

"Interesting ability," Chuuya commented, observing the remnants of golden energy with an expert eye. "Spiritual manipulation, huh?"

Kanade swallowed hard, feeling the gravitational pressure Chuuya casually emanated.

"Didn't I tell you before?" Chuuya walked forward, his steps resonating with authority. "If you run into a woman using Demonic Cultivation, kill her." His hand glowed with a red light as he activated his ability.

But before he could act, he saw something fly toward him: an explosive crimson rose, its petals blazing with fiery energy.

Chuuya reacted instantly, grabbing Tachihara and Shiori and leaping backward just as the rose exploded in a pillar of ethereal fire.

"Ara, ara..." two voices chuckled in unison.

Kikyo and Dazai had arrived on the scene, emerging from between the trees as if they had been there all along. They walked toward where Chuuya was with that unsettling synchronization they shared.

Kanade, taking advantage of the distraction, had literally fallen at the feet of both detectives. She looked up and saw Kikyo smiling softly at her, her golden eyes sparkling with maternal amusement.

"Well, little one," Kikyo said in that warm tone. "It seems you have a special talent for getting into trouble."

"They appear where the chaos is, indeed," Chuuya scoffed, dusting off his coat. His expression was one of absolute annoyance. "They even come to remote mountains. What, don't you have enough work in the city?"

"Chuuya-kun," Dazai said with that irritating smile he always used with his former partner. "What an unpleasant surprise to see you here. Although I must admit the hat looks as ridiculous on you as ever."

A vein pulsed in Chuuya's forehead. "Damn suicidal bastard..."

"Oh, you flatter me," Dazai replied, dramatically placing a hand on his chest. "But you know I prefer the term 'suicide artist.' It has more class."

"Class?" Chuuya laughed bitterly. "You don't even know how to spell that word!"

Kikyo sighed softly, though there was an amused glint in her eyes. "Osamu, Chuuya-kun, please. We are in the middle of a mountain late at night chasing a legendary demonic cultivator. Can we at least postpone your domestic squabbles?"

"They are not domestic squabbles!" Chuuya and Dazai shouted in unison, then looked at each other with mutual disgust for having synchronized.

While the three argued, Kanade tried to sneak away stealthily. She took a step back, then another, trying to get away without making a sound.

But she felt a firm yet gentle hand rest on her shoulder. Kikyo was there, with her permanent smile that somehow felt both comforting and terrifying.

"Where do you think you're going, little one?" Kikyo asked sweetly. Her fingers, though not gripping hard, conveyed the clear sense that escape was not an option.

"I... was going for a night walk," Kanade tried weakly. "You know, admiring the stars, breathing fresh air..."

"What a coincidence," Dazai said, appearing on Kanade’s other side. "We were also taking a night walk. Following an adorable fugitive who happens to be a legendary matriarch."

The argument between the detectives and the mafia continued to escalate. Tachihara joined in, shouting about how the ADA always interfered in Mafia business. Shiori maintained a more reserved posture, but her grey eyes didn't miss a detail of the situation.

"You broke our capture nets!" Chuuya accused, pointing toward where the traps had clearly been sabotaged. "That's Port Mafia property destruction!"

"Property?" Kikyo tilted her head, her smile becoming sharper. "I thought the mountain was neutral territory. Besides, those nets were dangerous. An innocent hiker could get hurt."

"There are no innocent hikers at three in the morning!" Tachihara shouted.

"Well, we are here," Dazai pointed out reasonably. "And we are relatively innocent. Well, Kikyo-chan is innocent. I am... morally grey."

"You are morally non-existent," Chuuya muttered.

While the discussion continued, Shiori discretely approached Kikyo. Her grey eyes studied the detective with the intensity of someone trained to gather information.

"Saitou-san," Shiori said in a professional, measured voice. "You should know there are reports of demonic activity in this area. If you're here for the same reason..."

"Oh, we know," Kikyo replied with that kind tone. "In fact, we just dealt with a small zombie incident in the village. Quite entertaining, I must admit."

Shiori's eyes widened slightly. "Zombies? And you neutralized them?"

"Of course," Kikyo smiled, and for a moment, Shiori could see the danger hidden behind that sweetness. "It's not the first time we've dealt with the undead."

The discussion finally resolved—or rather, was interrupted—when everyone learned that there was a bigger demon on the mountain, something both the Mafia and the ADA were interested in investigating.

Chuuya growled with frustration. "Fine. Tachihara, Shiori, let's go. We have a demon to hunt." He shot one last warning glare at Dazai. "This isn't over, bastard."

"It's never over with you, Chuuya-kun," Dazai replied with exasperating cheerfulness. "It's part of your charm."

The three mafiosos left, heading deeper into the forest to search for the demon.

The moment they disappeared from view, Kanade turned and began running away from Dazai and Kikyo again, her legs moving with supernatural speed.

"It looks like we're playing tag..." Kikyo sighed, watching the rapidly retreating figure. There was no panic in her voice, just amused patience.

—

Kanade had reached the strange cave, her breath barely ragged despite the frantic run through the forest. She created a purple-pink fire talisman, the flickering light illuminating the damp stone walls. Her eyes immediately landed on the statue of a goddess staring at her from the back of the cavern.

"Interesting," she murmured, approaching cautiously. "A guardian deity... though it feels more like a curse than protection."

The candles surrounding the statue flickered violently, as if responding to her presence. Kanade immediately noticed the goddess's hand beginning to move, the stone fingers cracking as they extended toward her.

"Wonderful!" she shouted with genuine enthusiasm, despite the danger. With a groan of effort, she began dodging more stone attacks from the goddess, who, incidentally, moved as if she were alive!

"Why does the world hate me?!" she yelled as she rolled to avoid a stone fist that smashed into the ground where she had just been standing. "I've only been alive for twelve hours! Twelve! I haven't even had time for a decent meal!"

She pulled two talismanic sheets from her ruined clothes and placed them on the goddess, trying to seal its movement. But they were instantly destroyed, turning into ashes.

"It can't be suppressed..." Kanade murmured, her eyes glowing with understanding. "Damn it, it's a ghost's hand... it's not the statue moving, but something inside it."

She looked around, searching for a way to stop the creature. The problem was that they couldn't suppress something that was technically neither alive nor dead.

A fire started in the surrounding damned forest, the flames fueled by the uncontrolled spiritual energy emanating from the cave. Mizuki looked all around, as if expecting the detectives who were following her to appear to help her or, more likely, to catch her.

But they didn't. Not yet.

"Ugh!" she cried out in frustration. She grabbed a piece of bamboo that had fallen near the cave entrance, carved it with her Karmic Hands using precise and rapid movements, and perfectly created an improvised flute.

It emitted a slightly off-key sound at first, but it worked decently. She played a few notes, her fingers moving precisely over the flute's holes. The melody was ancient, forbidden, the type of song that orthodox cultivators would consider absolute heresy.

"Whatever was invoked, I hope it's filled with resentful energy..." Mizuki thought as she played, her eyes glowing in that intense red tone that signaled the use of her darker aspect.

And then she appeared.

The Ghost General, Sango Fujiwara, materialized from the shadows as if she had been waiting for that call for centuries. Her spectral form was imposing, dressed in ancient armor and wielding a naginata that glowed with resentful energy. She immediately began attacking the goddess statue, her blows echoing throughout the cave.

"San...go?" Kanade whispered, lowering her flute momentarily. Her eyes filled with complex emotion: surprise, nostalgia, pain. "Is that really you?"

But she couldn't get distracted. She continued playing the melody so Sango would concentrate on the enemy, not on the poor people trapped in or near the cave.

It was then that she heard voices approaching. Other people appeared, attempting to take Sango away, or at least trying to. Mizuki played another, less menacing melody than before, her lips moving precisely, trying to calm her ghost general.

But in her concentration, she didn't notice the figure approaching from behind until it was too late.

She fell directly into someone's chest, the impact making her drop the flute. Strong hands grasped hers to prevent her from playing further.

Grey eyes met Kanade’s red ones.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke held her, his expression as impassive as ever, but his grey eyes contained something akin to recognition. Rashomon had partially manifested around him, ready to strike if necessary.

Sango seemed ready to lose control, her spectral form becoming more aggressive at the interruption. Mizuki made a quick signal with the fingers she still had free, silently ordering her to flee far away.

The ghost general obeyed, fading into the shadows with one last glance at her master.

"I made it..." Kanade sighed, feeling the exhaustion finally catch up to her. Her eyes returned to their normal purple-pink, instead of that eerie red.

It was then that Chuuya appeared, using his ability "For the Tainted Sorrow," trying to attack Kanade with his intensified gravity. But he received an immediate nullification from Dazai, who had appeared alongside Kikyo.

"So you're back... Asahina Kanade," Chuuya muttered, a savage smile appearing on his face. His eyes gleamed with a mix of recognition and danger. "The legendary matriarch. I thought it was just a rumor."

"I'm screwed..." Kanade muttered. She tried to run, but was held by Chuuya's gravity, which instantly subdued her to the ground, forcing her to her knees.

"What the heck is wrong with you, mafioso?!" Kanade shouted, trying to resist the pressure. "I haven't done anything! Well, nothing illegal in the last... two hours!"

"Who the hell are you?!" Chuuya yelled at her, approaching with heavy steps. His presence was intimidating, like a contained storm. "How can you summon the Ghost General?! That technique has been lost for centuries!"

"Chuuya-san!" Shiori cried out, clearly wanting to save Kanade’s skin in her rough and clumsy way. Her grey eyes showed a mixture of concern and calculation. "Kaori is a lunatic! She doesn't care if it's a man, woman, fish, or bird! She probably doesn't even know what she invoked!"

"I don't care," Chuuya replied coldly, without taking his eyes off Kanade. "She is a practitioner of demonic arts. Take her away." He ordered the subordinates who had arrived with him.

Kanade looked everywhere desperately and, in an act of pure instinctive survival, hid behind Akutagawa, completely forgetting that he and Chuuya belonged to the same organization.

Her hands gripped the back of Akutagawa's coat, peeking her head out from behind his back.

"Akutagawa," Chuuya said in a dangerously low voice. "Are you getting in my way?"

Akutagawa didn't answer immediately. Kanade hugged his arm, feeling him tense up under the unexpected contact. But then, surprisingly, he calmed down. Onlookers blinked, lost by the change in atmosphere.

Dazai and Kikyo exchanged a look of genuine surprise.

"Whatever," Kanade suddenly laughed, her tone becoming flirtatious and playful despite the danger. It was clearly a desperate tactic. "Someone like Akutagawa is exactly my type! Strong, mysterious, with that 'I can kill you but choose not to' energy..."

The silence that followed was absolute.

Tachihara opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again like a fish out of water. "What... what just...?"

Shiori simply froze, her grey eyes widening in absolute disbelief. Her normally controlled expression shattered completely.

Chuuya seemed to have been rendered speechless for the first time in years.

Kikyo delicately brought a hand to her lips, trying to conceal an amused smile. Her golden eyes shone with pure fascination.

Dazai simply laughed, a genuine laugh he couldn't contain. "Oh, this is... this is brilliant. Kikyo-chan, are you seeing this?"

Akutagawa spoke suddenly, his voice as monotonous as ever. "Very well. I will take her, then."

The silence deepened.

"... WHAT?" shouted Tachihara, Shiori, and even Chuuya in unison.

Akutagawa snapped his fingers, ignoring the reactions. "Tachihara, Shiori. Take her."

"Akutagawa-san," Shiori began, her voice tinged with incredulity and worry. "Are you... are you sure? She is a demonic cultivator, a possible threat to—"

"I will take her," Akutagawa repeated with that unshakeable firmness that characterized all his decisions.

Kanade blinked, genuinely surprised that her desperate tactic had worked. "Wait, seriously?"

Akutagawa began to turn away, leaving everyone frozen. Even Dazai and Kikyo were momentarily petrified by the absolutely surreal situation, but they regained their composure quickly.

"I have a wonderful idea!" Kikyo spoke, her voice soft but with that tone that indicated she wouldn't take no for an answer. "How about we share Mizuki-chan? The Agency will have her for a week; afterward, if she wishes, she can visit Akutagawa-kun."

Dazai nodded, his smile becoming more calculated. "That's fair, don't you think? Besides, Akutagawa, you have work to do. A demonic cultivator needs constant supervision, and we have more... resources for that."

The way he said "resources" clearly meant "ways to prevent her from escaping."

Akutagawa considered the proposal for a moment that seemed eternal. Then, to everyone's surprise, he nodded once. "Acceptable."

He turned to walk back with the other Mafia members, but before he left, he shot one last look at Kanade. "One week. Then you come."

It wasn't a question. It was an order.

Kanade swallowed hard, feeling like she had dug her own grave in the strangest possible way.

Chuuya rubbed his temples, clearly developing a headache. "Does anyone else feel like they just witnessed something completely absurd?"

"Completely," Tachihara confirmed, still processing what had happened.

Shiori simply sighed, adjusting her vest. "Akutagawa-san is... unpredictable when making decisions."

"Unpredictable is an understatement," Chuuya muttered. He looked at Dazai and Kikyo with suspicion. "If she causes trouble, she is your responsibility."

"Of course," Kikyo said with that charming smile. "We will take very good care of our little Kanade-chan."

As the Mafia members retreated, Kanade tried to take advantage of the distraction to escape, but before she could take two steps, she felt two presences on either side.

Dazai had appeared on her left, Kikyo on her right.

"Now, now," Dazai said with exaggerated cheerfulness. "You wouldn't want to disappoint Akutagawa-kun by missing your one-week date, would you?"

"It's not a date," Kanade murmured weakly.

"Of course not," Kikyo agreed, gently taking her arm. "It's more like... shared custody."

Kanade was literally being dragged by Dazai and Kikyo toward the Agency. Her feet barely touched the ground as both detectives carried her with an efficiency that spoke of much practice.

"I don't want to go!" she cried, desperate tears starting to form in her eyes. "I want to go back to the mountain! Or the cave! Or hell! Anywhere but an office full of detectives!"

"Didn't you say you liked Akutagawa-kun?" Dazai commented cheerfully, completely ignoring her protests. "You can see him as many times as you want... on wanted posters in our office."

"That doesn't count!" Kanade sobbed dramatically.

"Kanade-chan," Kikyo said in that maternal tone that was somehow both comforting and terrifying. "We brought you here for your own good. We can't let you wander alone, plus Chuuya-kun would be constantly looking for you if we don't protect you."

"I'd rather face Chuuya!" Kanade shouted. "At least he's direct with his hostility!"

Kikyo's phone rang. She pulled it out with her free hand, maintaining her grip on Kanade with the other, and put it on speaker.

Akutagawa's monotonous voice resonated. "Let her cry. When they're done, drag her to your office."

Then he abruptly hung up.

There was a moment of silence.

"Well," Dazai said, his smile widening. "You heard the man."

"Traitor!" Kanade shouted at the phone, though Akutagawa could no longer hear her. "I flirted with you and this is how you repay me! This is abuse of my survival tactic!"

Kikyo chuckled softly. "Little one, I think Akutagawa-chan took your flirting more seriously than you expected."

"That's because nobody flirts with Akutagawa," Dazai added with genuine amusement. "It was probably the first time in his life someone told him he was 'exactly their type.' The poor guy must be very confused right now."

"That's not my problem!" Kanade protested, still being dragged.

"Now it is," Kikyo pointed out reasonably.

The duo continued dragging Kanade toward the Armed Detective Agency's office, ignoring her increasingly creative and desperate protests. In the distance, the sun began to rise, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold.

Kanade Asahina, the legendary demonic cultivator matriarch, had survived centuries of persecution, unjust convictions, and death itself.

But facing an office full of detectives—and the prospect of having to explain why she had flirted with Akutagawa Ryuunosuke—was, arguably, her most intimidating challenge yet.

"My dignity," she sobbed dramatically as she was dragged. "My ancestral pride. It's all gone."

"Don't be so dramatic," Dazai said cheerfully. "We lost our dignity years ago too. You'll get used to it."

"Speak for yourself, Osamu," Kikyo murmured, though there was a playful smile on her lips.

And so, as the sun rose over Yokohama, a new and chaotic page began in Mizuki's life.

One that would undoubtedly be unforgettable.

Chapter Text

The light of the sunset bathed the office of the Armed Detective Agency in golden and orange hues, filtering through the wide windows. The atmosphere was relatively calm, with the occasional rustle of moving papers and the constant clatter of Kunikida's computer keys.

Kikyo was reclining at her desk, an open book between her delicate hands, her burgundy nails gleaming slightly under the natural light. Her golden eyes with reddish acircular pupils moved slowly over the pages, absorbing every word with a concentration that seemed to isolate her from the outside world. However, it did not go unnoticed when a certain pair of eyes watched her from the other end of the room.

Kanade had arrived minutes before, nervous but trying to hide it behind her usual carefree facade. She was wearing the clothes Kikyo had given her: the off-white silk blouse with puffed sleeves, the dark magenta leather corset that elegantly and rebelliously accentuated her waist, the black pleated skirt with silver chains decorated with charms, the fishnet stockings, and the heeled ankle boots. The rose quartz of her necklace glittered with every movement she made. She had looked at herself in the mirror before leaving and let out a long sigh. The clothes were beautiful, but also terribly expensive. Kikyo had refined taste and did not spare expenses when it came to someone under her protection.

"I will do what I can to help you. These are the details of your infiltration mission, Kanade-chan." Kikyo's voice was soft, almost maternal, as she extended a rolled-up scroll toward the young woman with black hair fading to magenta.

Kanade took the scroll with both hands, her purple-pink eyes quickly scanning the document. Her lips curved into a mischievous smile as she read. "A ghost groom who kidnaps brides? Sounds like the worst match on a dating app."

From the adjacent desk, Dazai let out a sudden burst of laughter that caused several agency members to turn and look at him. "Kanade-chan, how clever! Although I must admit it sounds more interesting than some of my double suicide attempts. Maybe I should consider being kidnapped by a ghost..."

"Dazai, don't start." Kunikida's sharp voice interrupted before the man could continue his morbid ramblings. He adjusted his glasses with a precise movement and looked directly at Kanade. "This is a serious mission. Seventeen brides have disappeared in a hundred years. The last one was the daughter of a powerful official who sent forty escorts to protect her. Even so, she vanished without a trace."

Ranpo, who was sitting at his desk surrounded by empty candy wrappers, looked up with those seemingly distracted eyes that, in reality, never missed a detail. "The pattern of disappearances is inconsistent. Rich, poor, beautiful, plain... there is no apparent connection between the victims. That makes it more difficult to predict who will be next."

Asuna, sitting next to Ranpo with her own pile of sweets, nodded while nibbling on a strawberry candy. Her salmon-pink hair fell over her shoulders in soft waves, and her emerald-green eyes shone with genuine curiosity. Her jade nails tapped against the desk surface in a thoughtful rhythm. "Which means the selection criteria is neither physical nor economic. It must be something more... specific. Perhaps related to their immediate circumstances or emotional state."

"Or simply opportunism." Kin's voice resonated from the corner where she was standing, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Her midnight-blue hair with turquoise tips framed her sharp-featured face, and her aquamarine eyes watched Mizuki with an evaluative intensity. "Troublesome ghosts rarely follow logical patterns. They act on impulse, on unresolved emotions."

Yosano, who had been listening to the conversation from her corner of the office, stood up elegantly and walked toward the group. "Whatever the reason, you'll need support on this mission, Kanade-chan. It's not wise to go alone, especially since this is your first official test."

Kikyo closed her book with a soft sound and stood up. The sunset light illuminated her profile, making her long black hair shine like dark silk. "That's why I've already taken care of it." She took her cell phone from the pocket of her elegant coat and slid her finger across the screen. "I've contacted two people who will be perfect to accompany you."

"Two people?" Mizuki raised an eyebrow, her curiosity palpable.

"Taka Hashimoto and Sango Fujiwara." Kikyo showed the screen of her phone first to Mizuki and then to the others. On it was a photograph of a young woman with reddish-violet hair and dark golden eyes, with a small reddish diamond-shaped seal on her forehead.

Atsushi, who had been quietly observing from his desk, leaned in to see the photo better. His amber eyes widened slightly at the sight of the young woman in the image. There was something in her serene yet determined expression that immediately caught his attention. His heart gave a small, inexplicable flutter, and he felt a slight warmth rise up his neck.

"Taka-san is a member of the Agency," Kikyo explained with a knowing smile, perfectly noticing Atsushi's reaction though she made no comment about it. "She's your age, Atsushi-kun. She's very competent in reconnaissance and combat missions. I'm sure she'll be an excellent supervisor for Mizuki."

Tanizaki, who had been reviewing some documents, looked up. "And the other person? Sango Fujiwara?"

Kikyo's expression became more serious, almost melancholic. "Sango is... a special case. Let's just say she has experience with supernatural situations. She will be of great help."

Dazai narrowed his eyes, observing Kikyo with that penetrating gaze he used when something didn't quite add up. "You're being mysterious, Kikyo-chan. Is there something you're not telling us?"

"There's always something I'm not telling, Osamu.” Kikyo returned his gaze with an enigmatic smile. "It's part of my charm."

The two looked at each other for a prolonged moment, and the atmosphere in the office subtly shifted. It was as if an invisible current flowed between them, a deep connection that the others could perceive but not fully understand. Finally, they both smiled at the same time, with the same inclination of the lips, and said in unison:

"Trust is for the naive."

Kunikida sighed in exasperation. "They're starting their... whatever they do again."

"It's called mental synergy, Kunikida-kun." Dazai stood up from his seat with overly dramatic movements. "It's what happens when two brilliant souls share the same wavelength."

"Or when two equally unbearable people meet." Kin muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

Kenji, who had been listening to the entire conversation with his usual cheerful expression, approached Kanade with his hands in his pockets. "It sounds like an exciting mission, Kanade-san! Although it's a little sad to think about all those disappeared brides. I hope you can help solve the mystery."

"I will, Kenji-kun." Kanade gave him a genuine smile, touched by the boy's sincerity. "I won't let any more people suffer because of that ghost."

"That's the right attitude." Yosano crossed her arms, satisfied. "But remember: don't take unnecessary risks. If the situation becomes dangerous, retreat and call for reinforcements. There's no glory in a premature death."

"Unless it's a beautiful death with an equally beautiful woman..." Dazai began, but he was immediately interrupted by a blow to the head from Kunikida's notebook.

"Enough!"

—

The small tea shop was located in a quiet area near Mount Yujun. The aroma of green tea floated in the air, mixing with the smell of old wood and tatami. Kanade had arrived first, carefully removing her ankle boots before entering and settling on one of the cushions arranged around a low table.

"Tea, please." She requested with a charming smile to the owner, an elderly man with a wrinkled face and a cautious expression.

While waiting, Kanade let her purple-pink eyes scan the establishment. Everything seemed normal at first glance, but there was an underlying tension in the air, a kind of uneasiness that activated her detective instinct. She noticed how the owner avoided direct eye contact, how his hands trembled slightly as he served the tea.

"Sir," Kanade began casually, as if making trivial conversation, "has anything strange happened lately?"

The man set the teapot down on the table with an abrupt movement. "I have nothing to comment, miss. Enjoy your tea."

Before Kanade could press further, the shop door opened and a cheerful voice echoed in the space:

"Good news, Kanade-chan! I got you a supervisor and an assistant for this mission."

Kanade turned and saw Kikyo entering with her characteristic grace. Behind her came two figures who immediately caught her attention.

The first was the young woman from the photograph: Taka Hashimoto. In person, her presence was even more impressive. Her reddish-violet hair fell over her shoulders, and her dark golden eyes shone with intelligence and warmth. The small reddish diamond-shaped seal on her forehead gave her a mystical air. She wore a deep burgundy sleeveless tunic that matched her hair perfectly, with a pearl gray hemline. Her forearms were covered by discreet dark gray mesh sleeves, and she wore a reinforced leather belt full of compartments and holsters. Tight black shorts allowed freedom of movement, and a rectangular leather case, likely containing detective tools, hung over her right leg. Short black-violet leather boots completed her practical yet stylish outfit.

Taka gave Kanade a genuine smile, closing her dark golden eyes for a moment. There was something immediately comforting about her presence, a maternal warmth that made even the most distrustful feel safe by her side.

The second figure was Sango Fujiwara, although Kanade had to make a conscious effort to recognize her. The transformation was dramatic. She wore a modified combat kimono of a dark forest green color that was shortened to mid-thigh. The design was asymmetrical: the left sleeve, long and loose, was adorned with silver embroidery of flying arrows, while the right, cut at the elbow, was held with black leather straps. A dark silver obi encircled her waist, reinforced with flexible metal plates, and from it hung fine chains that tinkled softly with every movement. Black leather forearm protectors with silver metal details covered her arms, designed with embossed bamboo leaf motifs. Black tabi boots with flexible soles allowed for silent movements. Her extremely light brown hair was tied back in a low braid intertwined with a dark green silk ribbon, and a small arrow-shaped jade pendant hung around her neck.

But the most notable were her eyes. Eyes that had seen too much. Eyes that carried the weight of a forced death and rebirth.

"Miss Kanade." Sango bowed her head respectfully, her voice soft but firm. There was a formality about her that spoke of years of loyalty and service.

Kanade felt a lump in her throat. She knew Sango's story, she knew what she had sacrificed. "Sango... you don't have to be so formal with me."

"It is custom, Miss Kanade." A small smile touched Sango's lips. "And it makes me feel... like before."

The shop owner served tea to the newcomers with trembling hands, clearly uncomfortable with the number of people now occupying his establishment. Taka sat across from Kanade with graceful movements, while Sango took position beside her.

"And you are...?" Kanade began, although she already knew the answer.

"Taka Hashimoto. I'm a member of the ADA, your superior technically." Taka spoke with a sweetness that contrasted with the seriousness of her words. "But if you want, call me Taka-chan. I'm not a big fan of unnecessary formalities." Her dark golden eyes studied Kanade with genuine interest. "Could you tell me the details of the mission?"

Kanade took a sip of her tea before answering, mentally organizing the information. "There is a legend about Mount Yujun. There is a Ghost Groom who lives near the mountain. It is said he is ugly and cunning, and that he likes to kidnap brides. In the last hundred years, seventeen brides have disappeared. Hundreds were killed during the nuptial processes."

She raised one of her fingers, her expression becoming more serious. "The ADA shouldn't have discovered this normally. However, the father of the seventeenth bride is a powerful official. After hearing the legend, he chose to send forty escorts to protect his beloved daughter on the way to the groom's home. Nevertheless, his daughter still disappeared."

She closed her purple-pink eyes for a moment. "They put a giant reward to capture the culprit. It caused problems in the north and caught the attention of the authorities. Our goal is to capture the ghost groom."

Sango tilted her head curiously, the gesture giving her an almost childish air despite the serious nature of the subject. "Did the missing brides have any similarities?"

"That's the strange part." Kanade opened her eyes and shook her head. "They came from rich and poor families. From beautiful to plain. And from wives to concubines. In short, they had nothing in common."

Taka frowned slightly, her mind already working on possible explanations. "Has anyone seen the ghost groom?"

"No one has seen him." Kanade replied with a tone that made her own frustration at that fact clear.

"Since no one has seen him," Sango asked with genuine curiosity, "why do they call him that?"

"They only call him that because of the legend." Kanade shrugged. "But I understand your point. It's difficult to hunt something that no one has ever seen."

A movement outside the window caught Kanade’s attention. For an instant, she thought she saw a dark-colored butterfly fluttering near the glass. There was something familiar about its flight pattern, something that reminded her of... Rashomon? Her heart accelerated for a moment, and her eyes quickly scanned the exterior looking for a particular figure. But there was no one. The street was empty except for a few occasional passersby.

"It must have been my imagination," she murmured to herself, shaking her head slightly.

"Did you say something, Kanade-chan?" Taka looked at her with concern.

"No, nothing important." Kanade forced herself to smile. "Just thinking out loud."

The sky outside was beginning to be tinged with orange and purple tones, signaling the imminent arrival of nightfall. Mizuki looked out the window and then back at her companions.

"It's about to get dark," she announced as she stood up. "Let's find a place to stay. We'll start the investigation proper tomorrow."

Taka nodded, leaving some coins on the table to pay for the tea. "Good idea. We'll need to be well-rested for what's to come."

Sango stood up silently, the chains of her obi softly tinkling. Her eyes scanned the establishment one last time, as if she could detect something that the others did not see. The Spiritual Vision of all Gifted individuals allowed them to perceive supernatural creatures, but each person experienced it slightly differently. For Sango, who had crossed the veil of death and returned, that perception was particularly acute.

"Miss Kanade," Sango said in a low voice as they left the shop, "there is a strange presence in this area. It's not hostile yet, but it's... watching."

Kanade nodded seriously. "I know. I feel it too."

Taka looked at both of them, her dark golden eyes shining with determination. "Then let's stay alert. If this Ghost Groom is real, we cannot underestimate him."

The three women walked along the cobbled streets as the sun completely set behind the mountains. Their shadows lengthened on the ground, three different figures united by a common purpose: to solve the mystery of the Ghost Groom and protect potential future victims.

As they searched for an inn for the night, none of them noticed the dark figure observing them from a distant rooftop, enveloped in shadows and with gray eyes that shone with an impossible intensity to ignore.

The mission was only just beginning, but the pieces were already in motion on a chessboard much more complex than any of them could imagine.

—

The morning had arrived with a thick mist clinging to the slopes of Mount Yujun like a ghostly veil. The air smelled of damp earth and something else, something indefinable that made even the most experienced transporters move with unusual caution.

Kanade looked at herself in the improvised mirror of the inn, and she could barely recognize herself. The last few hours had been a whirlwind of meticulous makeup, fabrics, and preparations. Now, dressed as a traditional bride heading to her marriage, she felt strangely vulnerable under the layers of white silk and the elaborate bridal headdress.

"Hold still, Kanade-chan." Taka's voice was soft but firm as she adjusted the veil with expert hands. Her dark golden eyes shone with concentration, the small reddish seal on her forehead seemed to pulse slightly with every movement. "If you move that much, all this work will be ruined."

"I feel like a walking wedding cake." Kanade couldn't help the joke, though her voice came out slightly muffled by the veil. "A very expensive and very uncomfortable cake."

Sango, who was watching from the corner of the room, let out something that might have been a suppressed laugh. Her green eyes, as beautiful as they were unsettling on her pale face, showed a flicker of amusement. "Miss Kanade looks... b-beautiful." The words came out with that characteristic stutter that persisted even after death, a reminder of who she had been before.

Taka stepped back to admire her work, crossing her arms with satisfaction. "You are perfect. If the Ghost Groom has a penchant for brides, he won't be able to resist you."

"How flattering." Kanade rolled her eyes behind the veil. "Being the perfect bait for a supernatural predator. Definitely not how I imagined spending my ADA entrance exam."

Taka's smile softened, becoming more serious. She approached and placed both hands on Kanade’s shoulders, looking directly at her through the translucent veil. "You are not alone in this. Sango and I will be watching every second. At the first sign of real danger, we intervene. Understood?"

There was something deeply maternal in Taka's tone, a protective warmth that made even the most cynical person feel secure. Kanade nodded, feeling a knot of unexpected emotion in her throat. She wasn't used to being looked after like this, to someone else taking the role of protector when she had always been the one protecting others.

"Understood, Taka-chan." She finally replied, allowing a bit of sincerity to seep into her voice.

Taka gave her one last smile before turning to Sango. "Ready?"

"Y-yes." Sango stood up with a fluid grace that contrasted with her verbal shyness. The chains of her obi softly tinkled, an almost musical sound in the tense silence of the room.

In a short time, they had secured transporters who knew the Mount Yujun route. They were rough-looking men and women, each with enough kung fu experience to defend themselves if the situation required it. Although none seemed particularly enthusiastic about the idea of escorting a bride along a route known for its disappearances.

"I don't like this," muttered one of the transporters, a middle-aged man with scars that spoke of past battles. "Seventeen brides in a hundred years. And all on this damned route."

"That's why we're being paid well." Replied another, though his hand rested restlessly on the handle of his weapon.

Taka, dressed in a simple red dress that identified her as a bridesmaid without upstaging the supposed bride, walked near the sedan chair where Kanade was seated. There was something in her posture, in the way her dark golden eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, that revealed her true nature as a detective and combatant.

Sango had positioned herself at the rear of the group, her movements so silent that the transporters occasionally started when they remembered she was there. The extreme paleness of her skin, which could have betrayed her condition as a revived corpse, had been partially concealed with makeup, but under the changing light of the forest, it remained eerily noticeable.

The path snaked upwards, delving deeper and deeper into the depths of Mount Yujun. The trees grew denser, their branches intertwining overhead like skeletal fingers. The mist thickened with every step, transforming the world into a blurry watercolor of grays and muted greens.

Then, cutting through the heavy silence, came the sound.

A childish voice. Singing.

"The bride walks to her home, dressed in white, pure as the sun..."

Everyone stopped dead. The song continued, floating among the trees with an ethereal quality that made it impossible to determine its source.

"But on the mountain, something waits, something dark that never rests..."

"What the hell...?" One of the transporters drew his weapon, his knuckles white around the handle.

Taka raised a hand, her expression serious but controlled. "Maintain formation. Don't split up."

Kanade, from inside the sedan chair, felt a shiver run down her spine. Her Spiritual Vision, that ability all Gifted individuals possessed to perceive the supernatural, was fully activated. The air itself seemed to vibrate with invisible presences.

And then they appeared.

Wolves emerged from the mist like materialized nightmares. They were not normal animals. Their bodies were too large, their eyes glowed with an unnatural light, and there was something fundamentally wrong with the way they moved, as if their joints did not follow the laws of normal anatomy.

"Defensive formation!" One of the transporters shouted, but panic had already set in among the group.

Taka reacted instantly. Her right hand began to glow with a faint aura as she channeled Kawarimi no Kokoro. When the first wolf leaped towards her, she struck it with a direct punch to the side. The impact resonated like thunder, and the wolf was thrown several meters back, howling with a sound that was not entirely animal.

But the truly impressive thing happened a second later. The wolf tried to get up, but its body began to tremble violently. Taka had altered the state of its bones, temporarily making them fragile like glass. When the creature tried to take a step, its own legs shattered under its weight.

"They are not completely physical!" Taka shouted to the others as she dodged another attack. "They are spiritual manifestations with partially material form. Aim for vital points, as if they were real animals, but use more force than usual."

Another wolf attacked from a blind angle, its jaws opening towards the throat of one of the transporters. But before it could reach its target, Sango materialized between them like a vengeful shadow.

Her fist connected with the wolf's skull with a force she would never have possessed in life. The impact was so brutal that the creature was literally crushed against the ground, its body convulsing before dissolving into particles of dark light.

"Miss Kanade," Sango called without turning, her voice surprisingly firm for someone who normally stuttered, "stay in the chair. Don’t come out."

But more creatures were emerging from the mist. Not just wolves now. There were things that looked like impossible hybrids, entities with too many eyes or limbs that bent at nauseating angles.

Taka moved like a whirlwind, every blow calculated and devastating. When a tusked, deer-like creature charged at her, she placed both palms against the ground. The effect was immediate: the terrain beneath the creature transformed, suddenly becoming soft like quicksand. The thing sank up to its knees, and before it could react, Taka had leaped onto its back and struck the base of its skull. There was a sound of a wet crunch, and the creature dissolved.

"There are too many!" Cried one of the transporters, backing away as three wolves cornered him.

Sango interposed herself again, her movements a lethal dance of precision and superhuman strength. But even she was beginning to show signs of exhaustion. Every creature she killed seemed to add an invisible weight to her shoulders, the guilt inherent to her post-mortem existence manifesting in the tension of her jaw and the way her hands trembled slightly after each blow.

From inside the sedan chair, Kanade made a decision. Her hand slid towards the hidden weapon under the layers of her wedding dress, her fingers closing around the cold handle.

"You all go before I do." Her voice cut through the chaos, clear and firm. She pushed aside the veil and stood up, the wedding dress creating a surreal contrast with the battle scene around her. Her purple-pink eyes shone with determination. "If they surround the chair, they will keep coming. You can't kill all these things. I'm going to stay and meet the Ghost Groom."

"Kanade-chan, no!" Taka turned around, her expression a mix of concern and maternal frustration. "The plan was for you to stay safe until we could identify the threat!"

"The plan changed." Kanade was already outside the chair, her ankle boots touching the mist-covered ground. "If the goal is to capture me, let him try. But I'm not going to sit here while you fight."

Taka opened her mouth to protest, but a wolf chose that moment to attack from her right flank. She reacted by instinct, her fist connecting with its jaw in an uppercut that altered the density of the surrounding air, amplifying the impact until the creature's head simply exploded in a shower of spectral particles.

"Go!" Sango joined Kanade, positioning herself protectively beside her. The chains of her obi tinkled with every movement, and there was something wild in her green eyes that spoke of the fierce beast constantly fighting for control. "Miss Kanade can defend herself. Trust her."

It was the unwavering trust in Sango's voice that finally convinced Taka. The detective exchanged a quick glance with Kanade, a silent communication passing between them in that brief moment. Finally, she nodded reluctantly.

"Five minutes." She said firmly, raising her hand where the reddish seal on her forehead began to shine more intensely. "I give you five minutes to do what you need to do. After that, I'm coming back and pulling you out of here by force if necessary."

"Understood, Mom." Kanade couldn't resist the joke even in that tense moment, eliciting an exasperated smile from Taka.

The transporters and Taka quickly retreated, the creatures splitting between chasing them and surrounding Kanade. Sango eliminated three more before following the main group, although each kill clearly cost her something deep and intangible.

And then, Kanade was alone.

The silence that followed was unnatural. The creatures that had surrounded her simply... vanished, dissolving into the mist as if they had never existed. The entire forest seemed to hold its breath.

It was then that she heard it. A soft, almost imperceptible sound.

The hoot of an owl.

Kanade spun around, her senses on high alert. Her Spiritual Vision detected something moving in the mist, but it wasn't hostile. It wasn't the oppressive, malevolent presence she expected from the Ghost Groom.

It was something different. Something... familiar.

And then she saw it.

A butterfly. Black with red details, made of what appeared to be undulating fabric. It flew towards her with a hypnotic grace, tracing circles in the air. Kanade instinctively extended her hand, and the butterfly landed softly on her palm.

It wasn't a real butterfly. She knew it immediately. It was Rashomon. The ability of...

The cabinet of the sedan chair suddenly opened, although no one was physically near it. And there, emerging from the shadows as if he had always been waiting for that moment, a figure appeared.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.

Time seemed to stop. Kanade stood motionless, her purple-pink eyes meeting the penetrating dark gray eyes of the Rashomon user. He was exactly as she remembered him from the Agency's reports: thin, pale-skinned, with that short black hair with side-swept bangs that turned white at the tips. His long black coat billowed slightly with a breeze that didn't exist, and there was something in his posture, in the way he looked at her, that made Mizuki's heart beat with a disconcerting intensity.

How did he know she was here? What was a member of the Port Mafia doing on Mount Yujun, far from their usual territories?

But before she could formulate those questions out loud, Akutagawa extended his hand towards her. It wasn't a threatening gesture. It was an... invitation.

His lips didn't move, he didn't utter a single word, but the message was clear in his eyes. Come with me. I will show you the way.

Kanade hesitated. Every detective instinct screamed at her that this was a trap, that trusting a mafioso, especially one as notorious as Akutagawa, was suicidal. But there was something else, something she couldn't fully identify, that urged her to trust.

Perhaps it was the way he looked at her. Not with hostility or the ruthless coldness he was known for. There was something more in those gray eyes. Something that looked dangerously like... devotion?

"This is a bad idea." Kanade murmured to herself. But even as she said it, her hand rose, reaching out to Akutagawa's.

When their fingers met, he didn't grasp her tightly. His fingers simply intertwined with hers, soft and firm at the same time. And then, with a fluid movement, he guided her hand to hold onto his arm.

The warmth of his body through the fabric of the coat was real, solid, comforting in a way that it shouldn't be coming from someone like him. Kanade found herself pressing lightly against his side, allowing him to guide her.

They began to walk.

The forest transformed around them. The mist grew thicker but, paradoxically, the path ahead of them was perfectly clear. The creatures that had attacked before were there, Mizuki could see them moving in the shadows among the trees. But none approached.

A wolf emerged from the foliage, its eyes glowing with supernatural hunger. But before it could take more than two steps in their direction, Akutagawa turned his head slightly toward it. He didn't make any movement with his free hand. He didn't visibly summon Rashomon. He simply... looked.

And the wolf stopped dead. Its body began to tremble violently, and then, as if an invisible force pushed it, it backed away and fled into the depths of the forest.

Kanade felt a chill that wasn't entirely fear. Akutagawa's spiritual power was overwhelming. She could feel it radiating from him like heat waves from a furnace. It was as if his mere presence was enough to drive away spectral manifestations, his will so ironclad that even the supernatural bent to it.

"Who are you really?" Kanade murmured, more to herself than expecting an answer.

Akutagawa didn't reply verbally. But he turned his head slightly towards her, and for a moment, their eyes met. And in those gray eyes, Kanade saw something that took her breath away.

Pain. Loss. Longing. And something deeper, more intense, that made her heart race in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

The rain began to fall. Cold drops pierced the canopy of trees, turning the mist into a silver curtain. Kanade instinctively raised her free hand to shield her face from the downpour.

But the drops never touched her.

Akutagawa had opened a wagasa, a traditional deep black Japanese umbrella, without her noticing when he had taken it out. He held it over both of them, covering her first and himself as an afterthought. The raindrops drummed against the dark surface of the umbrella, creating a hypnotic rhythm that somehow made the entire world feel smaller, more intimate.

They continued walking. Akutagawa's steps were light, almost silent, but his pace was constant, as if he knew this path by heart. As if he had walked it a thousand times in dreams or in another life.

More Rashomon butterflies appeared, fluttering around them in a delicate dance. They were beautiful in an unsettling way, their black fabric forms with red details undulating with a life of their own. Mizuki realized that they were guiding them, marking the way to... where?

"This man's steps are light," Kanade thought, studying him with her peripheral vision, "he must be young. But his pace is constant, as if he has seen everything. As if nothing in this world could surprise him anymore."

A terrible question began to form in her mind. "Could he be the Ghost Groom?"

But even as the thought took shape, something inside her rejected it. No. Akutagawa Ryuunosuke was many things—a ruthless killer, a Mafia dog, a force of destruction—but he was not the Ghost Groom. There was something fundamentally different about the presence that pursued brides and the presence of the man walking beside her.

Finally, the path opened into a clearing. Through the rain and the mist, Mizuki could make out the silhouette of an ancient temple. Its architectural lines were elegant but time-worn, the tiled roof showed areas of collapse, and the wooden beams were covered in moss and vines.

This was the place. Kanade knew it with absolute certainty. This was where the Ghost Groom took his victims.

Akutagawa stopped at the edge of the clearing. He turned toward Kanade, and slowly, with a delicacy that violently contrasted with his reputation, he reached for the veil that still partially covered her face.

His fingers brushed the fabric, and he began to lift it. The gesture was intimate, almost reverent. As if he were about to kiss a real bride at a real ceremony.

Kanade’s heart was beating so loudly she was sure he could hear it. Her hands instinctively moved towards the hidden rope in her dress, ready to throw it and capture him if this was an attack.

But Akutagawa did not kiss her.

Instead, when the veil was completely lifted and their eyes met without any barrier between them, he simply looked at her. It was a gaze so intense, so full of emotions that Kanade couldn't name, that she felt as if she could drown in it.

And then, with the same silence with which he had appeared, Akutagawa vanished.

His body decomposed into hundreds of Rashomon butterflies, each one fluttering with that characteristic black and red fabric. They rushed towards, Kanade in a flurry that should have been threatening but was not. The butterflies surrounded her, softly brushing against her skin, her hair, her outstretched hands.

There was no pain. There was no danger. It was almost... tender.

Kanade extended her hands, allowing the fabric butterflies to land on her palms, on her arms. They were warm to the touch, and for a crazy moment, she wondered if she could feel Akutagawa's heartbeat in each of them.

And then, they too vanished. Dissolving into particles of shadow that were absorbed by the rain.

Kanade stood at the edge of the clearing, alone, with the rain now falling freely on her as the wagasa had disappeared along with its wielder. Her wedding dress was soaked, heavy, but she barely noticed.

Her fingers closed around the spot where the last butterflies had touched her skin. Her breathing was uneven, her mind a whirlwind of unanswered questions.

What had just happened? Why had Akutagawa guided her here? And why, despite everything she knew about him, despite all the reports of his crimes and his violent nature, did a part of her wish he hadn't left?

The temple awaited her in the clearing, its shadows filled with unknown secrets and dangers. The true Ghost Groom was likely inside, awaiting his next victim.

But at that moment, standing in the rain with the ghost of Akutagawa's touch still burning on her skin, Mizuki couldn't think about the mystery she had come to solve.

She could only think of gray eyes that looked at her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. As if every second by her side had been a stolen gift that he had paid a terrible price to obtain.

"Who are you to me?" She whispered into the empty air, though she knew there would be no answer. "And why do I feel like I should already know the answer?"

The rain continued to fall, washing away the tears Kanade hadn't realized she was shedding. And somewhere in the distance, hidden among the shadows of the trees, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke watched in silence, his heart bleeding with a devotion that had no name and a love that had transcended death itself.

Chapter Text

The moonlight filtered through the cracks of the temple like spectral fingers, illuminating the suspended dust in the air with an almost dreamlike quality. Kanade advanced cautiously, her steps muffled by years of accumulated debris. The wedding dress, now stained and torn in several places, dragged behind her like a ghostly reminder of the trap that had been set.

Her mind couldn't stop replaying the details of her encounter with Akutagawa. Every image was sharp, etched with a clarity that unsettled her.

"Is he the Ghost Groom or not?" She wondered as her purple-pink eyes scanned the oscillating shadows. "If he is, the wolves must work for him... so why were they frightened at the sight of him?"

It was a contradiction she couldn't ignore. The spectral wolves had fled at Akutagawa's mere presence, as if his spiritual power was so overwhelming that even supernatural manifestations bowed before him.

"Akutagawa eliminated the magic formation that was there just by passing through." Kanade unconsciously touched the spot where her fingers had intertwined with his. "If he's not the groom, why did he come for me?"

It was then that she saw it. Another butterfly made of black fabric with red details, fluttering in the air with impossible grace. The Rashomon creature settled on the frame of a side door, its wings gently waving as if inviting her to follow.

Kanade pulled her weapon from beneath her wedding dress, her finger resting lightly on the trigger as she approached. The gun was loaded, ready, but a part of her knew that if Akutagawa had wanted to harm her, he would have had a thousand chances during their walk in the forest.

The door opened with a screech that echoed in the temple's silence. And there, bathed in the silver light of the moon, were the bodies.

Kanade counted them mentally, her breathing becoming shallower with each number. Seventeen. Exactly seventeen brides, each unnaturally preserved, as if time had stopped at the moment of their capture. Their wedding dresses, though covered in dust, maintained an ethereal quality.

She knelt beside one of the bodies, carefully lifting a piece of fabric for a closer examination. That's when she heard it again.

That song. The childish voice singing about a bride.

"The bride walks to her home, Dressed in white, pure as the sun..."

But now there was something else in the melody. A tone of possessiveness, of barely contained madness.

Kanade stood up quickly and began moving deeper into the temple, opening doors, following the sound. Her Spiritual Sight was fully active now, and she could feel the presence filling this place like a toxic miasma.

The final door burst open, and what she saw on the other side made her finger tense on the trigger.

A mass of black smoke, barely taking a humanoid form, launched itself toward her with supernatural speed. Mizuki fired instinctively, once, twice, three times. The bullets passed through the entity but didn't seem to cause significant damage.

"Shit!" Kanade backed away, dodging another attack while her mind worked at full speed. She couldn't use her ability here, not with the bodies so close. The Kaleidoscope of the Eternal Soul required concentration, and this thing wasn't giving her time to breathe, much less time to weave the necessary karmic threads.

Before she could form a plan, male voices resonated from another temple entrance. Bounty hunters, likely drawn by the gigantic reward the officer had set.

But their arrival was brief. One of them stepped on something on the floor, and suddenly, the entire temple trembled.

It was then that Taka made her entrance.

The stomp she gave against the temple floor was not ordinary. The earth itself seemed to respond to her will, and Mizuki could see the characteristic glow of Kawarimi no Kokoro surrounding Taka's foot. The impact altered the state of the ground, temporarily making it denser, more solid, creating shockwaves that knocked the bounty hunters down like rag dolls.

"Did you see anything on your way here?" Kanade’s voice cut through the chaos, addressing the men who were now on the ground, stunned and clearly terrified.

One of them, who appeared to be the leader, stammered something about a black fog and singing voices. Taka approached with her arms crossed, her expression a mask of maternal severity.

"Be quiet." She ordered in a calm but firm voice, lighting a match she had pulled from one of her belt compartments. The small flame illuminated her face, making the reddish seal on her forehead glow faintly. "And don't move."

She activated her Spiritual Sight to the maximum, allowing her dark golden eyes to scan not only the physical bodies present but the spiritual resonances they left behind. What she saw made her frown.

"It's an Entity that can transform." She announced, extinguishing the match with a quick motion. "It changes shape depending on what it needs to attract its victims."

"Who's there?" A feminine voice, timid and fearful, echoed from the shadows.

A young woman appeared, dressed in traditional Chinese clothes. Ming Yuan. Her eyes were filled with tears and confusion, as if she didn't understand where she was or how she had gotten here.

Before Taka could react, the bounty hunters moved toward the bodies of the brides, their hands reaching out to the veils covering their faces.

"Don't touch that!" Taka shouted, but it was too late.

The group leader was about to touch the face of one of the brides when Ming Yuan suddenly intervened, her movements surprisingly agile for someone who had been crying moments earlier.

"You can't touch them!" Her voice had changed, becoming more desperate.

The leader raised his hand to strike her, and that's when Kanade lunged between them. The blow intended for Ming Yuan impacted Kanade’s shoulder, making her stagger back several steps.

Simultaneously, Taka lifted a stone from the ground with a fluid motion and threw it with surgical precision. The rock struck the leader's temple, not hard enough to cause permanent damage, but enough to completely distract him.

"Run!" Kanade pushed Ming Yuan toward the exit while Taka covered their retreat.

What followed was absolute chaos. The bounty hunters tried to pursue them, but the temple itself seemed to come alive. Shadows moved with a will of their own, and the black fog Mizuki had seen earlier began to manifest in multiple places at once.

Terrified screams echoed through the corridors. When Kanade, Taka, and Ming Yuan emerged outside, the bounty hunters followed minutes later, half-dead from terror and pale as ghosts.

Sango awaited them outside, her green eyes evaluating the situation with that unnatural calm only the dead could possess. She approached Kanade with silent steps.

"The blood is not theirs, Miss Kanade." She informed her, her voice clear and without a trace of the stammering that had characterized her in life. She pointed to the crimson stains decorating the bounty hunters' clothes. "It's too old. Likely from previous victims."

Mizuki nodded, her mind already connecting the pieces. She lit a match and walked back toward the temple interior, with Taka and Sango flanking her. The light revealed more bodies, these ones recent, lying face down with wounds that clearly hadn't been caused by conventional weapons.

"It's not the Mafia." Taka spoke with absolute certainty, kneeling beside one of the corpses to examine it more closely. "They wouldn't do such pronounced killings. Too showy, too emotional. This is personal."

"Well..." Kanade bit her lower lip, remembering. "I met someone while I was looking for the way to get here."

Taka looked up immediately, her dark golden eyes shining with curiosity and maternal unease. "Someone? Who?"

"I don't know his name." Kanade lied, although it was technically true that she hadn't exchanged words with Akutagawa. "But there were black butterflies made of cloth with red details. He guided me here."

The change in Taka's expression was subtle but unmistakable. Her shoulders tensed, and her hand moved instinctively toward one of the compartments on her belt where she kept combat tools.

Sango also reacted, though her response was different. The chains on her obi began to gently clink, and an almost imperceptible aura of repressed emotional energy started to surround her. Her ability, Silence of the Voiceless, responded to the tension of the moment.

"Was the magic formation destroyed when he stepped on the ground?" Taka asked, her voice controlled but with an edge that hadn't been there before.

"Yes. It simply... vanished when he passed." Kanade confirmed, noticing her companions' reactions but not fully understanding their source. "The barriers disappeared as if they had never existed."

Taka and Sango exchanged a meaningful glance. There was something they weren't telling her, something about the identity of the person who had guided her. But before Kanade could press them for answers, the bounty hunters began aggressively advancing toward them.

"You're from the Agency, aren't you?" The leader spat the words as if they were venom. "This is a bounty hunter job. You have no jurisdiction here."

Taka stood up slowly, and when she did, something in the air changed. The maternal, warm presence she normally projected evaporated, replaced by something darker, more dangerous.

"Jurisdiction." She repeated the word with chilling calmness. Then, without prior warning, she stomped the ground.

The effect was instantaneous and terrifying. Kawarimi no Kokoro activated at full power, altering the state of the terrain beneath the bounty hunters' feet. What had been solid ground became temporarily unstable, then hardened again with brutal force that launched them several meters backward.

"Next time," Taka spoke as the men staggered up, clearly terrified, "think twice before interfering with an ADA investigation. Now get out. Before I lose my patience."

They didn't need to be told twice. The bounty hunters fled into the forest, tripping over each other in their haste to get away.

With them out of the way, the three women left Ming Yuan in a safe place with instructions not to move, and returned to the temple. There was a mystery to solve, and time was running out.

"What was chasing us was the black fog." Kanade declared as they hid behind a wall, observing the temple interior from an advantageous position. Her purple-pink eyes shone with the intensity of someone connecting the final dots of a complex puzzle.

"So the Ghost Groom isn't a groom..." Sango whispered, her voice laden with slow but sure understanding. "But a resentful and angry Bride with her groom."

The silence that followed was heavy with implications. Kanade closed her eyes for a moment, her mind working at lightning speed.

"Kikyo-san." She murmured, activating her communication device. "Kikyo-san, can you hear me?"

Static filled the line for a few seconds before Kikyo's familiar, melodious voice answered. "Kanade-chan, I was busy. What's wrong?"

"Tell me." Kanade dodged a stone that fell from the unstable temple ceiling. "Is there any famous general known for being a womanizer?"

There was a pause on the line, and Kanade could almost picture Kikyo tilting her head with that thoughtful expression she adopted when accessing her vast reserve of historical knowledge.

"Why the question?" Kikyo's voice had that playful tone she used when she knew more than she initially revealed. "There is one, yes. His name is Ming Guang."

"I'm in a desperate situation." Kanade jumped aside as another section of the ceiling began to collapse. "Dozens of corpses are chasing me along with Taka-chan and Sango. Did he ever date a possessive, jealous, and disabled woman?"

"Ah." The sound Kikyo made was one of sudden comprehension. "Yes. He met a woman general in battle. She was beautiful but tenacious, and was defeated by him. One thing led to another, and they fell in love. The turning point was when she wanted to be with the general forever. However, the general was a confirmed Casanova."

"Wait a minute." Kanade dodged another gigantic stone that broke off the ceiling, rolling agilely before standing up again. "Tell me, did that woman have physical problems?"

"Xuan Ji." Kikyo's voice became more serious, almost melancholic. "Yes, she had problems with her legs. She broke them during the battle. Some say it was Ming Guang himself who—"

The connection cut abruptly.

Kanade cursed under her breath, putting the device away. But she had enough information. And it was at that moment that she heard them.

Footsteps. Heavy, dragging, with the unmistakable sound of someone having trouble walking.

She appeared from the shadows: the bride in the most luxurious dress, more elaborate than all the others. Her bridal kimono was a masterpiece of silk and embroidery, but there was something profoundly wrong with the way her body moved. Her legs bent at impossible angles with each step, as if the bones were broken and badly set.

"Are you Xuan Ji?" Kanade took a step forward, placing herself between the ghost and her companions.

The figure stopped. Slowly, very slowly, she lifted her head covered by the bridal veil.

"Did he send you for me?" The voice that came out was multiple, as if several women were speaking in unison. "Where is he? Why didn't he come in person?"

"Listen—" Kanade tried to reason, but she was interrupted.

"EVERYONE WHO IS WITH HIM WILL DIE!" The scream was deafening, and with it, Xuan Ji lunged forward.

What followed was a chaos of movement. Xuan Ji moved with unnatural speed despite her broken legs, and with every movement, more dead brides began to rise from their positions. The bounty hunters who had foolishly returned were the first to fall, their screams abruptly cut short when the spectral claws tore through them.

"Why didn't you come for me?!" Xuan Ji continued screaming, her voice breaking with a mixture of pain and fury that had fermented for decades. "Are you ashamed to see me like this?!"

Pillars began to fall, and Kanade instinctively activated her Karmic Hands. The psychic arms manifested with their characteristic kaleidoscope pattern, trapping Xuan Ji before she could reach another bounty hunter.

The entity struggled against the invisible grip, her body beginning to transform into something even more monstrous. The veil tore, revealing a face that had once been beautiful but was now twisted by centuries of anger and pain.

But before she could fully break free, Taka moved.

Her fist connected with Xuan Ji's center of mass with devastating force, amplified by Kawarimi no Kokoro. The impact altered the very state of the spiritual energy composing the ghost's body, momentarily dispersing it.

And it was at that precise moment that they appeared.

Vines. Dozens, hundreds of them, sprouting from the ground with impossible speed. They were a vibrant green decorated with flowers that shone with their own light, beautiful and lethal at the same time.

"We apologize for the delay." Asuna Sorei's voice resonated from the temple entrance. The young woman with salmon-pink hair and jade eyes walked with elegant grace, her hands outstretched as she controlled the vegetation she had summoned. The Caterpillar, her ability, had transformed the temple into a savage garden in a matter of seconds.

"Thanks for waiting for us, Kanade-chan." Asuna smiled, and there was something genuinely warm in that expression despite the chaotic situation. The vines coiled around Xuan Ji and the other resurrected brides, immobilizing them with a force that was both physical and spiritual.

Asuna's plants didn't just restrict movement; they actively absorbed the resentful energy feeding the entities, slowly purifying it. Flowers began to bloom on the vines, each releasing a soft pollen that calmed the turbulent emotions that had kept these spirits bound to the mortal world for so long.

Kanade finally allowed herself to breathe, lowering her arms as her Karmic Hands dissolved into the air. Taka approached her side, placing a protective hand on her shoulder.

"Good job." The reddish-purple-haired detective said, and there was genuine maternal pride in her voice. "You kept your cool under pressure. That's exactly what we need at the ADA."

Sango materialized on Kanade’s other side, the chains on her obi gently clinking. "Miss Mizuki... was brave." Her voice was soft, almost reverent.

Asuna joined the group, her vines maintaining their firm grip on the trapped spirits. "Now," she said with her characteristic pragmatism, "we need to decide what to do with her. Xuan Ji cannot simply be destroyed. Her pain is too real, too deep. She deserves rest, not annihilation."

Kanade looked toward the bride's ghost, who was now immobile among Asuna's plants. Even trapped, she continued to murmur the name of her lost beloved, her voice breaking with every syllable.

"She's right." Kanade finally spoke. "She isn't evil. She's just... broken. And she deserves peace."

The four women exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them. They had a long way to go to fully resolve this situation, to give Xuan Ji and the other brides the rest they deserved.

But for now, the Ghost Groom had been captured. The mystery was solved.

And Kanade, looking toward the forest where the last of the Rashomon butterflies finally vanished into the night, couldn't help but wonder about the grey-eyed man who had guided her here.

"Who are you really to me, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke?" She thought. "And why do I feel like this won't be the last time our paths cross?"

—

The Armed Detective Agency office was bathed in the soft afternoon light, Kanade stood in front of her desk, her purple-pink eyes shining slightly as she recounted the final details of the mission. Taka sat nearby, one hand resting on her cheek, listening with that characteristic maternal attention.

"And that's how we managed to seal General Xuan Ji." Kanade concluded, gesticulating with her hands in that expressive way that came so naturally to her. "Asuna-san wrapped her up with her vines, and we were able to calm her resentful energy enough for her to rest in peace."

"General Xuan Ji can rest in peace. That's a relief." Kikyo spoke from her desk, a gentle smile curving her red lips. Her burgundy nails shimmered slightly under the light as she flipped through the pages of a report. "You've done an excellent job, Kanade-chan."

Fukuzawa nodded from his position, his wolf-like eyes showing silent approval. Ranpo was reclined in his chair, munching on sweets with that nonchalant attitude that only he could maintain even during serious reports.

Kanade took a deep breath, and everyone in the office sensed the shift in her energy. Her shoulders tensed slightly, and her fingers toyed with a lock of her black hair with magenta highlights.

"I also want to say something else." She announced, and everyone present instantly turned toward her.

The silence that followed was heavy with anticipation. Even Ranpo stopped chewing for a moment.

Kanade let out a deep exhale. "I encountered a young man from the Port Mafia. He could control butterflies made of cloth, I think they were black with red details."

The tension in the room instantly skyrocketed. It was as if someone had sucked all the air out of the place.

"You met Akutagawa-kun?" Dazai's voice cut the silence. There was no trace of his usual playful tone. His eyes, normally closed in that lazy expression, were wide open and fixed on Kanade.

"His name is Akutagawa?" Kanade repeated the name, and involuntarily, a smile formed on her lips. A pink but noticeable blush spread across her cheeks. "That name suits him very well. Mustard River... it's poetic."

If the tension had been palpable before, it was now absolutely suffocating.

Everyone in the ADA exchanged looks ranging from worry to absolute shock. Their gazes communicated silently: Who tells her?

Atsushi, who had been sitting at his desk processing documents, looked up with wide amber eyes. His expression was a mixture of confusion and growing alarm.

"Haven't you heard about the Port Mafia's attack on the Military about three years ago?" Kikyo broke the silence, her voice maintaining that characteristic calm although her golden eyes with reddish acircular pupils shone with something deeper. She pulled out several old newspapers from one of her desk drawers, spreading them across the surface. "There are several copies of it saved. Even from when you were not yet revived in Kaori's body."

Kanade blinked, her smile slowly fading. "What...?"

"He challenged thirty-four experienced military squads in a row," Ranpo spoke around the sweet in his mouth, his tone unusually serious, "and won every single fight. No cheating, just pure skill. No one would forget his face after that."

Asuna, who had been arranging flowers in a vase near her desk, approached and discreetly stole a bonbon from Ranpo's box before popping it into her mouth. "It was the year Akutagawa gained a more... prominent reputation in the criminal world."

"He challenged thirty-four squads in a row?" Kanade repeated, her voice rising slightly. Disbelief was evident in every word.

"Thirty-five, technically." Kikyo corrected, her burgundy nails tapping against the desk surface in a thoughtful rhythm. "He requested a duel with thirty-five squads. Only the Hunting Dogs squad refused to participate. They thought it was foolish, and they were probably right. The conditions were... outrageous, to say the least."

Kunikida adjusted his glasses and opened his notebook with precise movements. The pages flipped quickly to a section filled with detailed notes, pasted newspaper clippings, and marginal annotations. "If he lost, he would allow himself to be captured without resistance. However, if he won every duel, the military had to swear that they would never harm a woman. He made them swear they would keep their promise under any circumstance."

Sango, who had been standing near the window observing the sunset, turned around with a genuinely surprised expression. Her green eyes widened with interest. "He did all that... for a promise about protecting women?"

"That's right." Dazai leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. His expression was inscrutable, but there was something in his eyes that spoke of deep knowledge and perhaps, just perhaps, a flash of repressed pride. "Thirty-four idiotic squads accepted his duel. They lost. The entire group was defeated in a humiliating way."

"When Akutagawa ordered them to keep their promise," Kikyo continued, her voice adopting that narrator's tone she used when recounting important events, "they believed he was an arrogant person flaunting his victory. Bad decision. Akutagawa took matters personally."

"He burned down the military bases of those guys in a single night." Yosano spoke from her desk, where she had been organizing medical supplies. Her voice was casual, but there was a flicker of involuntary respect in her eyes. "Only the Hunting Dogs base was spared, probably because they had refused to participate in the first place."

"Not only that." Asuna added, crossing her arms. "Those idiots, out of sheer vanity, televised it. They broadcast the duels live, thinking they would show how the militia crushed an arrogant mafioso. When they lost, their loyal followers were devastated. People began to consider Akutagawa a defender of female ability users. The military police was humiliated on a national level."

Taka, who had remained relatively quiet until now, spoke with a voice that mixed technical admiration and moral disapproval. "The officers were defeated by Rashomon. They were traumatized afterward. Some never returned to active duty."

"And that's not all." Dazai added with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sure several officials coughed up blood when Akutagawa hurled every... creative insult possible at them. My former student has a sharp tongue when he wants to use it."

"Let's not forget the matter of his Rashomon-made butterflies." Tanizaki interjected, his voice containing a hint of unease. "They are uncontrollable. They are the worst nightmare of his enemies. They can do a thousand and one different things. No one in the Port Mafia wants to be an enemy of those things."

Kanade had been listening to all this with an increasingly complex expression. Her fingers nervously played with a lock of her hair, and when she finally spoke, her voice was almost dreamy.

"I find them adorable somehow." She commented, a small smile curving her lips. "They looked very... ethereal and gentle to me. As if they were made of night silk."

Atsushi stared at her as if she had just said she liked playing with explosives. "Are you... are you sure we're talking about the same Akutagawa? The one who has tried to kill me like... ten times?"

Fukuzawa approached Kanade, his presence imposing but not threatening. His wolf-like eyes scanned her body meticulously, looking for any sign of injury or trauma. "Are you sure you encountered Akutagawa? Wasn't it an imitator of his?"

"I don't think it was an imitator, President." Kanade shook her head, her voice firm despite the confusion she felt from all this information. "If it had been, I would have easily detected it. He wore his normal clothes, had the same frown, but he was carrying a black wagasa (Japanese umbrella)."

"What did he do to you?" Fukuzawa asked directly, shifting his gaze to observe every detail of Mizuki's body, wanting to ensure she wasn't hiding any injury.

"He destroyed Xuan Ji's magic formation just by passing through it." Mizuki recounted, and every word that came out of her mouth seemed to increase the collective shock in the room. "He covered me from the rain with his wagasa. And he showed me the way to the temple where the ghost was. That was all."

"Just that?" Taka asked, her voice full of disbelief.

"Yes." Kanade affirmed, feeling increasingly confused by everyone's exaggerated reactions.

Kikyo sighed deeply, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, they shone with a calculating intelligence that made even the most veteran members of the Agency nervous. "Akutagawa is extremely suspicious on the best of days. We shouldn't risk trying to track him down. He would realize why we're spying on him in a matter of seconds, and that could provoke a diplomatic incident with the Mafia that none of us want."

"You may retire if you wish," Fukuzawa spoke with quiet authority, "but before you do, you need to understand why the ADA must avoid provoking Akutagawa Ryuunosuke as much as possible."

It was then that Kin stood up. The woman with midnight blue hair and turquoise tips walked toward a cupboard with measured steps. Her night-blue yukata moved with her like dark water. She took out a remote control and aimed it at the television mounted on one of the office walls.

"Here is an exact recording of what happened," Kin explained with her direct, unadorned voice. "We received it from the Port Mafia a few days after the event. It was... a courtesy gift, we could say. A way to demonstrate their power."

The screen flickered to life.

The first thing that appeared was the logo of a national news channel, followed by the face of a clearly excited presenter.

"—live broadcast from Yokohama National Stadium, where something unprecedented is about to occur. A member of the Port Mafia, identified as Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, has officially challenged thirty-five military squads to consecutive duels—"

The camera switched to show the interior of the stadium. It was huge, designed to house thousands of spectators. The seats were filled to capacity, a roaring crowd of civilians, journalists, and military figures who had come to witness what many assumed would be a public execution disguised as a duel.

In the center of the field, completely alone, stood Akutagawa.

Kanade leaned forward involuntarily, her purple-pink eyes fixed on the screen. Even through the recording, even with the distance of the camera, there was something hypnotic about the way he stood. His black coat waved slightly in a breeze that shouldn't exist inside the covered stadium. His grey eyes were fixed forward, completely calm, completely empty of fear.

"The established conditions are as follows," the presenter continued, "if Akutagawa loses even a single duel, he will surrender to be arrested without resistance. However, if he wins all duels, the participating squads must publicly swear that they will never harm a woman. An oath that will be legally binding under Yokohama law."

"What strange conditions," one of the off-camera commentators murmured. "Why would a mafioso be concerned about the protection of women?"

The first squad entered the field. They were twelve men, all dressed in impeccable military uniforms, all carrying weapons and exuding confidence. Their commander stepped forward, shouting something the camera didn't clearly capture.

What followed was... impossible to adequately describe in words.

Rashomon manifested as an explosion of black fabric with red details that seemed to bleed into the air. The butterflies emerged first, hundreds of them, filling the space between Akutagawa and the soldiers like a living curtain. Beautiful, hypnotic, lethal.

The first soldier tried to shoot. The bullet passed through several butterflies, which simply reformed immediately. And then the butterflies attacked.

It wasn't a massacre. It was a dance. Every movement by Akutagawa was economical, precise, calculated to cause maximum impact with minimum effort. Rashomon extended from his coat in shapes that defied physics, hitting, cutting, entangling. The soldiers fell one after another, not dead, but definitely defeated.

The entire duel lasted less than three minutes.

"Holy..." Tanizaki murmured, his eyes wide open.

But that was just the first one.

The recording continued, showing duel after duel. Second squad. Third. Fifth. Tenth. Some lasted longer than others, but the result was always the same. Akutagawa remained standing while his opponents fell.

At some point around the fifteenth duel, the camera caught something that made everyone in the ADA office tense up.

Figures entering the stadium. They weren't ordinary spectators.

Mori Ougai walked in front, Elise skipping beside him with that childish energy that grotesquely contrasted with the man's nature. Behind him came the executives.

Chuuya Nakahara, with his characteristic hat and an expression of exasperation mixed with curiosity. Beside him was Takako, moving with that lethal grace that characterized her, her fan closed in one hand. Kouyou Ozaki followed, her kimono perfect even amidst the crowd. And finally, Nana Shigetsu, whose mere presence seemed to lower the temperature of the stadium section where they sat.

"They arrived to stop him," Dazai narrated calmly, "because Akutagawa had done all this without asking permission. The Mafia found out when it was already on the national news."

On the screen, Mori leaned forward in his seat, observing with those eyes that never missed anything. The executives settled around him, and for a moment, it looked like they were going to intervene.

But then Akutagawa defeated the next squad in record time, and Mori's expression changed. Not to surprise, but to something more complex. Satisfaction. Calculation. Understanding of the implications.

Chuuya leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms with a small smile curving his lips. Even from a distance, the camera caught the moment he said something that made Takako laugh behind her fan.

Kouyou watched with serene approval, and Nana... Nana simply watched, her expression impenetrable but her eyes shining with something that might have been involuntary respect.

"When they saw he was winning," Kikyo spoke softly, "they decided to stay. To turn it into an official Mafia spectacle. A demonstration of power."

The duels continued. Twenty. Twenty-five. Thirty.

By the thirty-second duel, Akutagawa was visibly tired. His breathing was heavier, caught by the nearby microphones. There were sweat stains on his clothes. But his eyes remained just as cold, just as determined.

"He didn't stop," Atsushi murmured, almost to himself. There was something in his voice. Involuntary respect mixed with his usual distaste for his rival.

The final duel was against the most elite squad that had agreed to participate. The commander was a massive man, clearly experienced, possessing an ability that created pure energy projectiles.

The battle lasted longer than all the previous ones combined. Eight minutes of intense combat that kept the entire stadium in absolute silence.

And in the end, it was Akutagawa who remained standing.

The stadium exploded in noise. It wasn't entirely celebratory; there was shock, disbelief, horror from the military present. But there was also something else. Admiration. Respect. Fear.

Akutagawa walked toward the center of the field, his posture straight despite the obvious exhaustion. The microphone caught his voice, cold and cutting as always.

"Keep your promise. Or the consequences will be... memorable."

It wasn't an empty threat. Everyone knew it wasn't.

"In an unprecedented demonstration," the presenter sounded almost hysterical, "Akutagawa Ryuunosuke of the Port Mafia has defeated thirty-four consecutive military squads. The commanders must now comply with the public oath—"

The screen showed the military officers, one by one, pronouncing the oath with expressions ranging from humiliation to barely contained fury.

And then the recording jumped. It showed the news from the following days.

"—military bases of the participating squads were set on fire last night—"

"—Akutagawa Ryuunosuke is believed to be responsible, in response to derogatory comments made by officers about the oath—"

"—the Port Mafia has issued an official statement backing the actions of its member—"

Kin turned off the television, and the silence that followed was absolute.

"The benefits Akutagawa gained after that demonstration were... considerable." Kikyo was the first to speak, her voice adopting that analytical tone she used when dissecting complex situations. "First, he elevated the Port Mafia's reputation in ways he probably didn't even fully anticipate."

"People started seeing them as more than just criminals," Dazai continued without missing a beat, his synchronization with Kikyo so perfect they seemed to share a brain. "As a force that could protect when official institutions failed."

"Second," Kikyo raised another finger, "he gained unconditional loyalty from several lower-ranking subordinates who saw him as an unlikely hero. His power base within the Mafia solidified."

"Third," Dazai added with a smile that was more of a grimace, "Mori rewarded him with almost complete operational freedom. Akutagawa can now basically do whatever he wants as long as it doesn't directly contradict the Mafia's interests. He's half the organization's pet."

"Fourth," Kikyo tapped another finger, "the other criminal organizations in Yokohama and beyond began to treat him with cautious respect. No one wants to provoke someone capable of that demonstration of power."

"And fifth," Dazai concluded, his voice lowering slightly, "the bounty on his head tripled. But simultaneously, attempts to capture him decreased because no one wants to face him after seeing that recording."

Kanade had been processing all this in silence, her mind working at full speed. Finally, she spoke, her voice more curious than scared.

"Why did he do all that? Just for an oath about protecting women?"

The silence that followed was different. Uncomfortable. Because no one in the room knew the real answer to that question.

"That," Dazai said slowly, "is the question we've all been asking ourselves for three years. Akutagawa isn't the type of person to act out of idealism. He doesn't care about noble causes. But he did this. And no one knows why."

"God knows why Akutagawa did that," Kunikida closed his notebook with a dry sound. "It was a complete mystery then, and it remains a mystery now."

Fukuzawa observed Kanade carefully. "The question we must ask ourselves now is: why did he help you specifically? Akutagawa doesn't do favors without reason."

Kanade had no answer. But her fingers moved unconsciously to her chest, where under her clothes, a rose quartz necklace rested against her skin.

—

Hours later, Kanade walked back to her temporary apartment. The streets of Yokohama were quiet, illuminated by streetlights that created pools of golden light in the darkness.

She was lost in her thoughts, mentally replaying the recording, when something caught her attention.

A butterfly.

Black with red details, made of cloth that seemed to move with a life of its own. It fluttered in front of her with graceful, almost dancing movements.

Kanade instinctively extended her hand, and the butterfly descended, gently landing on her palm. It was warm to the touch, and for an absurd moment, Kanade could have sworn she could feel a heartbeat, as if someone's heart was connected to this small creation.

"You are beautiful," she murmured, watching the wings slowly open and close.

What Kanade didn't know was that at that precise moment, in a completely different location in the city, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke stood on a dark rooftop.

His fingers moved in the air, a subtle but deliberate gesture, activating the playback capability his butterflies possessed. Through the eyes of the Rashomon creature, he could see what she saw.

And what he saw was Kanade, smiling with that genuine warmth as she held his butterfly with a delicacy that contrasted violently with everything he knew about the world.

Akutagawa's grey eyes, usually so empty, softened almost imperceptibly. His lips moved, forming words that no one else could hear.

"You still don't remember me."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact, a patient acceptance of a reality he had lived with for three years.

"But I will wait. As I have been waiting."

The butterfly in Kanade’s hand gently dissolved into particles of dark light, disappearing into the night. And Kanade continued her way home, unaware that she had just been watched by someone whose devotion to her had shaken the very foundations of Yokohama's criminal world.

Unaware that thirty-four military squads had fallen, that entire bases had burned, that an impossible oath had been wrenched from the lips of proud men...

All for her.

All for a promise Akutagawa had made twelve years ago, when a ghostly apparition saved him from falling to his death, and he swore he would protect all women until he could find her again.

The moon shone over Yokohama, indifferent to the secrets the city kept. And somewhere among the shadows, black and red cloth butterflies continued their silent watch, patiently waiting for the moment when their creator and the woman who had forgotten would meet face to face again.

Chapter Text

The air on the edge of the pier smelled of salt and gasoline. Two youthful figures, held still like statues in the midst of the morning bustle, drew furtive glances. One, fourteen years old, in a red kimono patterned with buds and with unnervingly empty blue eyes, clutched a small rabbit doll tightly. The other, a year older, was a vision of contradictions made flesh: a modernized, blue-gradient qipao that echoed her black hair with navy blue tips, and unblinking amber eyes that observed the world with the lethal precision of a hawk and the restlessness of a lost soul.

The sound of two phones, one with a fake jade casing and the other adorned like a necklace, broke the silence between them, but neither budged to answer.

A group of boys approached, with kind smiles and curiosity in their gaze.
“Little ones, are you waiting for someone? Now that I think about it, I saw you here yesterday too. Haven’t you moved from here?” asked the young man in the green hoodie.

His friend, dressed in a suit, chuckled. “Maybe they’re dolls. They just blinked.” He said, slightly surprised, just as both girls began to walk with determination.

Their steps led them directly toward two approaching figures: a tall man in a beige coat and a woman with straight black hair and a gentle smile.

Dazai Osamu and Saitou Kikyo stopped dead in their tracks when the girl in the qipao gently but firmly tugged at Kikyo’s blouse, while the girl in the kimono took hold of the lapel of Dazai’s trench coat.

Kikyo tilted her head, her smile intact, but her golden eyes shone with intense curiosity. “What?”

Both girls spoke in unison, their voices cold and flat. “We found you.”

In a synchronized movement, they raised their phones. From the screens emerged two female specters, nebulous, glowing forms that gave off an oppressive energy.

“Oh… this is certainly a problem…” Dazai and Kikyo murmured in unison, their voices an echo of resignation and surprise before the specters lunged at them, and the world around them dissolved into a swirl of light and shadow.

***

The scene shifted to the Armed Detective Agency office. A subtle, barely perceptible tension hung in the air.

“Dazai and Kikyo disappeared?” questioned Kunikida, adjusting his glasses with a crisp gesture.

Atsushi, standing in front of the desk, wrung his hands. “They aren’t answering my calls and haven’t returned to the dorm.” His voice trembled slightly, heavy with worry.

Kunikida snorted, dismissively. “They must be at some motel.” His words, laden with subtext, made Atsushi blush.

“Maybe they’re at a restaurant!” suggested Kenji, cheerfully watering his potted plant with careless ease.

Ranpo, mouth full of chips, added: “They’re surely out shopping.”

“But since the Port Mafia is after their heads, don’t you think…?” Atsushi tried to argue, his voice fading before the apparent lack of alarm.

It was then that Kanade spoke. She was sitting on the edge of a desk, spinning an intricately folded piece of paper between her fingers. Her nails gleamed with a metallic purple polish that caught the light.

“Atsushi-Kun, relax a little, you’ll get premature gray hairs.” Her voice was a honeyed song, full of mocking amusement. “Those two have an incredible ability to coordinate; they’ve known each other their whole lives. I seriously doubt the Port Mafia could even tickle them.” Her purple-pink eyes settled on her brother, sparkling with mischievous humor. “Unless, of course, Dazai-san tried to flirt with the wrong person again. That would be a problem worthy of our intervention.”

“But…” Atsushi tried to protest, but was interrupted by Tanizaki, who looked noticeably better than during the Mr. Seno case.

“Tanizaki-san, are you feeling better?” Kanade asked, resting her cheek on her hand, observing him with genuine interest.

“Yes, much better. Your ointments are very good, and Yosano-sensei’s treatment is excellent.” Tanizaki said with a nervous smile, raising a hand to the back of his neck.

Kunikida looked at him with clinical curiosity. “How many times did she do it to you?”

Tanizaki’s face instantly paled. “F-four times…” he muttered, as if confessing a crime.

“That many?” asked Kenji, innocently.

“Atsushi-kun… Kanade-chan…” Tanizaki addressed the twins with an expression of solemn warning. “As long as you’re members of the Agency, try to avoid getting hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kanade said with a nonchalant wave of her hand, answering for both of them.

“If you think you’re in danger, run. You should polish your ability to avoid danger daily.” Ranpo, without looking up from his pocket watch, which he had just pulled out, added: “For example, in ten more seconds…”

Just then, the infirmary door opened and Yosano and Asuna stepped out. The doctor wore her usual slightly sinister smile, while Asuna, with her nails painted a simple jade and her eyes of the same color scrutinizing the room, seemed more serene.

“Good morning, Doctor Yosano, Asuna-san,” Atsushi greeted with a small bow.

“Oh, Atsushi-kun, Kanade-chan,” Yosano looked at them with a spark of hope in her eyes. “Aren’t you two hurt?”

“No,” the twins replied in unison.

“Damn it,” Yosano huffed, disappointed. Asuna could only sigh, a knowing smile on her lips.

“We were hoping someone would come shopping with us, but you’re the only ones here,” Asuna said, her gaze sweeping the nearly empty office.

Atsushi blinked, processing the chain of events. “Is this what they meant by avoiding danger?” he asked, turning to his sister.

Kanade let out an exaggerated sigh, jumping off the desk and stretching like a cat. “I guess so. Today’s lesson is: Ranpo-san’s foresight is terrifying, and Doctor Yosano’s boredom can be more dangerous than a bullet.” She walked over to Atsushi and gave his shoulder a playful tap. “Come on, little brother. If we stay here, we’ll be used as guinea pigs to try out new nail polishes or something worse. We’d better go see if we can find those two lost idiots before Yosano-sensei decides that a small ‘preventive’ injury wouldn't hurt.”

With a mischievous smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, which now held a flash of contained worry, Kanade took Atsushi by the arm and began to guide him toward the exit, leaving behind the office and the latent threat of a shopping trip turned traumatic therapy session.

—

The scene began with Atsushi turned into a walking pack mule, his arms so laden with shopping bags that he could barely see over them. Kanade, in contrast, walked beside him nonchalantly, swinging her own small bag that contained her acquisitions: a bold purplish lipstick, some new clothes, a bottle of her favorite sake, 'Divine Emperor's Smile,' and a black cat keychain she’d found adorable.

"Do-Doctor Yosano, Asuna-san, Kanade-San, are we done yet?" Atsushi panted, his legs shaking.

"Don't drop anything," Yosano chirped with a smile that wasn't meant to be reassuring, but a veiled promise of consequences.

Kanade passed her brother with a compassionate smile. "Cheer up, Atsushi. Think of this as endurance training. Kunikida-san might even praise you for your dedication." Her tone was light, but her purple-pink eyes scanned the street with an attention that contradicted her carefree attitude. That's when she saw them. Two figures that seemed out of place and time. A fourteen-year-old girl in a red kimono patterned with buds and low pigtails, and another girl, about fifteen, in a modernized, blue-gradient qipao and amber eyes that observed the world with an unsettling stillness. Both glanced at the twins for an instant that felt eternal, before looking away and disappearing into the crowd.

Kanade had barely closed her eyes, a cold premonition running down her spine, when the sound of an impact and a grunt of annoyance snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Excuse me, are you alright?" Atsushi asked, having bumped into a man in an expensive suit and an even more expensive attitude.

"What do you think you're doing, brats? This is a custom-made European suit," the man spat, his face congested with anger.

"S-sorry," Atsushi stammered. Kanade was about to intervene, her smile ready to disarm the situation, but the man stared at her from head to toe, his anger momentarily replaced by lecherous admiration.

Before he could articulate a word, Yosano and Asuna stepped in. Yosano knelt down, feigning concern. "I am so sorry. Did you hurt yourself?" Her hand touched his leg.

"Don't touch me!" The man gave her a brusque shove. "I will file a complaint with your company. Tell me where you work. Do you serve tea? Are you a receptionist? Or perhaps you perform more specialized duties? And what about the other woman?" His smile was a gesture of contempt.

Asuna spoke, her voice a honeyed contrast to the tension. "I am a detective, sir." Her smile was charming, but her jade eyes did not blink.

Yosano stood up, and her smile morphed into something terrifying. "I'm a doctor, pervert. Oh dear. You have one more arm than necessary. Would you like me to amputate one?"

The man's scream was muffled by the subtle crunch of his wrist under Yosano's hand. Asuna, with the same serene smile, pulled a thorny rose from who knows where and slid it into his finger, applying precise pressure. Kanade, with a sigh, placed her hand over the eyes of a pale and trembling Atsushi. "Better not look, little brother. The doctor's justice is sometimes... graphic."

A while later, on the train ride back, the atmosphere was calmer.

"I'm sorry about earlier. The boxes got dented," Atsushi said, still mortified.

"By the way…" Yosano, with the speed of a snake, grabbed Atsushi's left leg, examining it..

"What? Is this my punishment?" Atsushi asked, nervous.

"They're impeccable," Asuna murmured, her gaze lost in a memory. "I was told the Port Mafia tore off your right leg when the Tanizakis were badly wounded."

"I'm simply sad I don't get to treat you."

"But you won't get another chance. The Mafia is famous for its ambushes. Stay alert tonight. You never know where they might strike." Asuna said

It was then that the conductor's voice, distorted and filled with sinister cheer, filled the carriage. "This is your conductor speaking! We apologize for the inconvenience, but we will be conducting a small physics experiment! We will be evaluating explosive reactions and sensory responses in a non-inertial system! The test subjects will be the passengers! We appreciate your cooperation!"

Kanade’s eyes snapped wide open. The sound of the first explosion, followed by screams, instantly evaporated all her frivolity. Her face turned grim, her eyes, now cold as steel, calculating the situation in an instant.

"Two or three must have died with that one! But the next one will be much more powerful! We've placed enough explosives in the front and rear carriages to send you to the moon! Very well, test subject Atsushi-kun and test subject Kanade-chan. If you don't surrender, the passengers won't go to the moon, but straight to Heaven."

"Speak of the devil..." Asuna muttered with profound weariness, tying her pink hair into a low ponytail with efficient movements. Yosano was already standing, her smile now a sharpened blade.

"What do we do?" Atsushi asked, his voice a thread of tension.

"One: you can surrender. Two: you can jump off the moving train, abandoning dozens of passengers. Three…" Asuna said, and she let Kanade complete the sentence.

Kanade’s voice was clear, cold, and utterly serene. There was no trace of the prankster left. "End the enemy."

"Perfect. You belong in the Agency for a reason," Yosano said, nodding in approval.

"Alright, Atsushi," Yosano ordered. "Let's search for the bombs separately. We'll take the front, you two go to the rear."

"And if we find the enemy?" Atsushi asked, his claws beginning to extend instinctively.

Asuna didn't hesitate. "Tear them to shreds."

Kanade was already in motion, her shopping bag abandoned on a seat. She looked at her brother, and there was no room for doubt in her eyes. "Come on, Atsushi. Let's play a game of disarming noisy toys." Her smile returned, but this time it wasn't carefree. It was the sharp grin of a predator that had just found its prey.

—

The air in the train car was thick, heavy with the smell of gunpowder and the palpable fear of the civilians who were running terrified. Yosano and Asuna advanced with a determination that cut through the chaos like a knife.

"Who would be attacking in broad daylight? That would be suicide..." Asuna thought aloud, until her gaze met Yosano's. Both rolled their eyes in unison, a synchronization born of experience.

"It had to be that guy..." Asuna muttered, her jade eyes shining with contained irritation as she made sure her low ponytail kept her pink hair under control.

Entering the next carriage, a lemon-shaped bomb jumped toward them. The explosion enveloped them, but when the smoke cleared, both stood up, wounded but with unshakeable vitality.

"I offer my warmest welcome to the resolute ladies of the Agency... and my deepest farewell," announced Kaiji Motojirou.

"Well, well... we have quite a celebrity among us..." Yosano said, wiping blood from her lip with the back of her hand.

Asuna brushed the dust off her clothes with studied calm. "In this era, men and women are equal. From our perspective, it is more surprising to run into a wanted criminal in a place like this. Motojirou Kajii!"

The mafioso laughed. "Despite belonging to the stealthy Port Mafia, you are a well-known terrorist! In the recent bombing of the Marizen building, you killed 28 civilians," Asuna declared, pointing at him with a finger whose jade-painted nails seemed accusatory.

"It was wonderful," Kajii struck a theatrical pose. "Bradycardia! Cerebral hypoxia! Lactic acidosis! Dying is a concert of infinitely changing states!"

Asuna clenched her jaw, her voice briefly losing its usual sweetness. "You treat death as an experiment?"

"The supreme form of science is God, the Archons, and death. Let's see... what color will your blood be?" Kajii asked, spinning a knife in his hand.

"Try to find out," Yosano challenged, as Asuna’s aura, the Archon of Beauty, began to subtly manifest around her.

***

Meanwhile, in another carriage, Kanade’s boots echoed on the metal floor. "Hey, don't go there. There are bombs," she ordered upon seeing the two girls they had seen earlier—Kyouka, in her red kimono, and Eileen, in her blue qipao—entering a dangerous area.

But it was too late. The young girls’ phones rang, and distorted voices issued orders. "You must protect the bombs at all costs," a male voice said from Eileen's cell phone.

"It’s them again. The girls from the train," Kagome noted, her purple-pink eyes analyzing the situation with feverish speed.

"Kill anyone who stands in your way with your power, Yasha Shirayuki. If you see a young woman with black hair in a magenta gradient and purple-pink eyes... capture her..." the voice ordered.

From a blue aura emerged Yasha Shirayuki, a spectral figure in a white kimono with an empty gaze.

"Bai Lianhua. Destroy the opposition," a feminine, sadistic voice chanted from Kyouka's phone.

Then appeared Bai Lianhua, an entity of unsettling, silent beauty, whose crystal-iced *jiàn* (straight sword) gleamed in the dim light.

Kanade didn't have time to react. Yasha Shirayuki attacked Atsushi fiercely, slamming him against a wall. Bai Lianhua, with movements of terrifying grace, immobilized Kanade before she could even think of resisting.

"What is this? This ability is familiar with murder..." Kanade thought, struggling to free herself. A new, brutal attack from Yasha Shirayuki sent both twins crashing to the floor, bleeding profusely.

Through a veil of pain, Kanade saw the two young girls. "Why would girls like them…?"

Kyouka spoke first, her voice monotonous. "My name is Kyouka, I am an orphan like you two. I like bunnies and tofu... I hate dogs and lightning... after being taken in by the Port Mafia, I have killed 35 people in six months."

Then, Eileen, with a profound sadness in her amber eyes, added: "My name is Eileen Chang... I am from China, I am also an orphan... I like red pandas and fireworks. I hate swimming and I don't like being alone... after being taken in by the Port Mafia 12 months ago... I have killed 65 people."

The orders sounded again from the phones, sealing the fate of the confrontation. Bai Lianhua’s ceremonial dagger was raised, glowing with a lethal red light.

***

Back with Yosano and Asuna, the situation was equally desperate. Kajii had knocked them out, and now looked down at them with disdain.

"It seems the Agency and its Archon are not so great after all. Well. Since you're about to die, I'll ask you something. What is death?"

"What did you say?" Yosano asked, spitting blood.

"Come on, I'm just asking out of intellectual interest. What makes death irreversible? Why must we die?"

Yosano and Asuna exchanged a look and, against all odds, laughed, a sound loaded with contempt and defiance.

"You don't know something like that? It seems the Mafia is not so great..." Yosano mocked.

Kajii pressed his boot against her chest. "Are you saying two girls who play at being private investigators would know something a scientist like me doesn't?"

"Of course we know," Asuna said, her voice serene despite the pain. "And the reason is simple. It's because you are an idiot."

Kajii, enraged, stabbed a knife into her hand. "I appreciate your deserving opinion. I'll come back in a while to ask your corpse."

When he left, Yosano carefully extracted the knife from Asuna's hand. Asuna's jade eyes shone not only with pain, but with a cold, calculating fury.

The surrounding bombs exploded, but both women, thanks to their abilities, survived amidst the debris.

"Let's go get him," Yosano said, with a justice-hungry smile.

Asuna nodded, rising gracefully despite her injuries. "Yes. It's time to give him a practical lesson on the irreversibility of his mistakes."

As they moved forward, Asuna's aura intensified, a serene yet unstoppable energy. "He underestimates what it means to face women who have chosen to protect life, even when they know the full weight of death."

Together, Yosano, the doctor who defied death, and Asuna, the Archon whose strength was born of beauty and resilience, stepped into the shadows of the train, ready to hunt the one who had dared to turn their lives into a mere experiment.

—

The blinding light that flooded the carriage as it exited the tunnel seemed to freeze the moment. Atsushi and Kanade, bloody and exhausted, faced the materialized abilities of the two young girls. Yasha Shirayuki and Bai Lianhua towered over them, ready for the final blow, their spectral presences emanating certain death. Eileen held Bai Lianhua’s ceremonial dagger close to Mizuki’s throat, a silent and lethal threat.

"Get out of the way," Kyouka ordered, her voice cold and devoid of emotion.

Atsushi, with a superhuman effort, stood his ground even more firmly. "We're sorry. We can't."

As the abilities prepared to unleash their deadly force, the scene abruptly changed.

In the next carriage, Motojirou Kajii walked through the debris with a morbid curiosity, his footsteps echoing in the silence following the explosion. He approached the apparently lifeless bodies of Yosano and Asuna.

"Let's see. I wonder if they're charred," he muttered, bending down to inspect them.

That’s when everything burst into motion. A leg shot up with explosive force, the tip of Yosano’s heel connecting with Kajii’s jaw with a satisfying crunch. In the same instant, Asuna sat up, and her fist, driven by contained rage and the force of the Archon residing within her, struck his side with the power of a hammer. The sound of cracking ribs mixed with the terrorist’s choked scream.

"What a disappointment," Asuna said, her voice was honeyed but her jade eyes shone with a chilling fury. Her pink hair, now loose, formed a halo around her. "We expected to throw you further after hearing you speak of death so lightly."

Yosano stood up, adjusting her clothes with a disturbing elegance given the circumstances. She walked toward Kajii, who was writhing on the floor, and placed the tip of her heel on his neck, applying precise pressure. "You expected us to die from that firecracker? Which side did we hit you on?"

Asuna approached, cracking her knuckles. For a moment, she looked at her jade nails, as if regretting the ruined manicure, but then delivered another brutal punch that sent several of Kajii's teeth flying. Blood splattered on the floor. "Though it may not look like it, I am a doctor. I have seen hundreds more deaths than you," Yosano declared, each word a lash, her heels resonating with authority.

Asuna, while securely tying her hair into a low ponytail, added: "And though I may not look like it either, I am a detective and an Archon. I have worked on many murders and seen more things than you could ever imagine."

Together, they advanced on him, stepping on the bloody teeth with contempt. Their eyes, Yosano’s full of fierce disdain and Asuna’s serene but equally intense with rage, reflected the weariness they felt for his empty philosophy.

"You want to know what death is?" Yosano asked, her voice as sharp as her scalpel. "Death is when life is lost. No matter how hard we try, the lives of patients and clients slip through our fingers like water."

Asuna leaned closer, her face near Kajii’s, her voice a whisper charged with danger. "That death is the supreme form of science? Don't be ridiculous. It is the final failure. The surrender."

"We will kill any being who does not appreciate life!" they declared in unison, their voices intertwined in an irrevocable sentence.

"I remember now… she is the Agency's doctor and the other is the Archon of Fire… Akiko Yosano and Asuna Sorei," Kajii stammered, recognizing the magnitude of his mistake too late.

Yosano deployed her surgical knife, letting other sharp instruments drop to the floor with a metallic clang. "My power, *Thou Shalt Not Die*, can heal any injury. Even mine, as you can see." She lifted her skirt slightly, showing legs that, miraculously, no longer bore any trace of wounds or torn stockings. "But it has very strict requirements. It can only heal lethal wounds. It’s not practical at all."

Asuna, for her part, removed her earrings, revealing that they were actually decorative bullets. "My ability, *The Caterpillar*, forces plant life to evolve beyond its natural limits, creating beauty and horror in equal measure. But here, inside this metal coffin, my garden is somewhat limited." Her smile was sweet, but her eyes left no doubt: she was lethal even without her main power. She gripped her pistol with unsettling familiarity.

"If I want to treat moderate injuries," Yosano continued, bringing her knife closer to Kajii's bruised cheek, "I must first leave my patient nearly dead."

Asuna knelt beside her, her voice adopting a falsely maternal and concerned tone that was more terrifying than any scream. "Are you hurt, little one? Would you like us to cure you?"

The offer was not one of mercy, but the promise of unending agony. Kajii's eyes widened, the horror finally surpassing his scientific madness. He had unleashed the fury of two women who knew death intimately, not as an abstraction, but as an enemy they faced every day, and who would not allow someone like him to toy with it. The hunter had become, irrevocably, the prey.

—

The scene was heartbreaking. Atsushi, with his arm transformed into a tiger's claw, kept Yasha Shirayuki at bay, the spectral katana stuck in his flesh but unable to sever it completely. A few meters away, Kanade faced Bai Lianhua. Her purple-pink eyes shone with a supernatural intensity as she extended her hands.

"*Karmic Hands*," she murmured, and two spectral projections of golden energy emerged from her palms, weaving kaleidoscope patterns in the air. They did not attack Bai Lianhua’s physical body, but its spiritual essence. With a precise movement, the Karmic Hands closed around the entity’s crystal-iced jiàn*. "Your pain doesn't define you, Eileen," Kanade said, not to the ability, but to the young Chinese girl controlling it. The weapon cracked and disintegrated into a thousand luminous fragments.

Within seconds, the twins’ tactical superiority prevailed. Atsushi lunged at Kyouka, immobilizing her with his bestial strength, while Kanade, with surprising agility, subdued Eileen. The young Chinese girl, instead of resisting, let herself be taken, and Kanade, almost instinctively, cradled her in her arms as if she were a small child, protecting her.

"My name is Kyouka. I have killed 35 people..." said the young girl in the kimono, her voice monotonous but with a barely perceptible tremor.

"Where are the bombs?" Atsushi asked, desperate.

Eileen, in Kanade’s arms, ignored the question. Her voice was a cold whisper, but her gray eyes with amethyst reflections avoided Kagome's gaze. "Our most recent victims were a family of three. A father, a mother, and a child. Yasha Shirayuki slit their throats and Bai Lianhua disposed of the witnesses."

Kanade felt a pang in her own chest. Her ability, the *Eternal Soul Kaleidoscope*, allowed her to perceive the torment that overwhelmed Eileen, a pain so deep and repressed that it nearly suffocated her. "I can't believe it…" she murmured, her voice filled with an ancestral sadness. "Who are they? I don't feel emotions in their words or their demeanor. They are killing machines." Her own memories of the brothel, of being treated as an object, surged into her mind. "If they feel anything, they must express it…"

"So people could understand them… are they really doing this willingly?!" Atsushi yelled at them, his voice broken by rage and confusion.

The train's communication system activated. "We’re speaking from the cabin, Atsushi-kun! Kanade-chan! Are you still breathing?" asked Asuna’s voice, tense but controlled.

"Yosano-sensei? Asuna-san?" Atsushi replied, relieved.

"According to the cheap terrorist, there are bombs with a remote detonator," Yosano explained. "If you make a mistake while deactivating them, they will explode. You can only stop them with the detonator device. The Mafia agents must have it."

While Asuna secured Motojirou in the distance, Mizuki looked at the two young girls. Her soul perception told her that fear was what dominated them most in that moment. "Do you have the remote control with you?" she asked, her voice soft but firm.

Kyouka looked down, an expression of profound sadness crossing her face for the first time, and took the device from her kimono, handing it to Kanade. But then, a familiar voice, cold and full of authority, came out of Kyouka’s phone speaker.

"Did you press the button, Kyouka and Eileen?"

It was Akutagawa. Kanade recognized him instantly. It was not the voice of the young man she sometimes exchanged words with at night, words loaded with a peculiar tension, but that of the feared Port Mafia executioner.

"It is not necessary to deactivate it. You will die with the rest of the passengers to make it clear that the Port Mafia is to be feared."

"Take the bombs off!" Atsushi shouted, trying to tear the device from Kyouka's kimono. Kanade did the same with Eileen, but the young Chinese girl, with surprising strength, broke free from her grasp.

"There is no time," Kyouka said, pushing Atsushi away. Eileen did the same, pushing Kanade away from her with a look of final resignation.

Both girls stood at the edge of the carriage opening, the wind whipping their clothes. The sunset light bathed them, creating a tragically beautiful image.

"My name is Kyouka. I have murdered 35 people. And I don't want to kill again!" Kyouka shouted, and clean tears streamed down her cheeks before she jumped into the void.

"I am Eileen Chang, I have killed 65 people…" Eileen said, her voice, for the first time, broke with genuine emotion, a glimmer of the girl she never got to be. Her eyes met Kanade’s, and in them there was no hatred, but infinite gratitude and a farewell. "And I never want to kill again!" She jumped.

Without thinking, driven by an instinct that went beyond duty, the Nakajima twins dove after them. Atsushi, exhausted by the prolonged use of his ability, submerged himself in the cold water and emerged with Kyouka clinging to him, coughing, before collapsing unconscious onto the carriage floor. Kyouka watched him, her eyes wide open, a mixture of disbelief and something more, something akin to hope, shining in them.

Kanade, using the last vestiges of her strength, channeled her energy. A Golden Thread, bright and warm, shot out from her chest and wrapped around Eileen’s wrist just before the young Chinese girl hit the water. With a superhuman effort, Kanade pulled it, drawing Eileen back into the carriage. Both fell to the floor, Kanade completely exhausted, her vision blurring. Eileen’s eyes, wide open and filled with an indescribable emotion, were the last thing she saw before darkness claimed her. Eileen kept staring at the young woman who had offered her a hand, literally and figuratively, her heart, for the first time in years, beating with something other than fear or obedience.

The scene changed abruptly. In the Agency office, Amaya was watching her phone. Her red eyes, usually as dead as her rust-red painted smile, shone with a sinister calm. She didn't seem bothered. She had sensed it.

"And? Anything to say, Kikyo-san?" she asked Kikyo, who remained impassive despite the chain holding her foot. Dazai was also chained to the wall, with Akutagawa watching him with his icy gaze.

Kikyo smiled with unnerving tranquility. "I wonder… What will you do when Akutagawa-kun runs out of the magic you need to live?"

Chapter Text

The dim light of the Armed Detective Agency's hallway filtered through the window, illuminating the figures of Atsushi and Kagome in front of the infirmary. Atsushi was huddled, hugging his knees tightly, while Mizuki, standing in front of the door, kept her arms crossed. Her posture was rigid, a deceptive stillness that betrayed the storm contained within. Her black hair with soft magenta streaks barely caught the light, and her eyes, the color of winter twilights, were narrowed, fixed on the door as if it could be opened by the force of her will.

"They've brought us trouble again."

Kunikida's voice made Atsushi look up, alarmed. Mizuki, for her part, did not flinch, but her brow furrowed slightly, a shadow of annoyance crossing her face.

"It's a lost cause. They are well-known assassins. They make their targets drop their guard when they see their appearances. That’s how they've taken down entire organizations. They've accomplished a lot in a very short time. It's only a matter of time before they are caught," Kunikida continued, his tone that of a man enumerating unquestionable facts.

"Kunikida-san.” Mizuki’s voice was calm, but it had the razor edge of glass about to shatter. Her arms remained crossed, a tense line across her shoulders. "The culprit is the one who has taken advantage of their powers. Not them."

"Powers don't bring happiness to their bearers. They should know that better than anyone," Kunikida replied, his gaze resting for a second on Atsushi, who shrank back even further, hiding his face between his knees again.Mizuki unfolded her arms, a fluid movement that broke her defensive posture. "That's a half-truth, and you know it. That's like saying a knife is guilty of murder. Do you forget that everyone here carries a burden? Or does your own ideal prevent you from seeing the misery of others?" Her question was not a challenge, but a painful realization. There was an ancient wisdom in her words, one that clashed with her eternal youth.

Before Kunikida could respond, the infirmary door opened. Yosano poked her head out. "They woke up."

"Will we be able to interrogate them?" Kunikida asked, instantly recovering his professional composure.

"Yes, I don't think there will be a problem."

Inside, the scene was overwhelming. Kyouka and Eileen lay in their beds, staring at the white ceiling with a blood-chilling emptiness. Atsushi approached cautiously.

"You see... you're in the agency's infirmary. How are you feeling? You remember me, right?" he said to Kyouka, his voice trembling.

Kunikida, impatient, stepped forward. "Girl, who is behind all this? The Port Mafia is like a viper. If you don't cut off its head, it will keep attacking. Answer. Who is your superior?" His tone was sharp, his arms rigidly crossed.

Mizuki, who had remained in the background watching Eileen, moved quickly. She tugged his hair with enough force to make him step back.

"Kunikida-san," she said, and her voice now had an openly sharp edge, "I don't think it's a good idea to frighten them more than they already are." Her eyes, now wide open, glowed with a dangerous light. "They are children, not hardened criminals. Treat them as such, or I assure you this interrogation will go nowhere."

It was then that Kyouka, in a voice that was little more than a whisper, said: "Simmered tofu from Tachibanadou."

The request, so simple and out of place, left everyone silent. "Simmered tofu?" Atsushi repeated, bewildered.

"It's exquisite," Kyouka affirmed.

"Is that... your demand?" Kunikida asked, incredulous.

"I'll talk after I eat."

Atsushi smiled, a ray of relief on his face. "I see. Of course, that's nothing."

"Hey..." Kunikida turned to them, but Mizuki was already standing, a triumphant and slightly mocking smile on her lips.

"Come on, idealist. This is coming out of your pocket. Consider it a fine for your lack of tact," she declared, passing by him with a shrug.

Hours later, in a small restaurant, the tension had changed its nature. Mizuki watched with serene curiosity as Kyouka and Eileen ate. Eileen, in particular, ate with absolute concentration. Her face was an impassive mask, but her movements were efficient and measured, bringing the tofu to her mouth with innate elegance.

"I want another," Kyouka said, and Atsushi, beside her, visibly paled, comic tears welling up in his eyes.

"Kunikida-san..." he pleaded, looking at the man who was calmly sipping tea.

"It's not coming out of my pocket," Kunikida said, unmoved.

"Yes, it is coming out of your pocket," Mizuki intervened, not blinking. Her gaze was fixed on Kunikida. "After how you treated them, it's the least you can do. Or would you prefer I remind you, in front of everyone, of the last time you, in a fit of 'idealism,' almost ruined a truce by not understanding the pain of others?" Her smile was sweet, but her words were poisoned darts. Kunikida tightened his grip on the cup, but did not answer.

It was then that Eileen, finishing her second dish, spoke. Her voice was so low they had to lean in to hear her. "When our respective fathers died, the Port Mafia took us in." She paused, her amber eyes briefly rising to rest on Kagome before lowering again to the empty plate. "They wanted my ability, Love That Destroys Cities, and Kyouka's, Demon Snow. We only obey orders coming from the phone."

Mizuki nodded, pulling out both girls' cell phones. "Here are your cell phones. We took the batteries out of both." Her voice momentarily lost its playful tone, becoming serious. "The Port Mafia took full advantage of their power and turned them into assassins. They used them, Kunikida-san. Do you understand the difference now? They are not murderers. They were turned into weapons."

"Why didn't you throw away your phone?" Atsushi asked, looking at Eileen.

Eileen looked at him, and for the first time, there was a flash of something more than resignation in her amber depths. "If we had opposed, they would have killed us," she said, and it was the rawest truth. "Besides, we wouldn't have had anywhere to go." Her gaze returned to Kagome, fleetingly, as if seeking confirmation that now, perhaps, they did have a place.

"Who was controlling Demon Snow and Líanhūa through your cell phone?" Kunikida insisted, taking notes.

"Kyouka's was controlled by an attractive man named Akutagawa," Eileen said. Then, with a calmness that contrasted with the impact of her words, she added: "Mine was controlled by a red-eyed woman, I think her name was Amaya."

Atsushi and Kunikida's eyes widened in surprise. Mizuki, on the other hand, massaged the bridge of her nose and let out a sigh laden with annoyance. "Of course. It had to be Amaya who is behind this." Her face adopted an expression of weariness, a thought pattern that clearly said she had tied those threads together a long time ago.

Kunikida stood up. "I'll go report to the agency. Brats. Hand them over to the military police."

"But if we do that..." Atsushi tried to protest, his voice full of anguish.

"Having killed 35 and 65 people, she will be sentenced to death. Even if she returned to the Port Mafia, they would kill her as a traitor." Kunikida said it with his back turned, as if dictating an irrevocable sentence.

It was then that Mizuki exploded.

She moved with the speed of a spring, and before Kunikida could react, a dry, loud slap echoed in the small room. It was not a blow given in blind rage, but with a cold, calculated fury.

"Don't you dare," Mizuki said, and her voice was now a dangerous hiss, every word sculpted in ice, "talk to two girls of fifteen and fourteen like that." Her gaze, usually full of playful light, was now that of a hawk. "It sickens me how you think you're morally superior to two girls who chose nothing. Who only received blows and orders. I'm disgusted by people who see the world in black and white from their ivory tower, without getting their hands dirty with the mud of reality."

Kunikida brought his hand to his cheek, stunned. The idealist's mask had cracked, briefly showing a surprised and hurt man.

Mizuki was no longer paying him attention. She turned to Kyouka and Eileen. Her expression softened, but the firmness in her eyes did not diminish. She extended a hand towards Eileen, with a tenderness that contrasted brutally with the violence of an instant ago.

"Girls, we're getting out of here. This place stinks of cheap justice." Her gaze met Eileen's, and in that silent exchange there was a world of understanding. Eileen nodded, almost imperceptibly, and took the hand offered to her. Her fingers, cold at first, clung with desperate strength.

Mizuki then looked at Atsushi, who was still paralyzed by the table. "Let's get out of here, Atsushi."

And without waiting any longer, Asahina Mizuki, the hurricane of contradictions, the young woman with an ancient soul, guided the two former assassins out, leaving behind the aroma of tofu, Kunikida's money on the table, and the rigid ideas of a man who still had to learn that true justice sometimes requires getting your hands dirty, and other times, simply, reaching out.

—

The scene in the Port Mafia dungeon was steeped in a charged stillness, broken only by the low humming of Dazai, who was chained to the wall.

“One person alone cannot do a double suicide…” he hummed with a mournful tune.

Kikyo, seated on the floor with a more discreet chain on her ankle, seemed unperturbed. With serene concentration, her fingers traced intricate and surprisingly advanced designs in the dust on the floor—a testament to her ever-active mind, even in adversity. A subtle, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips; she was more than used to her companion's existential monologues.

“But if you can do it with two people…” Dazai continued, drawing out the words.

Kikyo, without lifting her gaze from her ephemeral artwork, began to chant with an unnerving sweetness that contrasted sharply with the lyrics: “Lizzie Borden took an ax, and gave her mother forty whacks. When she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty-one.”

The air in the cell immediately thickened. Akutagawa, with a deep frown and clenched teeth, could not contain his rage. “Enough of your buffoonery!” he roared, and *Rashomon* emerged from his coat like a ravenous shadow, darting towards the throats of both prisoners.

Almost simultaneously, Amaya, who had stood like an observing statue, extended her *Kumo no Ito* (Spider's Thread) wires towards Kikyo with lethal precision. Her gaze, both vacant and penetrating, did not leave the golden-haired woman. “The noise bores me,” she murmured, her voice a silky whisper that slid over the skin and promised a silent end.

However, in an act of almost supernatural synchronization, Dazai raised his manacled hand. A pale blue flash enveloped the cell. *No Longer Human* was activated, and both the beastly shadow of *Rashomon* and Amaya's deadly wires vanished into thin air like smoke, completely nullified.

“Oh, were you two here?” Kikyo asked, finally looking up. Her golden eyes rested on Amaya with a spark of mocking amusement. “My apologies, with all the quiet, I almost mistook you for decorations.”

“I see you attempted a trick,” Amaya commented, her head tilting in an almost avian fashion. Her voice, though low, had a metallic quality that cut through the stale air. “But it's useless. Kikyo-san's aura is an exquisite delicacy to my senses. I've been able to taste its sweet and complex flavor for a long time, an aroma of plum blossoms and ancient ink. It is... unmistakable.”

“I believe you know the fate that awaits those who are chained here,” Akutagawa interrupted, his voice laced with a slow-burning resentment.

“This brings back a few memories,” Dazai and Kikyo said in unison, sharing the same playful, nonchalant tone, as if they were commenting on the weather. “We remember when you were rookies, clumsy and full of impotent rage.”

“You have committed great sins,” Akutagawa spat, ignoring the jab at his ego. “You abruptly abandoned your mission, disappeared, and reappeared as enemies of the Port Mafia. It's unbelievable, coming from two executives.”

“And your former superiors,” they both replied with twin smiles, their eyes flat and full of a mockery that knew exactly where to twist its thorns.

Akutagawa, unable to contain himself, slammed his fist into Dazai's face, making him spit blood. The violence was swift and brutal.

Amaya, for her part, showed no such explosive rage. Her movement was cold and calculated. With the palm of her hand, she delivered a slap to Kikyo that echoed in the cell. But instead of crying out or showing pain, Kikyo let out a soft, mocking laugh, a laugh filled with unbreakable confidence.

“Why that face, Kikyo-san?” Amaya asked in a tone that showed not compassion, but a clinical, distant curiosity. “Pain is ephemeral, just like life. It is something we must all accept. It's such a simple truth... why do you two insist on complicating everything with your theater?”

“Not even you two are invincible,” Akutagawa growled, catching his breath. “As long as I don't use my ability, I can hurt you, and Kikyo-san can't use *Hyakka no Niwa* because she doesn't have her spell seals. We can do whatever we want with you.”

“We get it. You've climbed the ranks,” Dazai and Kikyo said in a perfect, synchronized echo. Their lifeless eyes fixed on Akutagawa. “We'll tell you something: training you was a challenge. You were a very slow learner and always disobeyed instructions. Not to mention that persistent, debilitating cough. It’s quite... pathetic.”

Kikyo added on her own, her voice soft as silk but with the edge of a poisoned dagger: “And the fact that you and Amaya let yourselves be fooled by such a simple trick... is quite disappointing. I thought you had matured, Ryuunosuke. I expected more, but I see that not even the passage of time can work miracles on some. You are still the same angry children who need daddy and mommy's approval.”

“Your false bravado will only last a few more days,” Amaya said, her gaze fixed and hypnotic on Kikyo's golden eyes. A shadow of something more personal, a flash of a shared, painful past, crossed her face for an instant. “If you had left Dazai-san behind, if you had stayed in the shadows where you belonged, perhaps we could have negotiated with Mori-san. You could have had a place here, safe. But no, you always let him lead you, like a moth to a flame that consumes you both.”

“Your execution will follow. Wait for the news of your organization's destruction and your subordinates’ deaths, powerless to do anything.”

“We wonder if you'll actually succeed,” Dazai and Kikyo replied in unison, and this time their smiles were genuinely wide, almost luminous in the gloom. “Our new subordinates are far superior to you. They have something you two lost long ago, or perhaps never had: a heart that beats for something more than obedience and revenge.”

Akutagawa wheeled around suddenly, his face a mask of pure fury. Amaya just looked at him, and for the first time, a wrinkle of irritation furrowed her brow.

“It’s incredible,” Amaya murmured, and her whisper now had an icy edge. “Your arrogance is so great that it surprises me you're still alive. You think your connection makes you special, untouchable. But you are just two puppets playing at being free, ignoring that the strings that control you are simply longer.”

Kikyo watched her, and the calm in her golden eyes was so absolute it was lethal. “Strings, my dear Amaya, only bind those who do not know how to cut them. Or those who, deep down, fear the freedom they would find by doing so.” Her smile softened, transforming into something almost sad. “Do you still remember the taste of a stolen sweet, Amaya? The feeling of protecting someone by choice, and not by obligation? That is what you are afraid of. Not us.”

The silence that followed was more eloquent than any shout. Amaya did not reply, but her vacant expression broke for a moment, revealing the abyss of pain and conflict that resided within her, a silent testament that Kikyo's words, as always, had hit their mark.

—

The air in Yokohama’s Chinatown was thick and sweet, heavy with the smell of steamed buns and incense. Atsushi walked with a slight nervousness, checking his wallet every so often. Beside him, Kagome watched everything with a calm smile, her lavender eyes scanning the colorful stalls.

“I ate too much…” Kyouka muttered, stopping. Her small red kimono seemed even brighter under the paper lanterns.

“You can say that again…” Atsushi sighed, seeing how empty his wallet was.

Eileen, silent as always, watched a small child eating a *baozi*. Her amber eyes followed every movement intensely. Suddenly, she walked over and reached out a hand towards the child’s food, who got scared and ran away.

“Hey, Eileen, you shouldn’t do that,” Mizuki said softly, approaching. “If you want one, I’ll buy it for you. You just have to ask.”

Eileen looked at her, her expression impassive. “I wanted that one,” she said simply, pointing to where the child had been.

Mizuki smiled. “Got it. But how about I buy you a new one instead, okay?”

“Let’s go. Where are you taking us?” Kyouka asked, looking at the two siblings.

“We’re going for a walk with you,” Mizuki replied naturally. “Do you want to see Yokohama? To experience what freedom feels like now that you’re not with the Mafia?”

Eileen tilted her head. “Freedom?” she repeated quietly, as if tasting an unfamiliar word.

Atsushi nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! We can go wherever you want.”

Kyouka turned around. “Let’s go.” Her voice was firm, and the group followed her.

They visited Yokohama Stadium, where Eileen looked up, her eyes slightly wider than usual. Then they passed other places, each stop showing them a piece of the world that had been denied to them.

When they reached the brick warehouses, the scent of the sea replaced the spices. A small crepe shop caught their attention.

“Naomi-san said they make excellent crepes here,” Atsushi commented.

Kyouka and Eileen looked at him, and for the first time, their eyes showed the same flicker of interest.

“I want to try them,” they said in unison.

“But… you already ate so much…” Atsushi tried to protest.

“I still have room,” Kyouka stated.

Eileen nodded silently, her hand instinctively reaching for her money.

“Relax, Atsushi,” Mizuki interjected. “I’ll pay this time. After all, it’s your first day of freedom.”

After the crepes, they found a claw machine. Atsushi, concentrating, managed to pull out a rabbit plushie for Kyouka. “I got it!” he said, blushing when Kyouka carefully took it.

Mizuki studied the machine for a moment before trying it. With a precise move, she won a red panda for Eileen.

“For you,” Mizuki said simply.

Eileen took the plushie and pressed it against her chest. “Soft,” she murmured, almost to herself.

The Ferris wheel was the next stop. Atsushi and Kyouka boarded one cabin, while Kagome and Eileen sat in another nearer to the sea.

Mizuki bought Eileen a snow cone. “Try this, it’s mint.”

Eileen took a sip, and her eyes widened slightly. “Cold,” she said, but continued to drink.

Later, sitting on a bench, Eileen watched as Mizuki fed the pigeons. Slowly, she took some crumbs and held them out too. A pigeon landed on her hand, and Eileen held her breath.

“It doesn’t bite,” Mizuki said softly.

Eileen nodded, watching the bird eat from her palm.

As the sun began to set, Kyouka announced, “There is one last place I want to go.”

“Sure, sure,” Atsushi said, still cheerful.

But when they saw the Military Police building, Mizuki felt a chill in her stomach. “Kyouka, wait,” she said, walking up to her. “You don’t have to do this. We can find another way.”

Eileen looked at Mizuki, then at Kyouka, her usually vacant expression showing a slight confusion.

“I’ve had enough fun,” Kyouka said sadly.

Before anyone could respond, invisible threads wrapped around Kagome, and *Rashomon* pierced Atsushi. Both collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

“Execute them?” Akutagawa asked, emerging from the shadows.

Amaya appeared beside him, her red eyes fixed on Eileen. “We have no reason to. They fulfilled their mission.”

Several Mafia cars surrounded the scene. Kyouka dropped her plushie, tears streaming down her face.

“‘I got the plushie I wanted’,” Akutagawa quoted mockingly.

“We put a tracking device on them,” Amaya said with a cold smile. “They were never free.”

Amaya walked up to Eileen and roughly pulled her hair. “We’re getting out of here, you spoiled brat.”

Eileen, still hugging her red panda, looked at the unconscious Mizuki on the ground. For an instant, her fingers tightened around the plushie before she allowed Amaya to drag her away, her amber eyes fixed on the only person who had shown her what freedom meant, even if only for a few hours.

—

The Armed Detective Agency office was breathing with its usual rhythm, a precarious balance between meticulous order and contained chaos. Next to the window, Asuna observed the careful manicure of her jade-green nails, the color harmonizing with her thoughtful eyes. Her posture was serene, but every line of her body betrayed a silent alertness, a constant awareness of her surroundings. Beside her, Taka was flipping through medical reports, his fingers—the reddish seal on his forehead barely visible beneath his fringe—turning the pages with an efficiency that contrasted with the slight crease of worry on his face.

The peace broke when Tanizaki burst in, his breathing slightly ragged. "Atsushi-kun and Mizuki-chan have been kidnapped."

Kunikida's notebook hit the desk with a dry snap. "The brats? Right now?" His voice was a mix of exasperation and annoyance, the ideal of efficiency clashing with unpredictable reality.

"Yes," Tanizaki confirmed, his expression grim.

Kunikida adjusted his glasses, a nervous gesture. "Escorting the ministry staff has the agency busy. We don't have spare people to look for them. Do we at least know where they are?"

"Uh, yeah." Tanizaki pulled out his notepad, quickly flipping through it. "According to witnesses, they were attacked in the middle of the street and put into a truck. We don't know where they were taken."

Naomi, who had been listening silently, exchanged a meaningful look with Asuna and Taka. Naomi's gray eyes met Asuna's jade and Taka's dark gold, a silent triad of worry forming in an instant.

"What a problem," Kunikida grumbled, frowning. "They have many smuggling routes. Transporting someone unseen will be easy for them."

"If we don't help them somehow..." Tanizaki began, but his voice was swept away by an untimely interruption.

Ranpo, swaying slightly in his chair with a vanilla ice cream cone in his hand, spoke with a nonchalance that made Asuna's knuckles momentarily whiten as she gripped the edge of her chair. "Help them? Why? They were kidnapped because Atsushi is a weretiger and Mizuki is a necromancer. They want the bounty. It's a personal matter, isn't it? We are not a halfway house. Nor did they join us so we could protect them."

Asuna contained a surge of frustration, her usual smile replaced by a thin, tense line. Her protective instinct, the one that made her feel responsible for every soul under the Agency's roof, flared at the coldness of Ranpo's logic.

"But Atsushi-kun and Mizuki are one of us..." Tanizaki tried to reason, his voice weak against Ranpo's overwhelming certainty.

"No," Kunikida cut in, aligning himself, to his own surprise, with the detective. "Ranpo-san is right. We shouldn't be the ones to act. We have obligations to the ministry."

A nervous tic ran across Taka's face. Without even looking up from his reports, his foot moved with feline swiftness, delivering a precise and quick stomp to Kunikida's shin, withdrawing immediately before the man of ideals could identify the culprit. Kunikida let out a muffled grunt, rubbing his shin in bewilderment.

That was the last straw for Naomi and Asuna. They looked at each other, and a silent agreement passed between them. With decisive movements, both stood up and walked directly to the President's office, ignoring the argument that continued behind their backs.

A few moments later, the office door opened. Asuna poked her head out, a sadistic, annoyed smile playing on her lips, a flash of triumph in her jade eyes. "Hey. It seemed to Naomi-chan and me that you would take an eternity arguing with your beloved duties and reasoning... so we called him."

Behind her, Fukuzawa Yukichi, the President, emerged with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, a presence of absolute calm that immediately silenced the room. Beside him, Kin Toki, the second President, stood, gently massaging the bridge of her nose with indigo-nailed fingers. Her midnight-blue hair fell heavily over her shoulders, and her deep-blue *yukata* seemed to absorb the light, projecting a commanding serenity. Her tranquil but penetrating teal gaze swept the room, assessing the situation without the need for words.

"Attention," Fukuzawa announced, his voice low but cutting like a knife. "The newcomers have been kidnapped. You have a duty to find them. The current task is suspended until they return safe and sound."

Asuna nodded, her expression now professional and determined. "I will take care of talking to the client about the escort job. Don't worry." Her offer was practical, resolving the logistical obstacle Kunikida had raised, eliminating any excuse.

Ranpo, lowering his ice cream, looked at Fukuzawa with curiosity. "President, Kin-dono, are you sure?"

Fukuzawa opened his eyes, and his gaze was as firm as steel. "What are you talking about, Ranpo? Our comrades are in danger. We must help them. What other reason do you need?"

His gaze then shifted towards Kunikida, pinning him with the weight of an absolute order. "Kunikida."

The man in glasses straightened up immediately, all his previous arguments vanishing under the President's authority.

"I want the twins back in three hours," Fukuzawa declared, and every word was a hammer blow of determination.

Before Kunikida could respond, Kin's serene yet unmistakable voice rose, her tone direct and unadorned, like the edge of her hidden *katana*. "The trail goes cold with every minute. Drop the reports. Move your butts. Now."

It was not a suggestion. It was the voice of experience, of a woman who had seen too much to tolerate delays.

"Right!" Kunikida affirmed, his ideal notebook now forgotten, replaced by a clear and immediate objective. The entire Agency, galvanized by the order of their leaders and the silent reproach of their colleagues, sprang into action. The search had begun.

—

The Port Mafia cell smelled of damp, rust, and the heavy stillness of wasted time. Dazai, chained to the cold wall, let out an exaggerated sigh that echoed in the confined space.

"Boring," he declared, drawing out the word.

Beside him, Kikyo, the chain on her ankle more a suggestion than a restriction, sighed in perfect synchronization. "Truly," she murmured, her golden eyes scanning the bare stone with a look of elegant annoyance. "The service here has declined since our time. They didn't even offer us tea."

They could have freed themselves at any moment. The locks were toys to them, the chains, theatrical ornaments. But they waited. They watched. The game required patience.

"If we calculate correctly," Dazai thought, and the idea resonated in Kikyo's mind without need for words, "it's almost time."

Just as Dazai opened his mouth to propose another game of telepathic trivia, a sharp voice, charged with an irritating familiarity, cut through the gloom.

"Still with your machinations?"

Dazai rolled his eyes with a dramatic grimace. "That voice..."

Kikyo, on the other hand, didn't even blink. A slight arch of her eyebrow was her only reaction, as if she had perceived his arrival long before he spoke.

Chuuya Nakahara emerged from the shadows, his silhouette clad in elegant clothes, the trench coat billowing behind him like black wings. A broad, mocking smile stretched across his face.

"I like what I see. What a spectacle. It's worthy of a 10-billion-yen play. Don't you agree, Dazai and Kikyo?"

"How disgusting," Dazai spat, with genuine distaste. "Just disgusting."

Kikyo let out a sigh, this one tinged with an almost maternal resignation. "Well, at least he didn't bring Ueno or Ane-san with him. That really would have ruined my day." She closed her eyes for an instant, as if visualizing the annoyance of that possibility.

"What a good reaction, Dazai! It makes me want to strangle you, Dazai," Chuuya growled, his fists clenching.

The height difference in the group was, as always, comical. Dazai, at 1.81 meters (5'11"), and Kikyo, at 1.77 meters (5'10"), looked slightly down at Chuuya, who, despite his imposing presence, barely skimmed 1.60 meters (5'3").

"You haven't changed at all, Chuuya," they said in unison, their voices blending into a single statement of fact.

"What was that for!?" Chuuya erupted, his anger instantly flaring.

Dazai smirked, enjoying the effect. "I've always wondered where you get those embarrassing hats."

Kikyo, without fully opening her eyes, gave Dazai a light, precise kick on the ankle. "Shut up, you spoiled teddy bear. Don't provoke the dwarf with bad taste." Her tone was soft, but the reprimand was clear. Then, she directed her golden gaze at Chuuya. "And we're back to the old days." A hint of bitter nostalgia colored her words, recalling the missions where she was the "awkward third wheel" of the Soukoku whirlwind.

"Talk all you want, you bum," Chuuya retorted, focusing back on Dazai. "I bet you still think about suicide with Saitou despite your age, don't you?"

"And we're back to the old days," Kikyo sighed, this time more heavily, as if carrying the weight of a hundred identical arguments.

"Yes," Dazai replied with disconcerting casualness, as if Chuuya had asked about the weather.

"At least try to deny it!" Chuuya plunged his hands into Dazai's hair and Kikyo's blazer, forcing both to bend down to his height. Their faces were inches from his. "But now you and your Archon bodyguard are simple prisoners. Doesn't it make you want to cry? No, this is most convenient. For you two."

Kikyo did not flinch. Her breathing remained calm, her eyes examining Chuuya's face with clinical curiosity. "I thought you had matured a little, Chibi. How disappointing."

"You might fool the rookie Akutagawa and Amaya," Chuuya spat, ignoring her, "but not me. After all, I'm your former partner. Dazai, and Takako has told me everything about you, Kikyo. What's your plan?"

"What is it?" The answer came in a perfect chorus, their voices cold and flat. "It's exactly as you see. To let ourselves be caught and executed."

"Lie!" Chuuya let go of them with a frustrated shove. "The Dazai and Kikyo I know would never fall due to bad luck or negligence. If you were that clumsy, I would have killed you a long time ago."

Kikyo straightened up, delicately dusting an imaginary speck from her shoulder. "You overthink things, Chuuya-kun. It's a bad habit for someone of your... stature." She paused infinitesimally, letting the double meaning sink in. "Besides, what are you really doing here? I don't think Mori sent you just for old times' sake."

"I came to annoy Dazai and to confirm whether Saitou was here. Ueno would be very angry if what the Boss said was a lie." His gaze turned dangerous. "Dazai treated me like a toy back then. But..."

Suddenly, Chuuya spun on his heels and, with an explosive move, launched a roundhouse kick that shattered the chains holding the duo as if they were made of glass. His leg remained in the air, showcasing absurd power.

"What you do comes back to you tenfold. You don't plan for it. But face me." He removed his long trench coat and tossed it aside, settling into a fighting stance. "I'll smash you to pieces along with your plans."

A light laugh, almost a whisper, escaped Dazai's lips. Kikyo gave an equally subtle smile, but a flash of anticipation glowed in her golden eyes. Then, with a clean snap of their fingers, the broken shackles still hanging from their wrists and ankles fell to the floor with a final metallic clang.

Chuuya smiled, a fierce and genuine expression. "Could you have escaped whenever you wanted?"

Kikyo was the one who answered, her voice a thread of poisoned silk. "That doesn't matter now, does it? The real question, Chuuya-kun, is whether you think you're capable of stopping us." Her smile widened, showing a hint of sadistic sweetness. "It must be a bad joke."

"I like the way this is going!" Chuuya roared, launching himself towards them like a human projectile.

The Kiyozai did not flinch. They remained still, waiting for him, their identical smiles painted on their faces like masks for a game that only they fully understood. The air in the cell became electrified, ready to explode.

—

The Armed Detective Agency office was buzzing with a tense, focused energy. Kunikida was speaking on the phone in a clipped voice, giving instructions to the police, while Yosano and Taka quietly cross-referenced data. In the midst of the whirlwind, Ranpo Edogawa slept peacefully on his desk, an inopportune island of calm.

Asuna Sorei watched the scene with her serene jade-green eyes, a thin line of disapproval on her face. With a fluid motion, she pulled a small but powerful megaphone from nowhere—or some hidden fold of her robe. Bringing it to her lips, where a clear gloss shone, she pressed the button.

BEEP!

"Wakey-wakey, Ranpo-san!" she announced with a deliberately fake sweetness, causing several people to jump in their seats.

Ranpo bolted upright, disoriented. Asuna lowered the megaphone and looked at him, and in her deep jade eyes there was no trace of apology, only a message as clear as water: 'Say goodbye to your weekly box of chocolates.'

"Was the megaphone really necessary, Asuna-chan?" Ranpo asked, rubbing his eyes dramatically.

"Urgency demanded it," she replied, her voice returning to its natural tone, soft but firm. As she spoke, her gaze swept the room, assessing everyone's progress. She approached Kunikida, who hung up the phone with an exasperated gesture. "Check the last six hours of all security cameras," he had ordered the officers.

Without a word, Asuna extended the Chamber of Commerce Ledger she had been consulting towards him. "The port movement records for the last 48 hours, Kunikida-san. There might be a pattern."

"Thank you, Asuna," he said, taking it with a brief nod.

"Ranpo-kun," Asuna turned back to the detective, who was yawning. "Can you find out if there are any reported murder cases near the docks in the last hour? Something discreet, nothing that alerts the press."

"Sure," Ranpo said, "but the President will scold you severely if we use official resources for that without his authorization." A playful smile crept onto his lips.

Asuna arched an eyebrow, an equally cunning smile on hers. "And who said we need official resources? I have my own... sources of information. But you're right, it's best to keep it in the family, for now." Her tone implied that her "sources" were as reliable as they were unorthodox.

It was then that Kunikida, flipping through the book, slammed it down onto a page. "Here it is!"

In seconds, the entire agency gathered around the conference table. The tension was palpable.

"This photo was taken by a tourist who witnessed the kidnapping," Kunikida explained, pointing to a grainy image showing a silver cargo truck.

Kin, who had remained in a corner watching in silence, approached. Her dark blue yukata moved with her with an imposing stillness. She leaned over the photo, her blue-green eyes scrutinizing every pixel.

"It's a very common model," she stated, her voice harsh and direct, without frills.

"Yes," Kunikida confirmed. "And the license plate was fake. But very few places in Yokohama operate with these machines. When Kenji and Taka went to visit repair shops, they were happy to cooperate with us."

Kenji, with his usual energy, nodded enthusiastically. "Those trucks belong to Karma Transit!"

"They are new to the smuggling business," Kunikida added, directing his gaze to everyone present.

Kin crossed her arms, her dark steel bracelets reflecting the dim light. "So we'll find out where they were taken if we ask them." It wasn't a question, it was a logical conclusion.

"Yes. They are the only ones, besides the Port Mafia, who could know about the kidnapping. Tanizaki is currently staking out the location. He can move at any moment," Kunikida said.

Taka, who had been silently frowning, clenched his jaw. "The Port Mafia is cunning as a snake..." he murmured, his protective instinct flaring up.

As if his words had conjured the bad news, Kunikida's phone vibrated. He answered, and Tanizaki's panicked voice filled the room through the speaker. "They tricked us! They beat us to it! They've been silenced. They killed them all."

A sudden chill seized the room.

Kin clicked her tongue, a dry, quick sound of pure frustration. "Just as I feared. It was Akutagawa and Amaya." There was no doubt in her voice, only the cold certainty of someone who knows her enemies well.

"What do we do? Our only lead is gone," Yosano asked, her tone professional but tinged with worry.

Fukuzawa, who had been observing everything from his desk, stood up. His gaze, serious and imposing, fell on Ranpo, who was beginning to nod off again. Kin moved to his side, forming a silent wall of authority.

"Ranpo," Fukuzawa said, his voice a low roar. He tossed him the folder with all the compiled information. "It's your turn."

As Ranpo reluctantly caught the papers, Kin turned towards one of the potted plants decorating the office. With a care that contrasted with her usual roughness, she plucked a small leaf from a jade plant. She approached Asuna and extended it to her without a word.

Asuna understood instantly. A gleam of absolute concentration lit up her jade eyes. She took the leaf delicately, closing it between her palms. Her ability, "The Caterpillar," activated. There were no spectacular flowers or invasive vines, just a silent tuning into the network of Whisper Seeds that she herself had strategically scattered across the city as an organic surveillance system.

"Alright, alright..." Ranpo muttered, finally putting on his detective glasses, a gesture that completely transformed his demeanor. The unspoken promise of praise from Fukuzawa had taken effect.

Asuna remained motionless for a few more seconds, her mind traveling through the plant connection, listening to the echoes of sound and emotion her seeds had captured. Then, she opened her eyes. She and Ranpo looked at each other, an instant understanding passing between them. In unison, they pointed to a spot on the large map of Yokohama spread across the table.

"They are on two different ships," Ranpo declared, his voice now clear and precise. "Both ships are traveling at 29 knots towards the open sea. They are alive... for now."

"It's highly likely they're being sent to the United States," Asuna added, lowering the leaf, which now looked a little wilted. "If we don't hurry."

Without losing a moment, Kin pulled a keychain with a single, shining key from her yukata. She tossed it to Kunikida, who caught it mid-air with feline reflexes.

"It's the agency's high-speed vessel," Kin said, her command sounding like an irrevocable fact. "Go get them."

Kunikida nodded, steely determination in his eyes. "Understood!" He spun on his heels and dashed out of the office, the door closing with a sharp slam that sealed the rescue mission. The Agency had mobilized, and nothing—neither the Port Mafia nor the open sea—would stop one of their own.

Chapter Text

The heavy steel door of the Port Mafia's dungeon slammed shut with a dull thud, isolating the tense triangle in the cold interior. Chuuya Nakahara, his coat draped over his shoulders, looked with disdain at the cell's two occupants. Dazai Osamu, smiling with that exasperating tranquility, and Kikyo Saitou, whose serenity was a deep, impenetrable lake.

Without a word, Chuuya lunged. His movement was a blur to the human eye, but not to Kikyo's athletic reflexes, though she made no move to intervene. Dazai raised an arm, blocking Chuuya's first punch with irritating precision. The dry impact resounded against the stone. The second punch, however, connected directly with Dazai's stomach, who let out a small gasp. Chuuya gritted his teeth, satisfied for an instant, but then a fierce, broad grin crossed his face. "You call that a punch, Dazai?!" he snapped, and before his former partner could catch his breath, Chuuya unleashed his own enormous strength. A single, clean, brutal blow sent Dazai flying through the air to crash against the opposite wall.

"My, my," Kikyo murmured with a light smile, as if watching a mediocre play. Her tone was sweet, almost sing-song, but her serene golden eyes never left Chuuya. "How rude, Nakahara-kun. It seems the West didn't teach you manners." Her apparent nonchalance was a perfect mask. In an instant, she demonstrated her athletic speed, launching herself at Chuuya with a high kick that whistled through the air. The maximum human force behind that move would have split a normal man's skull. Chuuya, with his own supernatural reflexes, narrowly dodged and countered. However, Kikyo, taking advantage of her enhanced durability, absorbed the impact, spun around, and using Chuuya's momentum, threw him with deadly elegance toward the same wall where Dazai lay. The impact shook the cell's foundation.

"Your martial arts skills are not even Port Mafia average," Chuuya declared, getting up and dusting off his clothes with annoyance. "It's a complete nuisance that Dazai nullifies an ability and that Kikyo has a conscious one. But I don't need my powers for this." His ice-blue gaze fixed on the pair, who were beginning to sit up. Dazai was stretching with exaggerated calm, while Kikyo cracked her neck with unsettling ease, a healthy crunch that spoke of a body in perfect athletic condition. "On your feet. The party has just begun."

"That's why you're the Port Mafia's best martial artist, Chuuya-kun," Kikyo acknowledged, her voice still gentle, as she smoothed her kimono. Her smile was a deliberate contrast to the moment's tension, a display of her emotional control.

"I thought you were going to rip off my arm, Chuuya," Dazai added, rubbing his shoulder.

Kikyo laughed, a clear, melodious sound that seemed out of place. "If you had, I would have healed it for you, Osamu," she said, rising with a fluidity that evidenced her maximum human stamina. Her gaze sharpened, becoming analytical. "We've known each other for a long time, Chuuya-kun. Osamu and I know your movements, rhythm, and fighting habits. I was Osamu's bodyguard at that time and..."

"I wouldn't have been a good partner otherwise, would I?" Dazai interrupted, smiling complicitly at Kikyo.

It was then that Chuuya exploded. With a speed that emulated teleportation, he closed in on them. "Then you surely predicted this blow!" he yelled, and his fist shot like lightning toward Kikyo. She saw it coming. Her athletic reflexes allowed her to register every micro-movement. She could have dodged it, she could have blocked it. But, in a cold calculation that only Dazai would understand, she chose not to. Allowing the blow to take her arm, to throw her against the wall, was another piece in the theater they were both staging. Her enhanced durability ensured the pain was a mere data point in her consciousness, not a distraction.

"That's how you land a good punch," Chuuya said, turning to Dazai and burying his fist in his stomach before gripping his neck tightly.

"Sometimes I curse that you have the same strength as an Archon, Chuuya-kun," Kikyo sighed from the floor, feigning mild annoyance as she repositioned a lock of her black hair that now covered one of her eyes. Her tone was one of light reprimand, like a bothered older sister, concealing the mind that was analyzing every variable.

"Did you think you could beat me by predicting my moves?" Chuuya asked, pulling out a knife and pressing the blade against Dazai's throat. "Tell me before Dazai dies, since, to my misfortune, Takako would beat me senseless if she found out I killed her older sister. Why did you let yourselves be captured? What are you waiting for to happen?" The duo remained silent, their gazes meeting in a silence laden with meaning. "You won't talk. Fine. I'll have fun torturing you," Chuuya threatened.

Kikyo then spoke, her voice soft but sharp as Chuuya's knife blade. "The main reason... is Atsushi-kun and Mizuki-chan."

"Atsushi? Mizuki?" Chuuya asked, frowning.

"The tiger-man you're so obsessed with," Dazai clarified, struggling to speak with the pressure on his neck. "We wanted to find out who's offering 14 billion for their heads."

Kikyo nodded slowly, her expression turning maternal for an instant, a genuine emotion that filtered through her strategic facade. "They are children. Very strong children, but children nonetheless. We cannot allow a shadow like that to chase them without knowing why." Then, her smile returned, but now with a hint of superiority. "You put your lives at risk just for that? How touching. But look how you ended up."

Chuuya let out a sharp laugh. "Even geniuses can end up like the rest, even if it's the Port Mafia's youngest leader and the Archon of Victory. It seems luck has turned its back on you. I caught you on the same day I returned from the West after controlling some riots. It was a stroke of luck for me."

It was then that Dazai and Kikyo began to laugh. It wasn't a laugh of desperation, but a synchronized laugh, coming from the same place, from a single mind in two bodies. A demonstration of their perfect symbiosis.

"What are you laughing at?" Chuuya said, frowning with growing irritation.

"We'll tell you something," they said in unison, and for a moment, their eyes lost their shine, as if looking beyond the cell walls. "Tomorrow there will be a meeting between the six executives."

"Impossible," Chuuya denied, although a flicker of doubt crossed his blue eyes. "Their meetings are held every few years to determine the organization's direction. If one were about to take place, we would have known."

"It will happen because of a letter we sent to the organization's high command," they continued in unison, their voices merging into an unsettling chorus. "Now we'll make a prediction spoken in our shared dreams."

Chuuya looked at them with a mixture of rage and profound skepticism.

"You won't kill us. Furthermore, before leaving this room, you will give us information about the person responsible for the bounty on the tiger-man and the Hanaryou. And finally, Chuuya will talk like a young girl when you leave." The prediction was delivered with absolute calm, as if narrating an already accomplished fact.

"In this situation, what could...?" Chuuya cut himself off, his mind racing. Something in their words clicked. "Did you mention a letter?" he asked, narrowing his ice-blue gaze.

"The letter said: 'if Dazai Osamu and Kikyo Saitou were to die together, all their secrets will come to light,'" Dazai spoke, this time alone, with a wolfish grin.

"You haven't...?" Chuuya cut himself off, stunned by the audacity.

"It's true that you have the former executives who betrayed the organization," Kikyo added, her voice regaining its manipulative sweetness, "but remember that the executives know that all their secrets will be revealed if I die. If the prosecution learns of these secrets, their deaths will be worse than ours. That's reason enough to convene a meeting."

"The mafia is not intimidated by threats! You will die, Dazai. I will execute you!" Chuuya roared, tightening his grip on the knife.

"Perhaps," Kikyo conceded, and her smile became chilling, her golden eyes glowing with an internal light. "But the Council is in charge of that. If you execute him before it's decided, it will be seen as an act of treason. And in the worst case, they will execute you."

"And if I ignore everything you told me and kill you anyway, you'll finally be happy to be dead, Dazai," Chuuya said, though the conviction in his voice began to waver.

"That said, you can do it if you want, Chuuya," Dazai sang, in a musical tone that managed to irritate the redhead to the limit. "Come on, hurry up. Not yet?"

Chuuya roared in frustration and slammed the knife against the wall, burying it deep in the steel, before pulling away from Dazai. "In reality, you expected to harass me," he said, grinding his teeth with impotent rage.

As Dazai struggled to pull the knife from the wall, Kikyo smiled, gracefully raising an arm, as if giving a cheer. "The meeting has been planned for a long time. A surprise like this suits it perfectly."

"I'll have you killed, Dazai. I'll make you die someday, I swear," Chuuya spat, giving him a look that promised revenge.

"By the way," Dazai added, smiling cheerfully, "you are the one who broke our chains and freed us. If we escape now, you would be suspected of helping us flee." Kikyo nodded, with the same complacent smile, as Chuuya grew even angrier.

"You wretch!" Chuuya shouted, his patience exhausted.

"If you do everything we tell you, I could make it look like someone from the Agency rescued us," Dazai proposed, playing his last card.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?!" Chuuya yelled, already at his breaking point.

"We never lie in these kinds of negotiations. I think you know that," Dazai and Kikyo said in unison, and with a fluid movement, Kikyo tossed Chuuya the knife he himself had stuck in the wall, which she had torn out with her maximum human strength without the slightest apparent effort.

"You miserable... What do you want?" Chuuya finally conceded.

"I already told you," Dazai said.

Chuuya sighed, defeated. "If it's about the tiger-man and the Hanaryou, Akutagawa and Amaya are leading the operation. There should be records in the second-floor warehouse."

"I see. It seems we guessed correctly," Dazai said, looking at Kikyo with a smile of shared triumph. A vein throbbed in Chuuya's forehead.

"Finish your business and get out, you idiot," Chuuya said, turning to leave.

"But you were wrong about something," Dazai called out to him. "I now dream of committing double suicide with Kikyo. You kicking me to death wouldn't make me happy right now. Sorry."

"Oh yeah? Well, next time I'll bring Kikyo wanting to commit suicide with you," Chuuya retorted, walking towards the door.

"Chuuya! I didn't know you were such a good person!" Dazai exclaimed with a false, childish sparkle in his eyes.

Kikyo rolled her golden eyes, an expression of fond annoyance on her face. "Don't mind him, Nakahara-kun. He tends to get excited about silly ideas," she said, her voice a balm of feigned sanity.

"It's my way of sending you to hell, you idiot. I'll tell you something, Dazai. This isn't over," Chuuya finished, reaching the door.

Just as Dazai was about to open his mouth to remind him about the "talk like a young girl" part, Kikyo, with an expression of strategic pity, gave him a gentle elbow. She knew pushing Chuuya further would be counterproductive. Instead, she raised a hand. In her palm, an ethereal rose with razor-sharp petals materialized.

"Garden of a Hundred Roses," she murmured, and blew softly.

A whirlwind of red petals enveloped Chuuya for an instant. He shouted something, but the sound faded along with his body, which was absorbed by the floral vortex and disappeared from the cell.

Silence fell in the cell. Dazai adjusted his shirt collar and looked at Kikyo curiously.

"Where did you send him, Belladonna?" he asked, using the old nickname.

Kikyo turned to him, a suspicious and playful smile, full of mystery, curving her lips. Her pupils, for an instant, seemed to sharpen, almost acircular.

"That doesn't matter, darling," she said, her voice a silky caress. "Just let's make sure he's sufficiently... distracted by the time the executives start asking questions. Now, darling, let's go for those records. Atsushi-kun and Kagome-chan are waiting for us."

—

Consciousness returned to Mizuki like a dull blow. A sharp pain in her arm and the metallic taste of blood in her mouth were the first sensations to break through the fog of her mind. She coughed lightly, trying to sort out her thoughts in the gloom of the place where she found herself. The air was heavy, salty, and the floor swayed with a constant, ominous rocking motion.

"Of course…" she muttered to herself, her rose-purple eyes adjusting to the meager light. The memories returned to her in painful fragments: the ambush, Amaya's sharp, invisible threads surging from the shadows, the sensation of suffocation before the darkness completely swallowed her. "Akutagawa and Amaya attacked us from behind, and I passed out because of the threads Amaya used… they caught me." She concluded, a wave of frustration washing over her. She felt her arm, where a deep wound was still oozing, and noticed with unease how the tissues were slowly closing, a familiar itch indicating that her unconscious healing, a remnant of her unique nature, was at work.

The squeak of a heavy metal door's hinges pulled her out of her thoughts. Eileen's silhouette cautiously framed the doorway, her eyes scanning the darkness before settling on Mizuki. The young woman in the hanfu looked like a shadow herself, moving with a stealth that spoke of years of lethal training.

"Did you come to help me, Eileen?" Mizuki asked, her voice a little hoarse but tinged with a flicker of hope.

Before Eileen could answer, a cold, oppressive presence filled the space behind her. A shadow tentacle, materialized from Amaya's Mana, landed forcefully on the wound on Mizuki's arm, causing her to stifle a cry of pain.

"The blow I gave you was fatal," Amaya's voice, cold and devoid of her former warmth, resonated in the hold. She emerged from the shadows, her eyes blood-red, dead and lacking a shred of light, fixed on Mizuki. "I see you can heal even when not transformed. The healing must be unconscious…" she murmured with a smile that didn't reach her lifeless eyes.

Mizuki, suppressing the pain, locked her gaze onto her former protector. "Where am I?" she questioned, defiantly.

"You're on a weapons smuggling vessel," Amaya replied, walking slowly toward her. Every step was measured, lethal. "I hope you enjoy this last journey before we hand you over to your twin." The smile on her lips widened, a grotesque gesture on a face that was once kind.

"I always wondered what Ryuu saw in you…" Amaya continued, leaning down until she was inches from Mizuki’s face. Her energy, corrupt and cold, swirled around them. "Now I understand, that not-quite-human energy… it barely seems like magic… What are you?"

The question hung in the air, loaded with an unhealthy curiosity. But before Kagome could find an answer or an evasion, the metallic click of a safety being deactivated broke the tension. Eileen, her face unreadable but with steel determination in her eyes, aimed her weapon directly at Amaya.

"Well… I see freedom has moved you, Eileen," Amaya spoke without turning, her tone a slow, poisonous silk.

"Let her go," Eileen ordered, her voice low but relentless.

Amaya smiled, and in the blink of an eye, the space between them distorted. "Veil Beyond." A larger tentacle, deep black with electric violet reflections, surged from the floor and coiled around Eileen, beginning to greedily suck her vital energy. Eileen gasped, the color drained from her face, and her legs gave way.

"You're quite bold…" Amaya spat, feeding on the young woman's power. "Is that what they taught you in the outside world? To disobey? Do you even think you can maintain a normal life outside the Port Mafia? Bai Lianhua is materialized murder." Every word was a knife, a mockery of Eileen's struggle for redemption.

Mizuki watched, horrified, as her friend's life force was drained. Her gray morality, her protective instinct, immediately activated. The carefree joker vanished, replaced by the warrior who would not tolerate injustice. With a speed that surprised even Amaya, Mizuki lunged forward, ignoring the pain in her arm. She grabbed Amaya's head with both hands and, with a force that sprang from the deepest part of her being, ripped her away from Eileen and shoved her backward.

The shadow tentacle vanished, and Eileen dropped to her knees, panting, pale, and visibly weakened. "Run while you can!" she yelled at Mizuki, her voice a mere whisper. "This ship won't be going to its rendezvous point!"

Amaya, recovering from the push, frowned. "Where else would it go?" she asked, her voice charged with a dull anger.

Eileen, with a final effort, pulled a detonator from her qipao. A sad, fierce smile crossed her lips. "To the bottom."

A series of explosions shook the vessel. The whole world seemed to tilt. Mizuki was thrown by the force of the detonations, her body crashing into barrels and boxes. Through an open porthole, in a brief, chaotic instant, she thought she saw Kunikida on another nearby vessel, with Atsushi beside him. Hope bloomed in her chest for a second, but her gaze hardened again as she saw that Amaya, far from giving up, lunged at the defenseless Eileen, the shadow tentacle reappearing with renewed hunger, sucking her energy uncontrollably, growing stronger with every passing second.

"I can't leave her like this…" The thought was clear and cold in Mizuki’s mind. Her kindness, her willingness to sacrifice, her visceral sense of justice, all coalesced into an irrevocable decision. She got up, ignoring the debris raining around her, and walked purposefully towards the scene.

Amaya, intoxicated by the power she was stealing, no longer seemed conscious of anything else. Her arm was raised, ready to deliver a final blow to Eileen. In that instant, Mizuki appeared by her side. It wasn't a blow of anger, but one of pure necessity. A clean, powerful punch impacted Amaya's side, sending her flying against a stack of secured goods in the hold.

Amaya laughed, a hoarse, deranged laugh, as she spat a thin stream of blood. "Pathetic!" she screamed, and a tentacle thicker and faster than the previous ones burst from her shadow. It caught Mizuki with brutal force, coiling around her arms and legs, squeezing until the bones cracked.

But then, something incredible happened. Mizuki’s shattered joints instantly mended, the tissues regenerating at a speed that surpassed everything human. A golden and crimson aura began to radiate from her body, an intimidating force that pushed the darkness around her.

"Her regeneration is so fast… like a pure-blood Archon's…" Amaya thought, astonished, watching Mizuki's body seemingly reject physics itself. The gentleness in Mizuki’s rose-purple eyes faded, replaced by absolute coldness, an abysmal antiquity.

Before Amaya could react, the transformation was complete. Mizuki's figure shuddered and changed. Standing before her now was a woman 1.68 meters tall, of an ethereal and terrifying beauty, like a perfect, inhuman porcelain doll. Her long white hair, with a pink gradient at the tips, was gathered in a high, impeccable ponytail, held by a kanzashi whose tip was a red flower that looked freshly bathed in blood. Her black dress, an elegant and functional armor, moved like dark petals around her. In her hand, she held a closed black Western-style umbrella, with the interior the same color as the flower in her hair.

The woman, Akahana, slowly lowered the umbrella, revealing a face of terrifying serenity. Her eyes, black with a red gradient toward the pupils, settled on Amaya. A subtle smile, laden with the wisdom of countless battles, formed on her lips.

"...it's been a while since I came out… thank you…" the woman said, her voice a melodious, cold echo, so different from Mizuki’s lively tone.

Amaya looked at her, and all her fury, her hatred, and her corruption froze. Her red, dead eyes opened wide, and for the first time in years, something other than despair clouded them. Genuine, overwhelming tears began to stream down her cheek.

"Akahana?" The question left her lips as a broken whisper, loaded with an emotion so profound it nearly doubled her over. There, in the middle of the burning vessel, she had finally found, not just Mizuki, but the complete being she had been searching for all these years. The confirmation of her deepest suspicions was both her condemnation and her only possible redemption.

The crunch of debris beneath her heels was the only sound that accompanied Akahana's steps. With an elegance that seemed to conjure silence around her, she closed her black umbrella, the gesture as fluid and precise as a dancer's on the stage of destruction. A serene, almost beatific smile settled on her lips, a chilling contrast to the smoking chaos that surrounded them.

"I want to thank you," her voice said, a cold, melodious echo that sliced the air like a dagger's edge. "For freeing me from my long slumber. It's been years since I've come out to protect my Mizuki…" Her laugh, then, was a chime of ice, a sound that did not celebrate joy, but the opportunity to exercise her purpose.

Amaya looked at her, and in her red, dead, lifeless eyes, something broke. A tear, so clear and pure it seemed impossible amidst so much corruption, escaped and traced a clean path on her soiled cheek. With a gesture that revealed a vulnerability she thought lost, she wiped it away with the back of her hand, and a tremulous smile, loaded with overwhelming emotion, answered Akahana's.

"Why have you taken Mizuki’s body again, Akahana?" Amaya asked, her voice a harsh thread. "She is not in mortal danger with me." It was an assertion, a plea disguised as logic. Her dead eyes clung to Akahana's bright, living ones, searching for a glimpse of the sister she loved, not this relentless guardian.

Akahana tilted her head slightly, like an exotic bird studying its prey. "I don't know…" she murmured, and her tone momentarily lost its coldness, adopting an almost thoughtful quality. "But after how you've treated her, even without knowing it was her, it doesn't seem very correct to me." Her smile returned, but now it was sharp, a flash of fangs beneath the porcelain skin. "I came to correct you."

Amaya laughed, a low, bitter laugh that made her dead eyes shine with a ghostly glimmer. She stretched, and in every movement of her limbs there was a somber elegance, the memory of the warrior she once was. "I never thought I'd have to face you, Akahana," she confessed, and began to advance, each step a silent challenge.

Akahana did not back down. Instead, with a soft click, she opened her umbrella. The interior, a deep blood-red, seemed to absorb the little light filtering through the hull's holes. "I will not forgive you for the harm you have done to Mizuki," she declared, and her scarlet eyes glowed with a supernatural intensity, a beacon of protective fury against the stagnant darkness in Amaya's gaze.

"And I you?" Amaya retorted, and her smile vanished, swept away by a tide of resentment. Her gaze grew gloomier, deeper, as if the abysses dwelling within her were opening wide. "That you will forgive me? That you prevented me from completing my reunion with Mizuki?"

The tension between them was palpable, a force field made of pain, twisted loyalties, and a love that had been poisoned by circumstance. Akahana, however, broke the spell with glacial pragmatism. "No. But I believe it's better if we move to action now."

There was no countdown, no battle cry. Only pure movement. Akahana lunged, her figure a blurry streak of black and white. Her leg, driven by a perfected Maximum Human Force, launched a low, devastating kick towards Amaya's ribs. The latter, with Athletic Reflexes honed by countless suicide missions, barely had time to twist her torso, pushing the impact away instead of absorbing it completely. The blow, however, was powerful enough to make her stagger several steps back.

Amaya was unperturbed. With a gesture of her hand, the invisible threads of Kumo no Ito (Spider's Thread) tightened in the air. She did not use them to attack directly, but to manipulate the environment. She pulled at the connecting threads that attached a hanging beam to the ship's structure, causing it to tear loose and crash down onto Akahana with a dull roar.

The debris buried the guardian for a moment. But only for a moment. Akahana rose from the ruins, her dress immaculate, her body intact. The bruises and cuts she should have suffered instantly closed, Mizuki’s Maximum Human Healing working at a superhuman pace under Akahana's control. Not a single drop of blood stained her porcelain skin.

"You are powerful, Akahana…" Amaya whispered, and this time her voice sounded broken. Her red eyes seemed to lose even more color, as if the very essence sustaining her was draining away. A thin trickle of blood sprung from her forehead and fell, scarlet and vital, onto the dusty floor.

Seeing the blood, something altered in Akahana. Her smile widened, transforming into an expression of pure, cold pleasure. A soft laugh, almost a coo, escaped her lips. It wasn't Mizuki's laugh, playful and lively; it was the laugh of one who enjoys watching her enemy fall, the confirmation of her superiority. "Laugh," she whispered to herself, "laugh while you can, little spider trapped in your own web."

Determined to end the confrontation, Akahana raised her free hand. "Crimson Petals of Shadows: Rain of Cutting Petals," she declared calmly. As she spun her umbrella, a red flower made of pure shadowy energy blossomed inside it, grotesquely beautiful. From it, a shower of countless petals, sharp as obsidian razor blades and dark as eternal night, released towards Amaya.

The petals reached her, cutting her clothes, her skin. But she did not disintegrate. Her body, strengthened and altered by the Mafia's experiments, resisted total annihilation, though not the pain. Each cut was a cold flame, a promise of oblivion that her enhanced constitution rejected at a terrible cost.

Taking advantage of the rain of petals as a distraction, Akahana concentrated her power. "Crimson Roses of the Hemisphere," she murmured. She swept the umbrella in a wide arc, and drops of her own blood, drawn from Kagome's essence, fell onto the shadows at her feet. Instantly, the darkness ignited. Not with heat, but with a cold, voracious crimson fire that burned with the intensity of otherworldly embers. Flames in the shape of incandescent roses swirled and launched towards Amaya, seeking her out with almost organic movements.

Amaya tried to dodge them, weaving a Web of Destiny with the threads that linked her to her memories of Kagome to disperse the damage. But Akahana's crimson fire did not burn the flesh; it disintegrated existence itself, corroding the very concepts of connection and memory. The defensive web dissolved like smoke, and the flames engulfed her.

There was no cry of agony, but a silent gasp, a spasm of absolute pain. Amaya fell to her knees, the black and crimson fire licking at her body without completely consuming it, but leaving her devastated, disarmed, defeated. The scent of ozone and ashes hung in the air. Still conscious, gasping, Amaya made no attempt to rise or counterattack. Despite the corruption, the Mafia, everything, at her core still beat the code of honor of one who once protected an orphanage. She was a loser, and she accepted it.

Akahana gasped slightly, a trace of physical effort finally visible in her perfect composure. Her scarlet gaze swept the surroundings until it settled on the approaching boat. There was Atsushi, unconscious and battered after his own battle, with Kyouka and Kunikida watching over him. Without losing another second, Akahana approached the staggering Eileen, who observed her with a mixture of astonishment and fear, and took her into a princess-carry with one arm, as if she weighed nothing. Then, with supernatural agility, she jumped from the burning ship to the rescue vessel.

The landing was soft, barely a slight tremor. Atsushi, waking up dizzy from the movement, partially opened his eyes. The figure he saw was Kagome's, but the energy, the presence, was completely alien. The deadly elegance, the black umbrella, the scarlet gaze.

"Mizuki?" he asked, his voice weak and unsure.

Akahana approached, leaned down, and brought her lips close to his ear. Her whisper was so low that only Atsushi could catch it, a secret charged with the gravity of eons.

"Take care of Mizuki," her voice said, a thread of silk and steel, "while I return to sleep."

A final smile, as enigmatic and beautiful as the first, bloomed on her lips. Then, as if an invisible thread had been cut, her body lost all tension. The umbrella snapped shut and fell to the floor of the vessel with a dull thud, and Akahana, or rather Mizuki's body, slumped unconscious beside it. The monumental energy used to defeat the powerful Amaya and fully manifest had exhausted every last reserve, plunging Mizuki into a deep, restorative sleep, leaving behind the echo of a battle between two twisted loves and the expectant silence of those who witnessed the awakening of the absolute guardian.

Chapter Text

The Armed Detective Agency office was buzzing with its usual activity that afternoon. Ranpo was devouring a pastry while examining a case with an air of disinterest, Kunikida was typing frantically on his computer, and Kenji was chatting animatedly with Tanizaki about the differences between rural and urban life. Amidst that controlled chaos, Kanade appeared with a smile so radiant it lit up the entire room.

Her purple-pink eyes shimmered with barely contained excitement, and the rose quartz crystal hanging from her neck caught the sunlight streaming through the windows. She wore her bow-collared blouse and her dark magenta corset perfectly fitted, with the silver chains of her belt softly jingling with every movement.

Kikyo, who was leaning elegantly against Dazai’s desk—his arm naturally and possessively encircling her waist—raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. Her feline golden eyes fixed on her student with amused curiosity, and a smile played on her burgundy lips.

"Do you have a plan for the future, Kanade-chan?" Kikyo asked, intertwining her hands gracefully. Her red rose kanzashi glittered under the sunlight filtering through the windows, creating crimson flashes in her jet-black hair.

Dazai, without letting go of Kikyo, tilted his head slightly towards her, brushing her cheek with his nose in a gesture so natural that no one in the office even blinked. It was the everyday routine: Dazai Osamu and Saitou Kikyo, the ADA's most unofficial-official couple.

"Since I'm here, I've been revived once, I don't have a place to stay," Kanade began, her melodious voice filling the space. Her black hair with purple highlights swayed as she gestured enthusiastically. "My Agency apartment is falling apart... I thought it through and decided to be independent."

Atsushi, who was organizing some files near Taka—who was reviewing a map with a concentrated expression, her reddish diamond mark on her forehead faintly shining—paused to listen. His amber eyes briefly met Taka's dark gold ones, and both quickly looked away, a betraying blush coloring their cheeks.

"Since I don't have anything better to do..." Kanade continued, and her smile widened into something almost mischievous. "I'm going to build a temple dedicated to myself and my reincarnations."

The silence was absolute.

"What?" Kikyo asked, genuinely lost. Even her usual composure wavered at such a declaration. Dazai, beside her, opened one eye with renewed interest.

Kunikida stopped typing. Ranpo suspended his pastry halfway to his mouth. Yosano, who had been cleaning her surgical instruments with a satisfied expression, looked up with arched eyebrows. Even Fukuzawa, from his office, emerged with that inscrutable expression that meant he was genuinely surprised.

Kenji blinked innocently. "Like the temples in my village?"

"Even Dazai stopped hugging his Kikyo plushie!" exclaimed Tanizaki, pointing at the brown-haired detective who had, indeed, released the small plushie he always carried—a gift Kikyo had made him with her own hands.

Asuna, who was reviewing documents next to Kin, exchanged a look with the midnight blue-haired woman. Kin simply sighed, her blue-green eyes reflecting a mixture of exasperation and something akin to affection.

"It's no secret that Kanade is technically like a goddess," Asuna murmured, her jade green eyes shining with understanding. Her salmon pink hair was tied up in an elegant bun, decorated with her characteristic leaf pendant. "Although she doesn't reach the power of the Archons like Kikyo, Asuna, or Kin."

"See you tomorrow!" Kanade announced with overflowing joy, and before anyone could react, she ran towards the door.

Sango, who was passing by at that very moment carrying some supplies with her superhuman strength, barely had time to process what was happening before being pulled by the arm by her teacher.

"Wait, Kanade-chan!" Kikyo tried to say, extending a hand, but her student, along with the poor Sango, had already disappeared.

Dazai laughed softly, burying his face in Kikyo's hair. "Your student is wonderfully unpredictable, my love."

"Just like you," Kikyo replied softly, turning in his arms to look at him. Her golden eyes met his brown ones, and for a moment, the rest of the office ceased to exist for both of them.

Atsushi cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling like he was witnessing something too intimate. When his eyes met Taka's again, she smiled warmly at him, and his heart gave a treacherous flip.

"Well," Fukuzawa finally said, breaking the moment. "I suppose tomorrow we'll find out exactly what Kanade-kun is planning."

The outskirts of Yokohama looked desolate under the afternoon sun. An abandoned house stood amidst the weeds, its cracked walls and partially collapsed roof speaking of years of neglect.

Kanade and Sango were immersed in the task of cleaning, their faces covered in dirt and dust. The young woman with black hair and purple highlights examined the space with critical eyes while Sango, in her corpse-like form of superhuman strength, lifted debris as if it were feathers.

"Miss Kanade," Sango said in a serene voice, her forest-bright green eyes reflecting concern. Her dark green combat kimono was stained with dust, and the low braid intertwined with the silk ribbon Kanade had given her had loosened slightly. "Are you sure this place is suitable?"

"Absolutely," Kanade replied with determination, pushing a lock of hair from her face. "I must spend money on remodeling, so..." She paused, her mind already calculating possibilities.

Over the next few hours, Kanade began ordering materials from merchants who passed by. Her ethereal beauty and angelic smile made vendors give her things with generous discounts or even gifts. Sango, always efficient, had gone ahead and bought more materials with the money Kanade had saved from her missions with the ADA.

The sun was beginning to set when Kanade, loaded with bags of supplies, walked along the dirt road. An older man driving an ox-drawn carriage stopped beside her.

"Need a ride, young lady?"

"That would be wonderful!" Kanade accepted instantly, her smile lighting up her face.

She settled into the hay of the carriage, enjoying the cool evening breeze. She took a book from her bag—one about her own history in times of glory—and began to read with an amused expression.

"It should be enough to remodel the shrine," she murmured to herself, turning the pages. "I paid to build my own shrine and earned money by collecting scraps. Collecting junk is the best!"

A different book appeared in her field of vision—one she didn't remember bringing. She opened it curiously, and her eyes widened as she read the content: it spoke about her, but from her time in the Yunmeng sect.

"I appear there too..." Kanade whispered, bringing the book closer. The pages described how she was viewed as a demon, as an evil spirit. An involuntary laugh escaped her lips. "People invent things. We're all the same, no matter our ancestry..."

"Are you sure, Karei?"

Kanade's heart stopped. That voice...

She turned sharply, and there, leaning back in the hay with a natural elegance that took her breath away, was Akutagawa. He was wearing casual clothes—so different from his usual Port Mafia attire—and had dark glasses that gave him a mysterious air. His black hair moved slightly with the breeze, and when he smiled, it was as if the whole world had shrunk to that single moment.

Kanade's cheeks burned with an intense blush. "A-Akutagawa..."

"People like to talk about equity," he continued, removing his dark glasses to reveal those grey eyes that always managed to completely disarm her. His gaze was intense, penetrating, but there was a softness in it reserved only for Kanade. "If it existed, would there still be gods?"

Kanade tried to regain her composure, but her heart was beating so hard that she was sure he could hear it. "Th-that makes sense, I suppose." She lowered her gaze to the book in her hands, needing a distraction. "The Water God is in charge of water and wealth... how can a Water Master be in charge of that?"

Akutagawa moved, getting a little closer. The subtle scent of green tea and something indefinably his own invaded Kanade's senses. "Since fishermen spend a lot of time in the water to sell fish and pray for their safety at the water temple. Gradually, this one became God of wealth."

"He must be powerful," Kanade murmured, highly aware of Akutagawa's proximity.

"He is. He is a Water Tyrant. He overturns the ships that haven't made offerings to him. That's why they call him that." His voice was deep, almost hypnotic. The hay softly rustled as he settled in better, his shoulder barely brushing hers.

Kanade glanced at him sideways, her pulse accelerating. "You know a lot."

A small smile, almost imperceptible to anyone who didn't know him as she did, curved Akutagawa's lips. "I have too much free time when I'm on my days off from the mafia."

There was something about the way he looked at her—as if she were the only thing that mattered in the entire universe. Kanade, who was normally so cheeky and self-assured, suddenly felt vulnerable under that gaze.

"You know a lot about gods," she began, her voice softer than usual. "How about ghosts?"

"About you?" Akutagawa replied without missing a beat.

Kanade blinked, confused. "What?"

Akutagawa laughed—a genuine, warm laugh, so different from the coldness he showed the rest of the world. "I know I'm quite pale, but I'm not a ghost, Karei. I'm flesh and blood."

The nickname made Kanade's heart flutter. Karei. Only he called her that.

"But," Kanade continued, gathering courage, "can you tell me more about yourself?"

Akutagawa's grey eyes softened even further. "Sure. What do you want to know?"

"Your most famous nickname. 'Flower Protected by the Dark Rain'." Kanade tilted her head, genuinely curious. "It sounds incredible, how did you get it?"

Akutagawa briefly averted his gaze, something akin to nostalgia crossing his features. "It's no big deal. One day, after destroying a ghost's lair, I saw a flower drenched in the black rain that always appears after I finish doing jobs, and I just shared my wagasa with it."

Kanade smiled tenderly. She could perfectly imagine it: Akutagawa, ruthless and relentless with his enemies, stopping to protect a flower from the rain.

"Do you frequently fight with members of the mafia?"

"Not often, no." Akutagawa shrugged. "I have complete authority to do what I want in the Port Mafia, but I avoid fighting with or contradicting my superiors. I only act alone when the circumstances are serious, or my instinct tells me something."

"How is it that you can see ghosts, even when it's not the time to see them?" Kanade asked, leaning forward with genuine interest.

Akutagawa moved closer, almost completely eliminating the space between them. His voice dropped to an intimate murmur. "How do you think?"

Kanade felt like she was melting under that intense gaze. "I guess one of your parents must have had magic."

Akutagawa's smile widened, and for a moment, Kanade swore her heart stopped beating entirely. "You're right. One of my parents was a mage."

The silence that followed was not awkward, but charged with a different kind of tension. Akutagawa looked at her as if he were memorizing every detail of her face, every expression that crossed her features. And Kanade, normally so confident and playful, found herself speechless under the intensity of that attention.

"Kuro," she finally whispered, trying out the nickname she had been considering. "I can call you Kuro, right?"

Something changed in Akutagawa's expression. His eyes darkened with a deep emotion, and when he spoke, his voice was barely a husky murmur. "You can call me whatever you want, Karei."

The sunset glowed with golden and purple hues as Akutagawa gently blew, and the falling leaves scattered with an almost poetic grace. Kanade was still talking animatedly, her hands gesticulating as she recounted an anecdote about her days as a cultivator, when the carriage stopped abruptly.

The sudden movement threw them forward. Kanade, with reflexes sharpened by years of combat, extended her hand and grabbed Akutagawa's just as he was about to fall out of the carriage.

Akutagawa immediately pulled away, not roughly, but with a visible tension in his jaw. His expression revealed something Kanade recognized instantly: pain, not from her touch, but from something deeper. It wasn't disgust. It was the instinct of someone unaccustomed to receiving kindness without a hidden price.

"What happened?" Kanade asked the driver, turning forward.

The old man was pale, his hands trembling as he uselessly tugged on the reins. The ox had stopped completely, refusing to move forward. Its eyes showed the whites of fear, and its hooves scraped nervously at the ground.

That's when they appeared. Translucent figures emerging from the growing gloom, with distorted shapes and vacant expressions. Ghosts. Dozens of them, floating on the road as if the air itself held them up.

"The Ghost Festival," Kanade murmured, immediately recognizing the situation. Her purple-pink eyes sharpened, quickly calculating the options.

The driver began to scream, his high, terrifying voice cutting through the night. Kanade acted without hesitation: with a precise movement, she pressed a pressure point on his neck, and the man slumped unconscious against the seat.

"He was making too much noise," Kanade explained casually, as if she had just commented on the weather. "Ghosts are attracted to fear."

Akutagawa remained absolutely silent, but his grey eyes had turned lethal. One of the ghosts got too close, extending a translucent hand towards Kanade, and Akutagawa’s gaze pierced it like a knife.

The ghost froze in the air, visibly trembling under that look that had intimidated seasoned assassins and reduced the Port Mafia's enemies to shreds. He didn't need words. He didn't need Rashomon. Just that silent promise of absolute destruction.

The ox, sensing the immediate danger had subsided, began to move forward carefully, its steps slow but steady.

"Are you okay?" Kanade asked, turning to Akutagawa with genuine concern shining in her eyes.

Akutagawa nodded, and then it happened: he smiled. It wasn't the cold, cruel smile he showed in the mafia, nor the scornful grimace he reserved for the jinko. It was a genuine, soft smile, reserved only for her. The kind of smile no one else in the world deserved to see.

"I'm fine," he replied, his voice unusually warm.

The ox's pace quickened, but Kanade's luck chose that moment to manifest in the worst way possible. The carriage wheels began to glow with a ghostly sheen, and suddenly they found themselves crossing an invisible border.

The Ghost Realm.

"Shit," Kanade muttered, clenching her teeth. The air became dense, charged with spectral energy that made her skin tingle. The silver chains on her belt jingled loudly, responding to the supernatural presence.

Akutagawa couldn't help it: he laughed. It was a low, genuinely amused laugh, so out of character for the feared mafia dog that Kanade stared at him with wide eyes.

"Your bad luck is extraordinary," he commented, and there was something almost tender in his teasing tone.

"Shut up," Kanade replied, but there was no real heat in her words. She was too busy thinking about how to get out of this.

Akutagawa extended his hand and grabbed the oracle sticks hanging from the carriage. He shook them once, and when they fell, they showed the symbol of good fortune.

"Interesting," he murmured, observing the result with something akin to satisfaction.

As if the universe had listened, the road began to clear. But it didn't last long.

The ghosts reappeared, this time in greater numbers, surrounding the carriage in a tight circle. Their forms became more defined, more threatening, closing in with intentions that were clearly not peaceful.

Kanade rose to her feet with fluid grace, preparing for combat. Her posture shifted, becoming more centered, more dangerous. But before she could conjure her power, she decided to try diplomacy first.

"We apologize for bothering you," she said in a clear, respectful voice, making a small bow. Her black hair with purple highlights swayed with the movement. "I am only a detective. We have no intention of causing trouble in your territory."

The ghosts did not seem convinced. They moved closer, their undulating forms blocking every possible escape route.

And then Akutagawa moved.

He didn't use Rashomon. He didn't need to. He simply turned with a speed that sliced the air, placing himself between the ghosts and Kanade. His grey eyes shone with a lethal intensity, carrying that promise of absolute violence he had perfected over years in the slums of Yokohama and refined under Dazai's brutal training.

It was the look of someone who knew no fear. Of someone who had walked among death so many times that he had become a part of it. Of someone who would destroy everything that dared to touch a single hair on the woman behind him.

The ghosts instantly froze, as if an invisible thread had halted them in mid-air. Their forms began to tremble, to blur at the edges, and then, without any further provocation, they fled in terror in all directions.

"What's wrong with them?" Kanade asked, genuinely confused. She had seen Akutagawa fight before, she had witnessed the devastation Rashomon could cause, but this was different. This was pure power of will.

"They fled in fear of your strength," Akutagawa lied softly, turning back to her. The lie was obvious, but there was a reason behind it: he didn't want Kanade to know how completely he had terrified them. He didn't want her to see that part of him that was pure darkness.

He slumped back into the hay with fluid movements, his body relaxing as he looked up at the starry sky that was beginning to appear. The stars shone with particular intensity here, at the boundary between the world of the living and the world of the spirits.

Kanade watched him for a moment, her purple-pink eyes studying him with that intensity that always disarmed him. She knew he was lying. But she decided to let him get away with it this time.

"Kuro," she began, settling down beside him in the hay. The nickname came out naturally, intimately. "Has your fortune ever been told?"

"No," Akutagawa replied, turning his head to look at her. The starlight reflected in his grey eyes, softening them.

"Do you want me to?" Kanade asked, and there was something playful in her voice that made Akutagawa's heart beat faster than he would ever admit.

"What will the method be?"

"I'll read your palms," Kanade explained, leaning towards him. Her hair created a curtain between them and the rest of the world. "I was taught in my classes as a Cultivator when I was still in my real body."

Akutagawa extended his hand without hesitation. It was an extraordinary act of trust for someone like him, who usually allowed no one to touch him without a strategic reason. But with Kanade, everything was different. Everything had always been different.

Kanade took his hand gently, her fingers tracing the lines of his palm with a soft touch. Her concentration was absolute, and Akutagawa found himself watching her face more than paying attention to what she was doing. The way her brow furrowed slightly, how her lips moved silently as she interpreted what she saw.

"Your destiny is fantastic," Kanade finally declared, looking up to meet his eyes.

"In what sense?" Akutagawa asked, though the answer mattered less than the fact that she was the one giving it.

"You are perseverant. Even in difficult times, you are true to yourself. You will always have good luck and success; your life will be radiant." Kanade's words were soft yet firm, spoken with a conviction that gave them weight. "You are blessed after so many misfortunes you suffered."

Akutagawa processed those words in silence. Blessed. It was a word he had never associated with himself. Cursed, yes. Abandoned, of course. But blessed?

"Anything else?" he asked, subtly moving closer. His voice dropped to a more intimate tone. "What do you want to know? What about my relationships?"

Kanade's cheeks burned with an intense blush that she was grateful the darkness partially concealed. "There must be girls who like you," she began, her voice slightly trembling. "And you are very handsome, unique, open, and sincere."

Akutagawa's eyes softened even further at those words. Handsome. Unique. Sincere. Each word was a gift he would secretly treasure.

The carriage finally reached the ruined house, stopping with a soft creak of wood. Akutagawa prepared to get out, assuming their time together ended here.

"Where will you stay?" Kanade suddenly asked, raising her hand to stop him.

Akutagawa shrugged with that indifference he had perfected. "On the street, I suppose. I'll have to set up my camp."

For someone who had grown up in the slums, sleeping outdoors was nothing new. He had spent countless nights under the open sky, fighting against the cold and hunger, protecting himself and Gin from the dangers lurking in the darkness.

"Come with me to my shrine if you don't mind," Kanade said softly, and there was a vulnerability in that invitation that made something tighten in Akutagawa's chest.

He smiled—that genuine smile he saved only for her—and without a word, he grabbed Kanade's bags of supplies as if they were feathers. He moved with the lethal efficiency of someone trained to kill, but with the gentleness of someone tending to something precious.

Kanade woke the driver with another precise touch, and the man blinked in confusion, remembering nothing of the ghosts.

"It's shabby," Kanade warned as they walked towards the crumbling house, "but you'll like it."

Akutagawa followed her without hesitation. He had followed Dazai's orders for years, he had obeyed Mori's commands, he had executed missions for the mafia. But this was different. This was not obedience. It was choice. It was wanting to be where she was.

Inside the dilapidated shrine, Kanade carefully placed the things she had collected. The space was small, the walls cracked, the roof partially collapsed. But there was potential here. There was possibility.

Akutagawa's voice resonated in the silence as he read a sign hanging crookedly on the wall: "'Dear benefactors, the shrine is dilapidated. Please donate money for repairs and earn merit.'"

There was a hint of amusement in his tone, something unusually light.

"I told you, my shrine is still under construction," Kanade replied with a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "That's why I was afraid it would bother you."

Akutagawa looked at her with those grey eyes that had seen too much death, too much destruction. "Do you have a futon?"

"If you don't mind..." Kanade looked down, and her voice became barely a whisper. "Let's share a futon."

The silence that followed was thick, laden with meaning. Akutagawa looked towards a wall, processing the words, the weight of what they meant. Sharing a futon was intimate, it was trust, it was something two people did when...

"I think your shrine is missing something," he finally said, his voice controlled but softer than usual. "How about an image of the Goddess to whom they dedicate it?"

Kanade blinked, following his gaze. "Sure. That sounds good, but I'm afraid you don't know who I worship."

Akutagawa walked to where the futon would be, his movements fluid and precise. He dropped into the designated space, his body relaxing in a way he never did in the presence of others. He turned his head to look at her, and his smile was small but absolutely devastating in its sincerity.

"Of course I know."

The words hung in the air between them, charged with a meaning they both understood but neither had yet vocalized. Because Akutagawa did know. He knew exactly who this shrine worshipped. He knew who the goddess of this place was.

It was her. It had always been her.

Kanade felt her heart stop and then accelerate to a frantic pace. Her cheeks burned with such intensity that she was grateful for the dimness of the shrine. With slightly trembling hands, she blew out the candle she had lit, plunging the space into near-complete darkness.

"Rest," Akutagawa murmured, his voice barely audible in the darkness.

Kanade settled onto the futon beside him, acutely aware of every point where their bodies almost touched. She could feel the warmth emanating from him, hear his steady, controlled breathing.

In the darkness of the ruined shrine, two souls marked by suffering and loss found a moment of perfect peace. Akutagawa, who had spent his entire life chasing the approval of someone who had abandoned him, finally rested beside the only person whose opinion truly mattered.

And Kanade, who had been condemned, executed, revived, and marked as a demon, finally allowed herself to believe she deserved this moment of tenderness.

The stars shone through the cracks in the ceiling, silent witnesses to a love that neither of them knew how to name yet, but that both felt with an intensity that transcended words.

—

The light of dawn filtered through the cracks in the ceiling when Kanade woke up. Her purple-pink eyes slowly blinked open, adjusting to the soft luminosity that bathed the interior of the shrine. She stretched lazily, her black hair with purple highlights tousled and falling over her face. For a moment, she simply enjoyed the stillness.

It was then that she saw it.

On the opposite wall, where the night before there had only been cracked wood and dust, a portrait now hung. Kanade sat up abruptly, her breath catching in her throat.

The portrait showed her, but not as she was now. It was her in her ghost form, before she was revived. The figure in the painting wore traditional ceremonial robes that flowed like water around her ethereal form, dyed in shades of deep purple and midnight black. Her hair was adorned with lotus flowers that seemed to glow with their own light, and her eyes—those purple-pink eyes she had inherited through all her reincarnations—gazed forward with an expression that was simultaneously serene and infinitely sad.

But what struck her most was the delicacy of the work. Every brushstroke of ink had been placed with an almost reverent precision. The lines were soft, fluid, capturing not only her physical appearance but something deeper—her essence, perhaps. The way the artist had captured the fall of her hair, the exact angle of her neck when she tilted her head in contemplation, the way her hands rested delicately on her lap.

It was as if whoever had painted her knew her intimately. As if he had been observing her for years.

The sound of a broom sweeping the shrine's entrance pulled her out of her trance. Kanade quickly got up, her bare feet touching the cold floor as she walked towards the entrance.

Akutagawa was there, sweeping with methodical, efficient movements. He had somehow acquired clean clothes—probably from a nearby clothesline, though Kanade decided not to ask. His black hair with white streaks in his bangs shone under the sunlight, and there was something almost domestic about the scene that made Kanade's heart ache in a way she couldn't name.

He must have felt her gaze because he turned, his grey eyes meeting hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"Did you paint that picture, Kuro?" Kanade finally asked, her voice unusually soft.

"Yes," Akutagawa replied with his characteristic conciseness, returning to his sweeping task as if he had just admitted something completely ordinary.

Kanade couldn't stop herself. She walked towards him, her movements impulsive and filled with the chaotic energy that characterized her. Without a second thought, she put her hands in Akutagawa's hair, gently smoothing it with her fingers. His hair was surprisingly soft under her touch, and she could feel him momentarily tense at the unexpected contact.

Their faces were dangerously close. Kanade could see every detail of his features—the shadows under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights, the hard line of his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly as he looked at her with an intensity that burned her from within.

A blush exploded on her cheeks with such force that Kanade pulled away abruptly, almost tripping over her own feet. "I-I... I need... the talismans," she stammered, and practically fled back inside the shrine.

Akutagawa watched her go, and a small—almost imperceptible—smile curved his lips. It was the kind of smile he saved only for her, soft and genuine in a way that would have been impossible for the feared Port Mafia dog.

After a while, Akutagawa left without a word. He didn't explain where he was going or when he would return. He simply vanished like the shadow he was, leaving Kanade working on placing protective talismans around the perimeter of the shrine.

The midday heat was suffocating. Kanade had taken off her corset, working only in her bow-collared blouse and pleated skirt, her hair tied up in a messy bun. Sweat made some strands stick to her neck as she pressed the talismans against the wooden posts, murmuring incantations under her breath.

"May no wraith cross this threshold without permission," she whispered, her fingers tracing symbols in the air. "May darkness find only light here, and may—"

The sound of tearing fabric made her spin sharply.

Akutagawa had returned, and Rashomon stretched out from his body like living tentacles of darkness. The Ability moved with surgical precision, cutting wood, shaping it, building. In a matter of minutes, a solid, perfectly fitted door materialized at the shrine's entrance.

Kanade watched him work, completely mesmerized. She had seen Akutagawa use Rashomon in combat—she had witnessed the devastating destruction it could cause. But this... this was different. This was creation. It was care. It was...

"Kuro," she called softly.

He didn't respond with words, but tilted his head slightly in her direction, indicating he was listening while he continued working.

"Thank you," Kanade said, and there was a vulnerability in her voice she rarely allowed others to hear.

For the next few hours, they worked together in silence. Akutagawa repaired structures with Rashomon while Kanade placed spiritual protections. He carried heavy materials with ease while she organized the shrine's interior. There was no need for words—they moved around each other with a natural synchronization that spoke of something deeper than mere cooperation.

And then, something extraordinary happened.

Worshippers began to arrive.

First was a shuffling old man, who stopped in front of the shrine with an expression of awe. Then a woman with a small child. Afterward, a merchant. One after another, people began to gather, offering prayers and small offerings to the goddess of the shrine.

It was the first time in years Kanade had received genuine worship.

She stood at the entrance, watching the believers with wide eyes and something moist shining in her purple-pink pupils. Her hands trembled slightly as she accepted the offerings—coins, flowers, incense.

"It seems you have given me your good luck," Kanade said, turning to Akutagawa with a radiant smile that lit up her entire face.

Akutagawa was leaning against the shrine wall, watching her with that quiet intensity that characterized him. "If my luck serves you..." he murmured, his voice barely audible, "keep it as long as you want."

The words floated in the air between them, charged with a meaning neither of them vocalized but both understood perfectly.

Before they could say more, the newly built door burst open with such force it almost ripped off its hinges.

And there, like an avalanche of organized chaos, was the entire Armed Detective Agency.

Kunikida was at the front, his expression serious as he carried a heavy briefcase. Behind him, Dazai walked with Kikyo, their fingers intertwined so naturally it looked like they had never let go. Ranpo munched on a pastry while inspecting the shrine with critical eyes. Yosano carried a medical toolbox "just in case." Tanizaki and his sister Naomi were arguing about the best position for support beams. Kenji smiled with his characteristic cheerfulness, carrying enough construction materials to build an entire house. Atsushi was next to Taka, who carried a roll of architectural blueprints under her arm. Asuna chatted animatedly with Kin, whose impassive expression contrasted with her partner's vibrant energy. Even Fukuzawa had come, his wolf eyes assessing the structure with the precision of a master samurai.

And all of them, absolutely all of them, carried construction materials that had clearly been materialized using Doppo Ginkaku—Kunikida's Ability.

"What are you doing here?" Kanade asked, genuinely surprised though a smile was beginning to form on her lips.

Kikyo stepped forward, her red rose kanzashi shining in the sun. Her burgundy lips curved into a radiant smile as her golden eyes with ringed pupils took in every detail of the scene—including the proximity between Kanade and Akutagawa.

"We came to help you with your little shrine project," Kikyo explained with that melodious voice that always seemed to hide multiple layers of meaning. "We made several purchases since you announced it."

Dazai, who hadn't let go of Kikyo's hand for a second, added dramatically: "We couldn't let our dearest Kanade-chan build her temple alone! Although..." His brown eyes twinkled with malicious amusement. "It looks like you already had help."

It was then that Akutagawa emerged from the shadows inside the shrine, broom in hand, with an expression that would have frozen the blood of any mafia subordinate.

"Karei," he said flatly, looking at the crowd of detectives as if they were particularly annoying insects. "Are these your servants?"

The silence that followed was absolute.

Kunikida looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. Yosano dropped her toolbox with a thud. Ranpo stopped chewing his pastry mid-bite. Tanizaki automatically stepped protectively in front of Naomi.

"No," Kanade replied quickly, gesturing with her hands in that chaotic way that characterized her. "To be specific, I'd say they're my colleagues."

Akutagawa tossed the broom at them with a casual but precise movement. Kunikida caught it purely on instinct, and his face cycled through about seven different stages of indignation.

"Well then, 'Karei's colleagues,'" Akutagawa said with that cold, distant tone he used with everyone but Kanade, "do me a favor and clean the entrance."

Kunikida opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. His hands tightened around the broom handle with such force that the wood creaked dangerously.

"I only have one broom," Kanade offered weakly, trying to defuse the building tension.

"How did you let him stay?!" Atsushi burst out, pointing at Akutagawa with disbelief and something akin to horror. His voice rose a full octave. "He's from the Port Mafia! He could kill you in your sleep!"

"He can't take advantage of anything," Kanade replied, pulling out her 'Dear benefactors, the shrine is dilapidated' sign as if that were sufficient explanation. "Even this place needs repairs." Her purple-pink eyes sharpened slightly, and her voice dropped to that dangerous tone she rarely used. "If you fight here, you'll have to help me repair Kuro's hard work."

The use of the nickname made several Agency members exchange meaningful glances.

Kikyo, who had been observing everything with an amused expression, decided to add fuel to the fire. "And your bed?" she asked with false innocence, though her golden eyes sparkled with complete knowledge of what she was about to provoke.

"There," Kanade pointed without thinking, indicating the futon visible through the open doorway.

There was a pause.

"You slept with Akutagawa?!" Atsushi practically screamed, his face turning from white to red in a matter of seconds.

"Um... yes?" Kanade replied with complete innocence, genuinely confused by the reaction. To her, sharing a sleeping space was practical—there was only one futon, after all. She didn't understand why everyone was looking at her as if she had just admitted something scandalous.

Kikyo put a hand over her red lips, trying to contain her laughter. She failed spectacularly. Her golden eyes closed as a melodious laugh escaped her throat, echoing throughout the shrine with a genuine joy she rarely showed.

Dazai, beside her, burst into his own laughter—loud, dramatic, completely unashamed. He leaned against Kikyo, practically doubling over as he guffawed.

"Oh, Kanade-chan," Dazai managed to say between fits of laughter, "you are absolutely precious."

"What?" Kanade looked around, completely lost. "What did I say?"

Taka covered her face with one hand, her flushed cheeks visible even through her fingers. Atsushi seemed to be having some kind of existential crisis. Kunikida had started furiously writing something in his notebook—likely a list of rules on "Appropriate Protocol When Agency Members Sleep in Dilapidated Shrines With Port Mafia Members."

Asuna exchanged a look with Kin, who simply shook her head with that impassive expression that never changed. Her blue-green eyes, however, held a glimmer of amusement Kanade knew well.

Yosano smiled with satisfaction, clearly enjoying the chaos. "Well," she said brightly, "this is going to be interesting."

Ranpo, who had been observing everything with his usual shrewdness, finally spoke: "Akutagawa was up all night painting that portrait while Kanade slept." His green eyes sparkled behind his glasses. "I know because he has ink on his fingers and charcoal dust on his sleeves. He also went out before dawn to get suitable wood for the door, probably by intimidating some local merchant."

Akutagawa denied none of the accusations. He simply looked at Ranpo with that vacant expression he used when he decided someone wasn't worth his energy.

Kenji, oblivious to all the tension, smiled widely. "Then we're all going to work together to fix the shrine! It'll be fun!"

Fukuzawa, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke. His deep voice cut through the chaos like a sharp katana. "Kunikida."

"Yes, President?"

"Organize the work teams. Make sure Nakajima-kun and Akutagawa are in separate groups."

"Gladly, President."

"And Kanade-kun," Fukuzawa continued, his wolf eyes focusing on the purple-pink-eyed young woman, "your shrine needs proper building permits. I will handle that."

"Thank you, President," Kanade replied, bowing with genuine respect.

Kikyo approached her student, her movements fluid and graceful. She placed a soft hand on Kanade's shoulder, leaning in to whisper in her ear: "We'll talk later about your night sharing a futon with the mafia dog, Kanade-chan."

The blush that exploded on Kanade's face was glorious.

Dazai, hearing perfectly despite the distance, added sing-songily: "Kikyo-chan is right! We need all the juicy details!"

"There's nothing to tell!" Kanade protested, her hands gesturing wildly. "We just slept! We literally just slept!"

"Mmhmm," Kikyo nodded with the kind of smile that meant she didn't believe her for a second.

Akutagawa, who until then had remained silent observing the chaos, finally spoke: "If you're going to help, do it. If not, leave. This is Karei's shrine, and I will not tolerate her time being wasted."

The authority in his voice was unmistakable. It was the tone he used to command the Black Lizard, the tone that made seasoned enemies tremble. But there was something else there too—a protective, almost possessive note, when he uttered Kanade's name.

Kunikida, despite his clear frustration, recognized efficiency when he saw it. "He's right. Let's leave the... personal discussions for later. We have work to do."

And so, in the most chaotic and improbable way possible, the Armed Detective Agency and the feared Port Mafia dog began to work together to rebuild the shrine of a goddess who had been condemned, executed, and revived.

Atsushi worked alongside Taka, who organized the materials with military efficiency while he transported them. Every time their hands accidentally brushed while passing tools, both blushed and looked away.

Kikyo and Dazai oversaw the general structure, moving in unsettling unison, completing each other's sentences without even thinking about it.

Asuna and Kin worked on the decorative details, a strange yet effective combination of social grace and raw practicality.

Yosano had set up a temporary medical station "just in case someone gets hurt," although everyone suspected she was looking forward a little too eagerly to the chance to use her Ability.

Ranpo was doing nothing physical, of course, but offered occasional commentary on "the most efficient way to organize the space based on feng shui principles I've deduced from observing ancient shrines."

Kenji did the work of ten men, carrying beams that should have required heavy machinery.

Tanizaki and Naomi handled the precise measurements, though Naomi kept trying to distract her brother with excessive affection.

And Fukuzawa... Fukuzawa simply watched everything with that impenetrable expression, although anyone who knew him well could see the glint of satisfaction in his eyes at seeing his Agency working together.

Akutagawa worked mostly alone, using Rashomon with surgical precision for tasks that would normally require multiple people. But whenever Kanade needed something—a heavy material moved, a beam held in place, help reaching a high spot—he was there without her needing to ask.

And Kanade... Kanade moved among everyone with that chaotic, vibrant energy that defined her, offering words of encouragement, sharing water and snacks she had somehow prepared, laughing whole-heartedly when Kenji accidentally threw a beam too far and almost hit a passing worshipper.

As the sun began to descend, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, the shrine had been transformed. It was no longer a ramshackle ruin but something that was beginning to resemble a genuine home.

And when Kanade stood at the newly repaired entrance, looking at all the work her makeshift family had done, she felt something warm and bright expand in her chest.

She was not alone. She would never be alone again.

Akutagawa appeared beside her silently, as always. He said nothing, but his presence was enough.

"Thank you, Kuro," Kanade whispered.

He didn't reply with words. But his hand found hers in the growing gloom, their fingers intertwining with a delicacy that completely contradicted his reputation for ruthless violence.

And there, as the sun set over her newly rebuilt shrine, surrounded by the loving chaos of the Agency and the protective silence of the mafia dog, Kanade finally allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she deserved this moment of perfect happiness.

Chapter Text

The rhythmic pounding of hammers and the rasp of wood against stone filled the air of the Kanade Sanctuary. The afternoon sun stained the sky with orange hues as everyone worked on the repairs. Kanade was crouched, examining one of the damaged beams, her purplish-pink eyes glowing with concentration, when the uneven sound of hurried footsteps shattered the tranquility of the moment.

"Help! Please, help!"

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks. A group of villagers emerged from the main path, carrying an elderly man covered in blood among them. His torn clothes revealed deep wounds that stained the ground as they passed.

Yosano dropped the tool she was holding and ran toward her medical bag. "Bring him here, quickly."

Taka was already in motion, pulling bandages from her bag with expert hands. "Miss Kanade, we need clean water."

Sango materialized beside them, her movements silent but precise as she helped lay the elder on the ground.

Kanade sprang up, dust flying from her clothes as she approached. Her eyes scanned the man with a mix of concern and something darker. "What on earth happened? How did he get into this state?"

"He appeared out of nowhere," one of the villagers explained, panting. "He was staggering down the road... He looks like he's dead."

"If he were dead, he wouldn't be breathing," Yosano muttered, kneeling by the man. She extended her hand, preparing to activate Thou Shalt Not Die, but something strange happened. Her ability didn't respond. She frowned, trying again. Nothing. "This makes no sense."

Fukuzawa exchanged a glance with Ranpo, who was already pulling out his special glasses with a thoughtful air. The President made his characteristic sign.

"Ranpo-san..." Kunikida began, adjusting his own glasses with worry.

Ranpo put on his glasses, his normally closed eyes briefly opening before an expression of genuine confusion crossed his face. "There is no explanation I can deduce... we'll have to wait until he wakes up." He took off his glasses more abruptly than usual, covering his eyes again.

"Not even you can see what happened?" Atsushi asked, his voice strained. His fists clenched at his sides.

"The great detective would have said so if he could," Yosano replied dryly, not taking her eyes off the injured man. "Something is blocking the deduction."

The elder moved weakly, his lips forming inaudible words. His eyes snapped open, completely wide and staring, fixing directly on Kanade with an intensity that made everyone present tense up.

"Karei..." the man whispered, reaching a trembling hand toward her.

Before anyone could react, the man passed out completely.

"Shit!" Akutagawa moved with supernatural speed. Rashomon emerged from his back like dark tentacles, wrapping around the elder's body with surprising delicacy. "Inside. Now."

They pulled the man into the sanctuary, placing him on a makeshift futon. Akutagawa sat down elegantly on a nearby cushion, his movements fluid as he prepared green tea with an almost ceremonial precision. The aroma of tea filled the space when he offered a cup to Kanade, his dark eyes holding hers a moment longer than necessary.

"Thank you," Kanade murmured, taking the cup with both hands. Her fingers brushed his briefly.

Akutagawa nodded, a barely perceptible smile curving his lips before he turned back to the elder.

The rest of the ADA gradually joined, forming a semicircle around the injured man. Dazai leaned against the wall, observing the scene with those detailed-noticing brown eyes. Kikyo was beside him, her presence serene yet alert, her golden eyes shining with an inquisitive light. Occasionally, Dazai distractedly ran his fingers through her long, dark hair, a gesture so natural it went almost unnoticed.

"This smells bad," Dazai commented casually. "And I don't mean the old man."

"Dazai!" Kunikida warned, though his hand rested on his notebook, ready to invoke his ability at any moment.

When the man finally woke up, the first thing he saw was Asuna by his side, her expression compassionate but cautious.

"Are you awake?" the young woman asked softly, leaning forward.

The man instantly went berserk. He sat up violently, grabbing Kanade's wrist with desperate strength. His eyes were wild, bloodshot.

The sound of Akutagawa's palm hitting the table resonated like a gunshot. It was a dry, controlled movement, but with enough force to make everyone in the room jump. The Rashomon user had an arched eyebrow, his expression cold and unforgiving as he watched the man with barely contained disdain.

"Control yourself," Akutagawa ordered in a low, dangerous voice.

The elder blinked, clarity slowly returning to his eyes. He released Kanade's hand, trembling.

Kanade rubbed her wrist gently, but her voice was soft when she spoke. "Calm down. I am the owner of this house. If you need help, I will see what I can do."

"He said he didn't want to go back," Kikyo intervened suddenly. She had moved silently, now standing next to the elder. Her golden eyes glowed with an almost supernatural intensity, her long, burgundy nails glistening under the dim light. There was something in her tone, a deceptive softness that concealed steel. "Where did you not want to go back to?"

"The Crescent Moon Pass," the elder gasped. "I just escaped."

Atsushi stepped forward, his expression worried. "What happened there?"

The elder looked at all of them as if they were crazy. "Don't you know?"

"We know it's an oasis in the Gobi Desert," Kikyo said, crossing her arms. Her voice was polite but carried an edge that made even Dazai smile slightly. "Its scenery is breathtaking when the crescent moon is out. They say it's blessed by the Moon Archon."

"That was 200 years ago," the man spat bitterly. "Now it should be called 'Half-Life Pass.' More than a thousand people have disappeared."

A heavy silence fell upon the room.

"How do you know that?" Dazai asked, straightening up. His tone was still light, but it had lost its playful quality.

"I saw it myself. I was in a caravan. They knew it was haunted, they hired priests from my temple, but something strange happened. In this group of 60 people, I was the only one who survived!" The man's voice broke into a sob.

Kanade closed her purplish-pink eyes, as if processing painful information. "Since when did the Crescent Moon Pass become the Half-Life Pass?"

"I'm not sure. But it is said that 150 years ago, an evil priestess occupied it."

"Wait." Akutagawa's voice cut the air like a razor. His eyes had narrowed dangerously, and there was something in his stance that screamed predator. "Did you say you ran away from the Crescent Moon Pass?"

"Yes, I barely made it."

Akutagawa exchanged a meaningful look with Kanade. There was something in that silent communication, a mutual understanding that spoke of years of knowing each other. He made a subtle gesture toward the glass of water resting nearby.

Kanade caught the signal immediately. Without breaking eye contact with the elder, she picked up the glass and extended it to him with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Make yourself at home."

The man reached out his trembling hand for the water. His fingers almost touched the glass when...

"You can't drink water, can you?" Kikyo's voice was soft as silk, but there was something lethal about it. In a fluid movement, along with Kin—who had been watching from the shadows—they stopped the man's hand.

The tension instantly erupted.

The entire ADA went on alert. Yosano dropped her bag and adopted a combat stance. Kunikida already had his notebook open. Tanizaki had partially disappeared into an illusion. Kenji, despite his usual smile, radiated a silent threat. Fukuzawa watched with eyes of steel.

The man roared, pulling a sword out of nowhere and lunging at Kikyo with unnatural speed.

But Kikyo simply smiled.

She dodged the attack with a grace that seemed almost choreographed, her movements fluid as water. When the sword descended toward her, she raised two fingers and stopped it dead. The metal vibrated against her skin, but it didn't cut her. Her golden eyes glowed with a light that was not entirely human.

"Pathetic," she murmured.

In that moment, Akutagawa moved. Rashomon exploded from his back, enveloping the elder and slamming him against the floor with brutal force. The ability user pulled a wooden chopstick from his pocket and threw it with surgical precision.

The chopstick pierced the man... who vanished into a cloud of dust.

"He is contaminated," Akutagawa said coldly, lifting the dirty chopstick between his fingers. He looked at Kanade with a gentle expression that violently contrasted with what he had just done. "I'll make you some new cooking chopsticks later."

"He's just a puppet," Ranpo observed, his eyes still closed but his voice full of certainty. "So he has no internal organs."

"This is interesting," Akutagawa continued, examining the chopstick with academic fascination. "It's difficult to make a puppet act like a human being. It deactivated the talismans we placed, and we couldn't see its aura with our Spiritual Vision."

"Spiritual Vision?" Atsushi asked, blinking in confusion. "You have that too?"

"I didn't know you possessed Spiritual Vision too," Kanade commented, moving closer to Akutagawa. There was a playful glint in her eyes, and a light pink gloss made her lips shine when she smiled.

Akutagawa's expression softened in a way that no one in the Mafia would ever recognize. "One of my parents was a powerful mage, Karei. It's obvious I would have a more developed Spiritual Vision than all of you combined." The last part was said with his characteristic arrogance, but when he looked at Kanade, his smile was genuine, almost vulnerable.

"Adorable couple," Dazai murmured loud enough for Kanade to blush and Akutagawa to glare at him. Kikyo nudged him gently in the ribs, although she was smiling indulgently.

"But it's curious, Karei," Akutagawa continued, deliberately ignoring Dazai as he discarded the contaminated chopsticks. "Wouldn't it be suspicious for someone so powerful to decide to bother the new local resident? That desert is quite far from here."

Kanade closed her eyes, her expression becoming thoughtful. The silence stretched as everyone waited for her decision. Finally, she opened them with renewed determination.

"Hey, I plan to leave Yokohama for a while," she announced as she began tying her hair into a practical ponytail.

"I will go with you," Akutagawa declared immediately. It wasn't a question or a suggestion. It was an absolute, unwavering fact.

Kanade blinked, surprised by the speed of his response. "Akutagawa-kun..."

"Us too," several ADA members said in unison.

Kanade looked at them all with a mix of exasperation and affection. "Why would you want to come with me? It's a hot, windy, and sandy place."

"Why bother going alone?" Yosano retorted, crossing her arms. There was genuine concern in her voice.

Kanade laughed softly, a sound that contained more sadness than she intended to show. "When I was alive, in one of my reincarnations, I used to collect garbage near the Crescent Moon Pass. Hearing what happened worries me a little."

"Do you want to know who the evil priestess is?" Akutagawa asked. Everyone turned to look at him in surprise.

Kanade moved closer to him, a curious smile lighting up her face. "You know about that too?"

Akutagawa shrugged with that casual elegance that so characterized him. "I'm an avid reader. The Kingdom of Crescent Moon already existed 200 years ago. It was strong and aggressive, often harassing the people of the Central Plain. The evil priestess of Crescent Moon is their imperial tutor."

"Of course you know," Dazai murmured with amusement. "The model student."

"Shut up, Dazai-san.” Akutagawa replied without real heat, too aware of how Kanade looked at him with admiration.

"Dismay, behave," Kikyo added softly, though her fingers intertwined with his in a gesture that contradicted her tone of reprimand.

Taka cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention. She had been observing the exchange with a maternal expression. "I think we should prepare for the trip. I don't think we can go to a desert in our current clothes. We'd get heatstroke before we even arrived."

"I can design something appropriate," Kikyo offered enthusiastically. Her eyes sparkled with the creative challenge. "Light, breathable clothing that offers protection against the sun and sand."

"Nothing too revealing, Kikyo-san," Kanade warned, though she was smiling.

"Trust me, Kanade-chan," Kikyo replied with a mysterious smile that made Dazai chuckle.

Asuna walked over to Kanade, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "If you go, we all go. That's how we work here."

"Miss Kanade should not face danger alone," Sango added firmly. It was rare to hear her speak so much, and her unwavering loyalty resonated in every word.

Kin nodded from his position next to Fukuzawa. "If there is a threat of that caliber, we will need all available resources."

Fukuzawa finally spoke, his voice deep and authoritative. "Then it is decided. We will leave for the Crescent Moon Pass. Kunikida-kun, start making the logistical preparations."

"Yes, President!" Kunikida was already scribbling furiously in his notebook, planning every detail.

"This will be interesting!" Kenji exclaimed with his characteristic enthusiasm. "I've never been to a desert."

"It will be dangerous," Tanizaki warned, although his expression showed determination. "But if we all go together..."

"We will protect Kanade-san," Atsushi completed. He looked at Taka, who smiled warmly at him, and a betraying blush covered his cheeks.

Ranpo ate a sweet loudly. "Obviously I'm going. Who else will solve the mystery?"

"Your modesty is inspiring, Ranpo-san," Yosano commented sarcastically, but she was smiling.

—

After a while, turquoise rose petals floated in the night air like fragments of crystallized dreams. Kikyo had activated Hyakka no Niwa, and her teleportation power enveloped all the ADA members in a swirl of color and light. The clothes she designed for the desert were light but tough: light-toned tunics that reflected heat, scarves to protect them from the sand, and practical details that only someone with her eye for design could have considered.

When the petals dissolved, everyone found themselves standing in the middle of the vast Gobi Desert. The air was dry, biting, and the night sky stretched over them like a mantle of black velvet dotted with diamonds.

Akutagawa was the last to reach the rose petals. His figure materialized elegantly, as if the desert itself bowed to his presence. Without losing a second, he approached Kanade with measured steps, his gray eyes shining with an intensity he would never, ever, have shown in the Port Mafia.

"According to ancient records," he began, his voice low and educated exclusively for her, "when the sun sets, follow the direction of Polaris and you will find the Kingdom of Crescent Moon." He raised a pale hand, pointing toward the sky. "There is Polaris."

Kanade followed the direction of his finger, her purplish-pink eyes reflecting the stellar glow. A gentle smile curved her lips. "It's very bright."

"Yes." Akutagawa was watching her more than the stars. "The northwestern night sky looks much clearer than in Yokohama."

"Why is he here too?" Kunikida's voice cut the moment like a knife. He had his arms crossed, his glasses reflecting the starlight as he looked at the mafioso with barely contained suspicion.

Akutagawa didn't even deign to look at him directly. "Kikyo-san's roses reached me too. I wanted to see what her teleportation was like." His tone was completely neutral, as if he were commenting on the weather.

"Are we here for sightseeing?!" Kunikida exploded, taking a step forward with a flushed face.

Kanade instantly stepped between them, raising her hands with a nervous smile that didn't reach her eyes. "It doesn't matter, Kunikida-san. He's here anyway. We have enough food for everyone." She turned to Akutagawa, and her expression completely softened. She reached out and took his hand without hesitation. "Kuro, follow us and don't get lost."

Akutagawa looked at their intertwined hands, and for a moment, something vulnerable crossed his face. He didn't pull away. He didn't say anything. He simply let Kanade lead him.

Dazai and Kikyo, walking together a few steps behind, exchanged a knowing glance.

"They aren't even trying to hide it," Dazai murmured with amusement, his fingers brushing Kikyo's.

"Not at all," Kikyo agreed, her golden eyes shining with awareness. "It's almost painful to watch."

"Do you think they'll figure it out this century?" Dazai asked, leaning in to whisper near her ear.

Kikyo laughed softly, leaning back against him as they walked. "If we're lucky, maybe by the next millennium."

They walked for hours. The sand stretched endlessly beneath their feet, and the night wind began to pick up, dragging fine particles that seeped through every gap in their clothing. Akutagawa's cough became more frequent, each spasm shaking his thin body.

Kanade stopped abruptly. Without saying a word, she removed the scarf protecting her neck and approached Akutagawa. With smooth but firm movements, she wrapped it around the mafioso's neck, adjusting it carefully.

"Karei..." Akutagawa began, his voice hoarse.

"Don't argue," she cut him off with that smile she reserved just for him.

Akutagawa looked at her for a long moment. Then, with hands that trembled slightly—not from weakness, but from something much deeper—he took the scarf and returned it, wrapping it back around Kanade's neck with a delicacy that violently contrasted with his reputation. "I don't need it."

"Tell me if you do," Kanade replied, and there was something in her voice, a warmth that made even the freezing desert seem warm.

Akutagawa nodded, allowing himself one of those rare smiles only she could elicit. "By the way, can you ask me what happened to the evil priestess?"

Kanade's eyes lit up with genuine curiosity. "What happened to her?"

"Since you're intrigued, Karei, I'll continue telling you everything I know."

The rest of the ADA, who had been keeping some distance, began to slow down. One by one, they moved closer, forming an irregular semicircle around Akutagawa as he spoke.

"The imperial tutor of Crescent Moon is one of the most infamous evil priestesses in history." Akutagawa's voice had adopted that scholarly tone he only used when discussing topics that genuinely interested him. "The Kingdom of Crescent Moon lay on the road between the Central Plain and the west. There were frequently many clashes."

"How did she end up in that place?" Taka asked, adjusting the scarf protecting her hair. Her tone was curious, devoid of the judgment others showed toward the mafioso.

"The evil priestess of Crescent Moon was an orphan," Akutagawa continued. "She wandered without a place to go. As she grew up, the priestess learned sorcery. Intimidated by the priestess's power, the people of Crescent Moon named her their imperial tutor."

"Power born of fear," Kin murmured, his aquamarine eyes fixed on the horizon. "The worst kind of authority."

Akutagawa gave him a brief look, something akin to respect crossing his features before continuing. "Back then, the two countries were in constant warfare. The imperial tutor built an altar. She encouraged the soldiers, and they fought with everything to protect their beloved city. With arrows, stones, and swords, the battle intensified."

Atsushi had unconsciously moved closer, fascinated despite himself. "But?"

"But," Akutagawa's voice turned darker, "at some point, the tutor decided to open the city gate at the height of the battle. The city became an altar of blood. Taking advantage of the blood offering, she increased her powers in black magic. The Kingdom of Crescent Moon became the Crescent Moon Pass."

Silence fell over the group like a heavy cloak.

"She betrayed her own people," Yosano finally said, her voice cold as ice. "She used their lives as fuel."

"Exactly," Akutagawa confirmed.

"And the rest of the kingdom?" Kanade asked, her eyes fixed on him.

"After the place was destroyed, many evil spirits remained. The oasis and the houses were buried under the sand." Akutagawa paused, looking toward the horizon where the darkness swallowed everything. "It's a cursed place."

"And the rumor of the missing people?" Kanade pressed.

"I heard," Akutagawa said with that casual tone he used for the most horrible atrocities, "that the evil priestess feeds the spirits of the dead citizens with passersby so they don't starve and self-destruct."

"How charming," Dazai commented ironically. "Sounds like my kind of place."

"Dazai-san," Kikyo gently reprimanded, although her lips were twitching with a suppressed smile.

"Your knowledge is impressive, Akutagawa-san," Tanizaki admitted, although his stance remained cautious.

Akutagawa's expression instantly turned cold. "It's nothing. Your organization is the ignorant one."

Tanizaki turned, glaring at him. Akutagawa simply looked back with barely disguised mockery, an eyebrow raised in silent defiance.

"It's just an ancient story that's in many Yokohama books," Akutagawa continued with disdain. "Why are you getting so angry at me for reading?"

"Akutagawa-kun," Kanade began, stepping between them again.

"Although the story Kuro told is unverified..." Kanade said, addressing the whole group, "the Kingdom of Crescent Moon did exist. Historical records confirm it."

At that moment, they saw a dark structure emerge from the dunes in the distance. The remains of what was once a house.

"I'll go check," Akutagawa announced, and before anyone could stop him, he had already activated Rashomon and was gliding toward the ruins with unnatural speed.

As soon as he disappeared from view, Atsushi turned to Kanade, his expression worried. "Kanade-san, don't you think Akutagawa is strange?"

"Yes," Kanade replied without a second of hesitation.

The direct answer surprised Atsushi. "Then... why do you keep him close? Wouldn't it be dangerous?"

The rest of the ADA watched them attentively. All except Dazai, Kikyo, and Ranpo. Those three watched the scene with expressions that suggested they already knew exactly how this conversation would end.

"He's not dangerous to me," Kanade simply said.

"But he's a mafioso," Kunikida insisted, adjusting his glasses. "From the Port Mafia. His record is—"

"Hold on," Kanade cut them off, and her voice had lost all its playful warmth. Suddenly, it was cold, sharp, dangerous. "That's not right."

Everyone blinked.

Kanade took a step forward, her purplish-pink eyes shining with an intensity that made several people subconsciously step back. "Strange doesn't mean dangerous. I look strange to others. But does that make me dangerous?"

"Kanade-chan..." Kikyo began softly.

"No, let me finish." Kanade gestured with her hands, all her usual expressiveness channeling into a defense. "He simply does his job as it has to be done. He's not going to sing about love and friendship in the mafia. Do you expect a MAFIOSO to be sweet or kind when his job is literally to be the shadow Yokohama needs?"

"Kanade-san—" Atsushi tried.

"It's the MAFIA after all," Kanade continued, her voice rising in volume. "Those who are there adapt to survive, because if they stick with that perfect moralistic mindset..." She stopped, looking directly at all of them. "You'll be easily killed."

The silence was absolute.

"Besides," Kanade added, her tone softening slightly, "I have tested his spiritual power."

"And the result?" Kin asked, his aquamarine eyes piercing Kanade with that characteristic intensity.

"It is extremely high," Kanade admitted, turning to look toward where Akutagawa had disappeared. "But I don't sense malice in him. Not toward me, at least." She turned back to them. "If he's planning to do something to me, I'll handle it. Kuro and I get along. He has treated me with more affection in just one night than..." She stopped, biting her lip.

"Than many other people in much longer," Asuna completed softly, understanding shining in her eyes.

Kanade nodded. "I have nothing valuable to exploit, and he stopped chasing the tiger's bounty a long time ago."

Atsushi blinked, surprised.

"Be nice to him," Kanade requested, and there was something almost desperate in her voice. "Don't bother him. Kuro simply likes to cause mischief and annoy you. Don't take it so personally."

"Kanade-chan," Kikyo said, approaching and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, "no one is questioning your judgment."

"Aren't you?" Kanade laughed, but the sound was bitter. "Because it feels exactly like that."

Fukuzawa, who had been observing in silence all this time, finally spoke. His deep voice cut the tension like a hot knife through butter. "Asahina-san is right. Judging someone solely by their affiliation is narrow-minded."

"President..." Kunikida murmured, surprised.

"However," Fukuzawa continued, his gray eyes fixing on Kanade, "it is also the responsibility of each of us to maintain appropriate caution. We are not asking you to reject your relationship with Akutagawa-kun. Only that you understand our concern."

Kanade looked down but nodded slowly.

"The President is right," Yosano added, crossing her arms. "Although I must admit there is something... interesting about how Akutagawa behaves with you versus how he normally acts."

"He's like a rabid dog that suddenly turns into a puppy," Ranpo commented, popping a sweet into his mouth. "Very interesting, indeed."

"Ranpo-san," Kanade warned, but there was a betraying blush on her cheeks.

"What? It's the truth." Ranpo shrugged. "Great detectives don't lie about the obvious."

Dazai chuckled. "Our Ranpo-san, always so direct."

"Although Akutagawa-kun is dangerous," Taka said thoughtfully, adjusting the bandages in her bag, "he hasn't shown hostility toward us on this trip. In fact, his information has been invaluable."

"Miss Kanade knows his heart," Sango added, her voice calm but firm. "If she trusts him, that trust is not unfounded."

"Exactly," Kenji agreed with his usual smile. "And if he turns out to be bad, we can all beat him together!"

"Kenji-kun, that's not the point..." Kunikida began, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"But it's a valid point," Kin interjected with his dry tone. "Akutagawa is strong, but he's not invincible. If he betrays the trust, he will pay the consequences."

"He won't," Kanade said with absolute certainty.

"How can you be so sure?" Atsushi asked, genuinely curious.

Kanade looked at him, and for a moment, her purplish-pink eyes reflected something ancient, something that spoke of lives lived and losses suffered. "Because I know what it's like to be alone, Atsushi-kun. I know what it's like to be judged for things you can't control. And I know what it's like when someone finally sees you as something more than a monster."

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with meaning.

"Kuro is cold with you because that is his armor," Kanade continued softly. "Because in his world, kindness kills you. But with me..." She paused, a small smile curving her lips. "With me, he can be different. And I'm not going to take that away from him."

Atsushi looked down, ashamed. "I'm sorry, Kanade-san."

"Don't apologize for worrying," Kanade replied, her tone softening completely. "Just... try to understand."

The group had finally reached the abandoned structure that Akutagawa had seen. The adobe walls were cracked but still standing, offering at least the illusion of shelter against the relentless desert.

Kanade naturally extended her canteen toward Akutagawa. It was a simple, intimate gesture that spoke of a trust built beyond words.

Akutagawa took it, and something soft crossed his normally cold features. A genuine smile, small but unequivocally real, curved his lips as he drank. Then he handed it back to Kanade, who accepted it without hesitation and drank from the same spot where his lips had been.

Those two weren't even trying to hide it. It was almost painfully obvious.

Dazai and Kikyo exchanged a look of shared amusement from their position. Kikyo's fingers brushed Dazai's with that familiarity only the two of them shared.

"They should just kiss and get the tension over with," Dazai murmured low enough for only Kikyo to hear.

"Give it time," Kikyo replied with a mysterious smile. "The best romances are the ones that develop slowly."

"Is there more water?" Akutagawa asked, turning back to Kanade with that voice he only used with her: soft, almost vulnerable.

Kanade smiled, ready to offer him her canteen again, when...

"I have water too." Kunikida's voice cut the moment like an axe. He placed a water bottle on the house's decaying table with a deliberate thud. "Help yourself."

The air in the room instantly changed.

Akutagawa slowly turned his head toward Kunikida, his gray eyes narrowing with something dangerous. "I can't share water with Karei?" His tone was deceptively calm, but there was venom in every syllable. "Do you perhaps fear that I will corrupt her good heart with my filthy mafioso spit?"

The silence that followed was so tense it could have been cut with a knife.

Akutagawa wasn't stupid. He knew perfectly well that no one in the ADA—except Sango, Kenji, and perhaps Kikyo and Dazai for different reasons—actually wanted him there. They tolerated him because Kanade insisted. Because Kanade defended him. Because Kanade cared about him.

And that made every condescending word he directed at them even sweeter.

"You're running low," Kunikida insisted, adjusting his glasses with a tense gesture.

"Really?" Akutagawa tilted his head slightly. "You should drink first."

"You are the guest," Kunikida ordered, and there was something in his tone that suggested the word 'guest' left much to be desired. "You should drink."

"You have been a great help," Akutagawa retorted with false courtesy. "You drink."

The tension escalated, transforming into a silent battle of wills. Akutagawa finally looked at Kanade, as if her opinion was the only one in the entire universe that truly mattered.

"Is it poisoned?" he asked with those gray eyes fixed on her purplish-pink ones.

"It's not, but..." Kanade began, and something in her expression told him everything he needed to know.

That was enough.

Akutagawa took the bottle and drank in one long gulp. The water went down his throat. Everyone waited with bated tension, watching, looking for some manifestation, some revelation of evil intentions.

Nothing happened.

Akutagawa set the empty bottle down, his expression unreadable except for a slight look of distaste. "It doesn't taste good." He let the bottle fall to the floor, where it shattered into pieces. His eyes never left Kunikida as he added disdainfully: "Karei's canteen tastes better."

Kunikida clenched his fists, but before he could respond, Kin moved.

The Agency's vice-president drew a sword from her bottomless bag—a gift from Kikyo—with elegant, deliberate movements. Her aquamarine eyes shone with an intelligence that missed nothing.

"Young Akutagawa," Kin began with that direct voice that brooked no nonsense. "I assume you have been instructed in the arts of the sword by the Moon Archon, who, by the way, is the Mafia's Archon and Kikyo's twin, Ueno Takako, correct?"

Akutagawa arched an eyebrow, genuinely interested for the first time in anyone other than Kanade.

"Here is one for you to protect yourself," Kin concluded, extending the sword.

"Let me take a look." Akutagawa took it with the elegance of someone truly trained in the art. He unsheathed the blade with a fluid motion...

And he stopped.

The sword was broken. Not just broken: shattered into a thousand fragments that rattled inside the scabbard like crushed glass.

"Is your agency's vice-president mocking me?" Akutagawa's voice was dangerously low.

Kanade blinked, confused, until she saw the fragments.

"How am I supposed to defend myself with a broken sword?" Akutagawa tipped the scabbard, letting the pieces fall onto his palm. Rashomon emerged from his back like a living creature, devouring the fragments with insatiable hunger. "I know you didn't want to give me a broken sword. The people in your agency are too pure for that." Sarcasm dripped from every word. "It must have broken in that bag."

Kin frowned, genuinely perplexed. "That sword was intact when I put it away."

"His spiritual power," Kikyo murmured from her position, her golden eyes glowing with sudden understanding. "The sword changed color according to the wielder's intentions, but Akutagawa-kun's spiritual power is so immense that he overloaded it. He destroyed it from within."

"Fascinating," Dazai commented casually. "Our Akutagawa is as extreme as ever."

Akutagawa didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he turned to Kanade, and his expression immediately softened.

It was then that Kikyo looked up at the window, her Archon instincts flaring. "It seems like there will be a sandstorm."

Everyone turned. Outside, the horizon darkened with an approaching wall of sand. But there was something strange about it. The way it moved, the way reality seemed to fragment at its edges, like a video game glitching.

"If we continue, I don't know if we'll find shelter," Kanade said, walking toward the window. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted something. "Wait... there are two people outside."

"Will you give up so easily, Miss Kanade?" Sango asked, appearing next to her with those silent movements that characterized her undead existence.

Kanade shook her head, a determined smile crossing her lips. "Never."

Everyone peered out. Indeed, two blurry figures were moving in the distance, obscured by the approaching storm.

"Kuro," Kanade said, turning to him. "The person you mentioned before, is it a man or a woman?"

"I heard it's a woman," Akutagawa replied, already heading toward the door. "Otherwise, she wouldn't be a priestess."

He threw the door open, and the storm roared toward them with unnatural fury. The sand hit like needles, the wind howled like a living creature.

They decided to follow the figures, but visibility was almost zero. The sand covered everything, transforming the world into a chaotic swirl of brown and gray.

"Is there a shelter around here?!" Kanade shouted over the roar of the wind, but the figures had disappeared.

She had become separated from the group. Panic began to climb her throat.

Until she heard footsteps. A dry cough. Familiar.

"Kuro!" she called, turning around.

The wind brutally intensified, dragging her backward. Kanade felt herself losing her balance, gravity betraying her—

And then an arm wrapped around her waist, stopping her before she hit the ground hard.

Akutagawa held her firmly, lifting her with a care that violently contrasted with his reputation for brutality. With efficient movements, he tied his own scarf around her neck, protecting her from the sand.

"Be careful," he murmured, and there was something in his voice, something soft and broken that spoke of ancient devotions and eternal promises.

"Thank you," Kanade whispered, and for a moment she allowed herself to stay in his arms, feeling the non-existent heartbeat of a heart that stopped beating centuries ago but still belonged only to her.

The rest of the ADA appeared, emerging from the storm like specters.

"There's something strange about this storm," Kanade observed, reluctantly pulling away from Akutagawa. "I'm afraid it might be witchcraft."

"It's just a bit windy and sandy," Yosano commented, though her eyes scanned the surroundings with professional suspicion.

"I'm afraid there's more than just wind," Kanade insisted. "In any case, we need to find shelter first."

"I think the wind was manipulated to make us stop here," Asuna added, one hand on her hip as she analyzed the wind patterns with that strategic mind that characterized her.

"In any case, we should continue," Kunikida declared with determination.

Akutagawa couldn't help it. He laughed. It was a low, mocking sound, as he covered his mouth with one hand in a gesture of barely contained contempt.

"Do you find it gratifying to do things against the will of others?" he questioned with venom.

"What did you say?" Kunikida took a step forward, the tension escalating dangerously.

"Enough, please!" Kanade stepped between them, raising her hands in a gesture of peace. "Let's talk about it later. It would be creepy if it gets windier."

"It's not like it can blow us away," Ranpo scoffed, but as soon as the words left his mouth—

The wind exploded with supernatural force, grabbing Kanade and pulling her toward the void with violence that was anything but natural.

"Shit!" Kanade reacted in an instant, activating Kaleidoscope of the Eternal Soul.

Golden threads burst from her palms like solidified rays of light. The Golden Thread Formation technique unfolded in all its glory, soul filaments vibrating with pure, bright energy.

"Hold on to something solid!" she shouted to her threads.

The threads reacted... and wrapped around Akutagawa, pulling him from his position.

"I wasn't talking about him!" Kanade protested, but her threads had already detached from Akutagawa, misunderstanding her desire and leaving him at the mercy of the wind.

With her heart in her throat, Kanade launched her threads again. This time she aimed them with desperate precision, reaching Akutagawa just as the wind threatened to drag him away.

The threads wrapped around him, pulling him back.

Their gazes met in the midst of the chaos. Dark gray against purplish-pink. The golden threads shone between them, literally connecting them on a soul level.

Time seemed to slow down.

Akutagawa pulled something from his pocket with one hand while Rashomon stabilized him with the other. It was the ume blossom kanzashi that Kanade always wore, the one she had lost in the storm without noticing.

With movements surprisingly gentle for someone known for their brutality, he placed it back in her hair, adjusting it carefully.

"Here is your ume blossom kanzashi," he said softly. Then, while the threads still connected them, he added: "You have a very useful ability, Karei."

Kanade felt a blush rise on her cheeks, completely betraying her. "Don't panic," she managed to say, tying her threads firmly around Akutagawa's waist. "It's safer this way, Kuro."

When she tried to send her threads toward a firm surface to anchor them, the filaments inadvertently caught the entire ADA, wrapping them in a golden net.

"Don't make the same mistake," Kanade told her threads with affectionate exasperation.

The threads flickered, as if apologizing.

Third time was the charm.

This time, Kanade launched her threads with absolute concentration. They clung to a rock formation, something firm and solid. With a powerful pull, the entire ADA was dragged forward, landing in a confused heap at the entrance of a cave that had been revealed after the storm.

"We really are lucky!" Kanade exclaimed, already standing and running toward the interior of the cave. "Let's take shelter in there!"

One by one, everyone followed her into the darkness of the cave, leaving behind the unnatural storm that howled with the fury of a rejected witch.

Inside, safe from the wind and sand, Akutagawa found himself close to Kanade. Her threads still lightly connected them, glowing faintly in the gloom.

"You should retract your ability," he murmured, but he didn't move to pull away.

"In a moment," Kanade replied, and both of them knew it was an excuse.

Because those golden threads were not just her power. They were the physical manifestation of something neither of them was ready to name out loud, but which existed as real and tangible as the desert sand or the stars in the night sky.

A bond that transcended lives, death, organizations, and everything the world tried to put between them.

Unbreakable. Eternal. Absolutely theirs.

Chapter Text

The group burst into the cave like a desperate stampede, panting as the sandstorm raged outside with a fury that seemed intent on stripping the skin from their bones. The darkness enveloped them immediately, and for a moment, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the howling of the wind outside.

"Are we all here?" Kanade's voice cut through the silence with natural authority, her purple-pink eyes scanning the shadows as she mentally counted each member.

"I think so..." Kikyo murmured, delicately rubbing her head. Her burgundy nails shimmered even in the cave's gloom, and her serene expression contrasted sharply with the chaos they had just endured. Her red rose kanzashi glowed faintly under the sparse light.

"Does anyone have flashlights?" Fukuzawa asked, his deep voice resonating with that silent authority that made everyone feel a little safer, even in the midst of danger.

Kin pulled a flashlight from her gear and turned it on without a word, her face as impassive as ever. The light revealed the rocky walls of the cave and the varied expressions of the group: some relieved, others still processing what had just happened.

Kanade was thinking about something, her expression serious as her lips slightly pursed. Akutagawa noticed immediately. He always did. His eyes never strayed from her for too long.

"Karei, what are you thinking about?" the Rashomon user asked, his voice softer than he used with anyone else.

Kanade's eyes lit up with a spark of understanding that Akutagawa had learned to recognize. "The two women's gait was unique. They cannot be common people. The one with black hair with a violet gradient must be the Imperial Tutor."

"I think the one in lilac must be the other Imperial Tutor," suggested Taka, her dark golden eyes gleaming with curiosity as she moved closer to the group.

Kanade shook her head, her black hair with purple highlights moving with the gesture. "It’s impossible. She was the Imperial Tutor of Yong'an. They have a 100-year difference."

"How do you know so much about that?" asked Asuna, her jade eyes full of genuine curiosity.

A mischievous smile crossed Kanade's lips. "To tell you the truth, another one of my reincarnations was there being a tutor to a certain prince... anyway, if stopping us here was the intention of the Crescent Moon Imperial Tutor, she succeeded." She sighed dramatically, as if all this were an elaborate cosmic joke.

"Do we stay here until the sandstorm stops?" asked Atsushi, looking nervously toward the cave entrance.

"It's the safest thing to do if we don't want to be blown away by the wind again," Kanade said with a more serious tone.

Dazai, who had been unusually quiet, approached Kikyo with that carefree stride that characterized him. "Kikyo-chan, do you think this shelter is safe?" His voice had that playful tone he only used with her.

Kikyo gave him a sidelong glance, a soft smile playing on her lips as her golden eyes with ringed pupils shimmered with something only Dazai could fully read. "Always the pragmatic one, Dazai-kun. Although I doubt death by sandstorm is your preferred method."

"You're right," he replied with his characteristic smile. "I'd prefer a more... romantic ending. Perhaps with you by my side."

"How dramatic," Kikyo murmured, but her hand briefly found his, a gesture so subtle that almost no one noticed.

Kikyo extended her lighter and noticed a deeper hole in the cave. Someone must have dug there. "It looks like this extends further," she observed as the group decided to keep walking.

"The people of Crescent Moon herded cattle for a living," Kanade explained as they advanced. "To take shelter from the sandstorms at night, they excavated the rocks. They used dynamite."

Suddenly, the flashlights illuminated figures in the darkness. The group extended their lights, revealing several merchants in Arabic clothing who flinched at the sudden light.

"Who are you?" Kanade asked, her voice firm but not threatening.

"We are just merchants passing through, and we want to take shelter from the sandstorm," an old man said in a trembling voice.

"Why are you hiding?" Asuna asked, her jade eyes narrowing with suspicion.

A child answered defensively: "We were fine in the shelter until you burst in out of nowhere! Who knows if you're human or ghosts? We didn't dare make a sound!"

Kanade walked toward the child, her purple-pink eyes glowing with an intensity that made the little one take a step back. But when she spoke, her voice was gentle. "This is a misunderstanding, we are detectives from Yokohama, these people are my friends. These things are called flashlights."

"In conclusion, you are merchants and we are normal detectives who happened to meet in the same place," Kikyo said with a smile on her lips that didn't quite reach her eyes, aware of the white lie about their supernatural abilities.

Akutagawa observed the merchants with his characteristic cold expression. "Half of the people who passed through here disappeared, but you still dared to come. How can you be ordinary?"

"The rumor is exaggerated," the guide replied. "If you find a reliable guide and don't enter the Crescent Moon Kingdom, you can still pass through safely."

Kanade felt the tension in Akutagawa and gently took his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. "This was just a misunderstanding. I apologize for the commotion." Her touch instantly calmed him, as always.

The group sat with the merchants, waiting while they drank water. Akutagawa didn't let go of Kanade's hand, his thumb unconsciously tracing circles on her skin.

"Karei, there are characters on the rock you're sitting on," the black-haired man warned.

She stood up and blew the dust away, revealing ancient inscriptions.

"Are they Crescent Moon characters?" Kikyo asked, approaching with professional interest.

"Can you read that?" Kunikida asked, adjusting his glasses.

"I'm multilingual, Kunikida-kun," Kikyo replied with a small smile.

"What does it say?" Dazai asked, positioning himself next to Kikyo with a closeness that spoke of years of mutual trust.

Akutagawa stepped forward, his dark eyes scanning the characters. "General... it's the tombstone of a general."

"You read Crescent Moon characters too?" Kanade asked with a big smile, her pink lipstick shining under the flashlight's beam. Her heart beat a little faster at the almost imperceptible smile Akutagawa gave her.

"I learned a little," he said humbly.

"Come closer. Let's read it together, the three of us," Kanade asked with genuine enthusiasm.

The three leaned over the rock. Kanade began to read: "General. It is about the life of a general. She was from the Central Plains. Although in this inscription they say the general was actually a lieutenant. When the war between the two nations broke out, she led the soldiers on the front line. At first, she had 100 soldiers in charge. Then it was reduced to 70 soldiers, and she kept being demoted more and more."

Her voice softened slightly as she continued: "The lieutenant kept being demoted, she prevented soldiers from both sides from killing each other and saved civilians. Every time she did it, she kept being demoted. In the end, she had nothing to lose."

"What's the problem with that?" questioned a merchant.

Taka sighed, running a hand through her hair. "That is very wrong. A person must fulfill their duty as a soldier, especially in the middle of a war. In a war, deaths are unfortunately inevitable; her attempt to be a heroine only made everyone hate her and she became the laughingstock of the enemies."

"She saved lives! She even had a tribute!" the child protested.

"Little one, you are too naive," Taka said with a sigh, though there was understanding in her eyes.

"What else does it say?" Dazai asked, his expression more serious now.

Kanade continued reading, her voice becoming softer: "It says that the way she died... her shoelaces came undone, she fell to the ground, and was stabbed to death by mad soldiers..."

There was a moment of absolute silence.

Then, the merchants burst into laughter.

The ADA maintained completely neutral expressions, although several blinked in disbelief. Ranpo covered his mouth with his hand. Kunikida slowly adjusted his glasses. Yosano raised an eyebrow. Kenji tilted his head with curiosity. Tanizaki just stared at the stone as if to confirm he had heard correctly. Fukuzawa briefly closed his eyes.

Atsushi and Taka exchanged a look of complete bewilderment.

"What a... creative way to die..." Kikyo said slowly, her smile remaining but clearly not reaching her eyes.

Akutagawa had noticed something the others missed: the slight tremor in Kanade's fingers, the way her eyes had darkened for a second. He knew her reincarnations, he knew her past lives. And in that moment, he understood exactly who that general had been.

With a voice that cut like a knife, he read the last part: "People discovered that the rock was magical; as long as you kneel three times, you will be blessed in this desert."

The merchants, still laughing, hurried to kneel.

"Was that on the stone slab?" Atsushi asked Akutagawa.

"No. I made it up," the Rashomon user replied dryly. "They mocked the dead, now it's our turn to laugh."

The ADA let out contained laughter. Even Fukuzawa allowed a minimal smile.

"You're a rascal..." Kanade said with a playful smile, although her eyes shone with something deeper. Gratitude, perhaps. Or love.

Suddenly, a strange snake appeared, slithering between the rocks.

Neither Akutagawa nor Kanade blinked. The Rashomon user caught the snake with his bare hands in a fluid motion.

"Is there anything unusual about a snake in the desert?" he asked with complete calm.

"Be careful with its tail," Kanade warned.

The snake tried to bite Akutagawa, but he held it with his other hand. "What an interesting tail. Look."

"It's the scorpion-tailed snake," Kanade explained to the group. "It's a creature from the Crescent Moon Kingdom, with a snake body and a scorpion tail. It's very venomous."

Akutagawa played with the snake, making it spin like a top. "The evil priestess was able to become the Imperial Tutor because she could control these things."

Then Kanade saw it: more snakes emerging from the crevices.

"There are more of these! Get out of the cave!" she yelled.

The ADA's eyes widened. Weapons were drawn. Taka grabbed the merchants to make them move back.

"Move!" Fukuzawa ordered.

—

They narrowly escaped the snakes; the group of merchants, the ADA, and Akutagawa were all gasping from the frantic run across the desert. The heat was suffocating, and the dust was still settling on their clothes when one of the older merchants suddenly collapsed without warning.

Kanade immediately approached with Yosano and Sango. All three of their eyes widened at the sight of the bite: the creature's venom was lethal. Without treatment, he would die in four hours.

Yosano sighed, her fingers already moving toward her medical bag. "Thou Shalt Not Die," she murmured, activating her ability. But something was wrong. The healing light flickered weakly, and although she managed to stabilize him, it was insufficient. "I only bought him about 24 more hours," she said with obvious frustration.

Sango watched in silence, her lifeless eyes fixed on the wound, analyzing every detail with that tortured awareness that characterized her.

"Is there a cure?" Dazai asked, his voice maintaining that casual tone which contrasted with the gravity of the situation. He expected someone to answer, but he did not expect it to be precisely the one who did.

"There is a cure." Akutagawa's voice cut through the air with his usual dryness as he walked towards the fallen man. "There is a medicinal herb called Shanyue Fern. It is the antidote to the venom."

Everyone looked at him. Kikyo raised an eyebrow with renewed interest.

"To save the bitten person, others must risk their lives," the Rashomon user continued with complete naturalness. "You can only find the Shanyue Fern in the Crescent Moon Kingdom."

At that exact moment, a scorpion-tailed snake appeared on the shoulder of the merchant child. It lunged toward Akutagawa with lethal speed, but Kanade was faster. Her hand caught the creature in mid-air.

And the snake bit her.

"Miss Kanade!" Sango's cry tore through the silence, her voice laden with an anguish she couldn't physically express.

Akutagawa's eyes instantly darkened. In two strides, he was next to her, grabbing her hand with an urgency that completely contradicted his cold expression.

"Don't worry," Kanade tried to tell the alarmed ADA members who were staring at her. Her purple-pink eyes shone with determination. "It's not serious. I have resistance to poisons because—"

Akutagawa completely ignored her. He already had bandages in his hands, wrapping her hand with precise, rapid movements. "Yosano-san, a scalpel."

"What are you—?" Yosano started, but she was already handing it over.

Akutagawa made a clean cut on Kanade's hand. Dark blood immediately welled up.

And then, without the slightest hesitation, he brought his lips to the wound and began to suck out the venom.

The silence that followed was absolute.

Kunikida adjusted his glasses so slowly that he seemed to be processing whether what he was seeing was real. Ranpo had stopped eating his sweets, his mouth slightly ajar. Kenji blinked with that bewildered innocence that characterized him. Tanizaki had turned completely red. Yosano had a smile of pure, sadistic fascination on her lips.

Dazai simply smiled with the expression of one who knew everything from the start.

Kikyo, for her part, had a hand elegantly covering her mouth, though her golden eyes sparkled with pure amusement. "Ara ara~"

"Don't do it. The venom is potent..." Kanade began, but Akutagawa continued to suck the venom methodically, spitting it out to the side and returning for more.

Atsushi was completely paralyzed, his golden eyes wide as saucers. Taka had covered half her face with one hand, although the flush on her cheeks was noticeable.

"It's okay, Kuro. It doesn't hurt anymore..." Kanade tried again, but Akutagawa lifted his gaze.

His lips were stained with dark reddish blood. His black eyes looked at her with a silent reproach that clearly said: Do you really think I'm going to stop just because you ask me to?

"I'm fine, really," Kanade insisted, and this time Akutagawa finally released her and stood up.

Kanade turned to the merchants, trying to regain her professional composure. "Check yourselves, bandage your wounds if necessary."

Akutagawa looked at the snake that had bitten Kanade. He didn't use Rashomon. He didn't use any weapon. He simply looked at it.

And the snake exploded.

The sheer intensity of that gaze made several merchants take a step back.

"Interesting," Dazai murmured with a smile.

The ADA and Akutagawa, guided by one of Kikyo's Roses—this one an olive green color that glowed with faint light—began to search for the kingdom. The petals floated in the air like fireflies, marking the path through the desert.

"We've arrived," Kikyo announced when the petals returned to her red rose kanzashi, the physical manifestation of her ability Hyakka no Niwa.

The team walked toward the Crescent Moon Kingdom. It was a small but fortified city, full of soldiers patrolling with military discipline.

Akutagawa instantly turned upon sensing presences. His combat instincts never failed.

The team hid behind a tree twisted by the desert wind. Akutagawa and Kanade's eyes shone in the moonlight.

"Should we strike first?" Akutagawa asked, his voice low but charged with that contained violence he always carried beneath the surface.

"Let's wait for them to leave. We can't fight them," Kanade said, her tone firm but strategic.

The duo waited in perfect silence until the two women—likely the Imperial Tutors—retreated. Only then did they get up and continue walking with the rest of the group.

"The Shanyue Fern is said to be peach-shaped, with large leaves, thin roots, and it loves shade," Kikyo explained while observing the royal castle in the distance. "It generally grows in high places."

"The castle," Kanade said, her purple-pink eyes narrowing. "The royal family cultivates it."

They split into teams. Akutagawa, Kanade, Atsushi, Taka, and Sango formed one, while the rest continued their exploration in another direction.

Kanade's group managed to infiltrate the castle gardens. Akutagawa found the fern with lethal efficiency, uprooting it without making a sound. He extended it to Kanade, who examined it with an expert eye.

"I feel much better. Thank you, Kuro!" Kanade said with a genuine smile, carefully putting the plant away.

Akutagawa sat down next to her, so close that their shoulders nearly touched. He didn't say anything, but his presence was a silent declaration.

Atsushi watched the interaction with a mixture of confusion and awkwardness. Taka simply smiled with that maternal warmth that characterized her.

As some moved toward where Akutagawa had gotten the herb, they heard a blood-curdling scream.

"What is that?" Atsushi asked, his body tensing instinctively.

"Let go of me! You're stepping on me!" said another voice, guttural and strange.

Kanade removed some leaves and debris, revealing a human face partially buried in the dirt. It was still alive, its eyes moving upon seeing Atsushi and the merchants.

Atsushi jumped back with a gasp.

"Calm down, it's just a face. It can't get up. It won't harm us," Kanade said with that disconcerting naturalness, her purple-pink eyes glowing. The face watched them with unsettling recognition.

"I saw some of you about six or five decades ago," the face said.

The group collectively backed away.

"It will cause everyone to be killed. You don't have to be so nervous. I'm human too, I won't hurt you."

One of the merchants, consumed by greed, ignored the warning and kept digging. He dropped dead seconds later, his body consumed by something invisible.

Taka immediately covered the eyes of the youngest child with them, her protective instinct activating. "Don't look," she murmured in a soft but firm voice.

Kanade ran to a specific spot and a completely muscular man fell out: the general.

"He's a living corpse. He's not like Sango," Kanade said, backing away strategically.

Sango gritted her teeth, her cadaverous form wanting to emerge out of protective instinct. She waited for an order from her master.

Kanade subtly shook her head. Not now.

"Calm down. They just want to take us somewhere else. They won't kill us now. Don't do anything reckless. Let's see what happens," Kanade whispered to the group.

The general raised his weapon and cornered them all like cattle. The man extended his putrid hand toward his own face.

"What is that?" the man asked, still speaking despite being a corpse.

"It's your own body. You were consumed by the Shanyue Fern," Kanade said with clinical cruelty, then retreated, leaving the man in his own existential misery.

The group was captured and led through dark passages. Akutagawa and Kanade continued talking as if nothing were happening, despite technically being prisoners.

"They call this man from Crescent Moon a general, I wonder who he could be..." Kanade said with genuine curiosity.

"There was only one general when the kingdom was conquered," Akutagawa explained as they walked. "His name was Ke Mo, which means grindstone in Mandarin. Apparently, he used to be delicate and was often teased. Determined to become stronger, he exercised with grindstones, which is how he got his name."

"Couldn't they have named him something else? Why didn't they call him Strong Man?" Atsushi asked with genuine perplexity.

"He is undeniably strong, and he was the bravest soldier in the kingdom," Akutagawa continued. "He is also loyal to the Imperial Tutor of Crescent Moon."

"Will she send us to the Imperial Tutors?" Taka asked, her dark golden eyes shining with strategic worry.

"Perhaps," Akutagawa replied indifferently.

They reached the Sinner's Pit. It was exactly what the name suggested: a deep abyss surrounded by bloodied weapons arranged to terrify prisoners.

Kanade and Akutagawa couldn't care less.

The general let out a resonant shout that echoed off the stone walls. Several merchants fell to the ground, grabbing their ears. The general spoke in his native language.

"Throw two of them into the pit! And imprison the rest!"

The men began arguing over who should be thrown in.

"Don't worry. I will volunteer if something happens," Kanade spoke, her voice clear and decisive.

The other men immediately pointed at her, shouting for her to be thrown in.

"General, I'll go first!" Kanade sacrificed herself without the slightest hesitation.

Atsushi, Sango, and Taka looked at her as if they desperately wished it were a joke.

"Miss Kanade, don't—" Sango began, her voice heavy with that perpetual distress.

Before anyone could react, Akutagawa was already near that pit, completely calm. The rest looked at him, disturbed by the dizzying height.

"I am fine," Akutagawa said in that flat voice.

"Don't move!" Kanade shouted, her composure finally breaking.

"Don't be afraid," Akutagawa said, walking closer to the precipice. He turned his back to the abyss, looking directly at Kanade.

Their eyes met.

And in that moment, in those black eyes that usually only showed coldness and violence, Kanade saw something different: absolute devotion, the same kind of devotion she had seen years ago when he was just a child who had lost all his reasons to live.

"Excuse me for just a moment, Karei."

And Akutagawa let himself fall backward.

"KURO!"

Kanade's scream tore through the air as she ran toward the precipice, all color draining from her face. She peered over the edge, her hands trembling, searching desperately in the darkness.

There was no sign of him.

The silence that followed was devastating.

Atsushi was paralyzed, his mouth open in shock. Taka had both hands over her face, her dark golden eyes wide with horror.

Sango simply stared into the abyss with those lifeless eyes, but something in her cadaverous expression conveyed a deep, ancient sadness, the kind of sorrow that comes from having lost everything once and being on the verge of losing it all again.

"Akutagawa..." Atsushi whispered, and for the first time since he had known him, there was no trace of resentment in his voice.

Only disbelief.

Chapter Text

Kanade continued to stare, paralyzed, at the spot where Akutagawa had fallen just seconds before. Her legs were trembling, not from fear, but from something far more primal. It was the sensation of losing something she didn't know she needed so badly until it vanished from her sight.

"KURO!"

The scream tore from her throat, and without a second thought, she jumped before Atsushi, Taka, or even Sango could stop her.

Her shadow was lost in the darkness of the Sinner's Pit, swallowed by the abyss as if she had never existed.

Taka's dark golden eyes met Sango's green ones and Atsushi's amethyst ones with yellow curves. They didn't need words. The three nodded simultaneously.

"Let's go!" Atsushi shouted, and they jumped as well.

But they were immediately seized by the cadaverous beasts guarding the pit. Putrid hands clung to their clothes, trying to drag them back.

"If we fall, you're coming with us!" Atsushi yelled, partially transforming his arm into the tiger's and shoving the creatures with him toward the precipice.

The three tumbled, the wind howling in their ears as the darkness enveloped them like a cold, damp blanket.

Before they could react, they felt something. It wasn't physical at first, but a presence: the characteristic black and red fabric of Rashomon wrapping around their bodies with surgical precision, halting them in mid-air.

The sound of boots echoing against wet stone, along with lighter footsteps, filled the silence of the abyss.

Akutagawa was alive.

He was carrying Kanade princess-style, his expression completely serene as if jumping into a seemingly mortal pit were something he did every day. His coat waved slightly in the updraft coming from the depths.

Kanade didn't completely recognize Akutagawa in the near-total darkness of the pit. Her purple-pink eyes searched his face in desperation.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" she asked, her hand trembling as it reached for Akutagawa's face, touching his cheek as if she needed physical confirmation that he was real.

"I am fine," Akutagawa replied with that monotonous voice, although something in his tone was softer than usual.

"Very well. Thank you for saving Atsushi-kun, Sango, and Taka-chan. Please put us down," Kanade requested, trying to regain some composure.

Akutagawa lowered the trio carelessly with Rashomon, dropping them the last few inches without ceremony. But he held Kanade firmly against his chest.

"No."

"Why?" Kanade asked, blinking in genuine confusion.

"It's dirty. Full of vermin," the Rashomon user said as he walked over the corpses scattered across the pit floor with the same indifference with which he would walk over stones in a river.

Atsushi looked at the bodies with barely contained horror. Taka's lips were pressed into a thin line, her dark golden eyes shining with determination not to show weakness. Sango simply observed with those lifeless eyes, but something in her posture conveyed a mixture of relief and apprehension.

Akutagawa held Kanade tighter against his chest as something moved in the shadows. One of the creatures, still half-alive, crawled toward them with a guttural moan.

"Just ignore it," Akutagawa said as he nimbly leaped over the creature without breaking his stride.

Kanade was very comfortable against Akutagawa's chest, her cheek resting against the rough fabric of his coat, listening to a heart that beat with disturbing tranquility. But Atsushi, Sango, and Taka were not faring as well. They barely dodged Ke Mo, the corpse general who pursued them with bestial ferocity.

"Damn intruders!" the general roared, his voice distorted by decades of partial decomposition.

Taka dodged a blow from the general, her body moving with a grace that spoke of years of training. Her hands momentarily glowed with that characteristic aura of her Kawarimi no Kokoro ability. When the general's fist impacted the rock wall behind her, the stone instantly liquefied, turning into a viscous mass that partially trapped the creature's arm.

"Interesting ability!" Kanade commented from her privileged position in Akutagawa's arms.

"You can't keep carrying me," Kanade protested weakly, although she made no real move to free herself.

"Why not? Hold on tighter," Akutagawa replied in a tone that admitted no argument.

The general continued to follow them, trying to attack, but Akutagawa was easily beating him. It was obvious why: Akutagawa was thin but agile and fast, while the general was muscular and slow, his movements clumsy from cadaverous stiffness.

Sango watched the combat with that unsettling stillness that characterized her. Her cadaverous form wanted to emerge, that ferocity repressed throughout her life threatened to explode at the threat. But she held back. Miss Kanade had not given the order.

However, her ability "Silence of the Silent" was already active. The translucent aura of silver and deep blue tones was subtly beginning to manifest around her body. Repressed emotions, decades of silence, began to accumulate in her reservoir with every second that passed without expressing the fear she felt for Kanade's safety.

"Kuro, did you kill all of them?" Kanade asked, nodding toward the scattered corpses.

"Yes," Akutagawa replied without the slightest inflection of remorse or justification.

Kanade decided not to dwell on it. In this place, in these circumstances, survival was all that mattered.

"Kuro, think twice before jumping if you see a hole like this. I couldn't even stop you. I didn't know what to do," Kanade said, frowning with genuine concern.

But the general wanted to attack them again, his arm free from the liquid rock trap that Taka had created. Before he could reach them, golden threads sprang from the ground like living snakes, wrapping around the general's ankles and wrists.

The threads shone with that characteristic warm light of Kanade's ability, "Kaleidoscope of the Eternal Soul." They were not physical in the conventional sense, but manifestations of pure spiritual energy that bound not the general's body, but his corrupt spiritual essence.

"It's four against one! It's not fair!" the general protested, his voice cracking between indignation and despair.

"You wouldn't beat us even if you were one," Akutagawa said with clinical cruelty.

"All that girl's supporters must die!" the corpse roared, trying to break free from the golden threads.

Akutagawa was about to attack again, Rashomon beginning to manifest in lethal forms, but Kanade spoke first.

"Don't kill him yet, Kuro. We need to ask him how to get out of here. Now, can you put me down?"

"Wait," Akutagawa said, walking while still carrying Kanade princess-style. He moved forward with measured steps, finally setting her down with a care that violently contrasted with how he had treated the other three.

Kanade looked up as Akutagawa stepped out of the shadows. The dim light filtering from above finally illuminated his face, and Kanade felt something tighten in her chest, visually confirming that he was completely unharmed.

"How are the others?" Kanade asked no one in particular, but she almost tripped over the unconscious general lying on the ground.

"Be careful. Didn't I tell you? The floor is dirty with vermin blood," Akutagawa said, looking with absolute disdain at the fallen general.

Atsushi watched the interaction with a complex mixture of emotions. He had seen Akutagawa jump without hesitation, willing to die if it meant protecting Kanade. And now he saw them interact with a familiarity that was almost painful to witness. Was this what Akutagawa was like when he wasn't trying to kill him?

"If you work for that girl, all the ghosts of our kingdom will hunt you to death," the general muttered, partially regaining consciousness.

"General Ke Mo, who are you talking about?" Kanade asked, carefully kneeling down to the corpse's level.

"Who else but the evil priestess?" the man spat with venom in every word.

"The Imperial Tutor? You don't work for her?" Taka asked, her voice laden with genuine confusion.

The man spat, and Akutagawa pulled Kanade away before the saliva could reach her feet, moving his body with a speed that spoke of deeply ingrained protective instincts.

"I will never swear allegiance to her again! She must pay for what she did!" Ke Mo shouted with a fury that transcended death itself.

"But, General..." Kanade tried to say, her voice adopting that diplomatic tone she used when trying to negotiate.

"They killed my brothers! I won't answer your questions!" the general roared.

Sango felt her reservoir of repressed emotions grow exponentially. The anger she felt at the general's intransigence, the residual fear from seeing Kanade jump into the abyss, the frustration of not being able to verbally express any of these things—it all accumulated like pressure in a sealed vessel.

The silver and blue aura around her body intensified slightly. Small luminous particles began to float like inverted ashes, ascending instead of falling. Each one represented a fragment of contained emotion, a word never spoken.

Akutagawa walked forward, his steps echoing with deadly authority in the confined space of the pit.

"I was the one who killed your brothers. They are not involved. You can answer their questions before you fight me again," the Rashomon user spoke with brutal honesty.

"You are all the same!" the man spat.

"We are here to get rid of the Imperial Tutor. How would we work for her?" Kanade intervened, her purple-pink eyes shining with implacable logic.

"If you don't work for her, why did you kill my brothers?" the general questioned, his voice cracking between accusation and genuine pain.

"You threw us in here, don't we have the right to defend ourselves?" Atsushi asked, his innate sense of justice emerging in his voice.

The general paused, processing the words.

"Nonsense!" he finally spat. Akutagawa again pulled Kanade away from the saliva projectile with nearly automatic movements. "You jumped yourselves!"

The quartet couldn't help but whistle innocently, clearly forgetting that, driven by adrenaline, they had recklessly jumped without even considering the consequences.

Taka covered her mouth with a hand, her cheeks blushing slightly. Atsushi looked away with obvious guilt. Sango simply maintained that neutral expression that concealed everything.

"Since we're all stuck here, let's call a truce," Kanade said diplomatically, extending a hand in a gesture of peace.

"Why are you angry with the Imperial Tutor?" Taka asked, her tone softer, almost maternal, trying to disarm the general's hostility.

"For the sake of your men, you'd better answer," Akutagawa warned, and there was something in his voice, a promise of contained violence, that made the general tense up.

"They're already dead! Don't you dare threaten me with that!" the corpse yelled in desperation.

Akutagawa stepped on the head of one of the corpses scattered on the ground. He applied pressure slowly, methodically, until the skull was crushed with a wet, dreadful sound that echoed in the confined space.

"But their bodies are here. Don't you know that the way to finish off ghosts is to get rid of their ashes?" he said with clinical cruelty.

Atsushi felt nausea rising in his throat. This was the Akutagawa he knew, the monster who killed without remorse. But then he saw Akutagawa's eyes briefly flick to Kanade, checking her reaction, implicitly seeking her approval or disapproval. It was a gesture so subtle he almost missed it.

The general began to walk toward them with renewed fury, but there was something different now. It wasn't the blind anger from before, but something closer to despair.

"Don't touch their bodies," he begged, and his voice broke. "They were brave soldiers, miserably stuck in this pit for years. Now that they have finally been freed, I cannot let anyone insult them."

He knelt, a gesture of submission that was painful to witness coming from someone who had been such a fierce warrior.

Sango felt something change in her empathic perception. The Empathic Resonance of her ability allowed her to detect repressed emotions, and the general, despite being a corpse, still retained fragments of his humanity. She could feel the crushing weight of his guilt, his pain at having failed his men, his unwavering love for those he had commanded.

The general's emotions appeared in her perception as streaks of color: deep blue of sadness, dark red of remorse, and something else, something golden and bright that was pure loyalty. It was beautiful and devastating at the same time.

"Are you truly here to kill Ban Yue?" the general asked, his voice barely a whisper now.

"Yes. Since you worked for her, tell us more," Kanade said, her tone softening, showing that deep empathy that characterized her.

The general began to tell his story. He spoke of the priestess who had promised to save their kingdom, of how he had trusted her blindly. Of how that trust had led to the most absolute betrayal, the death of all his men, the collapse of his entire kingdom.

Every word he uttered was like a knife in the heart of those listening. He spoke of soldiers who had been his brothers, of battles fought with honor, of a sworn oath to protect the innocent that he had kept until his last breath and beyond.

Kanade absorbed every word, her purple-pink eyes shining with understanding. Her ability allowed her to see the general's soul, to perceive the knots and fractures in his spiritual structure. She could see how decades of betrayal and pain had distorted his essence, twisting it into something barely recognizable.

Taka had tears glistening in her dark golden eyes. Her compassionate nature made her particularly vulnerable to stories of sacrifice and betrayed loyalty. Her hand moved unconsciously toward her weapon, as if she wanted to challenge the one responsible for such suffering.

Atsushi listened with growing horror. This was exactly the kind of injustice that infuriated him, the abuse of power he couldn't tolerate. The tiger inside him roared with a desire to intervene, to correct this monumental error.

Sango simply watched, but her ability was working intensely. She was passively absorbing the emotions the general released as he told his story. Every word charged with pain, every confession of failure, every expression of love for his fallen comrades turned into energy flowing into her reservoir.

It was not a conscious act on her part, but a natural consequence of her Empathic Resonance. The general desperately needed to vent, to release decades of unprocessed emotional trauma. And Sango, by the very nature of her ability, became the vessel for that pain.

She could feel her reservoir filling with emotions that were not hers: the general's guilt for not having protected his men better, his anger toward the priestess who had betrayed them, his infinite sadness for a kingdom that no longer existed. It all accumulated, layer upon layer, mixing with her own repressed emotions in a complex psychological cocktail.

The silver and blue aura around her body now had streaks of dark red and gold, reflecting the foreign emotions she had absorbed. The luminous particles floated more densely, creating an almost hypnotic effect.

"The evil priestess is a traitor," the general concluded, his voice charged with a hatred that had fermented for generations.

"General Ke Mo, calm down," Kanade pleaded, extending a hand in a gesture of peace.

But then she appeared.

A figure emerged from the deepest shadows of the pit, moving with a grace that violently contrasted with the environment of death and decomposition. It was the evil priestess, Ban Yue, the Imperial Tutor of Crescent Moon.

Her face was a mask of serenity that concealed centuries of secrets. Her eyes, black as the void, fixed on the group with an intensity that made even Akutagawa tense his defensive posture.

The silence that followed was absolute.

Kanade felt her golden threads vibrate with warning. Taka adjusted her stance, ready to activate her ability in an instant. Atsushi partially transformed his arms, tiger claws instinctively emerging.

Sango simply watched, her power reservoir now filled to dangerous levels. The accumulated emotions vibrated within her like a contained earthquake, waiting for the moment of release.

And the priestess smiled.

It was a smile that didn't reach her eyes, an expression that promised revelations none of them were prepared to hear.

Chapter Text

The evil priestess had appeared, leaping toward them with an agility that defied her ethereal appearance. The young woman had her hand wrapped in violet fire that crackled with supernatural energy.

She and Ke Mo began to argue in their native language, an ancient dialect of the Crescent Moon Kingdom that flowed with the cadence of a long-dead tongue. Akutagawa and Kanade could understand every word, but Atsushi and Taka only caught fragments, enough to know it was an intense verbal confrontation.

"Is she the evil priestess? Is she the Imperial Tutor?" Kanade thought, her purple-pink eyes analyzing every detail of the woman in front of her.

The priestess raised her hand toward them, the violet fire flickering dangerously.

"Are there more people here?" the woman asked in her language, her voice laden with caution and something else, something that sounded dangerously close to fear.

Akutagawa moved in front of Kanade in a motion so natural it seemed instinctive. He turned slightly and smiled at the young woman, one of those rare smiles he reserved only for her, filled with a silent promise: No one will touch you while I am here.

The priestess walked toward them, but her posture shifted when her eyes fell upon the dead soldiers scattered on the floor. She sighed with such palpable relief that it seemed she had been holding her breath for years.

"Were you the one who annihilated these ghost soldiers?" she asked Akutagawa directly, her tone neutral but charged with curiosity.

"It was an accident," Kanade quickly replied, interposing verbally before Akutagawa could admit to anything incriminating.

But Ke Mo, the general, would not let that lie pass. "Lie! The one in black killed them!" he shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Akutagawa.

"Who are you?" the priestess asked, and now her voice was gentler than it initially seemed. There was something vulnerable about her, something that spoke of loneliness and isolation.

"We are detectives from the ADA, and this is... a friend of mine," Kanade said, looking at Akutagawa with a smile that strategically concealed the truth. She wasn't going to reveal he was a mafioso in front of a potential enemy.

Akutagawa had his eyes closed, but he remained calm, with no intention of attacking. His posture was relaxed but alert, like a predator who knows exactly where everyone in the room is.

"No gifted person has been here. I thought you didn't care about this place," the young woman said, and there was a deep sadness in those words. "Do you want to get out of here?"

"Of course. But the magical formation is trapping us," Taka said, her voice charged with that maternal determination that characterized her.

The priestess released the magical formation with a simple gesture of her hand, the lines of energy dissolving like smoke.

"I removed it. You can leave now."

Sango had been observing everything in silence, her Empathic Resonance actively working. She could feel the priestess's repressed emotions: a crushing sadness mixed with guilt and something else, a solitude so profound it was almost tangible. The aura around the young woman was a deep blue, the color of stagnant pain.

"Who were the women who were there?" Kanade wondered aloud.

Then voices were heard from above.

"Hey! Is anyone down there?" Kikyo's voice resonated in the pit, clear and melodic even amidst the chaos.

One of her bright yellow illuminating roses floated down, creating enough light to illuminate the scene. The golden glow revealed what the darkness had partially concealed: they were literally surrounded by stacked dead bodies.

"Are these stacked bodies?" Atsushi asked, his voice cracking slightly. The tiger inside him roared with disgust at the amount of death concentrated in one place.

Akutagawa looked straight ahead without the slightest visible emotional reaction. When he noticed Kanade looking at him, he smiled again. It was a soft, almost tender expression, that violently contrasted with the macabre scenery around them.

Kikyo jumped down with a grace that seemed to defy gravity, landing with a soft touch of her feet against the damp floor. She saw General Ke Mo, and her golden eyes with ringed pupils glowed in the darkness like a predatory cat's.

"Who are they?" Kikyo asked, looking at the Imperial Tutor and General Ke Mo with that analytical expression that meant her mind was already working on multiple levels.

"She is the Imperial Tutor of Crescent Moon and he is General Ke Mo," Taka explained efficiently.

"They are now..." Kanade began, but the general started attacking the priestess before the poor young woman could react.

His massive fist slammed into the priestess's face with a dull sound that echoed in the confined space.

"Well... He clearly knows how to treat ladies..." Kikyo said with that perfect sarcastic tone, watching the general repeatedly punch the priestess without mercy.

Kanade was quick, grasping the general's hand with surprising strength. Her golden threads materialized instantly, wrapping around the living corpse's arm.

"General, I beg you to calm down. Use your words instead of your muscles," Kanade asked, her purple-pink gaze meeting the general's dead eyes. There was authority in her voice, the kind of command that came from centuries of leadership experience.

"Ban Yue?" Kanade asked, finally recognizing the young priestess.

The woman looked up, her black eyes meeting Kanade's purple-pink ones. "General... Hua?"

Kikyo appeared behind the general with a speed that Atsushi could barely follow. Her fingers found the exact pressure points with surgical precision, her burgundy nails shining in the night as she applied the necessary pressure to temporarily knock out the living corpse.

"Let him calm down a bit," Kikyo said, shaking her hands as if she had just finished a routine household chore. She walked forward with that characteristic grace. "Do you know the tutor?"

Kanade raised her hand toward the tutor carefully, her purple-pink gaze meeting the shy priestess's. There was recognition in her eyes, the kind of recognition that only comes from having shared significant experiences.

"Ban Yue?" Kanade asked, her voice soft and gentler than before, charged with an almost maternal tenderness.

"You still remember me, General Hua," Ban Yue said, and there were tears glistening in her black eyes.

"Of course, I do. But how did you end up like this?" Kanade asked, looking at the young woman with genuine concern.

"I am so sorry, Lieutenant. I... I made a mistake..." she said, her voice cracking.

"General? Lieutenant? Are you the general mentioned in that tomb?" Taka asked, her dark golden eyes wide with surprise.

Kanade put a hand on her back, adopting a more relaxed posture. "It's a very long story. 200 years ago, I had to prevent them from discovering that I kept reincarnating. Guided by a compass, I headed toward the desert. But my compass broke, and I ended up lost. There was an army recruiting people, and I ended up being recruited..."

"You were recruited by the army a few years ago?" Atsushi asked, his voice filled with disbelief. It was hard to imagine Kanade, with all her chaotic energy and jokester nature, as a military soldier.

"After that, I participated in several missions to expel bandits and was somehow promoted to Lieutenant General. Some soldiers also called me 'General' out of respect," Kanade recounted while stroking Ban Yue's head carefully, a gesture that was surprisingly tender.

Akutagawa watched the interaction with silent interest. Every facet of Kanade he discovered made her more fascinating in his eyes.

"Why did they call you General Hua if that's not your name?" Atsushi asked, scratching his head in confusion.

"I used an alias. The start of the border wars left children orphaned. Ban Yue was one of them. One day when I was cooking... I found her being bothered by some cowardly soldiers. Since then, she followed me wherever I went during that time. That's how I got to know her. She didn't know how to speak Japanese but barely spoke. She only had one friend, who was a boy from a foreign city," Kanade narrated, her smile becoming sweeter with every word.

"Sometimes I taught her to sing and fight. We got along very well. However, good times don't last forever. I got involved in a riot, I was injured in a stampede, I had to play dead because I couldn't move well... I don't remember what happened next. When I woke up, I was back in the Yong'an kingdom and completely lost contact with Ban Yue."

Sango felt her Empathic Resonance detecting the emotions Kanade was repressing while telling the story. There was pain there, guilt for not having been able to protect the child better, frustration over having lost contact. It all accumulated in streaks of color around Kanade's soul.

"I thought when they mentioned Ban Yue they were referring to the name of the kingdom. I didn't expect it to be you..." Kanade said, still affectionate toward the girl.

"I am so sorry. He was dragged into that stampede to save me," Ban Yue said, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks.

"How were you dragged into a stampede? If anything, you're perfectly capable of defending yourself," Taka said with a hand on her hip, her tone slightly reproachful but not cruel.

"I vaguely remember that both sides started fighting regardless of my mediation. I saw Ban Yue trapped in the crowd, I tried to save her but it was too late to get out of there," Kanade said, her voice adopting that distant tone she used when recalling past traumas.

"How can you vaguely remember things like that?" Kikyo asked, arching a perfectly defined eyebrow.

"Frankly, I'd rather remember the delicious steamed buns I ate yesterday than being dragged into a stampede hundreds of years ago," Kanade spoke with a smile on her lips, recovering that jovial energy that characterized her.

Akutagawa couldn't help a small smile at that. It was so typically Kanade, finding humor even in her own tragedies.

"Ban Yue, I saved you by choice. But perhaps you should apologize to someone else," Kanade said, her tone turning more serious.

The girl lowered her gaze, refusing to speak. Tears streamed from her eyes, rolling down her pale cheeks.

"As far as I know, you would never seek revenge and you wouldn't kill others. Why did you open the door? Are you willing to tell me? Why did you send the snakes to bite?" Kanade asked, her purple-pink eyes looking directly into the girl's soul with her ability to perceive hidden truths.

"I didn't send the snakes. They disobeyed my order and came out..." Ban Yue whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'm not lying, General!"

"Can't you summon the snakes?" Kanade asked, tilting her head slightly.

"I can summon them, but sometimes they ignore me," the young woman admitted, her voice filled with frustration and shame.

"Then, summon the snakes," Kanade requested with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

One of the snakes appeared almost immediately, materializing from the shadows. It was about to leap toward them with lethal intent, but it ended up headless before it could complete the movement. Rashomon had acted so fast that the attack was almost invisible.

"It wasn't Ban Yue," Akutagawa stated with total certainty, watching as more snakes aggressively appeared from multiple directions.

They were surrounded. Ban Yue tried to control them, her violet fire flickering as she gestured with her hands, but the creatures completely ignored her.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick like the desert dust that still hung after the artificial storm Kikyo had conjured. Snakes continued to rain down from the night sky, writhing in the air before being incinerated by Kikyo's crimson roses, which bloomed with elegant violence every time their petals touched the reptiles' scales.

Kanade watched the chaos with narrowed eyes, her mind working at high speed as she tried to connect the dots. The snakes weren't attacking her or Akutagawa when they were under the black wagasa he had pulled out of... well, God knows where. It was as if the umbrella created a safe zone, a space the creatures simply refused to enter.

"Why are the snakes attacking us?" she asked, turning to Ban Yue, who was visibly struggling against another wave of reptiles. The young priestess could barely keep up.

But the snakes seemed to follow a pattern. They didn't bite Kanade when she was with Akutagawa. That was... significant.

The sound changed. It was no longer just the hissing of snakes. It was something heavier, more deliberate. A strike that cut the air with enough force to shake the ground beneath their feet.

Akutagawa reacted in a split second. Rashomon was already deployed, the dark fabric billowing like a living beast as it blocked an invisible attack. Simultaneously, with a fluid movement that looked rehearsed a thousand times, he pulled out a wagasa—black as night, with crimson edges—and raised it over both of them, covering himself and Kanade in one gesture.

"Don't worry," he said with that deep, serene voice he only used with her. His gray eyes shone with steely determination, but also with something softer, something he reserved solely for Kanade. "They won't bite us if we're here."

Kanade looked at him, feeling that familiar tug in her chest that lately appeared every time Akutagawa did something like this. Something protective. Something that made her feel... important. Valued.

"Kuro," she called, her voice softer than she intended.

He looked at her immediately, as if her name on Kanade's lips were a command he couldn't ignore.

"Don't worry," he repeated, this time with a touch of warmth that few people in the world had ever heard. "None of them will die."

Kanade felt her heart race. Why does he always say exactly what I need to hear?

She shook her head, trying to concentrate. There was a battle happening. It wasn't the time for... whatever she was feeling.

"Kikyo-san," she called, raising her voice above the chaos, "can you use other crimson roses?"

Kikyo, who was standing next to Dazai with an elegance that seemed impossible amidst so much violence, shook her head. Her expression had turned serious, her normally warm eyes now sharp with concentration.

"Something is blocking my ability," she replied, pulling a weapon from her purse with precise movements. She fired three times in quick succession, each bullet finding its mark in the approaching snakes. "I can't access the other roses. Only the fire."

Taka appeared at her side, using her own ability to open a hole in the ground, creating a trap where several snakes fell and became stuck.

"There must be a sixth person in this place," Kanade said, her mind already jumping to the next conclusion. "Someone with a suppression ability or—"

A streak of light cut through the air.

No, not light. A sword. But it flew as if it had a life of its own, slicing through space with surgical precision.

Akutagawa reacted instantly. He raised the wagasa even higher, keeping it over Kanade while Rashomon deployed into multiple dark tentacles that intercepted the attack. The clash produced an explosion of energy that pushed everyone back.

When the dust settled, Akutagawa had already left the wagasa floating above Kanade—literally floating, held in the air by sheer force of will and Rashomon—as he leaped to the front lines.

"There is definitely a sixth person here," Kanade confirmed, shielding herself under the black umbrella. Her mind was racing, connecting information. "Wait for me here, Karei. I'll deal with them."

Karei. The nickname made her blush slightly. Akutagawa never called her that in front of others, but when they were alone... when he looked at her with those gray eyes full of silent devotion...

Concentrate, Kanade.

She watched the battle. Ban Yue was small, clearly not a close-quarters combatant. That strike had been too strong, too precise. It hadn't been her.

Her eyes brightened as the pieces finally clicked.

"Stop!" she shouted, stepping out from under the wagasa. "I know who you are."

More snakes rained down from the sky, an endless torrent of scales and fangs.

"Do you think I'm lying, General Pei Junior?" Kanade asked, her voice cutting through the chaos with surprising clarity.

There was a moment of silence. The flying sword paused in mid-air.

Taka used the distraction to strike another snake, her movements economical and precise. "A person like him would have drawn attention," she murmured, loud enough for Kanade to hear.

Kikyo, who had been observing with that calculating gaze she used when reading a situation, was finally able to invoke a Yellow Rose. The flashes of light momentarily blinded the snakes, giving them a reprieve.

Dazai immediately approached Kikyo, his hand finding hers with a familiarity that spoke of years of practice. "Nice move, Kikyo-chan~" he crooned, although his brown eyes were still scanning the area with that sharp intelligence he rarely showed openly.

Kikyo smiled at him, one of those small, genuine smiles she reserved only for him. "You should help too, instead of just watching, Osamu."

"But you're so beautiful when you fight. How could I look away?"

"Osamu."

"Alright, alright~"

A voice interrupted their exchange. It was male, young, with a tone of controlled arrogance.

"Miss Kanade," the voice said from the shadows, "did it not occur to you that the half-buried face might have been referring to your friend in black?"

Akutagawa whirled around so fast that Rashomon created a vortex of wind. His expression was... terrifying. Not in the usual way, when he was in battle mode. It was something more personal, colder.

A humorless smile formed on his face, his gray eyes shining with a dangerous light. The kind of light that preceded absolute violence.

"How did you learn to control those snakes?" he asked, approaching with measured steps. Every word dripped venom. Being accused of something like that, in front of Kanade, was clearly something he would not tolerate.

Kanade felt a chill run down her spine. Angry Akutagawa was dangerous. Offended Akutagawa was lethal.

A figure emerged from the shadows. It was a young man with sharp features, dressed in ancient but well-preserved military clothes. He had that air of ruined nobility, of someone who had seen too much and had chosen a dark path.

Pei Xiu.

"I have my ways," he replied with a twisted smile.

Kanade stepped forward, placing herself between Akutagawa and Pei Xiu before the situation escalated. She knew that look in Akutagawa's eyes. He was seconds away from unleashing Rashomon without restrictions.

"How and where did you meet Ban Yue?" Kanade asked, her voice firm but not hostile. She needed information, not a bloodbath.

Pei Xiu observed her with a mixture of respect and curiosity. "General Hua," he said, and something in his tone made Kanade tense. "Do you not recognize me?"

Kanade's eyes widened as she finally connected the features, the tone of voice, the way he stood. "Were you Ban Yue's friend?"

She moved closer, studying him. Yes, it was definitely him.

"Ban Yue," Kanade turned to the young priestess, who had stopped fighting and was now watching the scene with an expression of pure terror, "was it because of him that you wouldn't confess? Did he force you to open the gates of this city?"

Before Ban Yue could answer, Pei Xiu spoke.

"I did not have to force my subordinate to do so."

The silence that followed was crushing.

"How could you do this?" Kanade asked, and there was genuine pain in her voice. "Did you massacre this country?"

Pei Xiu didn't answer. He simply looked at her with those empty eyes.

Akutagawa, who had been watching everything with the tension of a predator ready to strike, finally spoke. His voice was low, dangerous, full of a contempt he rarely showed so openly.

"Perfect example of Yokohama's beautiful code of conduct," he said, and every word was like a knife. "Pure arrogance, corruption. It's a rat's nest. Thank you for confirming my reasons for this."

His hatred for the Yokohama higher-ups, for the system that had molded him and then discarded him, was palpable. Kanade could feel it radiating from him in waves.

Without thinking, she reached out and touched his arm gently. Akutagawa tensed, but he didn't pull away. He never pulled away when it was her.

"No!"

Ban Yue's cry made everyone turn.

The young priestess was trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Everyone is wrong. It was my choice to do it. It's all my fault."

Kikyo immediately approached, her expression softening with that maternal compassion so characteristic of her. She knelt beside Ban Yue, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Tell us the truth, Yue-chan," she asked softly. "Please."

Ban Yue looked down, her hands shaking. And then, in a broken voice, she began to tell the full story.

She spoke of the war. Of the impossible decisions. Of how Pei Xiu had been more than a superior, he had been a friend. Of how she had made the decision, not because she was forced, but because she believed it was the right thing to do.

Of how wrong she had been.

As she spoke, her voice weakened. Exhaustion finally caught up to her, years of guilt and pain manifesting physically.

She fainted.

Akutagawa caught her before she touched the ground, his reflexes immediate. With surprisingly gentle movements, he held her while checking her pulse.

"Calm down," he said to the others, his voice returning to that professional, controlled tone. "She's fainted." He placed two fingers on her wrist, taking her pulse with the precision of someone who had seen too many people on the brink of death. "Her pressure is low, but stable."

Kanade approached, observing Akutagawa's expression. It was strange to see him like this. So careful. So... human.

This is the man everyone fears, she thought. But with me... with those he deems worthy of protection... he is different.

"Are you alright?"

A female voice, sweeter and calmer than any they had heard in hours, cut the tension.

Everyone turned.

A whirlwind of blood lifted them off the ground, but strangely, the blood didn't stain them. It was as if it were carrying them instead of drowning them, an effect controlled with surgical precision.

When they looked up, they saw two women.

The first was striking: black hair with a violet gradient at the tips, gray eyes that seemed to analyze everything with a single glance. She wore the Hunting Dogs uniform with an elegance that made it look like high fashion instead of military clothing.

The second had her face glued to her phone, her lavender hair falling over her shoulders. Mint-colored eyes barely looked up from the screen. She also wore the uniform, but with total indifference to how it looked.

Behind them, the rest of the ADA was arriving. Yosano looked satisfied but exhausted. Kunikida had that "this-violated-every-existing-protocol" expression he often used. Ranpo was eating sweets as if nothing had happened. Atsushi seemed relieved to see them alive. Tanizaki was holding Naomi. Kenji was smiling with his inexhaustible energy.

Fukuzawa walked with his usual dignity, but Kanade noticed the relief in his eyes upon seeing them safe.

"What happened?" Kanade asked, still processing the sudden arrival.

Yosano stepped forward, wiping some sweat from her forehead. "We had to seek reinforcements and contacted the military police."

The woman with black hair and a violet gradient stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Hello, Miss Kanade. My name is Yoru Mikazuki," she introduced herself, and there was genuine respect in her voice that surprised Kanade. "And she," she pointed to the girl on the phone, "is my sister, Kiyoko."

Kiyoko looked up from her phone for exactly two seconds, mumbled something that sounded like "hello," and returned to her screen.

"We are very sorry about what happened," Yoru continued, and her apology sounded sincere. "We must return to Yokohama. Young members of the ADA, we truly apologize."

Dazai, who had been observing the two sisters with that calculating gaze, smiled. "Ara, ara~ The famous Hunting Dogs coming to rescue us. What an honor~"

Kikyo nudged him gently in the ribs. "Osamu, behave."

"But Kikyo-chan, I was just being friendly~"

"I know your version of 'friendly'."

Yoru smiled at them with genuine warmth. "Kiyoko was the cause of the storm by manipulating the data of reality and she struck you."

Everyone turned to Kiyoko, who still had her eyes glued to her phone.

"Mhm," she said without looking up. "Boss battle. You needed a nerf."

"Was she the one?" Kanade asked, genuinely impressed.

Asuna, who had remained silent observing the newcomers with that analytical gaze she used when assessing potential threats, finally spoke. "A data manipulation ability... Fascinating."

Kin, beside her, simply nodded. Her eyes never stopped scanning the area, always alert.

Yoru continued, her tone becoming more serious. "We tried to steer you away from the Crescent Moon Kingdom, but you managed to arrive anyway. Please," and here her expression softened with genuine concern, "we don't want you to get into any more trouble."

Kanade opened her mouth to respond, but Yoru gently interrupted her.

"Don't worry. We've heard everything. Although Miss Ban Yue is a Wrath-class ghost, she didn't harm anyone, she only locked you in her magical domain. She released the merchants."

Kanade blinked. "Seriously?"

Yoru nodded with a reassuring smile. "Please allow us to take Ke Mo and Pei Xiu."

Kiyoko finally looked up from her phone, her mint-colored eyes showing a flash of something... irritation? Boredom?

"Can we go now?" she asked her sister, her voice monotonous.

"What's the hurry?" Yoru replied with infinite patience. "We have permission from headquarters to do this mission alone."

She turned back to Kanade, bowing her head respectfully. "Miss Kanade, it is time for us to withdraw. We will see you at the trial of these three."

She began to walk, and Pei Xiu and General Ke Mo followed them. But Kanade noticed something: Pei Xiu's expression when looking at Ban Yue was not one of triumph or malice. It was... sad. Protective, even.

He's not a villain, she realized. He is someone who made terrible decisions for the wrong reasons.

Kiyoko walked past them, her fingers still scrolling on the screen. "GG," she murmured. "Easy mode."

Kunikida looked at her in disbelief. "Did you just refer to a military operation as 'easy mode'?"

Kiyoko looked at him for half a second. "Skill issue if you thought it was difficult."

Kunikida opened his mouth, closed it, and decided it wasn't worth it.

Kanade walked toward where Ban Yue lay unconscious in Akutagawa's arms. He held her with a care that violently contrasted with his reputation as a ruthless monster.

Akutagawa extended a small, dark crystal vial to her, with faintly glowing engravings. "For her soul," he explained. "She can be at peace here."

Kanade took the vial, her fingers brushing against Akutagawa's for a moment. Both froze.

It was only a second. Less, even. But Kanade felt that tug again, that warmth expanding from her chest.

Why does he affect me so much? she wondered, quickly looking away.

Akutagawa, for his part, felt as if someone had pressed a reset button in his brain. The simple brush of Kanade's skin against his was enough to make his mind, usually so sharp and focused, scatter in a thousand different directions.

Pathetic, he reprimanded himself. You act like a child.

But he couldn't help it. He had never been able to help it when it came to her.

Carefully, almost reverently, he placed Ban Yue in Kanade's arms. His hands lingered for a second longer than necessary before pulling away.

Kanade felt the change in weight and adjusted her grip. Ban Yue was light, almost ethereal. She gently placed her soul inside the vial, sealing it with a whisper of power.

They all stood up, ready to leave.

"We must return to Yokohama now," Kanade said with a smile on her lips. Finally. They had gotten the cure for the merchant.

"At last," the rest sighed in unison, the relief palpable.

Atsushi shyly approached Taka, who had been checking that everyone had what they needed for the return journey.

"Taka-san," he began, and there was something in his voice that made her look up immediately.

"Yes, Atsushi?"

"I... thank you. For looking out for me throughout all this."

Taka smiled, one of those warm, maternal smiles she reserved for those she considered family. "You don't have to thank me. That's what we're here for."

She reached out her hand and, without thinking, affectionately ruffled Atsushi's hair.

He blushed to the tips of his ears, but he didn't pull away.

Kunikida, observing the scene, adjusted his glasses and consulted his notebook. "According to my schedule, we should have finished this mission three hours ago. This is unacceptable."

Ranpo, chewing a sweet, patted his shoulder. "Kunikida-kun, not everything can follow your perfect schedule~"

"A perfect schedule is the basis of a functional society, Ranpo-san."

"Mmm, boring~"

Yosano stretched, her joints cracking. "Honestly, I just want a hot bath and a glass of wine."

Kenji nodded enthusiastically. "And I want to eat! Do you think there's any restaurant open at this hour?"

"Kenji-kun," Tanizaki said tiredly, "it's three in the morning."

"So? Food is food."

Kanade laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Do you want to have dinner with us?" she asked, looking at Kikyo and Dazai.

Kikyo shook her head, but her smile was indulgent. "No, Osamu and I just want to sleep."

She took Dazai's hand, interlacing her fingers with a naturalness that spoke of years of practice. With her free hand, she blew on her turquoise roses. The petals swirled around them, glowing with soft light.

"See you tomorrow~" Dazai waved goodbye with one of his lazy smiles.

"Rest well," Kanade replied.

And then, in a flash of turquoise light and the scent of fresh flowers, both disappeared, teleported directly back to Yokohama.

Kanade turned to Akutagawa, who had been silently observing the entire interaction.

"What do you want to eat, Akutagawa?" she asked.

He looked at her, and that small, almost imperceptible smile appeared on his face. It was the smile he reserved only for her, the one no one else in the world had ever seen.

"I prefer you just call me Kuro," he said softly.

Kanade's heart skipped a beat. Kuro. The nickname he had given her permission to use. The name that meant she was special, different from everyone else.

"Kuro," she repeated, testing the name on her tongue. She liked how it sounded.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring the sound of his name on Kanade's lips.

I could listen to her say my name for all eternity, he thought. And it would never be enough.

Behind them, Asuna watched the scene with a knowing smile. She leaned over to Kin and whispered, "How long do you think it will take them to figure it out?"

Kin, without taking her eyes off the couple, replied in her usual tone. "Months. Maybe years. They're both dense."

"Would you bet?"

"I don't bet on matters of the heart."

"You're so boring."

Kin gave her a dry look. "And you're a busybody."

Asuna laughed, the sound musical and light.

Fukuzawa, who had been observing everything with his usual impassive expression, finally spoke. "It is time to return."

His voice, though calm, had that tone of absolute authority that made everyone immediately straighten up.

"Yes, President," they replied in unison.

As they walked toward the portal that would take them back to Yokohama, Kanade felt Akutagawa's presence beside her. He was always there. He always protected her. He always looked out for her.

Why? she wondered, not for the first time. Why does he treat me differently than everyone else?

She had no answer. But as they walked together under the starry desert sky, with the night breeze playing with her hair and the warmth of his presence beside her, Kanade decided that perhaps... perhaps she didn't need all the answers right away.

For now, this was enough.

For now, being together was enough.

And as they vanished through the portal, back to the city that had molded them both, neither of them noticed the knowing smiles of their companions.

Nor the bets Ranpo was already organizing about when they would finally confess their feelings.

Because in the Armed Detective Agency, even amidst chaos and violence, there was always room for love.

Even if the involved parties were the last to realize it.

Chapter Text

The steam from the freshly prepared ramen filled the small house with a comforting aroma that violently contrasted with the chaos they had left behind in the Crescent Moon Kingdom. Kanade stirred the broth with distracted movements, tasting the flavor with the ladle while Akutagawa chopped vegetables with a precision that spoke more of military training than culinary experience.

The four eggs Yoru had given her rested on a small table near the window, their colored shells glowing softly under the dim lamplight. Pink, green, blue, and yellow. Kanade had looked at them several times during dinner preparation, wondering what on earth she was supposed to do with them.

"So, you are the Flower Protected by the Dark Rain," Kanade said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. There was something tremendously surreal about this—cooking with Akutagawa Ryuunosuke of the Port Mafia as if they were a normal domestic couple. As if he weren't one of Yokohama's most feared assassins and she weren't an ex-deity with a trouble history as long as the Sumida River.

"Your Highness," Akutagawa replied without looking up from the vegetables, and there was something in his tone—soft, reverent—that made Kanade almost drop the ladle.

She stopped, turning to look at him with wide eyes. "That's the first time you've called me that."

Akutagawa finally looked up, his gray eyes meeting her purple-pink ones. The intensity in that gaze made something stir in Kanade's chest, something warm and terrifying in equal measure.

"Does it please you?" he asked, and there was a carefully hidden vulnerability in that question that Kanade didn't know how to process.

She closed her eyes, savoring the title in her mind. "It sounds very different when others say it," she finally admitted, her voice softer than usual.

"What is the difference?"

Kanade opened her eyes, looking directly at him. "I feel you say it with much more respect than when other people say it." She realized they were entering dangerous territory—the kind of conversation that could change the nature of... whatever this was between them. "Enough talk about me."

She turned completely toward him, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. Her mind was already connecting dots, because that was what Kanade did—analyze, deduce, uncover truths others would prefer to keep hidden.

"You were the boyfriend who took me to Xuan Ji during my ADA exam, weren't you? That is, you pretended to be the boyfriend to take me," she said, watching his reaction carefully.

Akutagawa put down the knife with a deliberate movement, placing the carefully chopped vegetables into the ramen broth before replying. "I wasn't pretending to be the boyfriend."

Kanade's heart did something stupid in her chest. Damn it.

"And why did you appear on Mount Yujun? You were very far from your Port Mafia section," she continued, keeping her voice casual even though her pulse had sped up considerably.

Akutagawa walked toward her, and Kanade found herself motionless, watching him eliminate the distance between them with measured steps. He stopped close enough to show intimacy but without invading her personal space—a perfect balance that spoke to how much attention he paid to her reactions.

"I'll give you two reasons. The first is that I went for you. The second, I have too much free time when I'm not on missions. Which do you choose?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, and there was something in the way he looked at her that made Kanade want to both step back and move closer.

"It's hard to choose," Kanade said, hating the slight tremor in her voice. She cleared her throat. "But I say you have too much free time and the Port Mafia easily forgives your absences."

The laugh that escaped Akutagawa was genuine, and the sound was so unusual that Kanade was paralyzed. It wasn't the mocking laugh she had heard on the battlefield, nor the humorless smile he showed when Atsushi irritated him. It was... real. Warm. Human.

"You are very different from what Atsushi-kun tells me about you," Kanade commented, studying him with an intensity that rivaled his own.

Akutagawa returned to his task of preparing dinner, but there was a palpable satisfaction in his movements. "How did Your Highness know I was 'The Flower Protected by the Dark Rain'?"

Kanade smiled, and it was the smile of someone who had just won a bet with herself. "I put you through every means to measure your spiritual level as a Gifted, you were perfect in every one of them. It's quite high. You were able to realize that the cure for those snake bites was the Shanyue Fern when that merchant was bitten. You showed no fear when you sucked my snake-poisoned blood." Her voice softened. "You were omniscient, omnipotent, and brave. Who else but you?"

"Should I take that as a compliment?" Akutagawa asked, and the smile on his lips was small but devastating.

"What else would it be?" Kanade moved closer to him, and before her brain could fully process what she was doing, she took his face in her hands and pulled him closer. The texture of his skin under her palms, the way his eyes widened slightly in surprise—everything was etched into her memory with painful clarity.

The moment broke when the jar where they had placed Ban Yue began to move. Kanade released Akutagawa—when had they gotten so close?—and opened the door, stepping out into the small backyard. The vial continued to shake, and finally Ban Yue emerged in her ghostly form, small and ethereal under the starlight.

"Are you awake? Do you want to see the stars?" Kanade asked with that gentleness she reserved for those who had suffered more than anyone should.

Ban Yue floated outward, looking at the night sky with an expression of melancholy so profound it made Kanade's heart ache.

"General Hua, what will happen to General Pei?"

Kanade sighed, following the young ghost's gaze toward the stars. "I don't know. I suppose he will be tried for everything he did."

"In fact, General Pei is not a bad person. I am sure of it. He helped me before, even though Ke Mo thought I was deceived. I was the one who opened the city gates." Ban Yue hugged her legs, making herself smaller, and Kanade placed her hand on the ghost's head in a comforting gesture.

"Calm down, it's all over," Kanade said softly.

"I'm sorry, General Hua."

"Why do you keep apologizing to me?" Kanade asked with a genuine smile.

"'I want to save the world,'" Ban Yue said, and the words dropped like a bomb in the night air.

"What?" Kanade felt heat rush to her cheeks.

"You said that."

Kanade's cheeks burned a bright red that rivaled Kikyo's roses. "Wait!" She practically shoved Ban Yue back into the pickle jar, closing it quickly.

Behind her, Akutagawa was standing in the doorway, and the smile on his face was so soft, so genuine, that Kanade felt her heart might explode from embarrassment.

"I said that?" she asked faintly as the jar moved.

"Yes. You once asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I said I didn't know, and you answered that."

"It was something I said on a whim," Kanade tried to save herself, sweating cold as the jar continued to move with Ban Yue speaking inside.

"Really? You seemed very sincere."

Kanade froze, sweating cold as Akutagawa continued to smile at her with that expression that mixed amusement with something deeper—affection, admiration, devotion. It was too much. Everything was too much.

Finally, after bidding farewell to Ban Yue and promising her everything would be fine, Kanade returned inside the house where Akutagawa was already serving the ramen into two bowls. Steam rose in lazy spirals, and the silence between them was now heavier, charged with unspoken things.

They ate in comfortable silence, and Kanade surprised herself by thinking that this—this domestic normality with one of Yokohama's most dangerous criminals—felt incredibly right. As if it were something they had done a thousand times before in other lives.

When they finished, they lay down on the same futon, because apparently that was something they did now. Kanade looked at Akutagawa, whose eyes were closed, his breathing calm and even. His black hair was spread across the pillow, and there was a peace in his expression that Kanade rarely saw.

"You're always lurking near me. Don't you have to report to the Mafia?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Akutagawa opened one eye, looking at her with an expression bordering on amusement. "Report to whom? The Mafia has its ways, we don't report what doesn't benefit us. Besides, I'm one step away from being an executive. Who would dare give me orders, other than the Boss himself?"

"I see. I thought the Mafia was as centralized as the ADA," Kanade said, processing this information. It made sense—Akutagawa was not the type of person to follow orders blindly unless they came from someone he genuinely respected.

"We are not as rigid as they are," Akutagawa replied with a soft laugh.

Kanade bit her lip, deciding to press a little further. "In that case, do you know any Ghost Kings? According to what I heard, you are the Ghost King of the known Ghost City."

"A few."

"And the Green Ghost, Arata?"

"Arata? Let's just say yes, he's a good kid. With a credible mental strength, but the Green Spirit keeps trying to appropriate his body. I greeted him once to release Arata, but the Spirit escaped with his body." There was something almost nostalgic in his tone, as if he were remembering a different time.

"I suppose it wasn't a typical greeting," Kanade laughed.

"It was a habitual greeting. It earned me the title 'Flower Protected by the Dark Rain.'" The way he said it—so casually, as if uprooting evil spirits was part of his daily routine—made Kanade want to laugh and sigh at the same time.

"Did you have any trouble with Arata?"

"The Green Spirit is a nuisance, but the boy has a powerful ability," Akutagawa said, relaxed in a way Kanade had never seen him. It was as if in this space, in this intimacy, he could remove the mask he wore in the outside world.

"I'm surprised by how good your memory is. I find it hard to remember all the names of the important officials in Yokohama," Kanade sighed.

"Then don't bother."

"No, I don't want to offend someone," Kanade said, pouting completely unintentionally.

Akutagawa adjusted himself, turning to look directly at her, and the smile he gave her was so genuine that it made something in Kanade's chest tighten painfully. "If someone is offended so easily, they might just be a piece of trash with a closed mind."

Kanade blinked, surprised by the bluntness of the statement, but then she laughed. Because of course Akutagawa would think that. His worldview was so absolutely Darwinian that anything he interpreted as unnecessary weakness deserved his contempt.

"By the way, that phrase was good," Akutagawa said after a moment.

"Which phrase?"

"'I want to save the world.'"

"Kuro!" Kanade groaned, turning to bury her face in the pillow. "That's silly."

"What's wrong with it? Few people have the courage to judge the world, and fewer still want to save everyone." There was a conviction in his voice that made Kanade lift her head to look at him.

"It's easier said than done," she murmured, feeling the weight of those words as never before.

"Despite the difficulties, you stand firm. Is that not even more valuable?"

Kanade groaned again, because Akutagawa wasn't playing fair. He couldn't say things like that in that voice and expect her to maintain her composure.

"In fact, I said something even stupider when I was a ghost," she finally admitted, looking down.

"What did you say?"

Kanade took a deep breath, preparing for the embarrassment. "If you can't find a reason to live, use me as your reason. If you can't find the meaning of life, take me as the meaning of your life."

The laughter that escaped her was hysterical, born of pure mortification. "What was I thinking? How could I have said that to him?" She laughed harder, because the alternative was to cry from shame. "How is that young man doing?"

What Kanade didn't know—couldn't know, because she didn't remember that life, those moments—was that that young man was Akutagawa. That every word she had said had been etched into his soul like a sacred oath. That he had taken those words and made them the foundation of his existence.

Akutagawa looked at her with a gentleness so soft it would have astounded everyone who knew him as the ruthless dog of the Port Mafia. His gray eyes tracked every detail of her face as if he were memorizing it, as if he feared she might vanish if he stopped looking at her even for a second.

"However, Your Highness vented to me. Don't you want to know why I approached you?" he asked, and there was a carefully contained vulnerability in that question.

Kanade looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw everything he was offering—a confession, a truth that would likely change everything between them. But she also saw the patience in his eyes, the willingness to wait until she was ready.

"I'll leave it to fate. No one can make you talk if you don't want to," she finally said, releasing her hair from the braid she had worn all day. The black strands with purple highlights scattered over the pillow like spilled ink, and she began to drift off to sleep.

Akutagawa remained awake, watching her as her breathing became slow and even. On her face, the plum blossom kanzashi glowed softly in the dim light filtering through the window. She was beautiful—not in the superficial way society valued, but in a deeper, truer way. She was beautiful in her complexity, in her contradictions, in the way she could be both fiercely protective and incredibly vulnerable.

"I swear you will never find anyone... more sincere than me..." Akutagawa murmured, and the words were a promise, a vow he made not to the gods but to her, only to her.

His fingers moved carefully, slipping something into Kanade's hand as she slept. A silver coronet ring with a purple-pink stone that shone like her eyes. It was beautiful and delicate, and completely unsuitable for the man giving it—or perhaps it was perfectly suitable, because it showed that beneath all that darkness, beneath all those layers of violence and social Darwinism, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke was capable of devastating tenderness.

Morning arrived too quickly, filtering through the curtains with an insistence Kanade wanted to ignore. When she finally opened her eyes, Akutagawa was already gone, but he had left breakfast prepared—rice, grilled fish, miso soup. Everything arranged with a care that spoke of meticulous attention to her preferences.

Kanade sat up, stretching and mentally preparing herself for another day at the ADA, when something caught her attention. She raised her hand and was paralyzed.

On her finger rested a silver coronet ring with a purple-pink stone that shone with an inner light of its own. It was beautiful, delicate, and completely unexpected.

"What...?" she murmured, touching the stone with reverence. Her heart was beating so fast she could feel it in her throat.

A black butterfly with red details, textured like fabric she instantly recognized as Rashomon, flew toward her. It perched on her hands for a moment, its wings moving softly, before fading away in flashes of light that left a warm trail on her skin.

Kanade sat on the futon, staring at the ring, and finally allowed a smile—small, private, filled with something she wasn't ready to name—to spread across her face.

"Damn you, Kuro," she murmured, but there was no anger in her voice. Only affection, surprise, and the beginning of something that could be love if she allowed herself to recognize it.

She tucked the faded Rashomon butterfly into her memory along with everything else—the shared dinners, the late-night conversations, the way he looked at her as if she were the only thing in the universe that mattered. And as she prepared for the day, the ring shone on her finger like a silent promise of things yet to come.

Somewhere in Yokohama, Akutagawa was returning to his Port Mafia domains, and if anyone noticed the barely perceptible satisfaction in his expression, no one was brave—or foolish—enough to comment on it.

Chapter Text

Kanade was lying on the sofa in her apartment, watching sweetly the tiny creatures sleeping cuddled up on her chest. Ran snored softly, her magenta pom-poms resting beside her. Miki had curled up next to her, her blue beret slightly askew. The other two, Suu and Dia, were still in their eggs, but Kanade could feel the warm pulse of life within them.

"They're so cute when they sleep..." the purple-pink eyed girl thought, her hand gently stroking Ran's head. Ran stirred slightly at the touch but did not wake.

Her black hair, gathered in a casual braid, fell over her shoulder as a small, genuine smile formed on her lips. There was something profoundly comforting in the warmth of those small presences. As if, somehow, they were filling a void she hadn't even known she had.

"It’s been about four days since we met..." she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.

— Four Days Earlier —

Kanade had somehow ended up trapped in a gap between two buildings during a chase. A minor ability user had tried to escape across the rooftops, and she, in her typical calculated lack of caution, had followed him without overthinking the consequences. Now she was there, looking at the several-meter drop to the ground, mentally evaluating whether she could land without breaking anything important.

She prepared to jump, flexing her knees, when a sharp, energetic voice erupted from her pocket.

"Kanade-chan!"

Kanade blinked, raising her hand to the pocket where she had put the pink egg Yoru had given her days ago. The egg glowed with a warm radiance before, with a soft crack, it shattered.

The shell broke completely, and a small, doll-sized figure emerged from it. Kanade watched her with a mixture of surprise and fascination as the creature floated in front of her, enthusiastically shaking magenta pom-poms.

The little angel had pale, almost ethereal skin, black hair pulled up in a high ponytail, and bright pink eyes that reflected overflowing joy. She was dressed in a black cheerleader outfit with pink accents, complemented by a visor decorated with a heart. Her pom-poms moved constantly, as if they had a life of their own.

"What are you doing standing there?" the little one asked with a mischievous smile. "Let's jump!"

Kanade stared at her for a second, processing what had just happened.

"Okay, I definitely went without sleep for too many nights in a row, and now I’m hallucinating," she muttered.

"You're not hallucinating!" the creature laughed, doing somersaults in the air. "Come on, come on! We don't have all day!"

Kanade raised an eyebrow, but something in the little thing's contagious energy spurred her to move. Without overthinking it—because overthinking had never been her strength—she leaped into the void.

She landed with surprising grace on the roof of the adjacent building, rolling to absorb the impact before standing up with a fluid movement. Her knees protested slightly, but nothing she couldn't ignore.

The little angel appeared in front of her, floating at face level with an expression of absolute pride.

"See! I told you you could do it!"

Kanade observed her more closely, tilting her head slightly.

"Who or what the hell are you?"

"My name is Ran!" the little one declared, making a theatrical bow in the air. "I'm one of your Angels!"

"My... Angels," Kanade repeated slowly, as if testing the words in her mouth.

"Yes!" Ran shook her pom-poms enthusiastically. "I am what you want to be! Or well, what you should have been despite the misfortunes you went through in your life. The strength of your desires gave me life. I appeared in Yoru-san's hands, and she gave me to you."

Kanade blinked several times, her brain trying to process that flood of information. "What?"

Ran laughed, doing a flip in the air before pointing downwards with one of her pom-poms. "No time for long explanations! Where are you going now?"

Kanade looked towards the horizon, where the sun was beginning to rise over Yokohama. She sighed, running a hand through her hair and partially undoing her braid.

"To work."

"I'm coming with you!" Ran exclaimed, perching on Kanade's shoulder with a familiarity that suggested she had been waiting for this moment her whole existence.

Kanade raised an eyebrow, looking sideways at the little creature. "Suit yourself, weirdo."

Ran laughed, and the sound was so genuinely cheerful that Kanade couldn't help a small smile slip onto her lips as she began to walk towards the Agency.

When Kanade pushed open the door to the Armed Detective Agency, the typically chaotic morning atmosphere greeted her. Kunikida was already at his desk, furiously writing in his notebook while mumbling something about schedules and responsibility. Dazai was sprawled on the couch, a newspaper covering his face, probably pretending to be asleep to avoid work. Ranpo was sitting at his desk, surrounded by empty candy wrappers.

But all eyes turned to Kanade when they entered, or more specifically, towards the small creature flying around her head.

Kikyo was the first to react. A gentle, genuine smile lit up her face as she approached, her eyes shining with curiosity and something like recognition.

"Hello, little one..." she said in a melodious voice, extending a delicate hand towards Ran.

"Hello, beautiful lady!" Ran laughed, raising her pom-poms in an enthusiastic salute before doing a full spin in the air.

Asuna approached from her desk, her eyes studying the little angel with analytical interest mixed with amusement. "So, she has an Angel."

"A little Angel?" Kanade asked, tilting her head in genuine confusion. She looked at Ran, who was still floating cheerfully. "Is that what you are?"

"They are creatures that help you a lot in doing things you normally cannot do," Dazai declared from the couch, not bothering to remove the newspaper from his face. His voice sounded casual, but there was an undertone of knowledge in it. "They are generally like little dolls. Physical manifestations of the heart's desires, you could say."

Kikyo laughed softly, her eyes never leaving Ran. "I think the eggs Yoru-nee gave you are those little angels' eggs..." There was a glow of genuine charm in her gaze. "How interesting. And how appropriate."

Taka approached from the kitchen, wiping her hands with a rag. Her expression was one of maternal curiosity as she watched Ran. "Exactly how many eggs did she give you?"

"Four," Kanade replied, still processing all this information. She pulled out her backpack and carefully extracted the other three eggs, placing them on her desk.

Naomi had appeared beside Kikyo, her eyes shining with absolute admiration. "She's adorable!" she exclaimed, practically radiating excitement. "Can I touch her?"

"Sure!" Ran flew towards Naomi, allowing the young woman to gently pet her.

Kanade was momentarily distracted when she noticed movement near the eggs. One of them, a light blue one, had begun to glow softly. Before she could say anything, the egg cracked.

"Oh, we have company," Kanade murmured, watching with increasing interest.

From the egg emerged another small figure, this one considerably different from Ran. While Ran was pure energy and boisterous joy, this new Angel emanated an artistic calmness. She wore a light blue long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a black vest. Her shorts were dark blue with a black stripe, and a large artist's beret decorated with a dark blue spade rested on her head.

Her eyes were a deep sky blue, and her short hair was dark brown. In her hand, she carried a small bag where she kept what appeared to be miniature drawing supplies.

The new Angel floated calmly until she was in front of Kanade, studying her with a serene yet curious expression.

"Miki," she introduced herself simply, her voice quiet but clear. "I suppose you are Kanade."

"You suppose correctly," Kanade replied, an amused smile curving her lips. "Are you also part of my 'desires' or whatever?"

"Something like that," Miki took a small sketchbook from her bag. "I am your creative side. Your ability to see the world from different perspectives." She began to draw something, her movements fluid and precise.

Kikyo moved closer, her smile widening. "I think we already have number two..." There was a tone of genuine charm in her voice. "This is getting more and more interesting."

Dazai finally sat up, taking the newspaper off his face. His dark eyes studied the two Angels with an expression Kanade had learned to recognize: intellectual curiosity mixed with something deeper. "Four eggs, four different aspects of your personality. I wonder what the other two will represent."

"Knowing my luck, probably my self-destructive side and my tendency to get into trouble," Kanade murmured, though there was humor in her voice.

"That's already the complete you," Eileen commented from her corner, her voice monotonous but with an undertone of affection.

Kanade shot her a look. "Thanks for the support, Ei-chan."

Atsushi had entered at some point, stopping upon seeing the scene. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the two little Angels. "Kanade-san... are those...?"

"Apparently, fragments of my soul turned into flying dolls," Kanade replied with complete naturalness, as if she were describing the weather. "Just a normal Tuesday."

Kunikida finally looked up from his notebook, his eyes behind his glasses studying the situation with his typical expression of someone trying to maintain order amidst chaos. "Will this interfere with your work?"

"Definitely," Kanade answered without hesitation.

"Excellent," Kunikida sighed, returning to his notebook. "Just what we needed. More distractions."

"We are not distractions!" Ran protested, flying up to stand in front of Kunikida. "We are helpers!"

Kunikida stared at her for a long moment. Ran returned the gaze with a bright, determined smile.

"Twenty yen says Kunikida-san gives in first," Tanizaki muttered from his desk.

"Thirty says the little thing makes him cry," Kin added from her position by the window, her voice dry.

Fukuzawa entered at that moment, his presence immediately commanding attention. His eyes swept over the scene: Kanade with two small Angels floating around her, the other three eggs on her desk, and all the Agency members in various states of curiosity and amusement.

"Asahina-kun," he said with his deep, calm voice. "What is this?"

Kanade turned to him, and for a moment, she seemed genuinely unsure how to explain the situation. Then, with her typical lack of filter, she simply said:

"President, apparently I gave birth to miniature versions of my personality. I'm not sure how it works biologically, but here we are."

There was a moment of absolute silence.

Then Dazai burst into laughter, doubling over on the couch. Kikyo covered her mouth with her hand, but her shoulders were shaking with contained laughter. Even Fukuzawa seemed to struggle to maintain his serious expression.

"That's definitely not the process," Yosano commented from the entrance of the medical area, her arms crossed but with an amused smile. "But points for creativity in the explanation."

"We are not babies!" Ran protested, flying in indignant circles. "We are guardian angels! It's completely different!"

"Technically, we are manifestations of unfulfilled desires and aspects of personality," Miki corrected quietly, without looking up from her notebook where she was drawing a surprisingly detailed sketch of the office. "But 'guardian angel' sounds more mystical."

Fukuzawa observed the two little creatures for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. Finally, he nodded slightly. "As long as they do not interfere with the Agency's work, I see no problem."

"Oh, they definitely will interfere," Kanade murmured, but there was a small smile on her lips as Ran perched on her head and Miki floated onto her shoulder.

Ranpo, who had been observing everything in silence while eating his sweets, finally spoke. "They are interesting. I wonder if I can teach them to solve cases."

"I can learn anything!" Ran declared with absolute confidence.

"I would prefer to draw the crime scenes," Miki added thoughtfully.

"Perfect, one is too enthusiastic, and the other is morbid," Kanade commented. "They are definitely mine."

Kenji approached with his usual smile, leaning in to get a better look at the little Angels. "They are very cute! Do you think they'd like to see the farm someday?"

"Yes!" Ran exclaimed.

"Perhaps," Miki replied, more reserved.

The day continued with a strange normalcy, considering the circumstances. The two little Angels adapted surprisingly quickly to the Agency's dynamic. Ran followed Kanade everywhere, enthusiastically commenting on everything and making suggestions (mostly reckless) on how to handle situations. Miki was quieter but occasionally offered insightful observations that made even Ranpo nod in approval.

When lunchtime arrived, Kanade found herself sitting at her desk with the two remaining eggs in front of her. Ran was playing with Naomi's pom-poms (who was absolutely delighted), while Miki quietly drew in her sketchbook.

"I wonder when the other two will come out," Kanade murmured, gently touching one of the eggs with a finger.

"When you are ready," Kikyo replied, appearing beside her with a cup of tea. "Or when they are ready. With these things, you never know."

Kanade accepted the tea with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Kikyo-san."

"You're welcome," Kikyo sat on the edge of Kanade's desk, her gaze studying the remaining eggs with interest. "You know, there is something beautiful about this. About having parts of yourself materialized in this way."

"Beautiful?" Kanade raised an eyebrow. "I'd call it weird and potentially problematic."

"It can be both," Kikyo smiled, taking a sip of her own tea. "The best things in life usually are."

Kanade couldn't argue with that logic.

—

The sweet aroma of fresh figs filled the Agency kitchen, mixing with the warm scent of freshly brewed tea. Kanade was leaning over the counter, concentrating as she prepared the dough for a tart. Her black hair fell in messy strands over her face, and she had a small smear of flour on her cheek that she hadn't even noticed.

Ran floated around her, shaking her pom-poms enthusiastically. "It smells delicious, Kanade-chan! I bet Akutagawa-san will love it!"

"I hope so," Miki murmured from her position by the window, quietly sketching in her notebook. "Although, considering it's for him, he'd probably eat even burnt food without complaining."

Kanade tasted the sweet mix with a finger, and a genuine smile lit up her face. "It tastes good..." She laughed softly, looking down at the figs she had meticulously prepared.

At that moment, the green egg resting on the table began to glow with a soft, warm light.

Kanade blinked, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached. "Oh, another one? This is getting interesting."

The egg cracked with a delicate sound, like fine glass breaking, and a small figure emerged from it, floating upwards with ethereal grace. This new Angel was completely different from her sisters.

She wore an outfit reminiscent of a waitress or maid: an immaculate white apron over a pastel green ruffled dress. Her green shoes had laces that crossed in an "x" pattern, and on her blonde hair—short in the back but longer in the front, ending in delicate curls—rested a chef's hat decorated with a clover symbol. Her emerald green eyes shone with a maternal warmth.

The little Angel looked around the kitchen, then at Kanade, and finally at the dough on the counter. A sweet smile appeared on her face.

"I will help you make the tart for your beloved!" she declared in a soft but determined voice, immediately floating towards the ingredients.

Kanade watched her with a mixture of surprise and amusement. "And you are...?"

"Suu," the little Angel replied, already starting to organize the ingredients with impressive efficiency. "I am your domestic side. Your desire to care for and nurture others." She paused, looking towards the figs. "Although I must admit that sometimes I can be a little... clumsy."

As if to prove it, Suu floated left and nearly bumped into a bowl.

"A little is an understatement," Miki commented dryly, without looking up from her drawing.

"But she's adorable!" Ran exclaimed, flying towards Suu. "Welcome to the team!"

Kanade couldn't help but laugh as she watched her three Angels interact. There was something deeply comforting about seeing them together, as if each represented a part of herself that had been fragmented for too long.

"Well, Suu-chan," Kanade said, returning to the dough, "if you're going to help me, then let's work together."

What followed was an organized chaos of culinary activity. Suu proved to be surprisingly competent when it came to baking, guiding Kanade through techniques she didn't even know she knew. Ran cheered from the sidelines, shaking her pom-poms every time something went well. Miki documented everything in her notebook, her drawings capturing the scene with poignant precision.

The kitchen door opened slightly, and Kikyo poked her head in, a knowing smile curving her lips. Behind her, several other Agency members had gathered, observing the scene with varying degrees of interest.

"They are hopeless," Kikyo murmured with genuine affection in her voice, yet loud enough for Kanade to hear.

Dazai appeared next to Kikyo, his smile bright and mischievous. "But it will make a beautiful match with Akutagawa!" he declared with dramatic enthusiasm. "I can see it now: the Mafia's rabid dog, completely domesticated by fig tarts."

"That sounds like a terrible way to die," Kunikida commented from the back, adjusting his glasses. "Poisoned by pastry."

"I'm not going to poison anyone!" Kanade protested from the kitchen, though there was amusement in her voice. "At least not intentionally."

Yosano peered over Dazai's shoulder. "Are you sure you want to give that man homemade food? He might interpret it as a marriage proposal."

"In Mafia culture, it probably is," Taka added in her practical tone, though her eyes twinkled with humor.

Kanade felt her cheeks heat up slightly, but she continued working on the tart with renewed determination. "Ignore them, Kanade-chan!" Ran cheered. "You're doing an amazing job!"

After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, the tart was in the oven, filling the kitchen with a heavenly aroma. Suu had insisted on making cookies too, and soon they both had an impressive assortment of fig desserts ready.

"All finished!" Suu declared with satisfaction, her hands clasped together and a radiant smile on her face.

Kanade took one of the cookies, biting into it carefully. The flavor was perfect: sweet without being cloying, with the distinctive taste of fig shining through every bite. "They taste great!" Kanade laughed, her eyes sparkling with genuine joy. "Now all that's left is to give it to Kuro!"

There was a moment of significant silence from the kitchen doorway.

"Kuro?" Asuna repeated, raising an elegant eyebrow. "You give him nicknames?"

"Well, his hair is black," Kanade explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And technically, Akutagawa is too long to say all the time."

Kin, who had been observing in silence, let out something that might have been a laugh or a snort. "The Mafia must be rolling in their graves."

At that moment, the last egg—the golden yellow one—began to glow intensely. The light was so bright that everyone had to squint.

Kanade approached slowly, and when the egg finally cracked open, an ethereal figure emerged. This Angel was different from all the others, emanating a presence that was simultaneously fragile and powerful.

She wore a bright yellow dress decorated with gold jewelry and accessories that shimmered with their own light. Her blonde hair was pulled up in two high pigtails, and her golden eyes had a depth that seemed to hold centuries of wisdom. A gold crown rested on her head, and overall, she projected an aura of royalty and importance.

The little Angel floated silently for a moment, her eyes scanning the room before settling on Kanade. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but resonated with an almost mystical quality.

"Dia," she introduced herself simply. "I am your hidden potential. Everything you could be if you allowed yourself to shine without reservation."

There was a reverent silence in the room. Even Ran had stopped shaking her pom-poms.

"She is special," Miki murmured, her voice barely audible. "I can feel it."

"Welcome, Dia-chan," Suu said with her characteristic sweetness. "We are sisters now."

Dia smiled, and the expression completely transformed her face, making her look simultaneously wise and youthful. "I am glad to finally be here. I have been waiting."

Kanade extended a hand, and Dia floated down to gently perch on her palm. "Then I guess this means we're complete."

"For now," Dia replied enigmatically.

Kikyo approached the kitchen completely, her eyes studying the four Angels with analytical interest. "Four aspects of your personality, now manifested. Energy and optimism, creativity and insight, care and domesticity, and hidden potential." She smiled softly. "Fascinating."

Dazai entered too, his dark eyes shining with genuine curiosity. "I wonder what Akutagawa will say when he sees that his possible future wife comes with an entourage of magical dolls."

"He'll probably try to kill them," Eileen murmured from the back, her voice monotonous.

"I'd like to see him try!" Ran exclaimed, shaking her pom-poms defiantly.

Kanade carefully packed the tart and cookies into an elegant box that Suu had insisted on decorating with a ribbon. Her four Angels floated around her, each offering comments and suggestions.

"Alright," Kanade said, taking a deep breath. "I guess it's time to go."

"Do you need an escort?" Taka asked with genuine concern. "Not that I don't trust Akutagawa, but..."

"He's literally a Mafia assassin," Atsushi finished, who had appeared at some point. "A very dangerous assassin."

"A very dangerous assassin who is completely domesticated when it comes to Kanade," Fukuzawa corrected from his office door, his deep voice resonating with quiet authority. "Although I must admit the dynamic is... unusual."

Kanade laughed, the sound light and genuine. "I'll be fine. Kuro is... different with me."

"We've all noticed," Ranpo said from his desk, without looking up from his bag of sweets. "It's pathetically obvious. The big, scary Akutagawa turns into a puppy whenever she's around."

The meeting place was a small park near the river, relatively private but public enough not to arouse suspicion. The afternoon sun painted the sky in shades of gold and rose, and there was a gentle breeze carrying the scent of cherry blossoms.

Akutagawa was already there when Kanade arrived, standing under a tree with his distinctive black coat fluttering slightly in the wind. His posture was rigid, almost military, but his eyes—those normally cold gray eyes—softened immediately when he saw her approach.

"Kanade," he greeted, his voice softer than anyone in the Mafia would recognize. There was something in the way he pronounced her name, as if it were something sacred, something precious to be treated with the utmost care.

"Kuro," Kanade responded with a bright smile, walking closer with the box in her hands. Her four Angels floated nearby, though they maintained a respectful distance.

Akutagawa's eyes briefly rested on the small creatures, his expression neutral but with an undertone of curiosity. "New company."

"We are her guardian angels!" Ran proudly announced.

"Fragments of her personality," Miki explained more technically.

"And we're here to make sure you treat her well!" Suu added with a sweetness that somehow sounded vaguely threatening.

Dia simply observed Akutagawa in silence, her golden eyes evaluating him in a way that made even the fearsome Mafia dog feel slightly uneasy.

"I would not harm her," Akutagawa said, and there was absolute conviction in his voice. "Never."

"Good," Dia finally replied. "Then we will have no problems."

Kanade laughed softly, holding out the box to Akutagawa. "I made this for you. Fig tart and cookies. With Suu-chan's help."

Akutagawa took the box as if he were receiving something invaluable, his fingers briefly brushing Kanade's in the process. The contact was electric, charged with all the unresolved tension between them.

"Thank you," he murmured, his eyes never leaving Kanade's face. There was something vulnerable in his expression, something he rarely showed anyone. "You didn't have to..."

"I wanted to," Kanade interrupted softly. "I like to bake for the people I care about."

The impact of those words was visible on Akutagawa's face. His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he seemed completely disarmed.

"I... care about you too," he managed to say finally, the words clearly difficult for someone who rarely expressed emotion. "More than words can convey."

Kanade blushed, and Ran let out an excited squeal that was quickly silenced by Miki covering her mouth.

Behind a nearby wall, approximately eighty percent of the Armed Detective Agency was hidden, observing the scene with various degrees of interest and amusement.

"This is better than theatre," Dazai whispered, his eyes gleaming with delight.

"It's invasive and completely inappropriate," Kunikida muttered, though he did not move from his position.

"It's adorable," Kikyo corrected, her smile soft and genuine. "Look at the way he looks at her. As if she's the only thing that exists in his world."

"Technically, she is the only thing that exists in his world," Ranpo pointed out. "Psychologically speaking, he has built his entire current identity around her. It's fascinating and slightly worrying."

Atsushi watched with a mixture of confusion and something that might have been envy. "I don't understand how she can see anything good in him."

"Because she sees beyond what he does," Yosano explained thoughtfully. "She sees why he does it. And that distinction changes everything."

In the park, Akutagawa had carefully opened the box, his eyes studying the contents with attention usually reserved for critical missions. He took one of the cookies, biting into it slowly.

His expression was almost comical in its seriousness as he processed the flavor. Then, to the surprise of everyone—including Kanade—something that might have been a genuine smile touched his lips.

"It is delicious," he said simply, but there was a world of emotion in those two words.

Kanade practically glowed with joy. "Really?"

"I would never lie to you," Akutagawa replied with complete sincerity. He paused, then added more softly: "Everything you do is perfect to me."

Behind the wall, Asuna let out a dramatic sigh. "Okay, even I have to admit that was romantic."

"I'm going to throw up," Kin muttered, though there was an undertone of affection in her voice.

Taka had tears in her eyes. "It's so beautiful. Love can transform even the darkest hearts."

"Or turn ruthless assassins into obedient puppies," Dazai added with amusement. "Either way."

Fukuzawa, who had silently appeared behind the group, watched the scene with his characteristic expression of serene neutrality. But there was something in his eyes—a hint of approval, perhaps even understanding—that suggested he did not entirely disapprove of the situation.

In the park, Kanade and Akutagawa had started walking together, their steps naturally synchronized. The four Angels floated around them, creating a kind of protective escort while also giving them privacy.

"How has your day been?" Kanade asked, her tone casual yet genuinely interested.

"Routine," Akutagawa replied. "Missions. Reports. The usual." He paused. "But better now."

Kanade laughed, the sound like wind chimes. "You are terrible with romantic words, did you know that?"

"I am better with actions," Akutagawa responded, and there was a promise in his voice that made Kanade's heart beat faster.

The sun continued to descend, painting the world in increasingly deep shades of orange and purple. And as the Agency watched from the shadows—some with amusement, others with concern, and some with genuine affection—Kanade and Akutagawa continued their walk, existing in their own little bubble of reality where nothing else mattered except this moment, this place, this impossible connection that somehow, against all odds, worked.

"They think they're discreet," Dia commented quietly, her golden eyes fixed on the group hidden behind the wall.

Kanade looked in that direction, and a mischievous smile crossed her face. "Oh, I definitely know. But it's fun to let them think I don't."

Akutagawa followed her gaze, and something dangerous glinted in his eyes. "I can dispose of them."

"No," Kanade laughed, taking his arm gently. "They are family. Families do weird things like spying on your dates."

The word "family" seemed to resonate deeply with Akutagawa. He looked at Kanade, and in his eyes, there was a vulnerability he rarely displayed.

"Is that what we are?" he asked softly. "Family?"

Kanade looked back at him, her purple-pink eyes shining with an emotion too complex to name. "We are on our way to being one."

And in that moment, as the sun finally sank below the horizon and the first stars began to appear in the sky, everyone—the hidden Agency, the floating Angels, Kanade and Akutagawa—knew that this was only the beginning of something extraordinary.

Something that would defy all expectations, break all the rules, and prove that sometimes, the most improbable love is the one that burns the brightest.

Chapter Text

The world of Asahina Kanade reassembled piece by piece, as if her consciousness was slowly emerging from the depths of an ocean of heavy dreams. Her body, usually a hurricane in perpetual motion, felt strangely anchored to stillness, as if the shadows of a rest too deep were resisting letting go. She blinked slowly, allowing the soft morning light to filter through her long lashes and into her peculiar purple-pink eyes, clearing the fog of sleep. It was then that an unfamiliar aroma registered in her senses: it wasn't the familiar smell of her own kitchen, but something distinct and methodical. Slowly cooked rice, the spicy, clean note of fresh ginger, and the promising crunch of something newly fried.

Her gaze, now alert, swept the room until it landed on a figure kneeling beside her bed. Eileen. Her posture was a sculpture of impeccable stillness, her hands resting on her lap with a precision that could easily be mistaken for coldness. Her intense, direct amber eyes watched her unblinking, as if the simple act of watching her breathe were a task of vital importance. Beside her, on a dark wooden tray, steamed perfectly consistent rice porridge and jiangbing—crispy crepes—wrapped with an almost surgical neatness.

Kanade's magnetic vitality, normally explosive upon waking, was held back for an instant of pure evaluation. Her mind, a paradox of eternal youth and ancient wisdom, analyzed the scene in the blink of an eye. There was no threat, only a fait accompli presented with absolute serenity.

"What are you doing here?" Kanade asked, her voice still low and hoarse from sleep, but lacking the surprise one might expect.

"I was ordered to live with you," Eileen replied, her voice a low, contained whisper, not diverting her gaze even an inch. There was no justification, no excuse, just the certainty of an order fulfilled.

Kanade held her gaze for several long seconds. She detected no resistance, no resentment, only an unshakable certainty, a loyalty already directed toward her like a beacon. And that, for someone who judged people by their actions and not their histories, was enough. She didn't ask further. With a fluid movement, she sat up and took the tray. She sampled a spoonful of the porridge. It wasn't bad. In fact, it was excellent.

"They smell good," she commented, her tone light, almost playful, already returning to her natural state. It was her way of accepting the situation, of lowering the tension without need for a speech.

Eileen didn't respond with words. She only inclined her head slightly, an almost imperceptible gesture of acknowledgment. She continued watching her, so motionless she could have been a figure carved in amber and porcelain, guarding a silence that was more comfortable for her than any conversation.

The walk to the Armed Detective Agency proceeded with a normality that was, in itself, suspicious. Kagome walked with her springy, energetic stride, a whirlwind of light clothes and dark hair moving with the breeze, while Eileen glided beside her like an elegant, silent shadow, her presence barely disturbing the air. Crossing the office threshold, the routine seemed to have settled in as usual.

The first thing they saw was Dazai, leaning dangerously back in his chair, completely absorbed in his book of creative suicides.

"I didn't know we were going to live together!" exclaimed Atsushi, his golden eyes wide with genuine surprise at seeing Kagome and Eileen enter together.

Kikyo, with a soft, somewhat maternal smile that contrasted with the cunning in her eyes, approached, setting a tray of chocolate bonbons on the table. "There aren't enough rooms, Atsushi-kun. Why do you think Dazai and I share a room, and that Ranpo lives with Asuna?" she said, her voice a silk thread.

"But..." the tiger boy tried to protest, his sense of order disrupted.

"Truthfully, it doesn't bother me that much," Kanade interjected, collapsing with abandon onto a plush armchair as if it were her personal throne. Her purple gaze rested on Eileen, who had positioned herself standing by the door, observing the interactions with the intensity of someone studying a social survival manual. "If Eileen is okay with it and so is Kyouka, I don't see a problem." Her tone was carefree, but behind that lightness was a quick and calculated acceptance. She, who saw the intrinsic worth of people, had already judged Eileen and found something worthy of protection.

"I'm glad you understand so quickly, Kanade-chan," Kikyo chuckled, taking a pocky stick and offering it to Dazai with a complicity that spoke of years of association.

"If you have time to eat chocolate, you also have time to draft the report on your time in the Port Mafia," Kunikida grumbled without lifting his gaze from his ideal notebook, his brow furrowed in a familiar expression of exasperation.

Kikyo bit the pocky deliberately, ignoring the comment as if it were a buzzing fly. Then, her astute gaze slid toward Atsushi and Kagome. "Hey, want to know who put the bounty of you, Atsushi-kun?" she asked, skillfully setting the hook.

"Do you know who it was?" Atsushi said, turning to her with immediate interest.

"According to the Port Mafia records we 'obtained'," Dazai intervened, holding up a small flash drive between his index finger and thumb with a mischievous smile, "the leader of an organization called the Guild put up the bounty."

Kunikida adjusted his glasses with a brusque movement. "Guild is an urban myth. They are said to hold key positions in finance, politics, and the military. They are a secret society that uses abilities, linked to an Archon, with unlimited funds for their plans." His voice was grave, professional. "What do they want with Atsushi?"

At that precise moment, a deep, vibrating noise began to grow outside, a metallic thump-thump-thump that quickly became a deafening roar. Dazai and Kikyo exchanged a silent, meaningful look.

"It's an emergency!" Tanizaki yelled, bursting through the door, his face pale.

Everyone, as if moved by a spring, rushed into the street. The scene was surreal: an enormous, sleek, military-grade helicopter had landed right in the middle of the public road, kicking up a whirlwind of dust and papers that fluttered like frightened butterflies. The force of the rotor wash whipped hair and shook clothes.

"They beat us to it," Dazai and Kikyo said in unison, their voices nearly lost in the roar.

The craft's door opened, and a man descended. Tall, thin, with geometrically precise blonde hair and light blue eyes that scanned the surroundings with absolute certainty. His bearing was impeccable, from the perfectly ironed and buttoned pink shirt to the meticulously aligned tie and the tailor-made cream yellow suit. He was smiling, and that smile conveyed a confidence so vast it bordered on arrogance.

"This is going to cause us trouble..." Kikyo murmured, placing a hand to her chin in a thoughtful gesture.

Beside Kagome, Eileen didn't flinch. Her expression remained neutral, but her amber eyes narrowed an almost imperceptible degree, calculating angles, distances, and weak points. Her voice, low but clear, filtered through the din. "If he gets too close, I will neutralize him." It was not a question, nor a boast. It was a simple statement of fact, the offer of a lethal tool at her disposal.

Kagome, however, did not take her eyes off the newcomer. Her face, usually illuminated by a carefree smile, had grown serene. The jester girl had given way to the protector, the strategist who saw beyond appearances. Her grey morality evaluated the situation, weighing the need for force against the value of information. "No," she said, her voice firm but calm, a counterpoint to the tension of the moment. "Let's see what he wants first."

The rotor wash continued to beat down, tangling hair and shaking lapels. The blonde man, Francis Fitzgerald, smiled placidly, as if enjoying the chaos his mere presence generated. And for an instant that stretched to infinity, everything was suspended in that expectant, charged silence, between the artificial breeze and the impassive gaze of two young people who, in their own way, were as dangerous as the myth that had just landed on their doorstep

—

The midday light poured through the tall windows of the reception room, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. In the center of this luminous stillness, Kin sat with unshakeable elegance beside Fukuzawa. The deep blue of her yukata stood out vividly under the brightness, like a piece of the night sky captured in fabric. Her gaze, however, was lost on the outside world, observing the street's hustle with such absolute indifference that it seemed to imply nothing occurring inside the room deserved her attention.

Opposite her, like a calculated contrast, Francis Scott Fitzgerald settled onto the sofa with the ease of a man accustomed to owning every space he entered. His white suit was impeccable, an armor of linen and silk, and his blonde hair was combed with geometric precision. His smile, broad and self-assured, seemed like an artifact designed to leave not the slightest room for doubt or refusal.

"I'm very, very pleased to meet you," Fitzgerald began, his voice an affable baritone that failed to conceal a layer of condescension.

His blue eyes, clear as an alpine lake, rested on the silver-haired man. "President Fukuna... Fukuda..." he tried to pronounce, subtly frowning in a feigned effort to recall.

"Fukuzawa," the Agency president corrected with a calm that had the consistency of granite, his eyes closed in a gesture of serene patience.

"Yes, that's it!" Fitzgerald nodded, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Now that I think about it, I probably shouldn't have left my helicopter on the road like that, but it's the first time I've visited a company without a heliport, so technically, it's also your fault," he declared, crossing his legs with an ease that defied the latent tension in the room.

"Well, foreign guest, how may we serve you?" Fukuzawa asked, maintaining his patient but firm tone.

The door softly opened, and Naomi entered with a tea tray. She served with careful movements, first Fitzgerald, then Kin. He took the cup with curiosity; she, by contrast, took it immediately and brought the rim to her lips without diverting her gaze from the window an inch, as if the act of drinking were an unconscious reflex.

"What an unusual design," Fitzgerald commented, raising the porcelain cup and examining it as if evaluating a museum piece. "And I consider myself a porcelain expert. What brand is it? Royal Blanc? The Zelga, perhaps?"

Naomi, with the tray resting against her chest, closed her eyes and replied sweetly, "From our neighbor, Shimomura Tableware."

A shadow of disappointment crossed Fitzgerald's face, but it was quickly replaced by his facade of a smile. "My apologies, madam. You can call me Francis, old sport... and Miss Kin," he said, bowing slightly towards the woman in the blue yukata. "I preside over the American organization called the Guild. I also own three conglomerates, five hotels, an airline, a railway company..."

"Mr. Francis."

Kin's voice cut through the list of possessions like a knife. She had set down her cup and, for the first time, her cool, piercing blue-green eyes were fixed on him. "I understand you placed a bounty on two of our subordinates to incite the Port Mafia to attack us. Is that true?"

Fitzgerald didn't flinch. "Yes, it was an oversight on my part. I never thought the organized crime in this country would be so incompetent." He paused dramatically before continuing. "I've come to offer a deal to apologize. Your company isn't bad. And the neighborhood is charming. So..." He opened a fine leather briefcase, revealing an interior filled with neatly stacked bundles of cash. "I'd like to buy it."

Kin's kanzashi glowed faintly, catching a ray of light that streamed through the window.

"Don't misunderstand me," Fitzgerald added, closing the briefcase with a soft click. "I could buy all the surrounding properties along with your company. I'm not interested in the building or its employees. All I want is..."

"Are you referring to...?" Fukuzawa asked, showing a hint of sharp interest for the first time.

"That's right. Your Supernatural Business Permit," Fitzgerald declared.

Fukuzawa fully opened his eyes, and a spark of cold iron lit his gaze. Kin straightened her back almost imperceptibly, her posture gaining an alert rigidity. Naomi, who had remained near the door, swallowed hard.

"People with abilities can't legally open a business without a permit from the supernatural division of the Ministry of Internal Affairs," Fitzgerald explained, as if dictating a lesson. "Those stubborn folks are the only ones who can't be bought with money. We are a secret society that doesn't officially exist. To maintain peace with the ministry and do what we do... that permit is..."

"We refuse." Fukuzawa's voice did not rise in volume, but it cut the air with the force of a sword. There was no room for negotiation.

Fitzgerald blinked, as if his brain needed a moment to process a refusal. "What? Isn't that enough?" His smile tightened at the corners. "In that case, I'll add this." He took the watch from his wrist, a gold artifact inlaid with diamonds that glittered arrogantly, and placed it on the table next to the briefcase. "Limited edition, custom made."

"Like human lives," Kin said, her voice dry and cutting like ice, "nothing is worth as much as that permit." Her words hung in the air, clear and irrevocable. "It is the Agency's soul. It is the division's hope and the spirit of Natsume-sensei and Kyouko, who obtained it without rest. It won't fall into the hands of rich men who have dollars instead of brains."

Fitzgerald's smile froze, transforming into something colder and more dangerous. "You say there are things money can't buy? That's how poor people talk. Your bluster will be useless when your employees disappear and your Agency ceases to operate."

"I'll take your warning to heart," Fukuzawa responded, his face impassive. "Withdraw."

Fitzgerald picked up his briefcase and watch, standing up with a forced elegance. "I'll be back," he said, and this time the undertone of threat in his voice was as palpable as the money he had just displayed.

Kin set her empty cup on the table with a soft click. Then, she gave a single clap.

The seemingly ordinary sound instantly transformed into an invisible gust of wind that swept through the room with sudden violence. The papers on Kunikida's desk flew in a white whirlwind, the curtains flapped wildly, and everyone's hair was disheveled by the assault. Beneath their feet, a slight but unmistakable tremor made the floorboards creak.

Kenji, who had just entered at that precise moment, was paralyzed for a second, his blue eyes wide with surprise, before his face lit up with his usual smile, as if he had just witnessed a fascinating magic trick. Naomi brought a hand to her chest, holding her breath. Fitzgerald himself took a step back, unsettled, his impeccable composure broken for an instant of genuine astonishment at the invisible force that had swept the room. Only Fukuzawa remained completely motionless, watching the scene unperturbed, like a rock in the middle of the storm.

"Visitors are leaving," Kin declared, her voice serene once more, as if the gale had been no more than a sigh.

"Great! I'll see them out," Kenji said, regaining his cheerfulness and stepping forward toward Fitzgerald with an energy that brutally contrasted with the reigning tension.

Fitzgerald adjusted his tie knot, recomposing his mask of assurance. "I'll leave a message for you in the morning newspaper. Look at it closely, old sport," he said, fixing his blue eyes on Fukuzawa and then on Kin. "I always get what I want."

Naomi, once he turned his back, couldn't help but stick out her tongue in an childish gesture of defiance. Fukuzawa closed his eyes again, an almost imperceptible sigh escaping his lips. Kin looked at him askance, and in the depth of her blue-green eyes, where the power to summon wind and earth had dwelled a moment before, there was now only a reflection of the afternoon light and a pleasant, mundane thought beginning to take shape.

Kenji broke the remaining silence. "Kin-dono... that was amazing," he said, with an admiration so pure and childlike it was impossible not to smile at it.

"It wasn't meant to impress," Kin replied, taking her now-cold tea cup between her hands again. "It was to remind him he's not home."

The atmosphere was impregnated not only with the echo of Fitzgerald's warning but with the tangible sensation that Kin, when she decided to intervene, not only imposed order but reminded everyone, foreigners and companions alike, that her presence was an elemental force that didn't need to announce itself with shouts, but with actions. And as calm returned to the sunlit room, her mind, having dispelled the intrusion, was already navigating towards sweeter waters, wondering if that night she would enjoy the silky smoothness of a purin, the subtle elegance of a mizu shingen mochi, or the comforting intensity of a matcha parfait. The decision, she knew, would be just as deliberate and significant as any other she made.

—

The following morning at the Armed Detective Agency was charged with a palpable tension. Kikyo and Kanade were watching the news alongside Atsushi and Dazai, all focused on the screen showing the image of a seven-story building that had literally disappeared overnight—a Port Mafia property.

"Did you see the newspaper?!" Kunikida questioned, bursting into the room, shaking the morning paper in his hands.

"It's also on TV," Dazai said with studied calm. Kikyo didn't take her eyes off the screen, her fingers lightly gripping the arm of the sofa.

"So that was the message," Kunikida murmured, adjusting his glasses with a nervous movement.

Kikyo abruptly turned off the television. "Kenji-kun hasn't returned to the dorms since he escorted them out," Tanizaki reported, showing Kenji's characteristic hat as tangible proof of his concern.

"They finished off any resistance, whether from the Port Mafia or the agency," Dazai analyzed, one hand on his chin, his expression unusually serious.

Kanade, who had remained silent, watched the scene with her purple-pink eyes. Although her face maintained a seemingly carefree expression, her mind was already working at full speed, evaluating threats and calculating possibilities. Her nature as a resting hurricane manifested in the slight drumming of her fingers on the table.

Kikyo activated her ability, 'Hyakka no Niwa', making a pale scarlet rose appear between her fingers. "I will send one of my roses to track him," she announced, gently blowing the petals that flew out the window. "It will notify them any second."

Kunikida nodded, taking control of the situation. "Tanizaki, you are forbidden from working alone from now on. Search for Kenji with Atsushi; the petals of Kikyo's ability will tell you where they might be; you just have to follow them." He turned to Dazai and Kikyo. "You two will accompany me. We'll go with the president and Miss Kin." Finally, he looked at the Nakajima twins. "We don't know their powers. If you run into them, run away without fighting."

"Understood," Atsushi said with determination, while Kanade silently nodded, her eyes following the trail of scarlet petals with focused intensity.

In the streets of Yokohama, the small group followed the trail of petals with increasing urgency. Naomi walked alongside them, ignoring her brother's protests.

"Naomi, you should go back to the agency. It's too dangerous," Tanizaki insisted, his concern evident in his frown.

"If they can make entire buildings disappear, it doesn't matter where I am. Right, Atsushi-san and Kagome-san?" Naomi argued, seeking support from the others.

Kanade replied with a simple "Yes," her voice casual but firm, as if she were confirming the weather forecast rather than discussing supernatural threats.

"Atsushi-kun! She doesn't have powers like you or Kanade. She'll get in the way," Tanizaki protested desperately.

"What are you saying? You said you'd do anything I asked," Naomi retorted with a mischievous smile.

"That was yesterday when you forced me to...!" Tanizaki cut himself off, visibly blushing while hiding his hands in his sleeves. "I didn't say anything," he mumbled, embarrassed.

Atsushi had beads of sweat running down his face, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. Kanade, for her part, maintained her apathetic expression, although a slight curve to her lips suggested she found the situation quite entertaining.

"The point is, it's dangerous. Go back," Tanizaki insisted.

"Oh yeah? If you want, I can help you remember..." Naomi began to say, but before she could finish the sentence, Kanade opened one of her purple-pink eyes, and Naomi simply vanished.

"Wouldn't it have been...?" Atsushi tried to say, confused.

"Naomi?! Where are you? Where did you go, Naomi?" Tanizaki shouted, immediately panicking.

"Was it the enemy?" Kanade asked, narrowing her purple-pink gaze as she scanned the area with renewed intensity. Her relaxed posture had disappeared, replaced by the alertness of a protector.

"It can't be. I didn't sense anything strange," Tanizaki said, starting to run around the area in a frenzy.

It was then that Kanade saw the girl. Pale, short, and thin, with green eyes and long crimson hair tied up with twists, choppy bangs, and a white flower hairpin on the left side of her head. She was even wearing braces.

"Let's play," the girl said in a voice that sounded strangely empty.

In an instant, reality itself seemed to crumble and reorganize around them. Now they were in a place that looked like something out of a childhood nightmare, with bright colors and oversized furniture.

"I welcome you to Anne's Room. It's embarrassing. So many people are looking at me right now. Talking to strangers isn't my forte. But I have to be strong. If I don't explain, everyone will get lost. After all, you arrived at this strange place without even knowing it. In your place, my heart would beat so..." the girl was saying, but Kanae interrupted her.

"Where are we?" Kanade questioned, her voice showing clear exasperation. Her patience for what she considered "nonsense" was quickly running out. "And you could be more direct; all this beating around the bush is tiring."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I should explain. Your agents are over there," the girl said, pointing towards a corner where Kikyo's petals floated around Kenji and Naomi, both trapped and unconscious.

Tanizaki ran toward them immediately, but Kanade stopped him with a gesture. "The door won't open without the key. You should open that one," the girl said, pointing to a white door on the opposite wall.

Kanade directed her gaze there, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Her expression became calculating, evaluating every detail of the unreal space they were in.

"My name is Lucy. You are in the dimension I created with my power. But don't worry. You can leave whenever you want through that white door, that is, if you don't want your colleagues back, of course," Lucy said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"What do you want?" Tanizaki questioned, his voice trembling with worry for his sister.

"It's simple. I want you to play with Anne. Come, Anne," Lucy said, activating her power. A doll appeared that looked like a sinister rag doll, with empty eyes and an unsettling smile.

"Anne loves to play. She requires a lot of attention, but she's sweet," Lucy explained, stroking the doll with a possessive gesture.

Kanade exchanged a look with Atsushi and Tanizaki. Her face had lost all trace of its usual lightness. Her purple-pink eyes now shone with cold, dangerous determination.

The atmosphere in Anne's room was dense, charged with a childlike energy that was unsettling in its false innocence. The bright colors and exaggeratedly proportioned furniture created a claustrophobic feeling. When the remaining civilians bolted towards the white door, only Kanade, Atsushi, Tanizaki, and two figures who notably clashed with the setting remained: a middle-aged man with the air of a doctor and an imposing woman dressed like an otherworldly nurse.

Kanade frowned as she observed the man lying on the floor with a carelessness that was suspicious. Her purplish-pink eyes swept the scene, analyzing every detail. *Something isn't right here,* she thought, as she noticed how the man's spiritual energy flowed with a too-perfect calm, like a deep river concealing deadly currents beneath its tranquil surface.

"If you go through that door! You won't remember what happened in this room!" Lucy shouted, but her warning came too late for the civilians who had already crossed the threshold.

Kanade turned toward the doctor and the nurse who remained unperturbed. "This place isn't safe. If you know what's good for you, you should run," she said with a voice that was meant to sound casual but contained a genuine warning.

The man sat up with a fluid movement and showed a photograph. "I'm looking for a girl. She's adorable, like a little angel. Have you seen her?"

The image showed a small girl with waist-length curly blonde hair and a pristine red dress. Next to her, in another photo, appeared a girl of about thirteen with lilac hair and violet eyes that seemed to contain entire universes.

Kanade studied the photos for a moment before shaking her head. "We haven't seen them," she said, but her gaze settled on Lucy, analyzing the emotional patterns fluctuating around the young woman. She could see the golden threads of resentment and loneliness weaving a complex web around her soul.

"Understood. Her name is Elise, and the other is Aíra," the nurse said in a melodious but firm voice. "Since we were separated, I've been very worried. She might be behind that door. If so, I'll regret running away for the rest of my life. So, we're staying too."

Kanade rolled her eyes at her, her purple pupils catching the subtle nuances of energy emanating from the woman. "Alright, but if you die, it won't be our fault," she declared with a pragmatism that concealed her growing concern.

Lucy, excited to have more participants for her game, made a key appear. "The rules are simple: you'll play hide-and-seek with Anne. If she catches you, you lose. If you manage to open the door with that key before she does, you win. I'll release the hostages."

Kanade immediately grabbed the key, her fingers closing around the cold metal. For an instant, she felt the echo of the emotions imbued in the object—years of loneliness and desperation.

"Can we all play at once?" Tanizaki asked.

"Of course! The more, the merrier," Lucy replied, her enthusiasm making Kanade's stomach churn.

The game began with Anne moving at a supernatural speed, catching Tanizaki almost instantly. Kanade didn't waste time; she extended her hands and manifested her Karmic Hands, two spectral projections that left trails of kaleidoscopic patterns in the air. They didn't grasp physical objects but interacted directly with the spiritual plane, creating protective barriers that slowed the doll's advance.

Atsushi transformed his legs into tiger paws, moving with feline agility. The twins coordinated without needing words, a dance of complementary powers where Atsushi's physical strength combined with Kanade's spiritual defense.

"Impressive!" Lucy exclaimed, but her praise soon turned bitter. "I want to see more. What strong and useful abilities you two have. Surely you were sought after since birth."

Kanade felt the shift in the room's energy, the golden threads around Lucy darkening to shades of envy and resentment.

"They told me you're both orphans. I also grew up in an orphanage," Lucy continued, her voice heavy with suppressed emotions. "It was a very cold place. After using frozen rags to clean all day, my fingers constantly hurt."

Kanade maintained her defensive posture as she listened, her eyes perceiving the emotional scars that marked Lucy's soul. She could see the knots of pain and abandonment tangled around her heart.

"The Guild also took me in for the potential of my ability," Lucy said, and now her voice trembled with contained rage. "But in The Guild, you can't make mistakes. If I fail this mission, they'll abandon me like a used tissue. I'll be alone again."

Kanade felt a pang of empathy, remembering her own experiences of rejection and misunderstanding. But there was no time for compassion as Anne lunged at them with renewed ferocity.

"Hey, why does it have to be you two?! Why can't it be me? It's so unfair. You should know how I feel too! You should stay in this room forever!" Lucy screamed, and the room itself seemed to darken with her despair.

It was then that Atsushi reached the door. "Good! We win!" he exclaimed, and Kanade immediately pulled out the key. But instead of opening the lock, the key turned against them, cutting their cheeks before falling at Lucy's feet.

"You told us we would win if we opened the door with the key!" Atsushi shouted, bleeding from the cut.

"That's right. If you *manage* to open it," Lucy said with a cruel smile. "Not even I know how to use one of these keys."

Kanade gritted her teeth, hot blood sliding down her cheek. She extended her Karmic Hands again, but this time not to defend, but to analyze the very nature of the key. Her eyes glazed over for a moment as she accessed the object's Akashic Record, searching for answers in the spiritual history imbued in the metal.

When Atsushi ran towards the white door in an act of desperation, it was the doctor who stopped him with surprising strength.

"Hold it there, young man. Your enemy is next to you, not at the exit," the nurse said in a calm but authoritative voice. "You're not going to run. If that girl is telling the truth, you'll forget the enemy's plan if you go out the white door."

The doctor approached, his eyes reflecting a sharp intelligence. "I'll teach you something useful. In game theory, the ideal strategy is to launch a full counter-offensive against the enemy who attacked you. Crush the rival."

"But how?" Atsushi asked, confused.

Kanade rolled her eyes, but listened attentively. She could feel the truth in the man's words, a wisdom that transcended the ordinary.

"An arrogant enemy who believes themselves invincible is the most vulnerable opponent," the doctor continued. "And if I haven't heard wrong, didn't those behind that door try their hardest to save you?"

Atsushi lowered his gaze, and Kanade felt the emotional conflict stirring his soul. With an almost imperceptible gesture, she deactivated her Karmic Hands, allowing Atsushi to free himself from the spiritual influence that kept him undecided.

"It's my turn," Atsushi declared, walking decisively towards Lucy.

But Lucy smiled and made another Anne appear, who caught Atsushi and began to drag him towards the door. Kanade was about to react, but she was also captured.

"You've already lost," Kanade said from the doorway, but then she snapped her fingers.

The scene suddenly changed, revealing itself as an illusion created by Light Snow, Tanizaki's ability. Lucy was exposed and confused.

"You made a huge mistake. This fight was two against one from the start!" Atsushi shouted.

"When the door opened, Tanizaki-san used his ability to create a fake door," Kanade explained with a triumphant smile.

Lucy looked in disbelief. "Impossible. And you could resist the force that was sucking you into the room with just the boy's arms and legs?"

"You didn't understand us," Kanade said, and her voice lost all trace of its usual lightness. Her purple eyes locked onto Lucy with an intensity that made one recoil. "We are neither strong nor popular. We've had a cursed life. That's why we perfectly understand your envy and hatred for others."

She paused, allowing her words to resonate in the tense silence. "I grew up among prostitutes, do you think that's better than being marginalized by an orphanage?"

For an instant, Kanade's mask completely vanished, revealing the depth of pain and understanding that lay beneath her carefree facade. She could see the golden threads connecting her soul to Lucy's, recognizing similar patterns of abandonment and misunderstanding.

Atsushi took advantage of Lucy's moment of vulnerability, pulling the rope tied around her waist and dragging her towards them.

"Stop your ability," Kanade ordered, her voice regaining its usual tone but maintaining an unbreakable authority. "Without the key, you won't be able to leave since you don't know how the keys work."

Their gazes met, and in that crossing of souls, Kanade saw not an enemy, but another lost soul searching for its place in the world. She extended one of her Karmic Hands, not to attack, but to offer a golden thread of connection, an opportunity for understanding.

Lucy, defeated and realizing she had underestimated her opponents, finally gave in. Anne's room began to fade, returning them to reality.

Kanade sighed in relief, putting a hand to her head as the real world solidified around them. She felt Eileen's arms wrapping around her back in a protective gesture, and saw Kyouka hugging Atsushi.

For a moment, everything seemed to be over. Atsushi smiled at the freed girl, but when Kanade looked to where the doctor and nurse had been, she found only emptiness. They had vanished as mysteriously as they had appeared.

It was then she noticed that Kyouka and Eileen were trembling, their faces covered in cold sweat.

"What's wrong?" Kanade asked, but she already felt the answer in the air. Those hadn't been simple trapped civilians, and now the confirmation came through the palpable fear of her companions.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Yokohama, two figures walked calmly down a dark alley. Mori Ougai and Nana Shigetsu advanced with an innate elegance, followed by Elise and Aíra, who walked a few steps ahead, swaying with that characteristic ungainly movement.

"We had quite a bit of fun," Mori commented, adjusting his gloves. "I wanted to go back to my younger days and use my power to sweep away all my enemies."

"You're too old," Elise retorted with her usual flippancy.

"How tiresome. I can also..." Mori began, but stopped abruptly.

His gaze fell upon the shattered corpse of a Guild member, and in front of them, kneeling in respect, were Chuuya Nakahara, the Black Lizard Squad, and Motojirou Kajii.

Chuuya took off his hat with a ceremonial gesture. "Bosses," he said, his voice containing the usual mix of respect and familiarity.

Nana let her hair fall with a fluid movement, her green eyes scanning the scene with that analytical calm that characterized her. "Was he a Guild assassin?" she asked in a soft but penetrating voice.

"Yes," Chuuya confirmed.

Mori and Nana exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. Their voices joined in perfect synchronization as they declared:

"The Agency and The Guild... It seems a very challenging war is coming... we need an optimal solution. Be it the Agency or The Guild. Any opposition will be crushed and annihilated."

Aíra, who had been observing the scene with apparent disinterest, approached Nana and offered her a candy. "Your forehead vein is throbbing," she commented with a mischievous smile. "That's bad for your skin."

Nana accepted the candy without looking at her, her eyes remaining fixed on the horizon where she knew the next act of this conflict would unfold. The war was approaching, and they would be ready.

Chapter Text

The wind swept cherry blossoms like rose-tinted tears against the leaden sky. Two figures, one cloaked in the crimson of a wakasa and the other in the icy pallor of white and blue hair, walked with a funereal calm.

“The flowers that bloom in the darkness... can only find peace in it,” Kouyou Ozaki murmured, her voice a somber melody. The petals swirled around her, caressing the fabric of her kimono.

“Petals are beautiful when they fall,” Mori Ougai observed from the gloom of a corridor, his smile as serene as a chill down one’s neck.

Kouyou opened her parasol with a fluid motion, revealing the naked edge of her katana. The steel reflected the dull sky, a silent, silver lightning bolt. Beside her, Takako Ueno held an ice-blue camellia. She let it slip from her fingers, and as it did, a deadly frost spread, freezing the petals mid-air, suspending them in an eternal instant of beautified death.

“It makes no sense for petals to fall before they bloom,” Kouyou declared, adjusting her grip on her sword's hilt, her gaze fixed on a horizon only she could see.

“And we’re certainly not going to let a few little petals born in the darkness... get burned by putrid light,” Takako added, her blue lips curved in a smile that didn’t reach her dark eyes. Her hair, a cascade of snow and cyan, billowed in the icy gusts she herself emanated.

---

The transition to the Armed Detective Agency office was abrupt, like a knife’s cut. The door opened to let Kagome and Atsushi in.

“Sorry for the delay. We’ve got a case for you,” Kanade announced, her voice a methodical whisper that cut through the previous tension. She advanced with surgical precision and held out a document to Eileen and Kyouka, who were seated—one as still as a statue, the other with a learned quietude.

“The Port Mafia is after you. We want you to protect yourselves, though I don’t think you're in any danger this time,” Atsushi said with a somewhat forced smile. He handed a stun gun to Eileen. She took it, her gloved hand grasping it with deadly familiarity, her expression unchanged.

“What should we do?” Kyouka asked, looking up. There was no hesitation in her lilac eyes.

“Deliver this envelope to a judge,” Kanade explained, showing a photo of an obese man with a disheveled mustache. “It’s crucial that only he receives it.”

“I’ve already memorized his face,” Eileen declared, her dark eyes never leaving the image, just as Kyouka nodded with equal determination.

“So much enthusiasm. It must be because it’s your first job,” Atsushi tried to joke, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No... my first job was to infiltrate and kill two people,” Kyouka corrected, looking down at her hands, her voice flat, a simple fact in a report.

“Mine was to take down an organization and kill twenty,” Eileen added, looking away toward the window, her tone as neutral as if she were talking about the weather.

Atsushi paled slightly. Kanade, for her part, showed no surprise. She tucked the envelope into her jacket and took a deep breath.

“And now we’ll try to make sure your second mission has zero casualties.”

The door opened again, softly this time, revealing Saitou Kikyo. Her entry was not an intrusion but a natural arrival, as if the space had rearranged itself to accommodate her. She walked with serene elegance; her smile was warm yet contained a depth that calmed the room.

“Would you mind if I came with you to see how Kyouka-chan and Eileen-chan do on the President's mission? It's for supervision,” Kikyo asked, tilting her head gently. Her golden pupils, with their non-circular reddish glints, shone with a kind but inquisitive light.

“No problem, Kikyo-san,” Atsushi agreed, always ready to trust the most enigmatic yet reassuring member of the Agency.

“I don’t care,” Kanade replied dryly, crossing her arms. Her pragmatism clashed with Kikyo's ethereal nature, but a tacit respect existed between them, a recognition of different but equally sharp intelligences.

“You're so boring, Kanade-chan... and I take such good care of you,” Kikyo murmured, advancing with fluid steps toward her. She gently pinched her cheek, a gesture that could be one of affection or purely calculated provocation.

“I don’t need care, I need efficiency,” Kanade retorted, unfazed, keeping her analytical gaze fixed on Kikyo’s golden eyes.

“That’s why I take care of you,” Kikyo smiled, pulling her hand away and stepping back with a slight laugh, as if they had exchanged the secret code of a sisterhood only they understood. “Efficiency without care is like poison without an antidote: useful, but terribly sad.”

---

The courthouse was a building of gray stone and even grayer rules. The guard at the entrance was a wall of flesh and misunderstood authority.

“Can’t we go in?” Kikyo approached, resting a hand on her curved hip. Her tone was pure honey, kind, but with a layer of polished steel beneath the sweetness.

“It’s almost time,” Kyouka repeated in a whisper, her eyes fixed on the wall clock, as if the mantra would speed up time.

“You and your mom need to fill out a form,” the guard said with annoyance, pointing to a distant desk.

Kikyo didn’t blink. “I am not her mom, and she is a foreigner,” she corrected softly, gesturing to Eileen, who remained motionless, her dark, deep eyes fixed on the guard with the intensity of a predator assessing its prey. It wasn't a look of defiance, but of pure and simple analysis: weak points, reaction time, angles of attack.

“It’s no use, the judge isn’t answering,” Atsushi grumbled, putting his phone away in frustration. “We'll have to deal with the guard.”

“Should we kill him?” Kyouka pulled a knife from her clothes with a terrifying nonchalance. The blade reflected the fluorescent light.

“First I’ll take him to a deserted place with my charms and stab him…” Kyouka continued, with a twisted logic inherited from a dark past, while Kikyo laughed softly, a hand in front of her lips. Atsushi panicked, blushing.

“We don’t do those things at the Agency!” he exclaimed, desperately seeking support in the faces of the others. But Kikyo continued to laugh elegantly, as if enjoying a private comedy; Kanade remained impassive, probably calculating the lethal dose of a sedative for the guard; and Eileen watched it all with the same expression she’d have watching a cloud pass, as if it were normal.

“As much as I’d like to see that, Kyouka-chan,” Kikyo intervened, her golden eyes glinting with malicious amusement, “you’re fourteen, and I don’t think the guard will react the way you think he will. Persuasion has nuances, dear.” Her voice was both a seductive and didactic whisper. “I only know of one other way.” Kyouka said, and began to move away, slipping into the shadows with the skill of a ghost. Atsushi paled.

“Is this going to get us a scolding from Kunikida-san?” Kanade asked, arching an eyebrow slightly. She didn’t seem worried, but rather interested in the variable of punishment in the equation of their mission.

Kikyo sighed, a playful smile on her lips. “Probably. But a scolding from Kunikida-kun is, at its core, a display of how much he cares. It’s almost endearing.” She looked at Kagome. “Don’t you think, Kanade-chan? Worry is just emotional chaos channeled into control. Very logical, in the end.”

Before Atsushi could stop it, Kyouka's plan (and Eileen’s tacit collaboration, who simply followed the most direct impulse to action) was set in motion. A strategic short circuit, a shadow moving too fast, a precise and non-lethal electrical discharge. The result was a brief but catastrophic blackout in the administration wing, papers flying, people screaming, and two young agents causing a methodical, silent chaos.

Seconds later, the courthouse was a hive of angry employees. Kikyo observed the scene with a slight air of affectionate exasperation. “Well, well... what a pair of prodigies they are.”

She then stepped forward, while Atsushi wrung his hands and Kanade observed the collateral damage with a clinical eye. Kikyo approached the main guard, who was furious and red-faced. She bowed slightly in an apology that was also a display of grace.

“My sincerest apologies,” Kikyo began, her voice a balm, low and melodious. “My pupils are... enthusiastic. Their zeal to fulfill the mission sometimes outweighs their understanding of civil protocols.” She placed a soft hand on the guard's arm. It wasn't an intrusive gesture but one of connection. Her golden eyes locked with the man’s, and for an instant, all his anger seemed to dissolve. “I know this has been a terrible disturbance. Please allow me, as their supervisor, to take full responsibility.”

Her smile wasn’t just kind; it was hypnotic. She spoke to each affected person, finding the exact word, the perfect tone of empathy and respect that disarmed their anger. Her apologies didn't sound empty but deeply sincere, because Kikyo understood every nuance of others' frustration and knew how to mold her speech to placate it. She used her charm not as a blunt weapon but as a precision tool, a master key for human emotions.

Indeed, it served the wielder of Hyakka no Niwa well to have such an ethereal appearance and perfectly developed seductive skills. It wasn’t magic; it was applied psychology, empathy weaponized. And it worked. Tempers calmed, complaints turned into accepted apologies, and the envelope was delivered to a now much calmer judge.

—

The air in the park was sweet and calm, laden with the aroma of freshly made crepes. Atsushi and Kanade returned with their hands full of the promised desserts. Kyouka, Eileen, and Kikyo waited for them on a bench, bathed in the soft afternoon light.

“Here you go.” Atsushi held out the crepes with a tired but genuine smile. For Kyouka, her usual strawberry one. For Eileen, a dark chocolate one. For Kikyo, another chocolate, but with extra whipped cream that she herself had requested with a wink.

Kyouka and Eileen took them carefully, their movements still tense from the courthouse incident. Guilt and frustration weighed on them like invisible layers.

Kikyo, on the other hand, bit into hers instantly. A drop of chocolate remained on her upper lip, which she wiped with innate elegance. “This tastes so good!” she exclaimed, her voice pure melody, a deliberate contrast to the somber atmosphere. Her golden eyes, with those non-circular reddish glints, closed slightly in a gesture of genuine pleasure. “The bitter chocolate perfectly balances the sweetness of the cream. An excellent choice, Atsushi-kun.”

“Kikyo-san managed to fix everything. I’m glad she's so good with people,” Atsushi said, relieved that the crisis had dissipated.

Kikyo gave him a more radiant smile, one that reached her eyes and promised calm. “Persuasion is just a matter of understanding what the other person values, Atsushi-kun. Sometimes, a sincere apology is worth more than a forced victory.”

“Everything was fine before the blackout…” Kyouka murmured, staring at her crepe as if the strawberry pieces held all the answers.

It was then that Kanade, silent and observant as always, moved her purple-pink eyes toward the phones that Kyouka and Eileen still held with a grip that was a little too firm.

“You’re still carrying those phones with you,” Kanade commented, her voice a methodical whisper, devoid of judgment, only curiosity.

“We had a technician reprogram them... they're important to us...” both replied in unison, their voices low but firm. It was a talisman, a reminder of a past they were fleeing from but couldn’t completely let go of.

Kanade nodded, processing the information. “Regarding your future... if we were to discover the mysteries of your respective powers and you could control Yasha Shirayuki and Bai Lianhua without the phones, you could help the agency even more significantly.” Her tone was soft, logical, trying to present the argument as a beneficial equation, not as an order.

The effect was instantaneous. “No! We won’t use Yasha or Lianhua again.” Kyouka’s voice trembled, not with power, but with visceral fear. Eileen said nothing, but her body tensed like a wire, and her gaze, for a moment, was that of the assassin she once was: empty and lethal. The chocolate crepe was forgotten on her lap.

Kikyo didn’t hesitate to react. She slid her arms around both girls’ shoulders, her touch surprisingly warm and firm. “Listen…” she began, her voice a balm of silk and steel. “If I could find a way out of the Port Mafia with Osamu, I’m absolutely sure that you will too—”

That's when the phones rang.

The tone wasn't standard, not even one they had heard before. It was an ancient, distorted chime, a sound that crawled from the depths of a forgotten well. The four detectives’ eyes widened. Those phones weren't supposed to ring. Not like that.

“What in the…?” Kanade cut herself off, her analytical mind clashing with an impossible variable.

Kikyo’s golden eyes widened. It wasn’t just the sound; it was the voices that emerged from the devices, distorted but terribly familiar. Voices she knew all too well, that resonated in the darkest corners of her own history.

“Yasha Shirayuki, punish those who show Kyouka a world of lies.” The voice that came from Kyouka’s phone was cold, ethereal, and icy as the winter moon.

“Bai Lianhua… protect Kikyo and Eileen… and punish the brazen who kidnapped them…” This second voice, from Eileen’s device, was different: a cruel, ruthless mockery, steeped in sadistic amusement.

The world stopped for a fraction of a second. Then, all hell broke loose.

Yasha Shirayuki, the snowy entity, materialized in a whirlwind of frost and fury, impaling Atsushi from behind. He screamed, spitting a crimson jet of blood that stained the green grass. Bai Lianhua, an elegant and deadly silhouette wielding her jian, lunged at Kanade. The blade struck with brutal precision, but Kanade, with a supernatural movement born of pure survival instinct, twisted and broke free, falling to the ground with a choked gasp, the wound already festering on her side.

Two laughs, as different as the voices, echoed in the park. They didn’t come from the phones, but from among the trees.

Kikyo turned, and her blood ran cold. There, emerging from the shadows like two elegant specters, were they.

Ozaki Kouyou and Ueno Takako.

Kouyou, tall and slender, her red wagasa open like a second bloody sun over her shoulder. Her black and pink kimono waved with a funereal gentleness. Takako, by her side, was calmness personified. Her sky-blue wagasa, adorned with white flowers, seemed to gather the heavens in its fabric. Her black and blue kimono was a poem of mortuary elegance, her movements as fluid and precise as the flow of a glacier.

“Oh, shit…” Kikyo murmured, the swear word sounding strange and visceral on her normally so polite lips. It wasn't fear she felt, but the profound exasperation of someone who knows that the past never stays behind, it just lurks in the corners.

“Even if they are from vermin, blood doesn't lose its beauty when it splashes. Don't you agree, my dear girls?” Kouyou asked, her voice a melodic whisper that cut more than a scream. Her cherry-red eyes landed on Kikyo with a mixture of pride and possessiveness that made her skin crawl.

Kikyo glared at her, her golden stilettos already shining in her hands like fangs of light. “Do you know how worried we were to find out you were left with that trash?” Takako questioned. Her voice was serene, but each word was a lash. She advanced toward Kanade, who was trying to get up, and with a despicably casual movement, she stepped on her. Not with rage, but with absolute coldness, as if crushing a cockroach. “How pathetic you are.”

“Get away from them!” Kikyo’s order resonated, clear and sharp as glass. She raised one of her stilettos, pointing it directly at Kouyou’s heart. Her body was tense, a gazelle ready to jump on a lioness.

Kouyou smiled, an expression both sad and proud. “I see you still have your killer instinct, Kikyo… I’m so glad. But you no longer have to use it for battle. Nothing will grieve you anymore, my child. I will protect you along with your sister.” The word 'sister' made Kikyo’s jaw clench until it hurt.

“I don’t need your protection! I’m fine in the light.” Kikyo’s retort was a shot. She motioned to Takako, ready to intercept any movement, but it was Atsushi, crawling with effort, who spoke first.

“Neither of them is going back to the Port Mafia.” He spat blood, but his voice didn’t waver. “They’ll use their strengths to do work for the agency. Good work.”

A heavy silence fell over the park. Then, clean, perfect tears rolled down Kouyou and Takako’s immaculate cheeks. They weren’t tears of sadness, but of a fierce, maternal grief.

Kikyo clenched her teeth, feeling the weight of those tears like chains.

“I knew we shouldn't wait for Ougai-dono's permission to come for you three,” Takako said, her voice a whisper of ice. Her gaze landed on Eileen, and in its depth was a promise of absolute possession.

“I won’t let you spend another second in that nest of cheap hypocrisy,” Kouyou declared, and her voice trembled with an emotion so vast that for a moment she seemed vulnerable. Then, she moved.

It was fast, too fast. In an instant, she had enveloped Kyouka and Kikyo in an embrace that was also a captivity. She held them against her chest; the scent of flowers and herbs from her kimono was suffocating. Both girls tensed, paralyzed by the shock and the overwhelming familiarity of that contact.

“They must have seduced you with their words, and made you believe you were living in a world full of light,” Kouyou whispered directly into Kikyo’s ear, her voice a poisonous spell. “But at some point, they will ask you to use Yasha Shirayuki, Bai Lianhua, and Hyakka no Niwa. They will ask you to dirty your hands to maintain their precious light.”

The prophecy fell like a stone slab on the three girls. Kikyo felt terror seize Kyouka, and how instant resignation chilled the limbs of Eileen, whom Takako had picked up with equal ease, wrapping her in the blue folds of her kimono as if she were a porcelain doll.

“Let’s go back to where you belong,” Takako said. Her tone left no room for doubt. It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a fact. She began to walk, carrying an Eileen who was stiffer than marble, her dark, empty eyes looking over Takako’s shoulder at Kagome, who lay on the ground, powerless, her logical gaze for the first time tinged with despair.

“Let me go, Kouyou,” Kikyo’s voice was a sweet whisper, but with a hidden edge that only those who knew her well could detect. Her stiletto, a silver flash, had already tried to find its target in Kouyou’s arm, but the woman had dodged with the fluidity of a snake.

“Where are you taking them?” Kanade voice cut in from the ground. She was getting up with difficulty, her gray blouse soaked and stained with an earthy brown from Bai Lianhua’s attack. Her breathing was ragged, but her purple-pink eyes shone with fierce defiance.

Atsushi jumped to her side, stepping in between them. “The place you're headed... is the Agency!”

“Atsushi-kun, no!” Kikyo’s cry was instantaneous, charged with genuine urgency. She knew the depth of the abyss that Kouyou and her Konjiki Yasha represented all too well.

Kouyou smiled, a sad, maternal gesture that didn’t reach her eyes. “You are so slow, child.” A sigh. And then, it appeared. Konjiki Yasha, her specter, a ghostly figure in a white and yellow kimono, yellow eyes without a mouth, and a cape that flowed from black to dark red like clotted blood.

As the specter materialized, Kikyo’s gaze transformed. The sweetness shattered like porcelain, revealing for an instant the tempered steel of her killer instinct. Her fingers closed around an invisible object, and in her golden eyes passed the shadow of the woman she was in the Port Mafia: cold, impatient, and lethal. It was only a flicker, but Kouyou caught it, and a pang of something that could have been pain or pride shot through her chest.

Kanade, ignoring the warning, lunged at Takako. Takako smiled, a gesture of pure, refined condescension. With an almost lazy flick of her fingers, she conjured a frosted golden camellia. The petals unfolded like blades, forming a dome of frozen crystal that trapped Kagome instantly.

“Perhaps we should finish our work first. Just die already, you brats,” Takako said, her voice a melodious poison. She moved a finger and the cold inside the dome intensified until Kanade’s breath turned into gasps of anguish.

“That’s enough, Takako! This is insane!” Kikyo’s command was clear and sharp. In her hand, an ethereal rose of sharp petals already glowed, ready to be thrown. Her posture was now that of the strategist, of the woman who evaluated the battlefield and found the weak point. There was no trace of the playful sister; this was the executive who scolded Dazai for being incompetent.

Kouyou raised a hand, stopping Takako with an almost imperceptible gesture. Her eyes, filled with genuine concern that was confused with possessiveness, rested on Kikyo. “Ougai-dono wants us to get rid of all the agency members. But we begged him to spare the three of you and he made an extraordinary exception.” Her voice was soft, almost a song. “Come back, girls. You are flowers of the darkness. You can only find peace in it.”

Kikyo gritted her teeth. The rose in her hand trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the strength of her conviction. “It's not true. We are not flowers of the darkness. We refuse to resign ourselves to a miserable life in the Port Mafia. I refuse to abandon Osamu in the agency…”

The air turned to ice. Kouyou and Takako’s eyes widened completely, surprised not by the refusal, but by the strength and the name that accompanied it. Takako, with another elegant gesture, dissipated the crystal dome. Kagome fell to the ground, shaking violently. Takako approached and took her by the blouse with disdain.

The eyes of the three young women then shone with a light that the mafia women had never seen in them. Kikyo’s golden, Eileen’s amethyst-gray, and Kyouka’s blue seemed to emit their own luminescence.

“You wretched brats…” Takako murmured, her serenity broken by a grimace of genuine disgust. “What did you do to Kikyo and Eileen? You blinded their eyes with a false light.” Beside Kouyou, they unsheathed their katanas. The shing of the metal was a death sentence. “But that can still be fixed. If we kill those two dirty twins… you won't have to stay, much less will you want to stay if those two die because of you.” The tip of her katana rested on Kagome’s neck, whose defiant gaze did not flinch.

“Okay!” Eileen's voice cut through the silence. She had lowered her gaze, her hands clasped and trembling. Her tone was low, contained, the voice of one who was used to obeying to survive. “We will return.”

Kikyo closed her eyes, feigning a defeat she didn’t feel. Her mind was already calculating angles, distances, synchronies. “So… don't do anything to them.” Her voice was a silken thread, sweet and submissive, the perfect lie.

Kouyou smiled, an expression of maternal relief and triumph. “We are doing it for your own good, girls.” She sheathed her katana. Takako, with mistrust in her icy eyes, did the same.

“Someday you’ll thank us,” Takako said, extending her hand with ice-blue nails. Kikyo and Eileen, with slow and deliberate movements, took them. Kouyou took Kyouka’s hand.

It was in the moment of turning and starting to walk when Kikyo’s instinct exploded. It wasn't a tantrum, but the perfect execution of a plan formulated in seconds. A red flash: the ethereal rose she had kept hidden appeared in her free hand and plunged into Takako’s arm, releasing a controlled and stinging fire. At the same time, Eileen, moving with the silent precision of a ghost, freed her hand and swept through the air with her fingers, aiming for Takako’s throat with a lethal technique she had not yet managed to eradicate from her muscle memory.

Takako staggered, a gasp of surprise escaping her perfect lips. The wound on her throat began to regenerate instantly, revealing her nature as an Archon. Behind them, Kouyou let out a choked laugh, not of anger, but of pride. Kyouka had tried to stab her with her small blade, and although Kouyou stopped it, the blade made a superficial cut on her palm.

“Well done, girls,” Kouyou laughed, looking at the blood on her hand with approval. Beside her, Takako straightened, a cold and respectful smile on her lips. “I didn’t feel a single bit of your killer instincts. Especially yours, Kikyo.”

The three young women leaped away with agile jumps, creating distance. Eileen spoke, her voice low but clear, as she took the phone from Takako’s belt with a pickpocket’s skill. Kyouka was doing the same with Kouyou’s. “We saw a world full of light. We can’t escape from a dream we already saw.”

Kikyo, in the center, activated her ability. “Hyakka no Niwa.” An ivory-colored rose appeared in her hands. She brought it to her lips, her golden eyes fixed on her former mentors, defying everything they represented.

“Don’t use them, girls. If you do, you’re going to…” Kouyou’s warning sounded genuinely alarmed, but it was too late.

“Yasha Shirayuki, finish our enemy!” Kyouka shouted, and the specter of snow and blood materialized its deadly coldness.

“Bai Lianhua, finish off the Camellia Archon!” Eileen commanded, her floral ghost responding to the call with deadly elegance.

Kikyo blew the petals of her rose. A whisper, a scent of a garden in the night, and then her ghost, the very extension of her will synchronized with Dazai, emerged before them. She didn’t need to shout its name. Its mere presence was a declaration of war.

The air filled with power, colors, and cold. The confrontation between the past that was claiming them and the future they were defending had begun. And Kikyo, with a smile that was both sweet and ruthless, was ready to dance in the light, dirtying her hands with darkness if necessary. Because she was not a flower that could be replanted. She chose her soil. And she had chosen the Agency.

The scene changed suddenly, as if a giant hand had torn a page from a book and replaced it with another.

The noise of the confrontation on the pier—the clash of the specters, the sharp whisper of Takako’s ice camellias, the ethereal rustle of Kikyo’s rose—vanished completely, replaced by a heavy, dusty silence.

In a narrow alley in Yokohama, too narrow for the ambitions of those who occupied it, lay the shattered remains of a truck that had seen better days. The cab was dented against the brick wall of a warehouse, the windshield a spiderweb of broken glass, and the hood open like the mouth of a dead fish. And next to that heap of junk, with his face buried in the earthy ground, lay John Steinbeck.

“My poor Rocinante…” the man murmured, his voice muffled by the dirt and disappointment. The name, a literary and affectionate nod to his vehicle, sounded like an epitaph.

“This country has very narrow streets,” Howard Phillips Lovecraft observed in his flat, absent tone, standing next to the remains as if contemplating a kind of unknown, slightly boring crustacean.

A sigh, elegant and charged with infinite patience, cut the air. It was a sound so precise and measured that it seemed to order the surrounding chaos by sheer force of will.

“That’s what you get for thinking Japan is the same as the United States, John,” Elaine Anderson said with a huff that completely lacked warmth. It wasn’t a complaint; it was a statement of fact, a tactical error noted in an impeccable mental notebook.

Lovecraft, without another word, began to walk. His steps were slow, trembling, as if each movement required superhuman effort against an invisible gravity. “We will have to walk to our destination. I want to finish this and go home.”

Elaine didn't waste time lamenting. She approached Steinbeck and, with an efficiency that bordered on the impersonal, knelt down and grabbed him by the arm. There was no rough pull, no words of encouragement. It was a perfect levering movement, using the weight of her own body, slender and straight, to effortlessly lift him up. Her clothes, a midnight blue combat dress fitted with a dark red leather sash, were unmarred by the dust.

“Alright…” Steinbeck panted, getting to his feet with her help and dusting himself off. “Let’s move. Our baggage is about to arrive.”

Elaine nodded, a minimal and calculated tilt of her head. Her red eyes, the only element of rupture on her classical statue-like face, swept the alley. They assessed the escape angles, the blind spots, the height of the rooftops. They weren't observing; they were dissecting. The perfect black eyeliner that framed that impossible gaze hadn’t run a single millimeter.

“We will walk, then,” she said, and her voice was clear, serene, and devoid of any emotion other than pure determination. “But stay alert. Yokohama isn't just narrow streets. It’s a hornet’s nest. And we have come to destroy the hive.”

She began to walk, her firm-heeled dark leather boots making a dull, constant noise against the asphalt. Each step was identical to the last, a Swiss watch cadence. Steinbeck and Lovecraft followed her, one limping and the other shuffling, forming a disparate trio led by the woman who seemed sculpted from marble and pure will. She didn’t look back to see if they were following. She knew they would. Her presence, that force field of quiet authority, was inescapable.

—

The air on the pier vibrated with the metallic clash of katanas and the hum of supernatural powers. Kikyo, moving with lethal grace, dodged Konjiki Yasha’s blade while her own stilettos sought Kouyou’s weak points. At her side, her specter, Ayakashi no Bara—an ethereal figure woven from rose petals with sharp thorns—was entangled in a mortal duel with Aoi no Rei, Takako’s specter, an entity of blue camellias and ice blades. In the sky, Yasha Shirayuki and Bai Lianhua waged an aerial battle against Konjiki Yasha, creating a symphony of ice, snow, and golden flashes.

“Those blades represent their true essence, girls,” Kouyou said, her voice a mellifluous siren’s song laced with a maternal concern that sounded like a condemnation. “They kill anyone who gets in their way. It’s the nature of their existence.”

“No!” The three young women’s cry was in unison, a challenge charged with a force that surprised even their captors. Kyouka gripped her sword handle with fierce determination, Eileen held her war fan deployed as a deadly extension of her arm, and Kikyo’s stilettos spun in her hands with a fluidity that spoke of years of lethal training. They refused to return to the hell that the Port Mafia had been.

“We understand why you think that,” Takako intervened, her voice serene as the surface of a frozen lake before a storm. “But flowers born in the darkness only find peace within it.”

Kouyou nodded, her golden eyes fixed on Kikyo with an intensity that went beyond the battlefield. It was a look of possession, of a twisted affection that believed it knew what was best for her. “Do you wonder why we know? Because I once longed for the same light you so desperately chase. But it only burned me and sunk me deeper into the darkness. It’s a seductive lie, Kikyo-chan. One that will destroy you.”

Yasha Shirayuki and Konjiki Yasha’s swords clashed again, releasing a wave of energy that shook the ground.

“Come back, girls,” Takako and Kouyou ordered in unison, their voices intertwining in a terrifying harmony.

“We don't want to. Despite everything, we…” Eileen tried to say, her voice low but clear. Her gray eyes, usually impassive, were wide open, revealing a fracture in her self-control. Beside her, Kikyo remained tense, every muscle in her body ready, but her expression was one of a dangerous analytical calm.

“You can't change who you really are,” Kouyou continued, advancing slowly, like a tiger cornering its prey. Takako flanked her, an ice camellia already blooming in her free hand. “You justify murder to get what you want. If that weren't true, you wouldn't be able to summon your demons. They are tools of death, not salvation.”

And then, Takako threw the final dart, her smile as cold and precise as an ice dagger. “After all, Kyouka and Eileen, your demons killed your own parents.”

The silence that followed was more deafening than any explosion. Atsushi and Kagome, who were struggling to get up, covered in blood and dust, were paralyzed.

“What is she talking about, Eileen?” Kanade asked, her voice a thread of disbelief and pain.

Eileen paled. “No, you see…” she stammered, a reaction so unusual for her that it was in itself a confession. Her gaze sought Kanade’s, and for the first time, there was fear in it. Fear of being rejected. Fear that the light she was so hard-pressed to reach would go out.

Kikyo, however, didn't flinch. Her golden eyes swept the scene, calculating, analyzing. The mention of the others' parents wasn't a blow to her. Her own mother had been a monster; her death, a liberation she carried no guilt for. And she had Dazai. She had the Agency. Those words were blunt weapons against her armor.

“They wouldn't understand,” Kouyou said, her voice soft as silk but sharp as steel. “No inhabitant of the light could. You belong to a different world.”

Kyouka's grip on her cell phone loosened. The device fell to the ground with a dull thud. Yasha Shirayuki flickered and vanished, like a breath of snow dissipated by the wind. Guilt, that ancient poison, had found its target.

At that moment, black Port Mafia cars appeared, surrounding the area. Men in dark suits and guns aimed at Atsushi and Kagome, immobilizing them.

“You no longer have to brandish your swords to find a home,” Takako said, and her smile lost some of its sadistic gleam, adopting an almost genuine, almost sweet tone, directed at the young women she considered her younger sisters. “I will protect you, along with Kouyou-nee san.”

Kyouka and Eileen, poisoned by guilt and manipulation, took a hesitant step back, toward the darkness that promised absolution and a twisted sense of belonging. Kouyou and Takako moved to intercept them, to shield them from the light that now seemed painful.

But Kikyo didn't move. On the contrary, she stepped away from them, a firm and deliberate step that made both mafia women frown. Her posture was straight, her gaze defiant. There was no guilt in her. Only a cold determination and an unbreakable loyalty to the life she had chosen.

“Kikyo-chan,” Kouyou said, and for the first time, her voice had a hint of true frustration and concern. “Don’t be stubborn. This is your real family. Your real home.”

“My home is where Osamu is,” Kikyo replied, her voice as sweet as ever, but with a steel edge that only those who knew her well could detect. “And my family is the one that chose me, not the one that forces me to return. I am not a flower that needs your shadow to survive. I choose my own light.”

Before Kouyou could reply, a jovial voice burst onto the scene. “Duck, please!”

A truck flew through the air, thrown by a superhuman force, and crashed into the mafia cars, scattering Kouyou, Takako, and several subordinates. Kenji Miyazawa landed with a radiant smile, followed closely by Doppo Kunikida, who went straight to Atsushi and Kanade.

“Are you all right?” Kunikida asked, his voice harsh but full of practical concern.

“Kunikida-san, what are you doing here?” Atsushi asked, stunned.

“I modified Kyouka’s phone to send a distress signal if someone else called her,” Kunikida explained, grabbing both of them by their shirts and forcing them to their feet with a jerk. “Get up. How long will you play the role of damsels in distress? A tiger man and the Card Hunter must be strong!”

“Vermin of the agency… don’t keep poisoning Kikyo with your false light!” Kouyou shouted, her elegance fractured by rage and despair. Takako conjured another ice camellia, ready to attack, but her gaze shifted to new intruders.

Three figures emerged from the smoke and chaos. An ashen blonde with an impeccable presence and intense red eyes, a tired-looking blonde young man, and a long-haired, blue-clad man with an aura of existential annoyance. Behind them, more members of The Guild materialized.

“We arrived just in time. Half a second before impact,” said the blonde young man, John Steinbeck, with a nonchalant smile.

“It would have been very easy if we had arrived a little late. Will you participate?” he said to Lovecraft, who just murmured.

“I don’t care, but so many stares make me uncomfortable. What a drag. I’ll have to do my part for The Guild. So tired. So itchy.”

“Elaine?” The question came in unison from Kikyo and Takako’s lips, both with expressions of disbelief.

The blonde woman, Elaine Anderson, looked at them with her impassive statue face. “Hello, sisters. I hope you’ll forgive me for this.” Her voice was clear, serene, and completely devoid of emotion, as if she were announcing rain.

“Could you step back a little?” Steinbeck added with an unsettling courtesy. “Our baggage is about to arrive.”

Atsushi looked up at the sky, his feline senses on high alert. “There's something up there!”

Kikyo didn't hesitate. Her hands went up, and an ethereal force field, woven from golden rose petals, formed around her and Kagome, who was lying semi-conscious. It was just in time.

A massive explosion fell from the sky, laying waste to the pier. The roar was deafening, the shockwave knocking down friends and foes alike.

“Fire!” Kouyou ordered amidst the confusion, but the tactical advantage had been lost.

The members of The Guild, taking advantage of the chaos, unleashed their power on everyone present. The men of the Port Mafia and the ADA fell, wounded and overpowered. When the smoke dissipated, the scene was desolate.

Kikyo, breathing with difficulty, slowly got up. Her body was covered in cuts and bruises, her white blouse stained with blood and dust. But her arms still held Kanade tightly, protecting her unconscious body against her chest. Her force field had broken, but it had absorbed the worst of the impact. Her golden eyes, veiled by pain but still shining with a fierce determination, scrutinized the devastated battlefield, searching for her sisters, her friends, her enemies. The battle had ended, but the war for her light, for her home, had just entered a new and terrible phase.

—

A long sigh, heavy with a fatigue that went beyond the physical, escaped Kikyo’s lips. She leaned back in her Agency chair, her fingers drumming on the desk. The echo of the fight against Kouyou and Takako still resonated in her muscles, a symphony of frustration and contained fury. All she craved at that moment was to sink her teeth into that expensive chocolate bar she had saved in her drawer, a small luxury in the midst of the chaos.

“Well, are you ready to see big sis and Takako-hime?” Dazai’s voice broke into her thoughts, as casual as if he were suggesting a walk in the park.

A genuine smile, though tinged with weariness, spread across Kikyo’s face. “Totally,” she laughed, a low sound charged with anticipation.

Minutes later, the quartet stood in front of the infirmary door. Dazai pushed the door open, revealing the scene inside. Kouyou and Takako lay on separate beds, motionless. They weren't just tied up; they were wrapped in a net of luminous, ethereal ropes, an intricate weave of Kikyo's ability, *Hyakka no Niwa*, that seemed to absorb the very light from the room, creating an unsettling gloom. The ropes tightened with every breath, silent reminders of their captivity.

Kikyo leaned on the doorframe, a fake, perfectly polished smile on her lips. Her burgundy nails glowed faintly in the dim light, like drops of clotted blood.

“It's been a while, Big Sis, Takako-hime.” Dazai’s greeting was just as false, a Venetian courtesy that hid knives. His smile didn’t reach his dark eyes.

“Indeed, it has been a while, you traitor. And the man who blinded Kikyo's mind with a false light.” Kouyou’s voice was a silken blade, sharp and smooth, aimed directly at the heart of the matter.

Kikyo sighed, a gesture of theatrical exasperation. “He didn't blind me with anything. I asked him to leave the Port Mafia with us myself, big sis.” She closed her golden eyes, as if the mere statement exhausted her. “It was a conscious choice.”

The next movement was Takako’s. Her head slowly turned toward Kagome, who remained impassive beside Atsushi. Her voice, serene as the surface of a frozen lake, cut through the air. “You brat. Are Kyouka and Eileen safe?”

Kanade frowned, her purple-pink eyes analyzing the prisoner without a shred of emotion. “They disappeared. Because of you.” The accusation was flat, an incontrovertible fact.

The reaction of the two Mafia women was instantaneous. They looked at each other, and a low laugh, devoid of any genuine warmth or joy, erupted from their lips. It was a hollow, cold sound that sent goosebumps down Atsushi’s arms. Their laughter was an echo in a tomb, and their eyes, fixed on the detectives, had lost all their sparkle, showing only the abyss that dwelled within them.

Atsushi reacted. The rage and concern for his kidnapped friends exploded within him. “Stop it!” he roared, and his arm instantly transformed into the striped paw of the tiger beast, raised to strike.

But Dazai was faster. His hand landed on Atsushi’s bestial arm, and with the mere contact, the ability dissipated, leaving only a trembling human arm. “Leave them to us,” Dazai said, his voice momentarily losing its singsong tone, adopting a glacial seriousness.

Kikyo acted in perfect sync. Her hands closed around Atsushi and Kagome’s arms, and with a strength that belied her stature, she dragged them toward the door. “Get out, okay? We can handle this.” Her voice was sweet but unyielding, like an older sister giving an unappealable order. She pushed the two young people into the hallway and slammed the door shut. The **click** of the key turning sounded like a gunshot in the tense silence.

Slowly, Kikyo turned to face her sister and her former mentor. The fake smile vanished from her face, replaced by an absolute and terrifying calm. She joined Dazai in the center of the room.

“Alright, now that we’re alone…” Kikyo began, clasping her hands in a gesture that was meant to be sweet but only came across as sinister. Her voice was soft, measured, every word chosen with a surgeon’s precision. “…We’re sorry to get straight to the point, but we want you to tell us the Port Mafia’s reaction to this three-way conflict, Big Sis, Takako-hime.”

Takako was the first to respond. Her voice was a whisper of ice, her courtesy a sharp dagger. “Have you already forgotten the Port Mafia code? If someone talks too much… they lose their tongue.” The threat hung in the air, classic, brutal, effective.

“Your subordinates are known as torture specialists,” Dazai added, his smile returning, but it was now a twisted, unnatural thing. A shiver ran down Kouyou's spine.

“And the few times you had problems, we had to help you… together.” Kikyo's voice intertwined with Dazai's, creating a discordant harmony.

Kikyo moved closer to the beds, and with a fluid motion, she turned the key in the door’s lock. The final sound sealed their fate. When she turned back, her expression had changed completely. All trace of warmth, of sweetness, of humanity, had vanished. Her golden eyes, usually so expressive, were now flat, reflective, and cold as polished metal. Her pupils had contracted, sharpening until they looked like a predator’s.

“Do you remember any hostage we couldn't get information from?” Kikyo asked, her voice was slow, measured, each syllable a drop of icy water falling into a silent pond.

“Especially when we worked together,” Dazai added, leaning over Kouyou. His shadow loomed over her.

Their smiles were not human. They were distorted, grotesque masks, designed not to conceal, but to reveal the monstrosity that dwelled beneath the surface. They were the faces of two demons who had learned to dress elegantly and speak politely, but whose essence was pure, calculated terror.

“What we are doing now is not suitable for minors,” Dazai murmured, bending over Kouyou, his breath almost brushing her cheek. His tone was almost confidential, intimate, and therefore infinitely more terrifying.

“Even less for people with a weak heart,” Kikyo whispered, as she delicately adjusted the rose kanzashi in her hair.

—

The salty breeze of the Yokohama pier stirred Fukuzawa's silver fringe. He walked with an impassive calm, his phone pressed to his ear, while beside him, Kin flanked him, her eyes scrutinizing every shadow with the intensity of a hawk. Her serene elegance was a mirror of his; two pillars of contained strength.

"All agents must leave the building, gather at the old Bankoudou," Fukuzawa ordered, his voice a reverberating bass that cut through the whisper of the sea.

On the other end of the line, Kunikida's voice was tense. "The place that used to be your headquarters before you founded the agency?"

"Only a select group knows that place," Kin intervened, her tone clear and firm, with no trace of hurry. "If we don't hide, the enemy will crush us with their numbers." Her gaze slid toward the shadows that were beginning to move among the cargo containers. They weren't shadows; they were men. Many men.

"Is something happening?" Kunikida asked, alerted by the sudden silence.

One of the assailants, a guy with a curved knife that gleamed under the moon, jumped from a high container. It was all the warning they needed. The line went dead.

What followed was a ballet of silent violence. Fukuzawa didn't unsheath his katana; it wasn't necessary. A precise strike with the edge of his hand to the attacker's throat left him breathless, collapsing like a sack of sand. Kin, at his side, moved with a fluid grace. She dodged a lunge, caught the aggressor's arm, and, with a movement that seemed almost affectionate, twisted it until the bone cracked with a dry, horrible sound. The knife fell to the concrete ground. She didn't even gasp.

In seconds, the bodies of their attackers lay at their feet, unconscious or writhing in pain. Fukuzawa looked coldly at the one who seemed to be the leader, who was crawling backward in terror.

"Call your master," Fukuzawa said, his voice was flat, but each word weighed like a slab. "And tell him it was a good try." Kin, standing beside him, barely gave a second look to the assassins lying on the ground, her contempt was more eloquent than any insult. "And he'd better hope we are their only target."

---

The old Bankoudou dojo smelled of old wood, dust, and memories. The dim light of a few paper lamps illuminated the tense faces of the gathered Armed Detective Agency members. The heavy wooden door opened with a creak, and Fukuzawa and Kin entered, their presence immediately filling the space with a calm authority.

"Pay attention," Kin's voice cut through the murmur of concern. All eyes turned to them. "The Port Mafia wants to destroy the agency. The Guild seeks to supplant us. We must protect the agency from both enemies." She paused, letting the gravity of the situation sink in. "Dazai, Kikyo, explain."

Dazai stood up from his crouched position with a carefree smile that didn't reach his eyes. Kikyo stood straight beside him, her own smile was a sharp instrument, a mix of sweetness and pure determination.

"Alright!" Kikyo began, her voice melodious but charged with an energy that electrified the air. "The Guild has many resources and the Port Mafia outnumbers us. That's why we must separate into attack and defense teams and adopt guerrilla tactics." Her gaze swept the room, evaluating, calculating. "The crucial objective of the defense is to protect Yosano-sensei." She pointed to the doctor, who nodded gravely, her scissors gleaming on her belt. "As long as she can heal us, we won't die no matter how badly we get hurt." The defense team became clear: Fukuzawa, the unbreakable rock; Kin, the relentless strategist; Ranpo, the genius who saw what others didn't; Asuna, whose ability could create instant shelters; and Kenji, whose childlike strength was a fortress in itself.

Dazai took the floor, his tone more playful but no less lethal. "The attack team will be divided into two. We will surprise the enemy with Tanizaki-kun's tricks, my nullification powers…" He paused dramatically, and Kikyo completed the sentence, her lips curved in a perfect arc.

"...and my roses." She didn't need to explain more. Everyone had seen what *Hyakka no Niwa* could do. "The crucial part of this strategy is to keep our base hidden," they said in unison, a choreography so perfect it made one's skin crawl. Their smiles were twins, bright and dangerous. "If they attack us here with everything they have, our defenses won't hold."

---

In the depths of the Port Mafia headquarters, the atmosphere was one of cold efficiency. Chuuya Nakahara, frowning, spoke into an encrypted communicator.

"Boss, Chief, the assault was a failure." His voice was rough, tinged with frustration. "We have someone tracking it, but we suspect that..."

Mori Ougai interrupted him, his voice serene on the other end of the line. "Very good. Everything is going according to plan."

It was then that Nana's voice, clear and analytical, cut in on the frequency. "So, what about the radioactive tracking element we placed on the assassins?"

Chuuya looked at the panel he held in his hand. A light blinked insistently, emitting a soft but constant beep. A cruel smile spread across his lips. "We got a strong signal."

"That's the agency's hideout," Mori declared, and Chuuya could almost see his boss's satisfied smile through the communicator. Beside him, he imagined Nana with that same expression of calculated triumph.

But the momentary victory turned sour instantly in Chuuya's mouth when a fourth voice, tense and urgent, interrupted from the internal security channel. "—Mr. Nakahara! We have an update on the status of the extraction teams. Miss Takako and Miss Kouyou did not report back. Our sensors indicate that their vital signs are stable but... located and contained within the perimeter of the old Bankoudou dojo. They seem to have been... captured."

The silence in Chuuya's room became palpable. The panel in his hand cracked under the pressure of his gloved fist. The metal warped with a metallic screech.

"What?" The word left his lips like a muffled roar, charged with an anger so intense that the air seemed to vibrate around him. His gravity fluctuated for a fraction of a second, making the debris on the floor levitate. "Captured?" He spat the word as if it were poison. "Takako? By that bunch of *playboy* detectives?"

His mind was a whirlwind. Takako. Elegant, deadly, unflappable Takako. Taken as a prisoner of war. The humiliation of it burned in his gut. It wasn't just a tactical setback; it was a personal insult. A stain on the Mafia's honor and, for him, a direct affront. The bond between them—that loyalty forged in battle, that tacit understanding—turned into a live wire of pure fury.

"Chuuya-kun," Mori's voice was a calm reminder, but even he couldn't hide a tone of renewed interest. "Stay focused."

Chuuya took a deep breath, but the fire in his blue eyes didn't go out. "The plan doesn't change," he growled into the communicator, his voice now a dangerous, hoarse whisper. "But when we get in there... the bill for this will be expensive. Very expensive." The promise of violence in his words was as tangible as a knife to the throat.

---

Back at the Bankoudou, Fukuzawa stood in front of his agency. His gaze was like tempered steel.

"Only one of the three organizations can get out of this," he declared, his voice echoing in the silent dojo. "And we cannot leave without mercy." His gaze lifted, defying the invisible dangers that loomed over them. "Fight to live. Protect your comrades. Tonight, we will show why the Agency's light never goes out."

In his office, Mori Ougai contemplated an invisible shogi board, his fingers intertwined. "Of course, we will be the last ones standing," he murmured, his smile was a calculating and cold gesture, that of a man who had long ago sold his soul and was playing with the remaining pieces.

On a luxurious yacht anchored in the bay, Francis Scott Fitzgerald contemplated the Yokohama skyline, a glass of champagne in his hand. "I can't wait to see the results," he said, his voice full of an immeasurable ambition and the arrogance of one who believes he can buy destiny itself.

And in three different places, separated by ideology and method, but united by the impending clash of wills, the three leaders pronounced the final sentence, their voices a sinister echo in the night:

"It will be a triangular conflict."

The game was on. Yokohama held its breath, awaiting the storm that would unleash when the triangle of forces collided, with the old Bankoudou dojo and the fate of two elite prisoners at the epicenter of the hurricane.

The wrath of a King without a crown, Chuuya Nakahara, was now an unpredictable and explosive factor on the board, and everyone, consciously or not, was about to feel his devouring heat.

Chapter Text

The dry, metallic sound of scalpels plunging into the wooden target board was a rhythmic counterpoint to the elegant stillness that reigned in the room. Mori Ougai threw with mechanical precision, each movement an echo of his philosophy. "One strike. You must deliver a single strike to the enemy's vital point," he declared, his voice a didactic hum in the tranquil air.

"You're awful," Elise mumbled, without lifting her eyes from her drawing, where vivid crayons faced off against a blank sheet of paper. Beside her, Aira, a perpetual expression of annoyance etched on her brow, nodded absently, her own paper filled with more aggressive, darker strokes.

It was then that Nana Shigetsu floated toward the center of the room. She didn't walk; her advance was a glide of black silk and velvet, a movement so fluid it seemed to defy gravity. Her dress, a fitted design that flared slightly at the base, was a silent declaration of authority. Black dominated everything, broken only by the crimson bow at her chest that held a deep green emerald, and the high ivory collar. Each of her steps, shod in sharp-pointed heels, resonated with a clarity that was not accidental, but a signal of her arrival, a tacit reminder that control of the room now belonged to her.

"What are you doing?" Elise asked, curious, as she watched Aira arch an eyebrow with even more exasperation.

Nana, ignoring the minors' interaction, took a seat with studied grace. Her lime-colored eyes rested on the tray of perfectly sliced canapés and delicate pastries. With nails painted a glossy black, she skewered a chocolate with a toothpick, observing it with the concentration of a strategist evaluating a piece on a board.

"He's going to send a letter to the enemy," she sighed, although on her lips, painted a deep wine red, the word sounded like a condemnation, not resignation.

Mori let another scalpel fly. "'No matter the number of enemies, they won't be able to defeat us.' That's what the enemy will think." His gaze drifted toward Nana, who, with a slow, deliberate movement, removed the wide-brimmed hat that partially obscured her face. The light streaming through the Yokohama windows caressed her matte, flawless skin, a mask designed never to yield.

"The members of the Guild are formidable," Nana declared, her voice a heavy silk thread, calm yet loaded with a menacing density. "Even our best men would have trouble against them." She paused, her fingers briefly toying with a white chess piece resting on the table. "And that is why..."

She placed the white knight right in the center of the imaginary board only she could see. The gesture was precise, surgical.

"...we must play with our hungriest and most motivated piece: Akutagawa Ryuunosuke."

There was no hesitation in her tone. Her lime eyes closed for a moment, and a cold, calculating smirk spread across her lips. It was not a smile of joy, but the expression of a mind that had already broken down all the variables, that had weighed lives as resources, and had found the optimal combination. It was not about sentimentality or blind loyalties; it was about efficacy. About order. The Port Mafia was not a criminal gang to her; it was the structure that prevented collapse, and only power sustained with control and fear could guarantee victory.

Mori watched her, and in his eyes, there was a flicker of recognition. Where he was macabre eccentricity and exhibitionist control, Nana was his strategic mirror, the implacable mind operating on the same wavelength. She was not a weapon; she was an independent brain, always five steps ahead. She didn't need to raise her voice to give an order; her calm was a promise of inevitable consequences.

The scene then froze: the leader and his strategist, united by an ideological understanding of power; the two girls, oblivious or pretending to be oblivious to the threads being pulled above their heads; and the decision, made with the lethal elegance of one who floats above the chaos, dictating the movement of the hungriest pieces on the great chessboard of Yokohama. The sound of Elise's crayons scratching the paper and the dry clack of another of Mori's scalpels hitting the target were the only echoes left in the room, a mundane reminder of the tranquility that precedes the storm Nana had just unleashed.

—

The atmosphere in the Bankodou hall was dense, not from an imminent threat, but from the tense calm that precedes a storm. The air smelled of green tea and old wood. Fukuzawa, serene as a cliff face, moved a shogi piece on the board with deliberate precision. Beside him, Yosano rested her cheek on her hand, her gaze lost in the void of routine.

"Nothing unusual on the cameras?" Fukuzawa asked, his voice a deep bass that resonated in the silent room.

"A whole lot of nothing," Yosano sighed, languidly spinning a teacup between her fingers. "It's like watching a painting. Nothing moves."

"The only way into this area is through the railway tunnel," the President reasoned. "Even if the enemy manages to enter, the security cameras will alert us before they arrive."

"There are also plenty of traps along the way," Yosano added, a flash of professional pride in her eyes.

In one corner, Ranpo was playing Go with Asuna. He shook his empty bag of potato chips with a theatrical grimace of disdain. "War is so boring! My emergency snacks were gone within half a day."

Asuna smiled, a warm gesture that seemed to illuminate their corner of the room. Her presence was a counterpoint of grace and sharp wit amidst the tense watch. "Perhaps that's a sign to stop relying on such salty snacks, Ranpo-san," she said, her voice melodious but charged with playful cunning. She elegantly moved a black stone on the board. "Patience is a sweeter, more lasting treat."

"I know! Yosano-san, let's play Hanafuda," Ranpo suggested, changing the subject with lightning speed. "Since Asuna is here to give us a lesson, and the others are on a mission."

Yosano arched an eyebrow, a dangerous, amused glint lighting up in her eyes. "Tell me, what do you plan to wager?"

Ranpo's eyes, usually narrowed in an expression of amusement, opened wide. His face became serious, all frivolity vanishing in an instant. The change was so abrupt that it made the atmosphere feel several degrees colder.

Meanwhile, atop a building overlooking Yokohama Bay, Mori and Nana watched the sunset sky, stained orange and purple.

"Invading enemy bases fills my heart with delight," Mori declared, with a smile that didn't reach his cold eyes.

Nana smiled in turn, a cold, calculating expression that only curved her wine-red painted lips. Without haste, she raised the communicator to her ear. Her voice was a thread of poisoned silk. "It's time for the next step. How are the preparations coming along?"

Chuuya Nakahara's voice, charged with arrogant confidence, emerged from the device. "Everything is ready."

"You have more than enough forces to overwhelm the agency," Nana continued, closing her lime-colored eyes. Her tone was simultaneously maternal and lethal. "I expect you to play a superb melody, Chuuya-kun."

In the Bankodou, the tranquility shattered.

"What is it?" Asuna asked, her smile fading as she noticed Ranpo's expression. Her gaze became alert, scanning the room with her characteristic perceptiveness.

Ranpo didn't answer her directly. Instead, he sprang to his feet, adjusting his hat with one hand. "President. Kin-dono," he said, his voice clear and urgent. "We should call in the attack teams."

Kin, who had been sitting in a low armchair, reading a book of classical poetry with a forgotten cup of tea beside her, slowly lowered the volume. She didn't say a word, but her body tensed like a feline sensing danger. She rose with a fluid, silent movement, her relaxed posture transforming into that of a veteran ready for combat. Her gaze, direct and devoid of any affectation, fixed on Ranpo. "The enemy? How many are there?" Her voice was harsh, practical, cutting through any unnecessary detours.

Ranpo walked over to one of the security screens. With a quick motion, he flipped the camera that pointed into the access tunnel. The grainy, black-and-white image momentarily showed a solitary figure. He was dressed in an impeccable suit, a top hat tilted over his face, and walking with a careless arrogance right through the deactivated traps. Just as the camera focused on him, Chuuya Nakahara looked up and smiled directly into the lens, a gesture of pure, defiant disdain. Then, the screen went blank.

Ranpo turned back to the others. The room was silent, the air heavy with the comprehension of what they had just seen.

"One," Ranpo said, and the word fell like a gravestone in the Bankodou hall.

Kin, without altering her impassive expression, already had her hand on the handle of the knife she always carried. Asuna, beside her, took a deep breath. Her face showed concern, but not fear. Her mind, sharp and strategic, was already beginning to weigh the options, to calculate the necessary movements to protect her own. The charm had vanished, revealing the formidable detective who resided beneath the mask of warmth. The tranquility was over. The superb melody of destruction was about to begin.

The game of Go between Ranpo and Asuna was suspended in time. The piece Asuna held between her fingers, ready to be placed, froze in the air as she perceived the shift in the room's energy. It wasn't a sound that alerted her, but the sudden silence charged with Ranpo's urgency and the cold, vanishing glow of the screens going dark one after another.

"Cameras three, four, and eight have stopped recording," announced Yosano, her voice clinical but edged with alarm. On the screens, the angles tracking Chuuya Nakahara's relentless march through the tunnel turned pure black.

Fukuzawa, unmoving as a sea cliff, didn't alter his posture. "Activate the turrets," he commanded, his voice a resonant bass that brooked no argument.

Ranpo, with a tight smile, executed the order. "As always, your sense of showmanship is impeccable, Chuuya-kun," he muttered to himself, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

Inside the railway tunnel, Chuuya's advance was a choreography of serene destruction. The automated turrets emerged from their compartments with a mechanical whir, their red lasers seeking the intruder's heart. Chuuya didn't even slow his pace. A scornful smile played on his lips. With an almost careless gesture, he activated his ability. A red aura enveloped him for an instant, and the turrets simply imploded, compressed into spheres of twisted metal that fell to the ground with a dull crunch.

"Sending puppets to greet messengers?" His voice, charged with amused arrogance, echoed in the concrete corridor. "Your lack of personnel is quite depressing. If there's anything alive, come out."

As if summoned by his words, three figures emerged from the shadows at the end of the tunnel. Yosano Akiko, her white lab coat billowing like a banner and one of her large surgical knives gleaming at her back. Beside her, Kenji Miyazawa, his pastoral smile intact, and Taka Hashimoto, whose presence, though silent, radiated a fierce, protective calm.

"Oh dear… just three?" Chuuya asked, feigning theatrical disappointment.

Yosano was unfazed. "If you don't like the welcome, leave and make an appointment for another day," she retorted, her tone as sharp as her scalpel.

"Do you think the Mafia needs an appointment to set an enemy base ablaze?" Chuuya's smile widened, a flash of anticipation in his eyes.

"Yes! I think not!" said Kenji, raising his hand with a schoolboy's enthusiasm, as if the question had been genuine.

Yosano ignored the interruption, her gaze locked on the Port Mafia executive. "If you want to burn us down, go ahead. But that's not what you came for. Am I wrong?"

Chuuya raised an eyebrow, a gesture of genuine interest mixed with mockery. "How do you know?"

"We're a detective agency," Yosano replied with a cold smile. "How good would we be if we didn't know our clients' intentions?"

The redhead let out a brief, sharp laugh. "Straight to the point, then. Where is your President?"

"Over there," Yosano said, nodding subtly toward a hidden camera on the ceiling.

"This is a gift from our boss." Chuuya pulled out a photograph and held it up to them. In it were John Steinbeck, Lovecraft, and Elaine Anderson, key members of The Guild. "We set a trap for them. It says the time and place they'll appear." He flipped the photo over, showing the written details on the back, before putting it away again. His gaze went directly to the lens of the hidden camera, defiant. "Not many opportunities like this, are there? You can score a point against the detestable Guild."

Taka, who had remained in observing silence, then spoke. Her voice was softer than Yosano's, but not lacking in firmness. "I see. A tempting proposition." Her dark golden eyes studied Chuuya not as one warrior to another, but as a protector assessing a threat to her family. "It's an unexpectedly… practical gesture, coming from you."

"Isn't it?" Chuuya said, his smile reappearing, secure in his advantage.

"But I have a better one," Taka continued, and her tone shifted. The calm turned into a glacial intensity. Her purplish-red hair seemed to darken under the dim light, and her golden eyes opened completely, losing all trace of the compassion they usually held. With a fluid, grave movement, she unsheathed her ceremonial tanto. The blade reflected a gleam of fading light. "What if, instead of following your game, I tear off your limbs and make you spill all your plans here and now? That would save us time and distrust."

Chuuya's smile didn't fade; it became more dangerous, more genuine. The challenge was something he understood perfectly. "That's a splendid idea," he said, and his red aura began to dance around his clenched fists. The gravity in the tunnel seemed to fluctuate, making the dust and debris float slightly. "Try it."

The tension in the railway tunnel exploded in an instant. With the innocence of someone who believes they are playing a game of strength, Kenji grabbed one of the heavy metal bars lying between the rails and, with a shout of jovial effort, lifted it above his head.

"Be very careful!" he warned his colleagues, and threw the bar toward Chuuya as if it were a stick.

The Port Mafia executive didn't even flinch. A smile of pure enjoyment spread across his face. "Just what I expected from this job!" With a simple thought, his ability activated. The metal bar, instead of hitting him, stopped in mid-air and was then hurled against the ceiling with brute force, embedding itself in the concrete. Chuuya himself ascended, defying gravity, and perched upside down on the ceiling like a grotesque, elegant spider.

As he flipped over, he met the gleaming edge of Yosano's surgical knife, which sought his neck with deadly precision. At the same time, Taka moved. Her delicate appearance was a deception; her steps were quick and silent, and her ceremonial tanto sliced the air where Chuuya's arm had been a second earlier.

"That ability… he is Chuuya Nakahara, the gravity manipulator," Yosano declared, her eyes analyzing the suspended enemy.

"That damn Dazai talked too much…" Chuuya growled, pushing himself off the ceiling with a fluid movement. He dropped to the floor with a dull thud that echoed through the tunnel, cracking the cement beneath his feet. A dangerous smile spread across his face. "Alright, who wants to face gravity…?"

Before anyone could move, the serene but firm voice of Fukuzawa emerged from the loudspeakers. "This is my answer, messengers of the Port Mafia. Hopefully, the Agency and the Guild will kill each other."

Chuuya's smile did not fade. "But you also have nothing to lose. Right?"

"If what you say is true, yes," the President admitted. "What are you hiding?"

In the control room, Kin, with an intense gaze, gave Ranpo an almost imperceptible signal. Her hand moved in a coded gesture: Ultra Deduction. At the same time, with a slight nod, she indicated for Asuna to take one of the flowers decorating a nearby vase. Asuna, understanding instantly, nodded gravely and slipped the flower into her jacket pocket.

Chuuya shrugged with disdain. "Nothing."

"What will the Port Mafia's move be?" Fukuzawa asked, his voice a contained thunder.

"They won't make any move," Chuuya replied, his smile turning into a gesture of superiority.

It was then that Ranpo, with his glasses on, spoke. His voice was clear, triumphant. "I see. So that's it. The Guild must have expected a trap, just like us. But they fell for it. The bait was too interesting." His eyes opened behind the lenses. "What did you tempt the Guild with?"

The scene changed abruptly. In a quiet field on the outskirts of Yokohama, John Steinbeck walked with apparent pastoral calm. "No matter what country it is, the countryside always calms the soul. The Port Mafia's rendezvous is just ahead."

Beside him, Elaine twirled a lock of her blonde hair. Lovecraft, with his usual expression of existential boredom, asked, "It's an obvious trap, why should we go?"

"Because the bait is very good," Elaine replied with a sharp smile. "If we succeed, we will have defeated the Detective Agency."

Back in the Bankodou, Ranpo's revelation made Fukuzawa jump to his feet, his composure shattered for an instant. "You used our personnel as bait?!" he roared, addressing the screen showing Chuuya's mocking smile. The Port Mafia had sold the location of Naomi and Haruno, who were in hiding under the Agency's protection.

Chuuya laughed, a dry, arrogant sound. "They'll be safe if you get there in time. Besides, the Guild doesn't know they will appear. An easy victory." Then, he quoted in a voice that mimicked Mori's calculating calm: "'Even if they know it's a pit, the Detective Agency will jump into it.' My boss's words."

The tension in the control room was palpable. Kin's knuckles were white as she gripped the edge of the console. Asuna watched, her mind furiously calculating the implications. It was then that Chuuya's demeanor changed. The mocking smile vanished, replaced by an unexpected seriousness that chilled the atmosphere.

"There is one more matter," Chuuya said, his voice losing all trace of playfulness. "The reward for this… forced collaboration." He paused, ensuring he had their full attention. "They want Takako."

An uneasy silence filled the room. Takako, the prisoner of war under Kouyou's custody in the Agency's dungeons.

"I'll give you two weeks," Chuuya continued, his tone now flat, direct, with no room for negotiation. "Don't call Kouyou. She is of little use in this matter." He fixed his gaze on the camera, and for an instant, the mask of the ruthless mafioso cracked, revealing something more personal, more urgent. "I asked for her. For… personal reasons."

The admission floated in the air, charged with a meaning that transcended Mafia loyalties and power games. It was not an order from Mori. It was a request from Chuuya. And that, in the twisted world of Yokohama, changed all the rules of the game.

Chapter Text

The air smelled of damp earth and old cedar wood. The scene opened up onto a traditional Japanese inn, whose clean architectural lines melted into the serene landscape. There, three figures stood out against the tranquil surroundings: John Steinbeck, with his kind face and calloused hands; Howard Lovecraft, whose gaze seemed lost in another dimension; and Elaine Anderson, whose mere presence commanded respectful silence.

"What a lovely inn," Steinbeck commented, with a warm smile that contrasted with the gravity of his remark. "It will be a good orchard when we plow the ground."

Lovecraft, in his usual monotone, asked, "How will we capture them?"

It was then that Elaine spoke, and her voice, clear and measured, cut the air like the edge of a crystal sword. "You'll just have to decapitate them with your power. We'll use John's grapes." Her red eyes, which barely shone with the sunlight, closed for an instant as she extended her hands, showing dark blue fingernails that seemed to absorb the light.

Without hesitation, Steinbeck cut his palm and planted grape seeds in his own flesh. A miniature vineyard sprouted from the wound, its roots extending underground like veins searching for a heart.

"I've found them," Steinbeck announced, referring to Naomi and Haruno, the two secretaries of the Armed Detective Agency.

—

The scene abruptly shifted to the interior of the car where Naomi and Haruno were traveling. Suddenly, the grape roots emerged from the asphalt, tangling around the vehicle with relentless force. The three members of The Guild appeared in the shadows, surrounded by the plant structure that now imprisoned the women.

"We're sorry, young ladies," Steinbeck said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Do you know how grapes are produced?"

Before they could answer, he continued, "Vines are expert at clinging to other plants; that's why they're grafted. Like this." He tightened the roots, and the car groaned under the pressure.

Elaine watched the scene with her arms crossed, not a wrinkle in her impeccable suit. "Efficiency doesn't require unnecessary brutality, John," she commented in her serene voice. "But restraint isn't a virtue either when the objective is clear."

"By mixing my vines with other plants," Steinbeck explained, "I can use them as an extension of my body. And since I share my senses with those plants, I had no trouble finding them. Don't look at me like that. I just need a favor."

"When a villain asks you for a favor," Naomi retorted with a confident smile, "it's only to use and discard you."

"The Guild isn't a malevolent organization," Steinbeck replied, and for the first time, his voice showed a glimmer of genuine emotion. "Besides, I also have a sister your age at home. We're a huge family. The dinner table is a battlefield, and ever since I made the contract with Elaine, things will greatly improve."

Elaine nodded slightly. "Family loyalty is understandable, but it's no excuse for incompetence," she said, directing her words more to Steinbeck than to the captives. "And right now, we're being watched."

As if her words had been a signal, a shimmer of artificial snow appeared in the air. Elaine turned with calculated elegance, just as Kunikida appeared armed and began to shoot at them. It all turned out to be an illusion created by Tanizaki.

"Naomi, run!" Tanizaki yelled, appearing from the light reflections to free his sister and Haruno.

"I assumed this might happen," Elaine commented, without altering her tone. "The source wasn't very reliable." She walked with measured steps towards where Kunikida seemed to be, ignoring the illusory gunshots.

Kunikida shot at them again, and this time Elaine closed her eyes. Upon opening them, she had materialized a gigantic crystal wall between them. This was her ability, "East of Eden": crystalline energy structures in shades ranging from steel blue to garnet red, emerging from the air following impeccable geometric patterns like Gothic stained glass or icy fractals.

"You thought you'd win if you kept John from touching the trees while they ran away, didn't you?" Elaine said, with a smile that showed no triumph, only the certainty of one who has foreseen all the moves. "Simplifying things on the battlefield makes you predictable, sir."

"I see," Kunikida replied, adjusting his glasses. "I'll make a note of that. By the way, miss, didn't you consider the following: 'He won't have a way to attack me if I take his gun.' Doppo Ginkaku!" He pulled out a piece of paper and materialized another weapon, managing to hit Steinbeck and stop Elaine with a single hand. Meanwhile, Kunikida had already shot Lovecraft.

"'Simplifying things more on the battlefield makes you predictable,'" Kunikida repeated. "You should write that down. So, a secret organization from a superpower is kidnapping foreigners..."

"It hurts to hear that," Steinbeck said, recovering from the blow. "But our boss told us that The Guild isn't an organization that does good. We do what must be done."

Elaine, freeing herself from Kunikida's grip with a fluid movement, added with her imperturbable voice: "Good and evil are human constructs too fragile to sustain enduring organizations. We operate in the realm of necessity."

At that moment, Lovecraft stood up, his figure beginning to distort unnaturally.

Kunikida's shots struck Lovecraft with a dull thud, yet the tall, pale man continued to advance with the same languor as one walks in the rain. Meanwhile, Elaine, with an efficiency that bordered on the impersonal, helped Steinbeck to his feet.

"You certainly took your time, Lovecraft. What were you doing?" Steinbeck asked, leaning on his companion's shoulder.

"Sleeping," Lovecraft replied, his voice a flat echo.

"I'm not surprised," Elaine commented, her tone even, devoid of sarcasm or reproach. It was merely the confirmation of a fact. "Your lethargy is a constant variable in any tactical equation."

"Sorry," the Guild member said, and immediately, grotesque, pale tentacles surged from his back, brutally enveloping Kunikida and Tanizaki before they could react.

"Should we kill them?" Lovecraft asked, turning his head toward his companions at an unnatural angle.

Elaine observed the scene, her red eyes analyzing the situation. "Elimination is the most direct solution, but not necessarily the most efficient in this context," she declared. "The priority is the objective, not the expenditure of resources on adversaries who have been temporarily neutralized."

"I don't know. We should capture the girls and request orders," Steinbeck said, nodding. Concentrated, he manipulated his vines, which slithered like green snakes toward Naomi and Haruno, completely immobilizing them despite their efforts.

"Good, work finished," Elaine announced, her gaze sweeping the perimeter. "Let's leave before the police arrive. Discretion is still an advantage that we haven't completely lost."

"We'll be taking your sister," Steinbeck told Tanizaki, and the statement, delivered with simplicity, acted like a shot of adrenaline.

"What will you do with Naomi?" Tanizaki asked, his voice trembling but full of urgency.

Elaine turned to him, and her look was not cruel, but coldly informative. "She wasn't assigned to me, so I don't know. But they could lock her up or torture her. It's standard procedure for extracting information from assets of rival agencies." Her words were like sharp crystals, cutting in their precision and lack of emotion. "We're just doing our job. Moralizers like you would never understand." She exchanged a brief glance with Steinbeck, and a light laugh, almost a sigh of complicity, escaped both of them.

"Moralizers?" Tanizaki gasped, struggling against the tentacles. "It's true that detectives have a certain morality. But Naomi is another matter for me. Justice, morality, ego... she's more important than any of those things." At that moment, the roar of a diesel engine became audible. A truck was heading straight for them at full speed. With a supreme effort of his ability, Tanizaki distorted the light, making the Guild group appear to be part of the road. "If it were for Naomi, I'd happily set the world on fire."

The truck, unable to see the illusory obstacle, smashed directly into Elaine, Lovecraft, and Steinbeck.

The impact was brutal, but Elaine's reaction was instantaneous. "Judgment Wall," she murmured, and an explosion of crystalline energy, a deep steel blue, emerged not as a shield in front of her, but in a concentric fractal pattern around her, absorbing and distributing the force of the blow. At the same time, with superhuman strength that betrayed her Archon nature, she grabbed Steinbeck and Lovecraft, wrenching them from the main point of impact. All three were thrown clear, but alive.

Lovecraft sat up, his head bent at a grotesque angle. "What a surprise," he commented with his usual monotony, before snapping his skull back into place with a dry crunch.

"Where did they go?" Steinbeck and Elaine asked in unison, scanning the now-empty street.

"I don't sense their presence," Lovecraft reported. "They must have hidden and escaped."

Then, the sound of police sirens began to encircle them, creating a perimeter of red and blue lights. Immediately, Steinbeck and Elaine raised their hands in a calculated surrender. Lovecraft, after a second of hesitation, imitated them.

"They reported us beforehand, didn't they?" Steinbeck said, with a hint of frustration.

Elaine clicked her tongue, a rare and minimal flash of irritation crossing her imperturbable face. "A miscalculation. We underestimated the speed of their coordinated counterattack and the effectiveness of the illusion under stress." Her eyes rested on the spot where the truck had impacted. Tiny fragments of her energy crystal still glittered on the asphalt, silent testimony to a battle lost by a narrow margin. Defeat was not a concept she accepted easily, but just another piece of data to analyze to refine her strategy.

—

The abandoned train station on the outskirts of Yokohama breathed dust and silence. The midday light filtered through the broken windows, illuminating motes of dust that danced in the still air. In the midst of that desolation, four figures contrasted with the decay of the place.

Osamu Dazai watched the scene unfolding before him with amusement. Atsushi Nakajima remained rigid, while clinging to his back like a scared cat was Kanade. Her limbs were wrapped around the boy, and her face showed genuine panic as she stared fixedly at the cause of her terror: a medium-sized stray dog blocking their path.

"In your territory of such desolation..." Dazai murmured with a playful smile, addressing the animal. "I never thought I'd see your face... your fervor for a duel is more than evident."

Behind him, Kikyo watched the scene with a tense smile on her lips. Her posture was relaxed, but her eyes, always analytical, scrutinized every detail of the environment. She noticed how Kanade buried her face in Atsushi's back, trembling slightly.

"Kanade-chan," Kikyo said in her melodious voice, "don't you think you're suffocating Atsushi-kun a bit?"

The dog barked then, a sound that echoed in the empty station. Kanade let out a muffled squeak and clung tighter, making Atsushi cough from the pressure.

"It's okay, Kanade-san," Atsushi said in a strained voice, "it's just a dog..."

"Just a dog!" she retorted, her voice trembling. "It's a hairy beast with teeth and a desire to use my bones as a toy!"

Meanwhile, Dazai calmly searched for something in his trench coat, making a pausing gesture with one hand. "Because... I have an ace up my sleeve." From his pocket, he pulled out a handful of dog food, and the animal immediately stopped barking, its ears perked up, and it began to wag its tail enthusiastically.

Atsushi looked at the scene with an expression that clearly said, "What on earth is going on?" Kagome risked a quick glance at the dog before hiding her face again, making a face of disdain. Kikyo only sighed, a mix of fatigue and affection for her fiancé's eccentricities.

"Want some? I bet you do," Dazai said, showing the dog the treat, which was panting eagerly.

With a swift movement, Dazai closed his fist and made the food disappear. Atsushi felt a drop of sweat run down his face. Kagome looked away, muttering something about "silly games with savage beasts." Kikyo crossed her arms, her smile turning slightly exasperated.

"I won," Dazai declared triumphantly. "This is the difference in our status." He then made the food reappear and turned with elegance. "Have you learned your lesson? Think twice next time you see me on the street." To everyone's horror, Dazai put the dog food into his mouth and chewed it with apparent enjoyment.

Kikyo sighed deeply, placing a hand on her forehead. "Osamu, dear, there are limits even to your theatrics."

Atsushi blinked several times before daring to ask: "You're not... very good at dealing with dogs, are you?"

"Dogs are much harder to deal with than humans," Dazai replied as he sat on a dusty bench. "And Belladona is worse than me; she detests small, hairy animals."

Kikyo nodded, her expression turning serious. "Yes, I remember she once almost disintegrated an informant's cat for getting too close to her." Her gaze then fell on Kagome, who was finally untangling herself from Atsushi, though keeping a safe distance from the dog, which was now happily chewing the food Dazai had thrown to it. "Changing the subject, how was Naomi and Haruno's escape?"

Kanade, still pale but recovering her composure, replied: "According to Kunikida-san's message, they should arrive on the next train."

Atsushi looked at the empty tracks, his face somber. "For the office workers to become targets..." he murmured. "Will the Detective Agency be able to overcome this conflict of directions?"

Dazai finished chewing his unusual snack. "Let's see," he said, wiping his hands on his trench coat. "From what Kikyo and I see, the Agency is in the least advantageous position against the Port Mafia and The Guild. The one with the greatest advantage among all is the Mafia."

Kikyo nodded, gently taking the rest of the dog food from Dazai before he could eat any more. "Mori-san is playing chess while we're still organizing the pieces," she explained calmly. "He has resources, information, and a lack of scruples that we cannot afford."

"So, is there no way to change that?" Atsushi asked, his voice heavy with concern.

"There is," Dazai replied, showing three fingers.

"Three?" Atsushi asked, confused.

Kikyo smiled gently. "We meant three hundred," she clarified, completing Dazai's thought as if it were natural. "Three hundred variables, opportunities, possible moves. War is not won with a single masterstroke, but with countless small strategies executed to perfection."

"But, Atsushi-kun, Kanade-chan," Dazai continued, his tone slightly more serious, "war is never fixed. Even an invincible strategy could turn into a bad move due to a slight change in the situation. Especially considering the system."

Kikyo nodded, her gaze acquiring a depth that spoke of years of experience in power games. "Mori-san and his Archon, Nana Shigetsu of the Port Mafia, are the embodiment of rationality. They control everything with a cold, calculated objectivity. They can take for granted that they will exploit any oversight on our part."

Dazai suddenly turned visibly pale, raising a hand to his mouth. Kikyo watched him for a second before her expression lit up with immediate understanding.

"Osamu, did you eat all that dog food?" she asked, her voice a mix of concern and exasperation.

Dazai only let out a faint groan in response.

Kikyo turned to Atsushi and Kanade with an apologetic smile. "Atsushi-kun, Kanade-chan, I have to help Osamu throw up the dog food he ate... please take care of receiving Naomi-chan and Haruno-san!"

She took Dazai's arm firmly but gently, quickly guiding him towards what seemed to be the direction of the restrooms. However, halfway there, they veered off into a solitary alley adjacent to the station.

The echo of Kikyo's burgundy heels resonated in the solitary alley, marking a precise and elegant rhythm. Dazai walked beside her, hands in his trench coat pockets, with a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"No one will come here, Gin-chan. Why don't you come out?" Kikyo asked with a serene smile, stopping just as the shadow behind them materialized.

In an instant, Gin Akutagawa appeared silently, pressing the blade of her knife against the couple's necks with deadly precision.

"Gin-chan, you've gotten so big," Dazai commented, turning his head slightly with a genuine smile that contrasted with the blade at his throat.

"Did you know we were watching you?" asked Ichiyo Higuchi, emerging from the shadows with her gun firmly grasped.

Kikyo let out a soft, melodious laugh. "Well, we were the ones who created the Port Mafia's surveillance techniques," she said, exchanging a look with Dazai before they both spoke in unison: "So? What do you want?"

"Isn't my gun enough to tell you?" Higuchi retorted, gripping the trigger.

Dazai smiled with disdain. "Not at all. You're not the best assassination group they could send. If they wanted to finish us off, I'm sure they'd send Chuuya or even Nana-san herself would come."

"Gin-chan," Kikyo said in her sweetest tone, "could you move this? It's dangerous." She pointed at the knife with an elegant movement of her hand, showing her perfectly manicured burgundy nails. She observed the young assassin with a mixture of nostalgia and pride. "That killer instinct... Takako-chan really did a good job training you, didn't she?"

Gin stepped back from the duo with fluid movements, and Higuchi put her gun away under her jacket.

"It's true, we didn't come for that. I have a message from the boss," Higuchi announced.

"What? From Mori-san? What could it be?" Dazai and Kikyo asked in perfect unison.

Higuchi took a breath. "I'll tell you: 'Dazai-kun, Saitou-chan, would you be interested in returning to be Port Mafia Executives?'"

The Kiyozai duo looked at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. Kikyo's laugh was melodious and contained, while Dazai's resonated openly in the alley.

"What a naive invitation!" Kikyo said, regaining her composure but with eyes shining with amusement.

"Check your records. Your blood is black like the Mafia's. More than anyone else's," Higuchi insisted.

Kikyo smiled nostalgically. "People change, you know? We still remember when Gin-chan was a sweet little girl this tall," she pointed to her waist, "and she almost never separated from your superior, Ueno Takako, Higuchi-chan."

"Please don't change the subject," Gin murmured, her voice sweet as snow while her cheeks blushed slightly.

—

Meanwhile, at the station, Atsushi and Kanade watched Naomi and Haruno descend from the train.

"Haruno-san, Naomi-san. Did you arrive safely?" Atsushi asked with evident concern.

"Yes. I never imagined we'd be their targets," Naomi replied with a tense smile.

"You're safe now. We'll escort you to the extraction point," Atsushi declared.

—

Back in the alley, the conversation took a more serious turn.

"But something doesn't add up. For what purpose did Mori-san allocate resources for this farce?" Dazai and Kikyo asked in unison.

"To protect you," Higuchi replied.

"Protect us?" Kikyo asked, her tone serene but with a spark of curiosity.

"The boss released Q."

Dazai and Kikyo's eyes snapped open, exchanging a look of instantaneous terror. The synchronization between them was perfect, as if they shared a single thought: they had left their two children alone.

—

At the station, Naomi smiled as a peculiar child stepped off the train behind her. "I forgot. I'll introduce you. We met on the train."

The child had hair split into black and white, eyes with strange patterns, and a peculiar outfit. When he nearly bumped into Atsushi, the boy turned with a grim smile, showing an arm full of blades.

"Watch out," Atsushi said instinctively.

Kanade narrowed her eyes, her rose-purple eyes immediately detecting that something strange was happening to Atsushi.

—

"Do you realize what you've done?! Q is a walking catastrophe. He'll doom everyone," Kikyo said, her voice maintaining calm but with a dangerous underlying intensity. Her fingers clenched slightly, and for a moment, her golden eyes showed a flash of contained anger that promised consequences.

"The Port Mafia does not shy away from the means to achieve its ends," Higuchi retorted.

Dazai spoke, his expression just as serious. "Why do you think we locked up Q in the first place? Because his power is the most abominable of all: mind control."

—

At the station, Atsushi, now possessed by Q's curse, turned to Kagome with empty eyes and began to choke her.

"What the hell, Atsushi?!" Kanade shouted, as her normally dull eyes faintly glowed.

Dazai and Kikyo's voices echoed in Atsushi's mind: "Q's curse attacks the minds of its victims with hallucinations," Kikyo explained in her didactic but cold tone. "They attack indiscriminately. Why do you think I ended up developing the 'Magic Cancel' spell in the first place? It's specifically designed to deal with Q's curses."

"Q's curse activates when the doll is broken," Dazai continued. "But only one recipient ends up cursed when that happens. And to become a recipient, you must hurt Q."

"You said you came to protect us... damn it!" Dazai and Kikyo yelled in unison.

Kikyo instantly activated Hyakka no Niwa. She took out her red rose kanzashi, which transformed into a real turquoise-pink rose. "Magic Cancel," she murmured, and the rose released petals that scattered in the air.

At the station, Dazai and Kikyo appeared out of nowhere, transported by the petals.

"Stop it, Atsushi-kun!" they shouted in unison.

Kikyo moved with deadly elegance, pulling Kanade away from Atsushi while Dazai deactivated Q's ability with a simple touch. The train began to move, and Q appeared in the doorway with a cheerful smile.

"Your new friends are very fragile, Dazai-san and Saitou-san. But it doesn't matter. I can't wait to finish off both of you."

Kikyo slowly turned toward Q, and for the first time, her smile showed a vestige of her sadistic past. "Ah, dear... do you think this is a game?" she asked with a syrupy voice laced with threat.

"For making me suffer, I'm going to break and hurt you a lot," Q said with childish glee.

Dazai and Kikyo looked at each other, and in that moment, their eyes lost all light and their smiles became cold and empty of emotion.

"We won't capture you again," they said in unison, their voices dripping ice.

Kikyo advanced a step, and her smile turned dangerously sweet. "No, I'd rather make you suffer to death with one of my most lethal roses," she said, making a jet-black rose appear that seemed to absorb the light around it. "Each petal will produce a unique and exquisite pain. It will take you weeks to die, and every second will be an eternity of agony."

For a moment, the air around them became heavy and cold. But then, Kikyo made the rose disappear with a dismissive gesture. "But no," she said with disdain. "It would be a waste of effort to use such a refined spell on a being as pathetic as you."

She knelt beside Atsushi, who was gasping in terror, while Dazai helped Kagome get up. The albino was coughing violently, massaging her bruised neck.

"Come on, Atsushi-kun. Get up," Dazai said, kneeling in front of the young man.

"I'm useless! I should never have been born!" Atsushi gasped with tears on his face.

Dazai looked at Kikyo, who responded with an almost imperceptible nod. Kanade, still gasping, also nodded weakly.

"Atsushi-kun." Dazai lifted the young man's head and gave him a clean slap. "Listen to us. Kikyo and I will give you advice as your superiors."

"Stop lamenting," they said in unison, their voices merging in perfect harmony. "If you don't stop lamenting, life becomes an eternal nightmare."

They stood up upon seeing that Kanade was stable, and Kikyo directed her gaze toward Naomi and Haruno, who were also injured by Atsushi's actions. Her expression softened momentarily before turning back to Dazai.

"All right..." Dazai said, turning around. "We can't afford to choose our means either. If the enemy plays their ace, we'll do the same."

Kikyo nodded, her golden eyes reflecting a cold determination. "Q made a mistake by hurting what we protect the most," she murmured, and for an instant, her smile showed that sadistic flash that had so characterized the former Port Mafia executive. "Now he'll understand why no one in their right mind provokes us.”

—

The afternoon sun bathed the streets of Yokohama in a golden light as Atsushi and Kagome walked back to the Detective Agency. The tension from the recent events still weighed on them, visible in the stiffness of their shoulders and the shadow in their gazes.

"Do you think Kyouka and Eileen will be okay?" Atsushi asked, breaking the silence.

Kanade maintained her serene expression, her rose-purple eyes scanning the surroundings with habitual caution. "Dazai-san and Kikyo-san have a plan. They always do," she replied in her characteristically measured tone. "Even if their methods are sometimes... questionable."

Upon reaching the Agency, an unexpected scene greeted them. Kouyou Ozaki, in her impeccable pink kimono, was calmly reading a book while Takako, sitting beside her, moved her camellia ornament with elegant fingers that displayed sky-blue nails that shone softly in the evening light.

"Hello, little ones. Are you alone?" Kouyou asked without looking up from her book.

Atsushi blinked, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Kouyou closed her book elegantly. "We made a deal with Dazai and my dear Kikyo. If they are going to find and save Kyouka and Eileen, I will gladly wait here." Her gaze settled on them with curiosity. "Don't you want to be with Dazai and Kikyo?"

Kanade answered before Atsushi, her eyes closed momentarily. "Dazai-san and Kikyo-san went to negotiate with a Government agent."

Kouyou sighed with theatrical weariness. "I don't understand where I failed that my adored Kikyo chose a man like Dazai as her lover and future husband." Her expression softened with nostalgia. "I still perfectly remember when she told me at 17 that she was engaged to Dazai. I almost fainted from the shock."

Kanade looked toward the window, an almost imperceptible smile touching her lips. "Miss, Dazai-san takes great care of his dear Kikyo. The idiot may be a suicidal, manipulative bastard, but he loves Kikyo-san very much."

Meanwhile, in the F-6 parking garage, Kikyo and Dazai waited, leaning against a pillar. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation when a black car stopped in front of them.

Both raised their gazes, which were notably dull, as Ango Sakaguchi and his Archon, Michiyo Nagisa, stepped out of the vehicle.

"Long time no see, Dazai-kun and Saitou-chan. I was surprised to receive your call," Ango said, adjusting his glasses.

Kikyo stepped forward with fluid movements, her heels echoing in the silence of the garage. "Long time no see, Ango-san and Michiyo. You look great," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. In a movement too fast to follow, she snatched Ango's gun and aimed it at him.

Ango's bodyguards immediately drew their weapons, pointing katanas and pistols at Kikyo.

"It's good that you came," Dazai said, his voice dripping with irony. "Why did you think we had forgiven you?"

The silence stretched for a tense moment before Kikyo lowered the weapon with a serene smile. "It was a joke. I bet it's not even loaded," she said, shaking the gun with feline agility before returning it to a pale Ango.

Michiyo, who had remained silent, watched the scene with her feline eyes narrowed. Her posture was relaxed but alert, like a cat assessing a potentially dangerous situation.

"What do you want?" Ango asked, regaining some of his composure.

The Kiyozai duo smiled in unison, their smiles dull and cold. "We need the Supernatural Division to look the other way for the next 48 hours," Kikyo said, her voice syrupy but with an edge of steel.

Michiyo finally spoke, her voice as soft as a whisper. "That would be... complicated." Her feline ears moved slightly, showing her discomfort.

Kikyo approached Michiyo with elegant movements. "Darling, we understand your... natural reluctance to get involved," she said, her tone understanding but calculating. "But this will benefit everyone. Even your precious Division."

Back at the Agency, the conversation took a deeper turn.

"I see," Kouyou was saying, nodding slowly. "The Supernatural Division is the most powerful supernatural organization in the country. By having them on your side, the Agency will become the greatest weapon."

Atsushi looked away, uncomfortable. "And so, Kyouka-chan and Eileen-chan will be able to return to the agency soon."

Kouyou smiled with melancholy. "I don't know. Tell me, little ones, do you really believe that a 14-year-old girl like Kyouka and a 15-year-old girl like Eileen can kill 35 people with a few months of training? It's their talent. As long as that talent is rooted in their souls, they will never be able to run away from the darkness. In the same way that I couldn't."

Takako moved her camellia, transforming it into a real flower for an instant before it returned to its ornament form. "Eileen is a natural-born killer; she is accustomed to murder," she said, her voice as serene as ever. "She was in the Mafia longer than Kyouka, 12 months exactly... she killed 65 people in that time... murder is also her talent."

Kouyou leaned forward, her expression turning serious. "Little ones, take care of Kyouka and also take care of Kikyo."

Takako adjusted the kanzashi in her hair, and for the first time, her mask of perfect serenity showed a crack of genuine concern. "Take care of Eileen and my sister," she said, looking directly at Kagome.

Kanade nodded solemnly, her rose-purple eyes showing a deep understanding. "I will. In my own way."

Atsushi clenched his fists, his determination renewed. "I promise I will protect both of them. Kyouka and Eileen."

Kouyou smiled, a sad but genuine expression. "I hope so, little one. Because the world you live in does not forgive those who lack determination."

As the sun began to set, bathing the room in shades of orange and purple, the four remained in silence, each carrying the weight of their promises and the knowledge of the battles that lay ahead.

—
Ango Sakaguchi’s car slid through the streets of Yokohama as palpable tension filled the space between its occupants. In the backseat, Dazai broke the silence with his characteristic carefree tone that contrasted with the gravity of his words.

"The Supernatural Division should be dealing with these kinds of criminals, shouldn't they? They shouldn't be neglecting their duties."

Kikyo, sitting next to him, looked up from her book just enough to nod elegantly. "Certainly. Although I understand that government bureaucracy often complicates what should be simple."

Michiyo, in the passenger seat, slightly turned her head without completely taking her attention off the road. Her feline ears twitched almost imperceptibly. "We were aware of The Guild's activities."

Kikyo raised an eyebrow with surgical precision, closing her book with a fluid motion. "And you let them act at will? A curious approach to maintaining public order."

Ango gripped the steering wheel with tense hands. "They applied pressure through diplomats, so their members would have the same authority as them. They are above the law. Public order can no longer apprehend The Guild."

Suddenly, Ango's eyes widened as he saw a vehicle approaching at high speed. "Dazai-kun, Kikyo, flee, please! Immediately! And warn your subordinates of the danger—"

"Michiyo!" Kikyo shouted, her fingers already moving to activate Hyakka no Niwa.

A silver rose materialized between her hands, unfolding an ethereal shield that looked like it was made of curved mirrors, fragmenting the light. The aroma of cold metal with ozone nuances filled the air moments before the impact.

The crash echoed in the parking garage, but Kikyo's shield absorbed most of the force. Dazai was backed up by the perfectly functioning airbag, but Ango and Michiyo weren't so lucky—their airbags were deflated, inexplicably failed.

At the docks, the salty wind played with Atsushi and Kanade’s hair as they waited. The sunset light painted the sky in oranges and purples.

"They're taking a while..." Atsushi murmured, rolling his amber eyes with unease.

Kanade remained impassive, her rose-purple eyes meticulously scanning the surroundings. "Patience is a virtue, Atsushi. Though I share your concern."

"Did I make you wait?" The voice of Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald resonated out of nowhere, causing both detectives to instantly go on guard.

Atsushi activated his Ability without hesitation, transforming his arm into a tiger's paw that lunged toward Fitzgerald's chest. The Guild leader stopped it with a single hand, as if he were catching a ball.

Kanade already had her psychic arms deployed, ready to attack, but Fitzgerald moved with unnatural speed, striking her before she could react.

"What a predictable reaction. How boring," Fitzgerald commented with disdain as Kagome coolly analyzed the situation, calculating her opponent's immense strength.

Atsushi managed to land a kick that pushed Fitzgerald back slightly. "That was a good kick. I'd say it was worth about $10,000. But..." Fitzgerald counterattacked with devastating force, throwing both detectives against the dock containers.

"The bounty we placed on you two is 14 billion. It's not enough to pay," Francis said, grabbing Atsushi and Kanade by the hair with casual strength.

"But don't feel bad. You are valuable for other reasons. Come on, join me," Fitzgerald said, beginning to drag them away.

"Wait." Kyouka's voice cut the air like a knife.

Kanade turned her head to see Kyouka and Eileen standing firmly in front of them. They had returned.

"Kyouka..." Atsushi whispered, with a mixture of relief and concern in his voice.

"Eileen..." Kanade murmured, her rose-purple eyes showing a rare flash of recognition.

Chapter Text

The salty wind on the pier whipped harshly. Francis Fitzgerald still held the silver hair of Atsushi and the black of Kanade with a casual air, as if they were simple pieces of straw.

"Come on, join me. Tiger Boy and Lady of the Flowers," Francis said with a cold, calculating smile directed at the twin duo.

Kanade, despite the pressure on her scalp, held her head high, her purple-pink eyes glinting with a venomous defiance. "I'd rather have all my bones broken than go anywhere with you," she spat out in a surprisingly level and direct tone, as if she were refusing a cup of tea instead of a powerful enemy.

Fitzgerald responded by tightening his grip even more, making Kanade close her eyes for an instant, stifling a moan of pain.

"Wait," a firm voice interrupted. It was Kyouka.

"You're with the Port Mafia, aren't you?" Francis asked, his gaze alternating between the two young girls.

Kyouka, with determination, shook her head. "No. Our names are Kyouka and Eileen. We are detectives." Before Fitzgerald could react, Kyouka leaped into the air, launching a swift strike with one of her weapons. The movement was so fast that Francis was forced to release his prisoners' hair and take a step back.

"This country is dangerous. What is a child doing with something like that?" Francis asked, with a mix of irritation and surprise.

But he didn't count on the duo's synchronization. The instant he was distracted by Kyouka, Eileen, who had remained in the shadows like a wraith, moved. Her face was a mask of serenity, but her eyes, deep gray, never stopped evaluating the enemy's every move. With deadly efficiency, she lunged, freeing Kanade with a sharp tug while Kyouka did the same with Atsushi. In the blink of an eye, the four figures jumped onto Fitzgerald's boat, using it as an escape point before the Guild's leader could reorganize his defenses.

After a tense, silent trip across the water, Atsushi, Kanade, Kyouka, and Eileen reached the Yokohama pier, momentarily taking refuge in the shadows of the warehouses.

Kanade rubbed her wrist where Fitzgerald had grabbed her, her arms crossed with annoyance. "We were looking for you. Where have you been?" she asked, her voice laden with a concern she tried to hide behind anger.

Kyouka, ever practical, explained: "In the suburbs and alleys. Places where I used to live before. But they aren't our place anymore. I called the police from a shop. If we're with them, the Guild won't be able to attack us as easily."

"Kyouka-chan. Eileen-chan. If you had stayed missing, you wouldn't have to get involved in this war," Atsushi said, his voice weak with pain but full of genuine concern.

It was Eileen who responded, her voice so low that it was almost carried away by the breeze, but with unshakeable clarity. "Our place is in the Detective Agency. For the first time, we want to do something. That's why we'll fight, even if we have to use what lurks inside me." Her words weren't a boast but a simple declaration of fact. Then, her gaze shifted toward the distance. "There they are," she said, signaling with a slight nod toward the approaching patrol car headlights.

The group limped toward the police. Atsushi, with his arm over Kyouka's shoulders, and Kanade walking with a straight, proud posture despite the pain.

"Excuse me," Atsushi spoke, trying to sound convincing.

"What happened?" one of the officers asked.

"Some armed men attacked us," Kanade stated plainly, as if reporting a minor robbery.

"What did you say? Inspector!" the first police officer called to his partner, who immediately grabbed his communicator.

"This is 07. Calling headquarters."
"This is headquarters, what is your position?"
"Pier number three."
A deep voice emerged from the communicator: "We are informed that the serial killers we are looking for are fleeing through that area. A ten-year-old girl in a kimono. Repeat. The serial killers we are looking for are fleeing through that area. A ten-year-old girl in a kimono along with an eleven-year-old Chinese girl in a qipao."

The inspector looked at Kyouka with growing suspicion. "How old are you, miss?"

"This is going to get ugly," Kanade muttered to herself, ready to cast a confusion spell. But Eileen was a flash of lightning. Moving with a fluidity that spoke of years of lethal training, she disarmed the first police officer with a precise strike of her knives, without even altering her neutral expression.

Just as she turned toward the second agent, Atsushi, driven by panic and a protective instinct, activated his Ability. His arms transformed into tiger limbs and he grabbed Eileen's arm, stopping her.

"What are you doing?!" Atsushi shouted, his voice distorted by the beast's power. Without losing another second, he took Kyouka's hand and started running, dragging her with him. Kanade, cursing under her breath, followed closely.

In the distance, from the shadow of his vessel, Francis Fitzgerald observed the scene with a smile of satisfaction.

"Perfect," he whispered to himself, stroking the cover of a book. "The plan to trap the targets is working. Louisa's strategic proposals are perfect." His smile widened when he saw Atsushi, in his semi-beast form, charging at them. But just as the tiger boy was about to attack, an invisible impact struck him, knocking him unconscious instantly.

Kyouka reacted instantly, but a muffled shot rang out. A rubber bullet hit her hand, making her scream in pain and incapacitating her.

"Well, little princess. I'll take the tiger boy and his attractive sister," Fitzgerald announced, advancing and taking the unconscious Atsushi by the collar of his shirt. Then, he grabbed Kagome's wrist with a force that made her gasp. She gave him a look that could have melted steel, her purple-pink irises glowing with pure hatred.

"No! Please!" Eileen's voice, for the first time, showed a crack in her facade. An acute desperation that echoed on the pier. She lunged forward, but was contained by an invisible force.

"Herman," Fitzgerald said calmly. The old man beside him nodded. Out of nowhere, the air began to vibrate and a colossal mass materialized above them: the enormous, whale-shaped ship, the Moby-Dick, blocking the moon.

Francis addressed Eileen, who watched them with an expression that mixed rage and helplessness. "We just met, but I'll give you a piece of advice from experience, little princess. You're not meant to save anyone." His gaze was penetrating, cruel. "You know what you're meant for, don't you?"

Without waiting for an answer, Fitzgerald took Atsushi and Kanade with him, ascending toward the belly of the mechanical whale, leaving Kyouka and Eileen behind, defeated and horrified.

A few hours later, Atsushi woke up kneeling on the deck of the Moby-Dick, with three heavy handcuffs restraining his wrists and ankles. Next to him, Kanade was standing, but her posture was as rigid as if she were also chained. She nervously fidgeted with the place where her necklace should be, her staff useless without it.

"What do you think of the Moby-Dick cruise?" Fitzgerald asked proudly, gesturing broadly.

Atsushi remained silent, but Kanade couldn't contain herself. "Incredible," she said in a flat, cutting tone, loaded with sarcasm she didn't try to hide. "I always wanted to see a giant ship. Very cozy."

"With your permission," a soft voice interrupted. Lucy entered the deck, avoiding the twins' gaze.

"That's..." Atsushi tried to say.

"Ah, are you referring to Lucy?" Fitzgerald interrupted. "Yes, you already know her powers. She's useless on the battlefield, but she insisted a lot on wanting to stay." He paused dramatically. "Getting back to the topic. We are looking for a certain book."

"A book?" Kanade asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "All this fuss is over a book? It must be a very good read."

"It is a unique copy in the world. It is said that neither flames nor Abilities can affect it. And a certain gifted person predicted that it was sealed in Yokohama," Fitzgerald explained, fixing his gaze on the twins.

"And what does that book have to do with us?" Kanade asked, although her blind stare into the void was unsettling.

"Because you are the tiger beetle and the Lady of the Flowers. That is, the signs. I brought you here because it would displease me if you ended up as ashes like the city."

"What?!" Atsushi exclaimed, horror etched on his face.

"The Supernatural Division has been neutralized. The Detective Agency and the Port Mafia remain. But they present too many problems, so I decided to burn the entire city. That way the search will be easier."

"A power that potent doesn't exist!" Atsushi retorted, desperate.

"It sounds familiar, doesn't it?" Fitzgerald smiled and showed Q's doll, which swayed unnervingly in his palm. "If I smash the head of this doll, it will activate in 20% of the people in the city. That's the emergency plan. Also called 'The Burning of Yokohama'."

The doll suddenly began to laugh, a high-pitched, demented laugh that echoed on the deck. "It has already begun. Now all that's left is to break the doll for the Abilities to activate," Fitzgerald declared calmly.

Atsushi, on the verge of panic, shouted: "Alright! We surrender. The Agency, Kanade and I will cooperate in your search. But please don't break the doll!"

Fitzgerald observed him, seemingly considering the offer. "I see. That's an interesting proposal. Good, let's cooperate." A triumphant smile spread across his lips. "Although… it will only be with those who survive."

And before Atsushi's shout of protest could fully form, Fitzgerald squeezed the doll between his fingers. The crunch of the porcelain shattering sounded like thunder. The doll's laughter was abruptly cut short, and a sinister, palpable energy seemed to spread from the fragments, a promise of chaos and destruction looming over Yokohama.

Without another word, Fitzgerald signaled his subordinates, who brutally grabbed Atsushi and Kanade. "Let's go," one of them growled, dragging them toward the depths of the Moby-Dick, toward a cell that awaited them, while the city they swore to protect unknowingly prepared to burn.

The wind whistled fiercely, snatching their breath away. The duo were plummeting through the Yokohama sky, the city spread out like a nightmare map beneath them. Kanade, her hair streaming like a war flag, turned her head and her heart stopped for an instant. Atsushi, disoriented by the fall and the impact of the explosion, hadn't managed to orient his body. He was going to crash into the ground.

"Idiot!" she screamed, but the word was carried off by the wind.

Without a second thought, Kanade abruptly changed her trajectory. She launched herself like a missile towards her brother, her pink psychic aura blazing intensely. She grabbed him tightly around the waist just meters from impact, the pull almost dislocating her shoulder. Gravity dragged them down, but Kanade strained, contracting every muscle and focusing her power to slow their fall. They spiraled down, erratically.

"Snap out of it, Sushi," she said, shaking him slightly while struggling to maintain stability in the air. Her voice was a mix of exasperation and contained panic.

Atsushi blinked, stunned, and the sight of the world spinning around him focused on his sister's face. Then, his gaze fell on the object he still clutched in his hand: Q's doll. "We have to get this to Dazai-san and Kikyo-san," he murmured, determination re-emerging through the pain.

But there was no time for more. A dry, repetitive crash ripped through the air. Invisible bursts of bullets, fired from the hidden Moby Dick, began to rain down around them, kicking up dust and splinters from the asphalt.

"Run!" Kanade shouted, landing harshly but safely and releasing Atsushi.

The twin duo ran, dodging the shots. Their eyes scanned the desolate surroundings, fixing on strange egg-shaped objects scattered on the ground. Before they could process it, a nearby fuel truck was hit by one of the bullets. The explosion was deafening, a ball of fire and metal that expanded voraciously. The shockwave hit Atsushi with full force, tossing him through the air like a ragdoll.

"Atsushi!" Kanade’s scream was heartbreaking.

She, protected by a last-second psychic shield, landed on her feet amid the chaos. Her gaze immediately went to where her brother had fallen. He lay unconscious on the ground, his body covered in cuts and bruises, his clothes torn to shreds.

A tense, heavy silence followed the explosion. Then, slow, measured footsteps echoed on the devastated street. Kanade, alert and defensive, stood between her unconscious brother and the source of the sound, her hand glowing with a dark, menacing energy.

Then, two figures emerged from the smoke and rubble. It was a spectacle of perfect synchronization. Osamu Dazai, his brown eyes filled with a knowing calm, and Kikyo Saitou, whose long black hair framed a face of serene beauty, her golden eyes with reddish acircular pupils shining like embers in the gloom. Both wore their arms in slings, but their presence was as imposing as ever.

"You won, Atsushi-kun and Kanade-chan," they said in unison, with smiles that, despite the obvious pain, conveyed deep pride.

"Dazai-san? Kikyo-san?" Atsushi asked, beginning to regain consciousness in his sister's lap, only to react with panic. "We're in danger here! They're shooting from the sky!"

Kikyo tilted her head with feline curiosity, a playful smile on her lips. "Are you sure about that?" she asked, her voice a melodious whisper that immediately calmed their nerves. With a fluid movement, she took a small control device from her pocket and pressed a button.

Suddenly, curtains of dense, colorful smoke erupted from several strategic points on the street, rising quickly to completely obscure the area. The gunfire immediately ceased. The strategy had worked perfectly, blinding the sniper, Mark Twain, in the skies.

Minutes later, the four were taking refuge in the relative safety of an abandoned train station. Atsushi and Kagome were slumped on the cold concrete floor, exhausted, breathing heavily.

"You did well, Atsushi-kun and Kanade-chan," Kikyo said, her voice maintaining that maternal calm that so comforted them. She smoothed her hair with her free hand, and her deep burgundy painted nails shone faintly in the light of the sunset filtering through the broken windows. "Yokohama is safe. Or so we'd like to say," she added, and a sigh escaped her lips.

Dazai looked at his partner, a silent understanding passing between them. "As long as the enemy has Q, they can repeat this large-scale destruction," he declared, his tone practical and cold.

Kikyo nodded, her expression turning graver. "Let's see what we do," she and Dazai said in unison, once again, their almost telepathic connection manifesting.

It was then that Atsushi, leaning painfully on an elbow, spoke. His voice was weak, but his words were charged with conviction. "Dazai-san, Saitou-san. We read this theory in a book a long time ago. 'Although the mind might be wrong, the blood is not.' I have an idea. Maybe for others it's inconceivable, but my soul and my blood tell me it's the only correct answer."

Kikyo leaned toward him, her interest genuinely piqued. Her golden eyes narrowed slightly, the reddish pupils fixed on the tiger boy. "What is your idea, Atsushi-kun?" she asked, encouraging him to continue with her soft tone.

"To collaborate," Atsushi said firmly. "With the strongest in Yokohama. People who want to defend it. To face the Guild."

Kanade, who had remained silent, nodded. She stood up with a groan, rubbing her bruised arm. "There is no other organization more suitable as an ally," she added, completing her brother's thought. Her gaze was clear and direct, without a trace of doubt.

An almost imperceptible smile played on Dazai's lips. Kikyo elegantly raised an eyebrow, a spark of approval in her golden eyes. "And what is its name?" the Kiyozai asked in unison, though both knew perfectly well the answer that was coming.

The duo exchanged a glance, a synchronicity that rivaled that of their mentors. With a voice that was a perfect echo of determination, they declared in unison:

"The Port Mafia."

The word "Mafia" resonated in the empty station, charging the air with the weight of a decision that would change the course of the war. It was a crazy, dangerous idea, but in the eyes of the four present, it was the only play left on the table.

Chapter Text

The sunrise in Yokohama used to be a spectacle of soft colors and silent promises, but inside the offices of the Armed Detective Agency, the morning light only served to illuminate the absolute laziness that reigned in one corner.

Dazai Osamu lay sprawled in a large armchair, but it wasn't the armchair that seemed to hold him up, but rather Kikyo's lap. His head rested on her thighs, and she, sitting with a straight back and innate elegance, was peeling an apple with a small knife. The skin fell in one long, continuous strip, a perfect red spiral on her skirt. The contrast was palpable: the usual solar energy of the Arconte of Victory had been replaced by a languidness that, however, failed to strip her of her grace.

Kunikida Doppo burst onto the scene with the force of a typhoon, his planner in his hand like a banner of order. "Do you two have nothing better to do? The day started hours ago! And you, Dazai, stop talking like a broken trumpet if it's barely morning," he roared, adjusting his glasses with a gesture of exasperation.

Dazai only groaned, burying his face even further into the soft refuge of Kikyo's lap.

It was she who answered, her voice a melodious, tired thread that gently cut through Kunikida's complaint. "We don't even have the strength to talk, Kunikida-kun. Forgive us." She looked up for a second, her golden, half-closed eyes settling on him before returning to her task. She broke off a piece of apple and brought it to Dazai's lips, who accepted it with another groan, this time of thanks.

"How can you be like this the day after saving the city? Thanks to Atsushi, to Kanade and to you two, Yokohama is still standing!" Kunikida insisted, his ideals clashing against the wall of their apathy.

"It's just the work the president gave us…" Dazai murmured, his voice muffled by the fabric of Kikyo's dress.

"Are you referring to what Atsushi, Kanade, and the president were discussing?" Kunikida asked, a little calmer but still confused.

"Indeed."

President Fukuzawa's serene voice filled the room. Kunikida straightened instantly, like a soldier before his superior. Next to Fukuzawa, Kin Toki appeared. Her presence was as silent as it was solid. Her blue hair, with a turquoise gradient at the tips, barely moved, as if even the air didn't dare to disturb it. Her gaze, clear and direct, scanned the room and settled on the peculiar couple.

"Good morning, President. Kin-dono," Kunikida greeted formally.

Kin nodded slightly in response, a minimalist gesture that was her full greeting. It was she who spoke first, her voice as direct and unadorned as ever. "Dazai. Kikyo. Any news regarding the secret meeting with the Port Mafia?"

Kikyo finished giving Dazai another piece of apple before responding. Her fingers, long and delicate, got tangled for a moment in his brown hair, a gesture of habit, of quiet possession. "We're on it, but…" Dazai trailed off, completing the sentence without her needing to.

Fukuzawa watched, impassive. "Do you think the Port Mafia boss will come?"

Kikyo closed her golden eyes, as if visualizing the scenario. When she opened them, her gaze was clear and penetrating. "Of course he will." She ran her fingers through a strand of her own black hair. "It's his best opportunity to kill us all at once." She said it with the same calmness with which she had peeled the apple, her words loaded with a deadly weight that contrasted with her soft tone.

Fukuzawa maintained his composure, but a flash of bitter understanding crossed his eyes. "It is preferable to spilling the blood of the rank-and-file members." He turned on his heels. "Kin."

She was already moving, synchronized with him as if they had shared the same thought. They both walked away from the office, leaving behind the charged silence their revelation had created.

A second of calm. Then, the explosion.

"DAZAI! KIKYO! A SECRET MEETING WITH THE PORT MAFIA?!" Kunikida screamed, and the window glass seemed to vibrate.

Dazai sighed, playing the martyr. "Atsushi-kun and Kagome-chan's idea about cooperation... turned into something a little bigger. Even though the Guild is the biggest threat right now, these things can't wait…" He made an exaggerated pout, seeking sympathy.

"Hold on! I don't understand anything! Why in the world are you two in charge of preparing that meeting?" Kunikida pointed at both of them, his finger trembling with indignation.

Dazai and Kikyo looked at each other. It was a quick, almost imperceptible exchange. A tiny, playful smile appeared on her lips. He returned her gaze with an expression of amused complicity.

"Well, that's because…" Dazai began, feigning shyness.

Kikyo finished the sentence, her voice as sweet and natural as if she were commenting on the weather: "...we used to be in the Port Mafia, Kunikida-kun."

The silence was absolute. Kunikida blinked, processing. "I beg your pardon?"

Dazai sat up a little, propping himself up on one elbow. "Yeah. Everyone here knows. Well, everyone but you, of course."

Kikyo nodded, looking at Kunikida with a calmness that bordered on the surreal. "Yes. It's a pretty well-known fact, we thought you already knew."

Kunikida's face went from cherry red to a nuclear white. His jaw dropped. All the air in the room seemed to be sucked toward him to fuel the scream that came from the depths of his being, a scream of betrayal, of disbelief, and of pure, hard ideological shock.

"WHAT?!"

The shriek echoed down the hallways, shaking the foundations of the building. At the threshold of the door, already far away, Fukuzawa was unfazed. But by his side, Kin, the silent shadow, allowed a corner of her lips to curve slightly, in an expression that could only be the most subtle version of a smile.

—

The salty breeze of dawn in the port of Yokohama carried a metallic weight, the smell of saltpeter mixed with the ghost of blood and gunpowder. Among the black and polished tombstones of the Port Mafia's private cemetery, three figures stood out against the grayish light. The silence was not peace; it was the tense calm that follows a slaughter.

Chuuya Nakahara, with his hat cocked and his hands buried in his coat pockets, broke the ice. His voice, hoarse from lack of sleep and contained rage, carried the weight of every name carved in the stone. "In our organization alone, there are more than a hundred dead. I hate to admit it. But if Dazai hadn't neutralized the curse and Kikyo hadn't spread her witch spells, there would have been ten times more victims." He paused, his blue gaze, as stormy as the sea behind them, rested on a particular tombstone. "Takako is still captured by the ADA. An executive, taken hostage. It's a disgrace."

Mori Ougai, standing with a deliberately relaxed posture, wearing his impeccable doctor's suit, gave a cold smile, a gesture that didn't reach his violet eyes, somber and calculating. "As boss, I'm mortified." The admission was another weapon in his arsenal, a show of false humility designed to probe loyalties and guilt.

Beside him, Nana Shigetsu remained motionless. Her elegance was an armor, every line of her body a hidden blade. Her long black hair, smooth as silk, fell over her shoulders, framing a perfectly serene porcelain face. Her lime-green eyes, usually bright, were dim, like ashes after a fire. She didn't utter a word. Her silence was more eloquent than any speech; a critical evaluation of the situation, a mute reproach for the loss of control, for the disorder of the battle that had taken such a high and unnecessary toll. She closed her eyes, a minimal gesture of lament or annoyance, it was impossible to discern.

The creak of the cemetery's iron gate opening cut the tension. Two figures emerged from the gloom of the cypress corridor.

The first to enter was Ueno Takako. She advanced with that ancient grace that seemed to fold space around her. Her kimono, impeccable, showed no wrinkle or stain from her captivity. In her hand, a closed mother-of-pearl and sky-blue silk fan. Without a word, she approached Chuuya and, with a quick and precise movement that was both a greeting and a reprimand, gave him a slight static shock on the arm with the tip of the fan. The discharge was minimal, but enough to make him react.

Chuuya turned, startled, his eyes wide as he saw her. "Takako! How...?"

She smiled, a perfect and enigmatic curve of her lips. She placed a hand on her hip, and the dawn light made her nails shine, painted a sky-blue that matched the gradient of her fan. "Did you think four walls and the disapproving gaze of that blind detective could contain me, Chuuya? I've bloomed in much more arid terrain than that." Her voice was melodious, but every word had the edge of a dagger sheathed in silk.

Behind her, Kouyou Ozaki advanced with her parasol resting on her shoulder, a look of deep satisfaction on her face. "The Armed Detective Agency has… curiously lax security standards for those who pride themselves on maintaining order."

Nana was the first to speak, her voice a calm, neutral silver thread, directed at the newcomers. "Kouyou-kun. Takako." Her lime-green eyes evaluated them, looking for cracks, damage, weaknesses. She found none. She nodded, almost to herself. A valuable asset, recovered. The equation was balancing again.

Kouyou turned to Mori, her smile taking on a mocking nuance. "Dazai kicked us out of the agency saying a useless prisoner is just a waste of money." A flash of disapproval crossed her eyes as she mentioned her former student. "We still don't understand what my dear Kikyo saw in that man." The phrase floated in the air, a rhetorical question that everyone in Mori's inner circle had asked themselves at some point. The pair that Dazai and Kikyo formed was a perverse puzzle, even for them.

Takako rolled her eyes, a gesture of elegant annoyance. "Some flowers choose to bloom in a cesspool, Onee-sama. It's their nature, not their fault." Her tone was dismissive, but also final. A closed topic.

Kouyou continued, pulling an immaculate white parchment envelope from the fold of her sleeve. "He even gave me an errand as a reward for letting me stay." She extended it to Mori. "From the head of the detectives and his shadow. He invites you to tea."

Mori accepted the envelope, his surprise genuine for an instant, a quick blink before his mask of polite ambiguity was put back in place. A slow smile spread across his lips. "So that's their choice." It wasn't a question. It was the recognition of a move on the board, a bold gambit from the other side of the board.

The mention of Fukuzawa's "shadow" made Nana's eyes briefly meet Mori's. A micro-gesture of understanding. Kin Toki. The silent piece whose movement was always the most difficult to predict.

The revelation instantly transported Mori to another dawn, eight years ago. The scene superimposed itself on the present reality like a ghost…

***

**Eight years ago.**

The air in the former boss's suite was heavy with madness and the sickly sweet smell of medicine and old blood. Mori, in a doctor's gown over his clothes, stood beside the huge bed where a frail and emaciated man lay. Nana, then younger but with the same impassive elegance, placed a bottle of the boss's antipsychotic medication on the bedside table with a steady hand.

"How are you feeling, boss?" Mori asked, his voice a professional buzz.

"Doctor… nurse…," the boss's voice was a thin stream of saliva and rage. "Order the Executive members to conduct a 'purge.' Whether it's opposing factions or the military police, all who defy the Port Mafia must be killed. Before nightfall."

Mori's hand moved. A fine scalpel appeared in his gloved hand. "That's not reasonable."

The Boss's eyes widened, white and maniacal. "No matter how many men we have to lose... Kill them. Just kill."

Nana smiled, a tired, almost pitiful expression. Her lime-green eyes flashed with a hint of annoyance before going completely flat like glass. "Understood, boss." She took the scalpel from Mori's hand with surgical precision. Without hesitation, without a tremor, she placed the blade against the man's throat and, with a clean, savage cut, opened the artery. The blood spurted, a scarlet arc that splattered the white wall and Mori's gown.

Mori dropped the scalpel. The metallic sound against the marble floor was deafening in the silence that followed the gurgle of death.

"... The Boss... Died of a serious illness," Nana declared, already methodically removing her blood-stained gloves. "His last wish was that I be his successor as the next boss." Her tone was as neutral as if she were reading a weather report.

Mori, his face splattered with blood, smiled. A wide, terrible smile. He turned to the shadows in the corner. "And you two were the witnesses?"

There, shrouded in the gloom, were a young Dazai Osamu and Saitou Kikyo. He, an emaciated teenager covered in bandages, looked at him with an uncomfortable grimace on his lips. His eyes, however, were wide open, glowing with a dark, empty red, capturing every detail of the macabre scene. She, Kikyo, looking about twenty years old and carved from ivory, remained serene. Her golden eyes, with blood-red acircular pupils, did not blink. They shone with a chilling, intelligent, and ancient light. It wasn't horror they reflected, but an absolute, almost academic, comprehension of the act they had just witnessed.

The duo remained silent, but their presence was a scream in the room. When Mori approached, intrigued by their absolute stillness, his gaze shifted to their wrists. A thin, almost ethereal golden chain connected Dazai's bandaged wrist to Kikyo's pale wrist. On hers, a thicker metallic bracelet with barely visible runes completed the bond.

"So, you also have a Human and Arconte bond?" Mori asked them, his medical and strategic curiosity awakened. But the duo only remained silent, their gazes fixed on him, two pairs of eyes that had seen the abyss and had decided not to look away. They were empty mirrors, and in that emptiness, Mori glimpsed the reflection of his own future.

—

The park was silent, an artificial oasis of calm in the heart of Yokohama. Dazai and Kikyo, the couple known as "Kiyozai," sat on the edge of a dry fountain, their hands intertwined on her lap. They watched a swirl of leaves and dust dance in the wind, a meaningless choreography that only they seemed to appreciate. Their synchronization was absolute, a two-headed organism that breathed in unison.

The tranquility was broken by the silent but impossible-to-ignore arrival of three figures. Mori Ougai, with his judging doctor's smile, advanced with a casual elegance. To his left, Nana Shigetsu floated more than she walked, her presence a wave of silent pressure that preceded each step. Behind them, the three members of the Black Lizard—Hirotsu, Gin, and Tachihara—formed a triangle of discreet alertness, their postures ready but not yet threatening.

Kikyo was the first to move. She looked up, and a smile as warm as the morning sun formed on her lips. "Welcome, boss and nee-sama." Her tone was mellifluous, the epitome of courtesy, but in her golden eyes, there was no trace of real warmth. It was a formal greeting, an opening move on the chessboard.

Mori observed them, his gaze falling on Dazai's beige trench coat and Kikyo's simple but elegant yukata. "It's been four years... do you still wear the coat I gave you, Dazai? Saitou-kun, do you still keep the kimono Kouyou-kun gave you?" The question was a probe, an attempt to pry into their shared past, to seek a point of connection or, more likely, a point of weakness.

The Kiyozai couple looked at each other. It was an instant exchange, a complete message transmitted in a fraction of a second. Then, in a movement so fluid and coordinated that it seemed choreographed, they jumped from the edge of the fountain and landed in front of the mafia leaders with the ethereal and dangerous grace of two felines.

"Obviously... we burned them." They declared in unison. Their voices intertwined perfectly, and identical smiles, cold as the ice on a winter lake, froze on their faces. There was no regret, just a done deal. A clean cut with the symbols of their past.

Before Mori could respond, another voice, deep and serene, cut through the air. "Ougai Mori. Head of the Port Mafia." Fukuzawa Yukichi emerged from among the trees, his figure imposing and straight as a sword in its sheath.

As if an echo, a second figure materialized beside him. Kin Toki. Her wooden *geta* sandals resonated with a firm, dry *click* against the stone path, a sound that seemed to set the rhythm of the meeting. "Nana Shigetsu, second Head of the Port Mafia. Arconte of the same." Her voice was flat, direct, and unadorned. A statement, not a greeting.

Nana tilted her head slightly, a playful, sharp smile peeking from under the wide brim of her hat, which concealed the upper half of her face. Only her lips, painted a deep red, were visible. "Yukichi Fukuzawa, president of the Detective Agency."

"Kin Toki, Fukuzawa's wife, second president of the Detective Agency. First Arconte of the same." Nana's presentation was deliberate, a reminder of the power structures and titles that now separated them.

"This moment has finally arrived." Fukuzawa declared, his voice laden with historical weight.

Mori laughed softly. "The government would have a heart attack if they found out that the leaders of the country's largest supernatural organizations are meeting."

Kin, without wasting a second, got straight to the point. Her way of speaking was like the edge of a knife: precise and efficient. "We'll get straight to it. Some new agency members proposed an alliance with the Port Mafia."

"Oh." Nana's reaction was an almost inaudible whisper, an exhalation of contained annoyance. It wasn't a question. It was the sound of someone re-evaluating the board with trivial new information.

Fukuzawa continued, ignoring the comment. "I refused. But the proposal came from two people who were kidnapped, shot, and cut by your side." His gaze was of steel. "Their words carry more weight than anyone else's. Therefore, as a leader, I have a duty to listen to them." The reference to Atsushi and Kagome, and their suffering at the hands of the mafia, was a calculated low blow, a reminder of the blood debt.

"We are both in a complicated position." Mori conceded, his smile never fading, enjoying the verbal duel.

"This is my conclusion: even if we don't form an alliance, I suggest a temporary ceasefire." Fukuzawa crossed his arms.

Mori and Nana laughed in unison, a cold sound devoid of true joy. "Have you read Schelling? Or Nash or Kissinger?" Nana asked, her voice taking on the tone of a teacher quizzing a slow student. Her smile became acidic, contemptuous.

Before Fukuzawa could respond, Dazai and Kikyo spoke, taking one step forward at the same time. "They are all strategic management researchers. Disciples of a certain person." Their choreography was unnerving.

"Yes, we have read Sun Tzu." Fukuzawa confirmed, impassive.

Nana was unfazed. "The strategies of illegal organizations have common points with a state of war. There is no one to punish us in case of non-compliance." Her voice was a thread of poisoned silk. "What would happen if the Port Mafia ignores the ceasefire? What if you betray us? The party that trusts the agreement is the only one that suffers. If circumstances favor the one who betrays first, it's impossible to establish a ceasefire. The only logical option would be to cooperate completely."

"That is also impossible." Dazai smiled with his eyes closed, dismissing the idea with a frivolity that was in itself a statement.

"Indeed." Mori nodded, his smile finally disappearing. "The Port Mafia is based on its image and honor. The dignity of many of our subordinates has been attacked."

Kin, who had remained in a silent observation, intervened. Her voice sounded like the click of a safety being released. "Ours have been on the verge of death more than once. And two of your Executives almost poisoned my third Arconte's mind, they almost took her to the Port Mafia, even when they didn't want to." Her gaze fixed on Kikyo, and then swept to Mori. The message was clear: *Takako and Kouyou. We know everything.*

"But they are not dead." Mori retorted, his voice icy. "And that is a disgrace for the Port Mafia."

The tension reached its breaking point. Fukuzawa placed a hand on the hilt of his katana. "In that case, how about this?"

Nana responded immediately, her elegance transforming into a palpable threat. "Let's settle our past debts here and now." In a move that defied perception, she lunged at Kin. There was no scream, only the hiss of air being cut.

But Kin was no longer there. She had shifted centimeters, just enough for Nana's armed hand to pass by. There was no sudden movement, only a perfect re-optimization of her position. Her ability, *Gakumon no Susume*, was not a visible power, but the supreme manifestation of a mind that was always five steps ahead, reading intentions in the slightest blink, in the tension of a muscle, in the flow of the air. Her yukata concealed a short katana, but she did not draw it. It wasn't necessary. Her defense was pure calculated evasion, a deadly dance of anticipation.

Mori and Fukuzawa engaged in their own duel. Mori's scalpel gleamed under the dim sun, stopping Fukuzawa's katana with millimeter precision. The blade stopped a millimeter from Mori's neck.

"Didn't you abandon your sword, Kokenshi Ginro Fukuzawa?" Mori smiled, showing his teeth, unfazed by the blade that almost touched him.

"I see you still have your habit of killing with a scalpel, Doctor Mori. Do you still like little girls?" Fukuzawa's retort was a low and direct blow.

"Do you still talk to cats?" Mori counterattacked, his smile becoming wider.

It was then that a single clap resonated.

It wasn't a loud sound in itself, but it had a strange quality, as if it vibrated in the bones and not in the ears. A visible wave of air, a distortion in the atmosphere, emanated from where Kikyo was and swept across the park. The leaves on the trees became motionless. The dust swirl that Dazai and Kikyo were watching collapsed. For an instant, everything, *absolutely everything*, stopped. The fight between Nana and Kin froze in a pose of perfect attack and evasion. Mori and Fukuzawa were paralyzed, their weapons still locked.

The power was not overwhelming, it was not destructive. It was *authoritative*. A silent reminder, a demonstration that a force existed in the room that could impose a pause without asking for permission.

All eyes, filled with surprise and maximum alert, turned to Kikyo. She was smiling, but it was a smile that didn't reach her golden eyes, which now shone with a dim and ancient inner light.

Then, she let out an exaggerated sigh, of extreme boredom and weariness, as if the fight of titans she had just stopped were a childish nuisance.

"Alright, that's enough." She declared, and her voice, soft as ever, had a quality of law that resonated in the silence she herself had created.

She turned to some nearby bushes, and her smile transformed into an almost maternal expression of gentleness. "Tanizaki-kun, you can stop using your ability now."

As if obeying an order, the entire scene... *vanished*. The colors saturated, the shadows readjusted. The perfect illusion of *Light Snow* dissipated. The real Fukuzawa was standing several meters away, his katana firmly sheathed. The "Fukuzawa" who had been fighting with Mori was a hologram.

Mori straightened up, smoothing his coat without a hint of shame or surprise, only a cold re-evaluation. "A holographic ability, huh? That was a fun meeting. Let's continue on the battlefield."

Fukuzawa, imperturbable, declared: "The agency will recover Q tonight."

"So what?" Mori asked, defiant.

"Don't get in our way. For the sake of both organizations."

"Why?"

"Because our only common ground is that we love this city." Fukuzawa's voice was firm, with a conviction that silenced any reply. "As organizations that protect the city, we cannot allow some foreigners with powers to destroy it."

Mori looked at Dazai and Kikyo. "The Guild is powerful. The agency cannot beat it if Kikyo is not willing to use *Hyakka no Niwa* to help them. Therefore… Dazai-kun, Kikyo. The offer for you to return to our team is still open."

Kikyo let out a soft and melodious laugh, but her eyes remained serious. "Not a chance." She closed her golden eyes, as if the very idea was tedious to her. "For a reason, we have a rule book in which we literally put that neither of us will return to the Port Mafia. We have to take care of two young children." The reference to Atsushi and Kagome was clear, a reminder of their roles now as protectors, not destroyers. "For starters, you were the one who kicked Osamu out of the Port Mafia and gave him the freedom to choose to take someone with him. By pure coincidence, he chose me." Her smile was sweet as honey and sharp as glass.

"Didn't you leave because you wanted to?" Nana asked, her voice losing its playful tone for the first time. It was flat, inquisitive. A surgeon looking for the exposed nerve.

Dazai and Kikyo opened their eyes in unison. Brown and gold. Empty. Cold. Icy smiles froze on their faces.
"You were afraid, weren't you, Mori-san and Nana?" Their voice was a single instrument, a bell tolling for the dead. "That one day, one of us would want the boss's position and we would slit your throat. Just as you did with your predecessor."

The accusation fell like a slab in the silent park. Mori bared his teeth in a wide, grotesque smile, a gesture of pure defiance. Nana, for her part, let out a low, eerie laugh, a sound that did not come from amusement, but from a dark, approving place within her. It was the sound of the truth being recognized.

"The wicked see evil in everyone." The Kiyozai couple concluded, their voices merging again into one, cold and definitive. "We also have no intention of allying with you."

The message was clear. The line was drawn. The truce, if it ever came to exist, would be uncomfortable, temporary, and based solely on an external threat. And at the center of it all, the Kiyozai couple, with their unbreakable loyalty to each other and to the "children" they now protected, were the living reminder that some past wounds never heal, and some fears are never forgotten.

—

The night on the pier was heavy with salt and silence. The shed, a decrepit structure rising against the starry Yokohama sky, seemed to be holding its breath. In front of it, Dazai and Kikyo formed a dual silhouette, a harmonious contrast of darkness and grace.

"So this is where you have Q?" Dazai asked, his voice a thread of curiosity tinged with irony. His eyes, usually bright with mischief, scanned the structure with an uncharacteristic intensity.

Kikyo nodded softly, one hand adjusting the lapel of her impeccable black blazer. "So it seems, Osamu." Her tone was mellifluous, but in her golden eyes, visible even in the dim light, a tactical evaluation, a calculation of risks and moves, was reflected. "It smells of desperation and a trap. A rather... vulgar scent, don't you think?"

Before Dazai could answer, the world exploded in light. Blinding spotlights switched on from all angles, trapping them in a perfect circle of artificial light. Dozens of armed men, members of the Guild, emerged from the shadows, their weapons aimed at the center of the circle.

John Steinbeck advanced, a confident smile on his face. "Good evening, young man and young lady, who must be Eileen's older sister. Our strategist specializes in reading the enemy." His voice was a relaxed drawl, certain of his advantage.

Dazai and Kikyo looked at each other. There was no panic, no surprise. Only a flash of mutual recognition, of an understanding so deep it needed no words. And then, they laughed. It was a synchronous laugh, a sound that cut the tension like a sharp knife.

"It was a trap, of course." They declared in unison, their voices intertwining in perfect harmony. The resignation in their tones was fake, an elegant mockery of the Guild's presumption.

In that very instant, the universe exploded.

A massive detonation shook the foundations of the pier, a controlled fury that could only belong to one person. Chuuya Nakahara descended like a meteor, the ground cracking under his boots with every enraged step. Gravity itself seemed to groan under his wrath.

And then, the calm. A figure moved with an ethereal elegance through the chaos. Ueno Takako. Her short hair, white as snow with tips dyed a glacial blue, waved gently with the shockwave. Her dress was an asymmetrical work of art: black and fitted, with dark blue drapery that shimmered like a starry sky, and a belt from which exotic camellias hung. Her black stilettos made an ominous *click* against the concrete. In her hand, she held another camellia, its petals translucent with dark veins like fragments of fractured ice.

Dazai shook his head with exaggerated annoyance at the sight of Chuuya. "Ah, the noisy midget has arrived. Just when the night promised to be boring."

Kikyo sighed, a sound of theatrical resignation. "What can you do, Osamu. Mori-san and Nana-oneesama have an obsession with pairing you with Chuuya and me with Takako. They look like matchmakers from a cheap telenovela." Her complaint was soft, almost a song, but her eyes never left Steinbeck, studying him like a botanist would examine a peculiar species.

Steinbeck, disconcerted by the instant counterattack, tried to reactivate. "Our strategist didn't say anything about a surprise attack!" His hand tensed, and the vines of his ability began to sprout from the ground.

They didn't get very far. Dazai moved with deceptive speed, casually placing a hand on Steinbeck's shoulder. A light, almost friendly contact. But instantly, the green vines withered and turned to dust.

"I'm sorry, but you're not going to do anything." Dazai and Kikyo said, this time with their eyes closed, as if the action was as mundane as signing a document. Their smiles were identical: peaceful, and therefore, deeply terrifying.

Steinbeck paled. "The power that nullifies others."

"This is awful." Dazai complained, with a pout of disgust.

"I'll say!" Chuuya roared, taking advantage of the distraction. With a shout of "You damned bastard!", he delivered a devastating kick that hit Steinbeck in the torso, sending him flying like a broken rag towards the shadows of some distant containers.

A charged silence fell over the pier, broken only by the crackle of burning wood and the faint whisper of the night wind.

Chuuya took off his long coat with a brusque movement, throwing it to the side. The moonlight reflected off the metal bands on his cuffs. Dazai, with a sigh of annoyance that concealed a deadly readiness, freed himself from his sling, letting the white cloth fall to the ground. His gaze, for an instant, lost its usual frivolity, showing the calculating emptiness that lay beneath.

Kikyo raised a delicate hand and adjusted the red rose *kanzashi* in her bun, a gesture of apparent vanity that was, in reality, the calm before the storm. The air around her was slightly saturated with the imperceptible scent of ethereal roses, a soft psychological pressure that announced the awakening of her *Hyakka no Niwa*.

Takako, without haste, took a set of thin, shiny scalpels from the folds of her dress. She held them with the elegance with which another woman would hold a fan. She didn't say a word. She just smiled, a perfect and enigmatic curve of her lips that didn't reach her cold, calculating eyes. A *Glacial Blue Camellia* bloomed silently on her shoulder, its black crystal petals flashing with a dim light.

The four, a dissonant and lethal unit, lined up. Soukoku, the whirlwind of gravity and nullification. Souhaku, the garden of roses and camellias, elegance and death intertwined.

The night held its breath. The Port Mafia's and ADA counterattack had begun.

The night was a humid blanket over Yokohama. Chuuya advanced with firm steps, the unconscious body of Q secured to his back with bands of manipulated gravity that made it appear weightless. Beside him, Takako floated more than she walked, her black stilettos making an almost inaudible *click* against the asphalt. In one hand, she held a hypodermic needle loaded with a high-potency sedative.

"He's stirring," Takako murmured, her ice-blue eyes fixed on the boy. "If he wakes up and starts crying, it will tempt me to use this for something more... permanent." Her voice was a flat whisper, but the threat was as real as the needle in her hand. She followed Mori's orders to the letter, but her disgust for children—unpredictable, loud creatures—was palpable.

A few steps behind, Dazai and Kikyo formed their own world. Kikyo was carrying Q's doll locked inside a *Perfect Cube*, a translucent energy cube that she held with the elegance of someone carrying a designer purse. She observed it with an intense, almost maternal curiosity, if motherhood included mentally dissecting your child.

"Hey, Kikyo, give me the doll!" Chuuya demanded, without turning around. He knew exactly what she was doing.

Kikyo didn't even look up. "No. I have to experiment with how Q's ability works and how it has evolved in the years Dazai and I were away." A playful smile played on her lips. "It's fascinating, you know? The way the curse intertwines with the childlike psyche... It's almost poetic."

Chuuya muttered a litany of insults directed mainly at Dazai. "...I'm going to kill you, I swear I'm going to..."

The air was cut.

A thick, pale, and damp vine shot out from the darkness of a side alley. It coiled around Chuuya's neck with serpentine speed, choking off his next insult. Another identical vine wrapped around Takako's ankle and threw her with brutal force towards the crown of a nearby tree.

"My shoulder's been stiff for a while," a monotonous, deep voice resonated from the shadows. Howard Phillips Lovecraft emerged, his movement erratic, unnatural. "Is it because I've been working too hard?" His head rotated 180 degrees, like an owl's, to look at them.

"Fascinating…" Kikyo breathed, her golden eyes glowing with pure scientific delight, completely forgetting the threat. She watched the tentacles that were now sprouting from Lovecraft's back like a botanist would observe a rare species.

Takako, hanging with unnatural grace from a branch, straightened herself out without a hair out of place. "What kind of ability is that?" she asked, her voice cold but with a note of genuine perplexity.

"I expected nothing less from the Guild!" Dazai proclaimed, with a wide smile. With a total lack of ceremony, he stepped on Chuuya's head—who was still struggling against the tentacle—to gain some visual height. Kikyo moved closer to Takako's tree, engrossed in her observations.

"How resilient!" Dazai commented, referring to the tentacle.

"Don't step on me!" Chuuya roared, releasing a wave of gravity that shattered the tentacle around his neck in a spray of viscous matter.

"Here he comes," Takako announced, jumping from the tree. A *Glacial Blue Camellia* bloomed in her hand, its black crystal petals flashing.

"What do we do?" she asked, turning to Dazai and Kikyo. Her pragmatism overruled any rivalry in that moment.

"What do you mean? I can nullify any power with a single touch of my fing—" Dazai was interrupted by a tentacle that hit him with the force of a truck, sending him crashing into a brick wall.

Kikyo frowned, a rare gesture of irritation. "Power: Hyakka no Niwa." A *Celestial Blue Rose*, the color of the daytime sky, surged from her palm. She launched it towards Lovecraft. The petals detached and flew like daggers of blue light, seeking to nullify any supernatural energy... but they vanished upon touching the man's skin, with no effect. Lovecraft looked at her with his empty eyes and another tentacle struck her hard, sending her to land next to Dazai in a pile of rubble.

Chuuya cursed and lunged forward, his fists glowing with a crimson aura. "You damned deep-sea monster!" His punch impacted Lovecraft's torso with a hollow sound. Takako danced around him, her scalpels and katana slicing the sprouting tentacles, each cut clean and precise, but the limbs regenerated instantly.

"Your fists and knives… they hurt…" Lovecraft murmured, his voice like the crunching of stones under the sea.

Kikyo got up, swaying slightly. With a gentle gesture, she helped Dazai to his feet. He was bleeding from the lip, she had a cut on her cheek. Chuuya and Takako retreated towards them, forming a defensive circle.

"What strange tentacles. We can't nullify them," Dazai and Kikyo said in unison, their voices a mix of frustration and scientific fascination.

"It can't be. Is that possible?" Takako asked, her katana still on guard, staring at the entity that was once Lovecraft.

"My ability has no exceptions, Takako-chan," Dazai said, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. His tone was casual, but his eyes were serious. "Much less a spell that was created by Kikyo... there's only one possibility."

"His is not a gift," Dazai and Kikyo declared in unison, their gazes fixed on the abomination in front of them.

"Seriously? What a nasty joke," Chuuya spat, putting a hand on his hip. "If it's not an ability, then what?"

Takako twirled her katana, a dangerous, almost hungry smile on her lips. "Something older. Deeper."

The Kiyozai duo moved closer, their minds working in perfect synchrony. "There's no other way," Dazai announced, a familiar smile—the one that preceded absolute chaos—appearing on his face. "We'll do it the old-school way. Operation Shame and Toads."

Chuuya rolled his eyes with a groan. "Wouldn't 'Rain on the Other Side of the Window' or 'The Lie of the Artificial Flowers' be better? 'Shame and Toads' is... childish."

Dazai looked at him, his smile widening. "Chuuya, when have my battle strategies ever failed?"

Kikyo laughed softly beside him, adjusting the red rose *kanzashi* in her hair. The gesture was of a terrifying normalcy given the situation. "If Osamu's strategies have ever failed, someone please let me know. I'll be noting it in my diary."

Lovecraft advanced, his tentacles writhing like a nest of snakes. But for the four, the focus had changed. The enemy was no longer an immediate priority; it was a problem to be solved with a ridiculous, dangerous, and, most likely, effective plan.

Operation Shame and Toads began with the elegance of a macabre ballet. Dazai and Kikyo separated, moving with a perfect synchronization that turned their bodies into irresistible decoys. Lovecraft, or the thing that had been Lovecraft, reacted as planned: a tangle of pale, damp tentacles lunged at them with lethal speed.

But Chuuya was already in motion. "Not so fast, you carnival freak!" he shouted, his leg wrapped in a crimson aura, cutting the tentacles as if they were rotten stems. He didn't wait to see them fall; he followed his momentum, charging directly toward the core of the abomination. Takako appeared like a ghost at his back, her katana describing a silver arc that sliced a section of Lovecraft's torso with chilling precision. There was no blood, only a dark, viscous substance.

Chuuya passed through the opening Takako created, his fists impacting with the force of a meteor. "Gravity Manipulation," he declared, his voice echoing with an echo of pure power. He flew upwards, surrounded by an intense red aura that distorted the air around him. "My power allows me to control the gravity of what I touch. Go to sleep, octopus."

Takako landed silently beside him, a cold smile on her lips. She didn't need to explain her ability; her camellias, briefly blooming around her wrists before vanishing, were explanation enough. They were elegance and death intertwined.

"Good job," Dazai and Kikyo said in unison, their identical, satisfied smiles as they reunited with them.

The Port Mafia duo landed in front of the two former executives. "Dazai, you bastard, how dare you treat me like a dog?" Chuuya growled, rubbing his neck where the tentacle had strangled him.

Dazai looked at him with mocking amusement. "I could use a dog. But I have to settle for you."

Kikyo and Takako rolled their eyes in unison—molten gold and blue ice—in a gesture of divine exasperation. "Mortal men," they declared, their voices a mix of annoyance and affection.

"Mortals to whom you are both linked!" Dazai and Chuuya replied in unison, a retort so perfect it was unsettling. Dazai received a soft kick to the shin from Kikyo for his troubles.

But the victory was short-lived. A guttural sound, like stones grinding in the depths of the ocean, made everyone turn. Lovecraft was transforming, his human body melting and reforming into something much older and more terrible.

Kikyo stomped on Dazai's foot harder this time, while he pretended to examine a nonexistent arm. "Stop playing around!" The women's double kick—Souhaku in action—made him stumble, and Chuuya grabbed him by the shirt.

"Stop with the tricks and think about how to get rid of this nightmare!" Chuuya shouted, a vein throbbing on his forehead, his smile a grimace of pure rage.

"Impossible. Let's give up and die," Kikyo suggested with a sinister sweetness, adjusting the *kanzashi* in her hair.

Dazai sighed, all false frivolity leaving his face. "There is only one thing left for us to do."

Takako's eyes widened slightly, the light blue glinting with instant understanding. Chuuya held his breath. "Don't tell me... You want to use Tainted and Kurohana Shuuen?"

The Kiyozai duo's faces went completely blank, though their smiles remained, fixed and eerie. "They started calling us Soukoku after we wiped out an entire organization in one night, Chuuya," Dazai said, his hands hidden in his trench coat pockets. "They started calling Kikyo-chan and Takako-chan Souhaku for the reason that they are our partners, our opposite gender, and just as lethal as us. If we don't support them in time, they will die. We will let them decide."

"You'll let me decide?" Chuuya spat the words. "Every time you say that... it's because there's no choice." He turned to the twisted mass that was Lovecraft and began to remove his gloves with abrupt movements.

Takako said nothing. She just sighed, a sound of final resignation. With steady hands, she took the blue camellia *kanzashi* from her hair and pressed it into Kikyo's hands. A gesture of absolute trust, of a transfer of custody.

"Grantors of dark disgrace, do not awaken me again," Chuuya prayed, and his voice trembled with an echo of ancient pain. The black markings of Corruption began to spread over his skin like veins of ink, and his aura became oppressive, a pressure that made the ground crack.

Takako closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were no longer blue. They were pools of absolute darkness, with no visible white or pupil. Asymmetrical lines of a brilliant electric blue ran across her skin, forming patterns that looked like alien runes. Her hair, normally short and with blue tips, began to grow at an unnatural speed, undulating like living snakes until it reached her waist and beyond, a cascade of ebony and sapphire that moved with a life of its own. The air around her became saturated with the scent of ozone and withered flowers. *Kurohana Shuuen*—the Final Dark Flower—had awakened.

"What in hell is that?" John Steinbeck's voice, watching from the shadows, trembled with a horrible amazement.

Dazai and Kikyo.

lDid your curiosity awaken, Guild's worker ant?" Kikyo asked.

"That is the true form of Chuuya's and Takako’s power," Dazai and Kikyo explained in unison, their voices monotonous as a report. "His corrupted form allows him to manipulate the gravitons around him. By compressing them, he creates bombs that act as black holes that devour everything."

"But thet cannot control they ability," Kikyo added, with a hint of scientific pity in her tone, "so they doesn't stop until them runs out of strength and dies." She watched Lovecraft, fascinated. "A chaotic regeneration pattern... fascinating."

"If you are the partner of that guy Lovecraft, we deduce that you know what he is," Dazai said, bringing a knife to Steinbeck's throat with a carefree smile.

Steinbeck laughed, a tense laugh. "No idea. I wouldn't tell you even if I did."

Kikyo rolled her golden eyes, making a genuine pout. "It's in these moments that I wish I had Kagome-chan's ability to read minds. My thirst for knowledge is insatiable."

"That's a shame," Steinbeck said, regaining some of his confidence. "There's no way to destroy Lovecraft from the outside when he's like that."

The Kiyozai duo looked at each other. An identical, dangerous smile bloomed on their faces. They pulled out a small, innocent-looking remote control. "Isn't there?" they said in unison. Dazai pressed a button.

From inside Lovecraft's amorphous mass, a muffled explosion rumbled. The creature convulsed, its regeneration violently interrupted. In that instant of vulnerability, Chuuya, consumed by Corruption, launched a massive graviton, a sphere of pure darkness that began to devour everything around it.

Takako, in her *Kurohana Shuuen* state, raised her hands. A gigantic *Black Bone Camellia*, as large as a car, bloomed in front of her. Its petals were not made of glass, but of pure solidified darkness, sharp and hungry. Her sadistic smile was a terrifying sight. With a cry that was both ecstasy and agony, she launched the flower at the wounded creature.

The resulting explosion was apocalyptic. Light, darkness, and brute force collided, shaking the foundations of the pier.

As soon as the blast subsided, Kikyo acted. A small, delicate *Celestial Blue Rose* appeared in her hand. She blew its petals towards Takako. Upon making contact with the woman's marked skin, the blue lines vanished, her hair receded to its normal length, and her eyes regained their ice-blue color, though they were glassy with exhaustion. Takako fell to her knees, panting, all her elegance replaced by a deep fatigue.

Chuuya, meanwhile, was laughing uncontrollably, firing random gravitons as Corruption consumed his body. Dazai appeared at his side in an instant, placing a hand on his arm.

“Good job, puppy," he murmured, and the red aura instantly vanished. Chuuya collapsed, unconscious before hitting the ground.

"You had to stop me as soon as I was done," Chuuya mumbled, semi-conscious, his eyes half-closed, seeing Takako sleeping heavily, her head resting on Kikyo's shoulder, who held her with surprising strength. "Wh-What is Takako doing unconscious?"

Kikyo laughed, a suspiciously cheerful sound. "That's what we were going to do, but it's so entertaining to watch you..." Dazai said, moving away with elegance when Chuuya, with a last bit of strength, tried to punch him.

"I used Corruption because I trusted Dazai and Takako trusted Kikyo," Chuuya breathed, his consciousness fading. "You better take us... to the extraction point." His eyes closed, and his body became heavy. Takako, beside him, was already in a deep sleep, her breathing a soft thread.

Steinbeck watched them, his face pale with shock and disbelief. "I can't believe it. You defeated Lovecraft? Who are you?"

Dazai and Kikyo laughed, a synchronized, light laugh that sounded strangely jovial in the midst of the destruction. They looked at each other, and then smiled back at Steinbeck.

"Enemies of the bad guys," they said in unison, as if it were the simplest truth in the world. And in that moment, in the dim light of dawn beginning to filter through the rubble, with their shattered partners at their feet and a defeated enemy, that simple statement sounded like the most terrifying promise Steinbeck had ever heard.

Chapter Text

The morning in the Armed Detective Agency's dormitories began with the sweet aroma of freshly made pancakes wafting through the halls. Kanade moved through the kitchen with a carefree grace, humming a tune as she flipped the fluffy pancakes in the pan. She had once again secured Akutagawa's permission to stay, though she knew that this "permission" came with a vigilance she pretended not to notice.

The door opened and Atsushi shuffled in, his hair more tousled than usual and pronounced dark circles under his amber eyes.

"Good morning," Kanade said, turning to him with a smile that didn't quite reach her purple-pink eyes. There was something analytical in the way she observed him, as if evaluating every detail of his body language.

"Good morning," Atsushi replied in a tone so flat that even he was surprised by his own voice.

Kanadetilted her head, her black hair swaying with the movement. "What's with the face? Did you sleep with your belly exposed?" she asked with a slight tease, trying to elicit even a small reaction.

"No!" Atsushi protested, blushing slightly at the ridiculousness of the suggestion, but the spark of indignation died as quickly as it had appeared.

"How many do you want?" Kanade asked, gesturing to the stack of pancakes on a plate.

"Three!" Atsushi said, taking his usual seat. He immediately noticed the way Kagome studied him, that penetrating gaze that seemed to see beyond what he was willing to show. It reminded him of Dazai-san, that unsettling ability to read between the lines.

"What's wrong?" he asked, a little uncomfortable under the silent scrutiny.

"Nothing," Kagnade replied, closing her eyes with a smile that revealed absolutely nothing of what she was thinking. She brought over two identical plates: pancakes garnished with lettuce, sausage, and broccoli. A strange combination that somehow worked.

Atsushi began to eat mechanically, his mind clearly elsewhere. He had had nightmares again. The voice of the orphanage director echoed in his head: "You have no right to live. You are good for nothing." He involuntarily shivered.

He looked up and there was Kanade again, watching him with that intensity that made him feel like a specimen under a microscope. She hadn't sat down yet.

"What is it?" he repeated, this time with a hint of genuine concern.

"Not yet, huh?" Kanade murmured, more to herself than to him.

"What?" Atsushi blinked, confused.

Without warning, Kanade deposited a generous portion of broccoli on his plate. "Eat up and grow strong," she said in a tone that was half joke, half maternal order. She kept adding broccoli as Atsushi stared at her with a mixture of perplexity and exasperation.

"Kanade-san, that's enough—"

"No way. You need to build yourself up," she interrupted, finally sitting across from him with her own plate.

What neither of them noticed was the silent presence among the branches of a nearby tree, visible from the kitchen window. Akutagawa was there, motionless as a stone statue, with Rashōmon coiled around him in an almost protective manner. His dull gray eyes did not leave the domestic scene unfolding before him.

There was no intention of attack in his posture. There wasn't the lethal tension that usually preceded his encounters with the tiger-man. Just... observation. His eyes were fixed mainly on Kanade, studying her every move with an attention that bordered on the obsessive. The way she held her cutlery, the tilt of her head when she listened to Atsushi, the particular glow in her eyes when she worried about someone.

"She keeps getting stronger," Akutagawa thought, clenching his jaw imperceptibly. "But she's still so careless with her own safety."

He watched as Kanade worried about that incompetent idiot, how she invested her energy in making sure he ate well, and something within him tightened at that contradiction that defined his woman. So powerful she could open sealed doors with minimal effort, so dangerous that her ability constantly evolved, and yet... so prone to forgetting herself when it came to others.

It was exasperating. It was magnetic. It was the reason he couldn't stop watching her.

Later, when Atsushi and Kanade left the dormitories to head to the Agency, the day took an unexpected turn. The air changed, charging with a strange energy that made both siblings stop dead in their tracks.

"What is that?" Kanade murmured, narrowing her eyes as she looked at the horizon.

What they saw froze them for an instant: trees. But not normal trees. These were moving, crawling across the ground with roots that functioned as grotesque legs, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. Debris, churned earth, the sound of wood crunching against concrete.

"They are heading towards the residential area!" Atsushi exclaimed, his protective instinct immediately activating. His body began to glow slightly as Beast Beneath the Moonlight responded to his urgency.

But before he could transform, Kanade had already moved ahead. "No!" she shouted, drawing a card from her deck with a fluid motion. "I can contain them. Siege!"

A giant cube of pure energy materialized around the moving trees, enclosing them in a translucent prison that shone with iridescent hues. The trees shook violently against the walls, their branches hitting the structure like desperate fists.

"Become flexible!" Kanade commanded, her voice charged with concentration as she modified the cube's properties. The walls became elastic, absorbing the impacts instead of rigidly resisting them. But the trees kept trying to escape, pushing, contorting.

Atsushi watched, amazed and worried at the same time. He knew his sister's power, but he also knew that using her ability this way exhausted her more than she admitted.

"If I mess up..." Kanade murmured, and the vulnerability in her voice made Atsushi instinctively take a step toward her.

But she had already pulled out another card, holding it up with renewed determination. "Tsutabaku, permeate the trees and stop their advance!"

The card dissolved into particles of light that rushed towards the trapped trees. In a matter of seconds, thick vines sprouted from the ground, wrapping around the trunks, the branches, the root-legs. The trees shook frantically, but the vines were relentless, tightening more and more until the movement ceased completely.

"I did it," Kanade sighed, and for a moment she looked like she was going to collapse. But she held steady, walking toward the immobilized trees with measured steps.

From his hidden position, Akutagawa watched every detail. The way she was breathing faster than normal. The slight tremor in her hands that she tried to hide. The moment of vulnerability before forcing herself to continue. And something in his chest clenched with a cold fury.

"Always pushing herself to the limit. Always more worried about others than herself."

Kanade touched the tree where the card had originated the vines. "Consolidate!" Her voice resonated with authority, and the vines began to glow before receding into the earth, taking with them the anomaly that had caused the trees' movement. Gradually, the trees returned to their natural state, rooting themselves in the ground as if nothing had happened.

"Completely," Kanade replied when Atsushi ran up to her, worry written on every line of his face.

"Are you okay? You used a lot of power—"

"I'm fine, Atsushi," she interrupted him with a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "But you're right, we should report this to the Agency. Walking trees aren't exactly normal, even for Yokohama."

Atsushi nodded, but couldn't help but notice how Kanade swayed slightly as they began to walk. Instinctively, he offered his arm to support her, and she accepted it with a soft laugh that tried to downplay her exhaustion.

In his room within the Port Mafia, Akutagawa was sitting in the dim light, eyes closed but mind fully alert. The scene he had witnessed played over and over in his mind, analyzing every detail, every movement of Kagome.

His phone vibrated. Without opening his eyes, he brought it to his ear.

"What is it, Akutagawa-kun?" Saitou Kikyo's voice was soft, almost lilting, but he detected the layers of sharp perception beneath that sweetness.

"The only change I notice is that the Karei's power has been increasing exponentially," he said without preamble, his voice as monotonous as ever, but with a nuance that Kikyo immediately recognized: concern disguised as clinical observation. "She is becoming more powerful."

"Oh, I see. That's a good sign," Kikyo chuckled softly, and Akutagawa could imagine her knowing smile. "It means she is accepting this life, anchoring herself to it. Though she probably doesn't even realize it."

"Do her tarot cards say anything?" Akutagawa asked, his tone suggesting it was more than a casual question.

There was a moment of silence, and Akutagawa knew Kikyo was carefully considering her answer. She never lied, but she also didn't reveal everything she saw.

"Nothing alarming for now," she finally replied. "I just see that Kanoko-chan and Kagome-chan will have to team up soon. Finally, Kanoko and she will be able to have a decent conversation after being separated for so long." Her voice softened even further, taking on an almost maternal tone.

"I see," was all he said.

"Anything else to mention?" Kikyo asked, and in her voice there was a gentleness she reserved only for very few people.

Akutagawa clenched his teeth, a muscle in his jaw tightening. "A new card appeared. It was the Action card."

The silence on the other end of the line was different this time. Heavier. Kikyo understood the meaning of that card as much as he did.

"I know this is too painful for you," Kikyo finally said, her voice filled with genuine empathy. "But it's not the time yet. You need to wait a little longer."

"I know," Akutagawa replied, and for the first time in the conversation, his voice revealed the weight he carried. "I'll tell Karei later about the reason I'm observing them..." He paused, and the sigh that followed contained years of frustration, worry, and something dangerously close to tenderness. "When the time is right."

"I know you well enough to know you'll do it right," Kikyo said warmly. "And Akutagawa-kun... she is stronger than you think. Even when she doesn't take care of herself, she has an unbreakable will. After all, she is the woman you chose."

Akutagawa didn't reply, but a phantom of a smile touched his lips for half a second before vanishing.

"Watch over her while you can see her," Kikyo continued. "And trust that when the moment comes, you will both be ready to face it together."

"I understand," Akutagawa said, and ended the call.

He remained sitting in the dark, his eyes still closed, but his mind completely focused on a single image: Kagome, standing in front of those monstrous trees, exhausted but unyielding, protecting others without a second thought about the cost to herself.

"Karei," he thought with an intensity that bordered on ferocity. "Keep getting stronger. But when the time comes, I will force you to remember that you also deserve to be protected."

And in the silence of his room, Rashōmon stirred as if responding to the absolute determination of its user.

—

The atmosphere in the main office of the Armed Detective Agency (ADA) was a peculiar mix of concentrated tension and domesticated chaos. Scattered papers, some containing vital strategic plans, others folded into paper planes or stained with donut crumbs, covered the large meeting table. At the epicenter of this intellectual whirlwind were the four cognitive pillars of the ADA: Ranpo Edogawa, Asuna Sorei, Dazai Osamu, and Kikyo Saitou.

It was Tanizaki who, with a nervous smile, filtered the news to Atsushi and Kagome. "We actually have information to defeat The Guild?!" Atsushi exclaimed, his amber eyes wide with disbelief, a spark of hope igniting in his chest against his usual pessimism.

Kanade, leaning against the doorframe, simply arched an eyebrow, her violet-pink eyes scrutinizing the scene with a shrewdness that belied her carefree expression. "They're plotting a plan over there," Tanizaki whispered, nodding toward the quartet.

The so-called "geniuses" were immersed in their own ecosystem. Ranpo, feet propped on the table, chewed a donut with fierce concentration, ignoring the crumbs raining down onto a map of the Guild's properties. Asuna Sorei, with her usual elegance, studied a report while sipping tea, her astute mind connecting invisible threads. Dazai spun a paper airplane between his fingers, a playful smile on his lips, while Kikyo, seated beside him, held a box of expensive chocolates out of Ranpo's reach.

"It's very valuable information. Priceless. To cripple The Guild in one move... infiltration and a bomb? What do you say, Kikyo?" Dazai asked, turning to his beloved with a knowing look.

Kikyo rested a hand on her chin, her face a mask of serene reflection. "I don't know. It sounds... direct. Too much so for their defenses. What do you say, Ranpo-san?" She diverted the question with the smoothness of a chess player moving a piece, while deliberately taking a bite of a chocolate, her eyes sparkling with amusement at Ranpo's longing glance.

"Hey! That's not fair!" Ranpo protested, attempting to reach for the box only to receive a soft but firm rap on the knuckles from Kikyo. She was smiling, but a vein throbbed slightly at her temple, the only sign of her exasperation.

"You're right," Ranpo said, referring to his own unspoken assessment, as he rubbed his hand. "They'd shoot us down and finish us off before we crossed the door." He took a sip of his soda, his gaze lost in the horizon of his own intellect.

"Using Kenji-kun after a government attack?" Dazai proposed, tossing the paper plane toward the other end of the room.

"Not that either," Ranpo refuted, biting into a rice cracker. "A ground battle would only prolong the war. It would be a useless drain."

Asuna, who had been listening in silence, then intervened, her voice as warm and clear as ever, but with an edge of determination. "That's true. Then, it only leaves Atsushi-kun and Kanade-chan." Her gaze briefly rested on the two youths at the door, full of sisterly protectiveness. "If we use Light Snow, it's an option. It could create the perfect distraction."

"Exactly!" Dazai agreed, retrieving his paper plane with a wide smile. "Kikyo and I will get on that right away." He made the plane fly in circles over Kikyo's head, who let out a light, melodious laugh, a sound that seemed to momentarily cleanse the heaviness of the air. Their connection was palpable, a bath of mental synchronicity that made them seem like two halves of the same organism.

Kikyo turned to Ranpo, her smile softening into a more serious expression. "The End of the Mountain?" she asked, her tone sweet, but the question itself was a key, a code between strategists.

Ranpo finished his donut and jammed his fingers on the table, his eyes shining with absolute certainty. "In the Sea."

An instant understanding passed among the four. "Understood," Dazai and Kikyo said in unison, rising from their seats with perfect fluidity. Their smiles were not of triumph, but of anticipation—the calm before unleashing the perfectly calculated storm.

As they stood up, Dazai's paper plane, carried by an air current or by the design of chaos itself, swerved and gently struck Atsushi on the nose. The tiger boy blinked, startled. Kagome, meanwhile, couldn't help but make a wry, amused face. "And this is all supposed to be a master plan?" she muttered to herself, crossing her arms. "They look like children playing war in a minefield." Yet, there was no disdain in her eyes, but a complicit resignation. She, better than anyone, understood that sometimes the most lethal genius hid beneath the guise of absolute disarray.

The scene changed with the abruptness of a film cut. Now, Dazai and Kikyo found themselves in a luxurious hospital suite. They didn't arrive through the door; they simply materialized.

Their "hosts" were Sakaguchi Ango, sitting rigidly in a chair, and Nagisa Michiyo, lying in the hospital bed. Ango was visibly badly wounded, with bandages covering much of his head and torso, and his usual composure replaced by a scowl and a tired look. Michiyo, on the other hand, was bandaged up to her forelock, one leg in a raised cast, and her face was a mirror of feline tranquility. Her eyes, with slightly vertical pupils, followed the newcomers with silent curiosity, showing no surprise. A plate with leftover grilled fish lay on her nightstand.

"Hello, Ango-kun! Today we bring excellent news," Dazai announced with a joviality that contrasted grotesquely with the official's condition.

Ango adjusted his round glasses with a trembling hand, his expression one of deep skepticism. "Dazai. Kikyo. To what do I owe the... honor?" His voice was hoarse.

Kikyo stepped forward, placing the bouquet of flowers in an empty vase with a gesture of innate grace. "The Agency will heal your wounds," she declared, her voice a melodic balm. "With Yosano-sensei's healing power added to one of our sweet Kagome-chan's cards, you'll be as good as new in the blink of an eye." Her smile was luminous, disarming.

Michiyo, from the bed, emitted a soft, almost inaudible purr. Her eyes narrowed, observing Kikyo with the intensity of a cat evaluating a new visitor. She said nothing, but her silent presence added another layer of tension.

Ango wasn't convinced by the sweetness. "And what do you want in return?" he asked, fixing his gaze on Dazai. He knew the workings of the ADA's "kindness" too well.

Dazai dropped into a free chair, adopting a nonchalant pose. "The truth is, the police have two of our people. We want to rescue them before the final battle with the Guild."

"The murderers of 35 and 65 people respectively?" Ango immediately refuted, his voice laden with bureaucratic coldness.

Kikyo approached Michiyo's bed and, with a surprisingly natural gesture, placed a soft stuffed animal next to her unbandaged arm. Michiyo looked at it, then at Kikyo, and nodded slightly once, a minimal gesture of acceptance. "That's a bit harsh a title for girls of about fourteen and fifteen, don't you think?" Kikyo responded, turning back to Ango, her tone gentle yet firm. "But yes, we're talking about them. Kyouka-chan and Eileen-chan. We want to rescue them."

"I heard they're being detained by a drone for people with dangerous powers," a soft, raspy voice interrupted. It was Michiyo. Everyone looked at her. Speaking was a rare event for her. "The Supernatural Division could pardon them." She paused, her feline eyes settling on Kikyo. "But that would only be if they are truly members of the Agency."

Kikyo brought a hand to her cheek, an expression of slight vexation crossing her face, so perfectly played that it was impossible to know if it was genuine or not. "Ah, that's right. I'd forgotten that Kyouka-chan and Eileen-chan haven't yet been proven by the Agency's admission exam." She sighed, a melodious, calculated sound. "What an unforgivable oversight."

The air in the room thickened. The offer of healing was on the table, but the price was clear and dangerous: the official pardon of two young assassins, and their formal induction into the ADA. Dazai watched Ango with a relaxed smile, while Kikyo, with her implacable sweetness, waited. Michiyo, in her eloquent silence, observed the exchange as if it were a play, her ultimate loyalty, as always, a mystery to everyone except, perhaps, Ango. The game had begun, and the pieces were moving on the chessboard of Yokohama.

—

The car engine hummed softly as Tanizaki drove through the streets of Yokohama. In the passenger seat, Atsushi looked out the window, his mind restless. In the back, Kanade and Taka shared a comfortable silence. Kanade, leaning back against the seat, observed the urban landscape with a gaze that seemed to see beyond the cement and steel. Beside her, Taka, the young woman with piercing golden eyes, maintained a serene yet alert posture, like a hawk perched on a branch. Both women, despite their different natures, radiated a similar calm, a tacit understanding that they didn't need to fill the air with words.

Atsushi’s question broke the silence. "Kyouka-chan and Eileen-chan aren't officially Agency members?" His voice sounded genuinely confused, tinged with the concern he always felt for others.

Tanizaki cast a brief look in the rearview mirror before answering, keeping his eyes on the road. "Not exactly, not yet. All members must pass an entrance test." His tone was practical, as if recalling a regulation. "It’s standard procedure."

Kanade, without taking her eyes off the window, gave a soft "Hmm" of acknowledgment. A playful smile flirted on her lips. "Ah, yes. The initiation ritual." Her tone was light, but weighted with the wisdom of someone who had already been through it. "Where they put you in an impossible situation to see if you come out alive and, incidentally, with your morality more or less intact."

"If they don't pass, they aren't officially part of the Agency," Tanizaki continued, making a smooth turn. "That was the case for you two, too, remember?"

Atsushi racked his memory. Vague recollections of his own test, of the tension and fear, came to mind. "Yes... I remember," he murmured, a shiver running down his spine. The thought of Kyouka and Eileen having to face something similar made him nervous.

Kanade, noticing her friend anxiety, leaned forward and gave him a playful tap on the shoulder. "Relax, Atsushu. If they're half as stubborn as you, they’ll make it out alright." Her joke was a way to ease the tension, an act of kindness masked in mischief. Atsushi smiled weakly, grateful.

Taka, for her part, remained silent, but her golden eyes settled on Atsushi with an analytical intensity. Her mere presence was a reminder that everyone in that car, in one way or another, had been tested and found worthy.

While the car headed to its destination, the atmosphere in the hospital suite was dense. Dazai, leaning back in his chair, seemed completely at ease. Kikyo, standing by Michiyo's bed, maintained her serene smile.

"Dazai-kun, Kikyo-chan," Ango began, adjusting his glasses. "I accept the deal to collaborate in exchange for my healing." He paused. "But I have a question."

It was then that Michiyo spoke, her voice a hoarse whisper, like the rustle of silk. Everyone turned to her. Her feline eyes were fixed on the ADA couple. "When that car hit us," she said, every word measured and cold, "our airbags were the only ones that didn't deploy... since you two were protected by Saitou-chan's impenetrable barrier spell." She paused. "Do you know the reason?"

The room fell into absolute silence. Dazai's smile transformed, becoming wider, but also more hollow, a mask of amusement that didn't reach his eyes. Kikyo maintained her sweet smile, but something dimmed behind her gaze.

"The reason?" Dazai repeated, his voice soft, but sounding flat, like a sheet of metal.

Kikyo turned her head toward Michiyo with an almost mechanical movement. "It was a calculated choice," she said, her voice retaining its melody, but now sounding like a lullaby on a battlefield. "The barrier requires intense focus. Protecting two people inside a moving vehicle during an unexpected impact is already a significant effort. Extending it to cover four others... would have compromised its integrity. And at that moment, our survival was the priority variable for the success of the current mission."

There was no apology in their words. Only cold, brutal logic. Ango looked at them, and for a moment, he saw not the detectives who had chosen the side of light, but the specters of the two most dangerous and ruthless individuals he had ever known. Michiyo, instead of seeming offended, simply nodded once, as if her feline instinct had confirmed a suspicion she had always held about the duo's true nature.

While the uncomfortable truth settled in the hospital room, Tanizaki's car stopped in front of an imposing, silent building: a public library.

"The entrance test examines whether you are suitable for the Agency," Tanizaki explained as he turned off the engine. "It's a masked judgment. It's not just about strength or your Ability, but your heart, your morality under pressure."

Kanade was the first to get out, stretching her arms toward the sky with an exaggerated yawn. "Well, I guess it's time to see what these girls are made of," she said, her frivolity returning to mask any underlying concern. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she took Atsushi's hand. "Let's go, Sushi!" she announced, and began to run toward the library entrance, dragging a surprised but pleased Atsushi.

Tanizaki and Taka followed at a calmer pace. Taka walked with a silent grace, her golden eyes scanning the building.

Inside, the silence was profound, broken only by the echo of their footsteps on the marble floor. Endless shelves crammed with books rose toward the high ceiling. A man in an impeccable suit awaited them by a dark wood counter.

"I'm Tanizaki, from the Detective Agency," the redhead introduced himself.

The man in the suit nodded without a word. With a precise movement, he took a specific book from a shelf and inserted it into an empty space. A whole section of shelves silently rotated, revealing a hidden entrance that led into the gloom.

"The test has already begun," Tanizaki murmured.

Kanade let go of Atsushi's hand and stood straighter, her playful expression giving way to intense concentration. Her violet-pink eyes shone with a glint of anticipation. Atsushi held his breath, his own heart pounding against his chest. Even Taka, always serene, slightly tensed her shoulders, ready for action.

Without hesitation, Tanizaki took the first step into the darkness. Kagome and Atsushi immediately followed, plunging into the shadows.

The Yogarasu mini assault helicopter, hidden beneath the library's false base, was a compact, lethal metallic beast. Atsushi observed it with a mix of awe and apprehension, while Kanade, hands on her hips, scrutinized it with a technical curiosity that belied her usual nonchalance.

"What is that?" Kanade asked, leaning slightly for a better look at the apparatus.

"Yogarasu, a government mini assault helicopter," Tanizaki explained, sliding into the controls with a familiarity that spoke of meticulous preparation. "I'll pilot and take you up to Moby Dick."

The mention of the Guild's air beast triggered a vivid memory in Atsushi's mind...

Flashback

In the ADA office, surrounded by maps and diagrams, Atsushi looked at Dazai and Kikyo with disbelief. "We're infiltrating alone?"

Kikyo, standing in front of a whiteboard covered in strategic notes, moved her marker with elegance. "Apparently, The Guild is planning a large-scale ground attack. We'll exploit their lack of personnel to take control of Moby Dick." Her voice was a river of honey over a steel bed.

"And we'll do it alone?" Atsushi’s voice trembled slightly, the fear of solitude and failure gripping his stomach. Beside him, Kagome frowned, her violet-pink eyes scanning the plans with unusual intensity.

Dazai, leaning back in his chair, laced his fingers. "A dual infiltration mission requires two people with combat-focused abilities. Besides, you two were prisoners on Moby Dick. You know its structure better." He paused dramatically, a playful smile appearing on his lips. "And in the worst-case scenario, they'll take you prisoner, not kill you. You're too valuable."

"There is no one more suited than you two. Will you do it?" the Kiyozai asked in unison, their voices merging into a single, perfectly unsettling harmony.

Atsushi looked down, his own doubts reflected on the polished floor. Kagome, however, kept her gaze on the ceiling, her face impassive, calculating. It was an enormous risk, madness.

Kikyo observed her pupil. She knew her every motivation. She sighed softly, a sound of melodious resignation. "Kanade-chan," she said, and her tone shifted, becoming more intimate, more tempting. "If you manage to complete the mission... I'll give you an ox bezoar."

The effect was instantaneous and electric. Kanade’s impassivity shattered like glass. Her eyes, previously somber and calculating, snapped open, shining with pure greed and astonishment, as if she had been offered the crown jewels. She leapt onto the table, forgetting all composure, and grabbed Kikyo by the shoulders.

"Are you really going to give it to me?!" Her voice was a squeal of genuine excitement, so different from her usual mocking or serious tone.

Kikyo blinked, surprised by the visceral reaction, before letting out a soft, authentic laugh. "I am a woman of my word."

That was all it took. "We'll do it," the Nakajima twins declared in unison, Kanade’s determination dragging along a still hesitant but resolved Atsushi.

The Kiyozai approached and embraced them sincerely. "We knew you could," they murmured, the synchronicity of their voices comforting this time.

Just then, the door softly opened. Taka entered, her steps silent. Everyone turned to her. The golden-eyed young woman lowered her gaze, speaking with a rare awkwardness. "I would like... to join the Moby Dick mission, please."

Dazai and Kikyo's eyes widened, a flash of genuine surprise and then deep approval crossing their faces before their smiles, warmer and more authentic than ever, formed.

"Taka-chan," Kikyo said, her voice now a sweet, proud whisper. "It is a good sign. It's a good time for you to join such an intense field mission."

End of Flashback

The present returned with Tanizaki's voice. "Moby Dick might detect you soon," the voice on the communicator warned.

"Received," Tanizaki calmly responded. "Let's go, guys. Ability: Light Snow." A subtle mist enveloped the helicopter, obscuring its outlines. As they prepared, Tanizaki explained: "Moby Dick's sensors shut down for 130 seconds when a transport helicopter arrives. We’ll hide and approach during that interval."

The trio nodded. Atsushi felt the familiar hum of his power beneath his skin. Kanade activated her dark aura, a subtle energy surrounding her, ready for action. Taka, serene but with senses alert like a hawk, nodded with determination.

The infiltration was a ballet of precision. They slipped in like shadows, taking advantage of the 130-second window. Once inside, the sensation was strange. "We're inside, Dazai-san and Kikyo-san," Taka reported over the communicator, her voice a thread of calm amidst the tension.

"How are things in there?" Kikyo's melodious voice asked.

"It's very weird. There's no one here," Taka replied, her brow furrowed.

"Where is everyone?" Atsushi muttered, the uneasiness growing in his chest.

They opened an innocent white door and stopped dead. There was no floor. Only the vast Yokohama sky stretching beneath their feet. And there, sitting calmly on the edge of the abyss, was Herman Melville, Moby Dick's architect, with his pipe smoking.

"Most of them escaped," the old man said, as if commenting on the weather.

"Do you know why, boys?" Puff. "Because the end of this war is approaching." Kagome recognized him instantly—the man whose will had given life to this metal beast.

"The next attack will turn all of the Guild's enemies into ashes, along with Moby Dick."

Atsushi lurched forward, driven by panic. "What do you mean?!"

"I imagine you came here anticipating the lack of personnel. Didn't you find it strange that The Guild's main forces moved away?"

"Is the Agency and the Port Mafia's base at the crash site?" Atsushi asked, horrified.

"It will crash into the ground in less than an hour," Herman confirmed with terrifying calm.

Kanade approached, her steps calmer but her gaze just as intense. "If Moby Dick is your Ability, you can stop the fall."

"It's true that Moby Dick is my Ability. But now 70 percent has been replaced by weapons, and I can no longer handle it."

Atsushi, his heart pounding, contacted his mentors. "Did you hear that, Dazai-san and Kikyo-san? We have to cancel the plan and evacuate."

The response came cold, clear, and in unison. "There is no change of plans."

"You will take control of Moby Dick and stop its fall," Dazai said, his tone allowing no argument. "You are the only ones who can do it, since you are aboard."

Kanade did not seem surprised. A grimace of resignation and a hint of admiration for her mentors' foresight crossed her face. "You had this planned, didn't you?"

"Yes," Kikyo confirmed, her voice a balm and a whip all at once. "We deemed you appropriate for the mission with this in mind." She paused, and the question hung in the air, weighted with the full force of their confidence. "Do you want to do it?"

It was Taka who, with her fierce pragmatism, demanded: "How can we stop the fall?"

"You must use the control terminal. It’s in the office on the top floor. But it is rigorously guarded," Herman explained.

"Thank you," Kanade said, and without losing another second, she turned on her heels and began to run. Atsushi, driven by his sister and the instinct to protect those on the ground, followed immediately.

As the trio plunged deeper into the metal beast's inner workings, in the ADA office, Dazai and Kikyo's phones rang simultaneously. Two familiar numbers. Dazai picked up. "How are you, Dazai-kun?" the smooth, calculating voice of Mori Ougai filled the receiver. On the extension, Nana's equally cold voice spoke: "Hello, Kikyo."

Kikyo did not lose her sweetness, but her tone had the edge of steel. "What do you want, Nana? Didn't we agree the Mafia wouldn't hinder us?"

"Regarding that agreement..." Mori's voice was a dangerous whisper, "one of my subordinates just contacted me and made it clear that perhaps we cannot fulfill it."

Literally without exchanging a word, Dazai and Kikyo looked at each other. Their expressions were identical: deep, absolute disdain. Without an ounce of hesitation, they both hung up the phones at the same time.

Dazai shrugged, adopting an exaggeratedly nonchalant pose. "Well, let's forget about everything."

"Absolutely everything," Kikyo chimed in in the same chibi tone, a living mockery of their former allies' duplicity.

Inside Moby Dick, Atsushi, Kanade, and Taka ran through the deserted metal corridors, their footsteps echoing like war drums. They rounded a corner and stopped dead.

There, blocking the hallway, they stood. Akutagawa Ryunosuke, his black coat billowing like a raven's wings

"I found you, Jinko!" Akutagawa roared, his gray eyes fixed on Atsushi with familiar hatred.

"Akutagawa!" Atsushi exclaimed, instinctively preparing for a fight.

Kanade massaged the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, a gesture of supreme annoyance.

Taka, in silence, tightened her lips. Her faint reddish lipstick was barely noticeable in the gloom of the hallway, but her posture became rigid, ready. The path to the control terminal was blocked, and the clock continued its relentless countdown toward destruction.

Chapter Text

The air in the narrow corridors of the Moby Dick suddenly thickened. With a feline movement, Atsushi lunged toward Akutagawa, his legs transforming into a flash of tiger strength. But Akutagawa, whose deadly elegance rivaled darkness itself, reacted instantly. A surge of black and red cloth, the fearsome Rashomon, emerged from his coat and interposed itself as an impenetrable barrier, stopping the blow with a dull thud.

"You've become more acrobatic," Akutagawa said, her voice dripping with a cold disdain that contrasted brutally with the warmth that once defined her. His gaze was fixed on Taka.

"What did you come for?" Taka questioned, her voice firm and filled with a maternal authority that invited no nonsense. Her stance was one of complete protection, a human wall ready to defend her own from this irrational threat.

"To kill you!" roared Akutagawa, his rough voice charged with simple, direct violence.

It was then that Kanade intervened, placing herself between the two sides with her hands outstretched, not as a warrior, but as a peacekeeper whose moral compass was screaming against this fight. "This is no time for senseless fighting!" Her voice, usually so full of light and jokes, was now a cry of reason. "We could lose our city! Don't you understand?" Her eyes, a peculiar pinkish-purple, shone with intense irritation, and her gaze, defiant and full of fire, met Akutagawa's cold gray eyes directly.

—

In the control room, far from the chaos, the atmosphere was one of tense, analytical calm.

"Seriously..." Kikyo's voice was heard, a melodious sigh that carried the weight of exasperation. She closed her eyes, behind whose lids hid golden, acircular pupils that saw everything. Her serene elegance was a balm in the room, but also a layer that concealed a mind calculating every variable. "They are still so predictably impulsive. Akutagawa-kun, believing that brute force is the answer to everything."

Dazai, leaning against a console, nodded slowly, his brown gaze meeting Kikyo's with a synchronicity that was almost unsettling. "It's their nature. A rabid dog and a spider trapped in her own web. But the question is, how do we redirect their energy to where we truly need it?"

Kikyo offered a small, knowing smile. It was not a smile of joy, but that of a chess player who has just visualized checkmate. "What a nuisance. We cannot allow them to waste strength on each other." Her tone was nonchalant, as if she were deciding the dinner menu and not the course of a deadly confrontation. "Atsushi-kun, Kanade-chan, Taka-chan. Hand them over to us."

Atsushi's voice arrived hesitantly through the communicator. "But... Dazai-san, Kikyo-san, they are too dangerous. If we drop our guard..."

"Don't worry," Kikyo interrupted, her voice soft as silk, but with a tempered steel firmness that brooked no argument. It was the tone she used to plant ideas in the minds of others, making them seem their own. "If you do as we say, you can escape. Trust us. There is always a thread that can be pulled, a connection that can be used." Her words, though reassuring on the surface, carried a load of deep knowledge and a hint of the emotional manipulation that came so naturally to her.

"Alright," said Kanade, her decision made with a speed that surprised even Atsushi. She, who lived in contradictions, instantly understood the layered game. Her moral compass, gray and practical, told her that Kikyo's logic was their only way out. She took her communicator with determination. "Kuro," she announced, projecting her voice so that everyone could hear. "Dazai-san and Kikyo-san are on the other end of this earpiece. They want to speak with the two of you."

Taka, grasping the strategy instantly, nodded gravely. Her protective instinct approved of any plan that would draw danger away from her companions. "Listen to them. This is more important than your thirst for a fight." With a quick, precise movement, she forcefully threw the two communicators to opposite sides of the corridor, like one tossing bait to hungry beasts.

The reaction was instantaneous and primal. Akutagawa lunged toward the devices, driven by a primal impulse and by the authority that those voices represented in their respective worlds. Akutagawa caught his with the elegance of a predator, he brought the earpieces to their ears, expectant, ready to receive the orders that, he hoped, would give them the green light for bloodshed.

But they only received silence.

A subtle click, followed by a cut-off dial tone, was their only reply.

Akutagawa’s expression froze in an instant of confusion before transforming into pure fury..

The Armed Detective Agency trio did not wait for reality to settle in for their enemies. Taking advantage of the opportunity, the second of distraction that the synchronized manipulation of Dazai and Kikyo had granted them, they turned and ran, disappearing into the depths of the ship in search of Fitzgerald, the true piece in this chess game, leaving behind two confused predators, and, for the first time in a long time, completely outmatched on their own turf.

—

The door to the Moby Dick's main study opened with a subtle creak, revealing the scene unfolding inside. Francis Fitzgerald, immaculate in his suit, was speaking on a cell phone with an unusually soft voice, a rarity amidst the chaos he had unleashed.

"I'm sorry, darling, I have guests. I'll call another day, yes? I love you, Zelda." He ended the call and turned with a broad, challenging smile toward the newcomers: the Nakajima twins and Taka, whose clothes still bore the marks of the recent confrontation. "Our farewell was short-lived, kids. Is this what you're looking for?" he asked, elegantly raising the Moby-Dick control terminal, a device that seemed to pulse with the energy of the metal beast surrounding them.

"You're protecting the control terminal?" asked Kanade, her pink-purple eyes narrowing like a feline evaluating its prey. Her voice, usually light and teasing, was now a sharp blade. Beneath the facade of the playful young woman, ancient wisdom and gray morality calculated every move, every word. This man, with his monetary arrogance, represented everything she despised: oppression disguised as legitimate power.

Fitzgerald leaned back in his luxurious chair, a makeshift throne in his floating fortress. "It's the first secret to getting as high up as I am. The most important thing in this line of work is not to rely on others." His tone was paternal, condescending, as if imparting a lesson to rebellious children.

Taka, with her characteristic firmness, stepped forward. Her maternal and protective instinct boiled beneath the surface, but she held it back with an iron will. "Your arrogance will blind you, Fitzgerald. You're not dealing with frightened children."

"By the way," Fitzgerald continued, deliberately ignoring her and fixing his gaze on the twins, "do you know how much Moby-Dick weighs?"

"No, and we don't care," Kanade snapped, with a disdain that honored her centuries of experience. She knew that men like him loved to listen to themselves talk, and she had no intention of indulging him.

But Fitzgerald continued, unperturbed. "In total, it weighs 29,000 tons. From two kilometers up, the impact will be equivalent to 140 tons of TNT. And it will explode in the center of the city."

"We won't allow it!" roared Atsushi, his voice trembling but full of a determination born from the deepest part of his being. His body tensed, ready to transform, to protect.

"Second secret," Fitzgerald said, raising two fingers theatrically. "Don't adopt the value systems of others. But both you and I are busy. If we're going to fight over the central terminal, let's keep it simple. We'll start running when I count to three, and the one who grabs it first wins. But if I win, you will obey me and help me with my search." It was an absurd proposal, a childish game proposed by a man who could buy countries.

"One, two..." he began to count.

Atsushi, impulsive and filled with a fierce desire to protect, lunged forward before "three." It was a mistake. Fitzgerald moved with supernatural speed. An invisible blow, so fast it was barely perceived, struck Atsushi and Kanade, slamming them against the metal wall with a dull crunch. Taka, seeing the opportunity, tried to activate her ability, Kawarami no Kokoro, to alter the very state of the air and create a barrier, but Fitzgerald was faster. A solid blow to her stomach left her breathless, collapsing onto her knees.

"Third secret..." Fitzgerald said, walking toward them calmly, "it's easy to predict what someone who sees an opportunity will do." His smile was a monument to his own superiority.

He watched with clinical interest as the twins and Taka painfully got up from the wreckage. "My, my... if you could withstand that kick, you must be quite resilient. Very well. My apologies for only using ten thousand." From his pocket, he pulled out a wad of checks. "These are portions of my stock holdings. They're worth one hundred thousand dollars. I still haven't introduced you to my power, have I?"

The money began to float around Fitzgerald, glowing with an ethereal light. "Ability: The Great Fitzgerald." Emerald green marks, like power circuits, appeared on his skin. "My ability allows me to strengthen my body according to the money I spend." And he proved his assertion with another devastating blow that sent the twins crashing against the wall again.

"You can be proud, children. It's been a while since I've used ten thousand. Although that's what Zelda spends in a month." He walked toward them, his footsteps echoing on the metal floor. "Everything is going according to plan. Moby-Dick is falling, and I've captured the two of you."

Atsushi was curled up, a whimper escaping his lips. Kagome lay against the wall, her snow-white hair disheveled and obscuring her eyes. But behind that silver curtain, her sharp, ingenious mind desperately searched for a way out, an alternative that no one else would have considered. Taka, jaw clenched and pain shining in her eyes, tried again and again to channel her ability, desperate to change the situation, to protect these two young people whom she considered her responsibility.

Fitzgerald stopped in front of them, his shadow covering them. "Our strategist's power allows her to see the future to a certain extent when she gathers information." He placed his clean, expensive shoe on Atsushi's back, treating him like garbage. Then, with a movement that sparked boiling rage in Kagome, he took a lock of her white hair and tugged it, forcing her to lift her head.

"What was with that man's fixation on pulling my hair?!" Kagome thought, furious, knowing it was an act of pure domination, a reminder of her vulnerability.

"I captured you, but it would be a problem if you escaped again. I'll rip off your limbs just in case," Fitzgerald declared with terrifying coldness. His hand, now reinforced with the power of a hundred thousand dollars, closed around Kagome's arm, ready to shatter it.

But the sound of destruction never came.

A blast of black and red cloth, Rashomon, burst into the study like a whip. Akutagawa appeared out of nowhere, his ghostly pallor contrasting with the darkness of his coat. With a fluid motion, and before Fitzgerald could react, he snatched Kagome from his grip, easily carrying her.

"We have an unexpected guest," Fitzgerald said, regaining his composure and rubbing his wrist as if he had felt the graze of Rashomon. "Mister Agura... Aguragar?" he tried, with a mocking smile.

Kanade , now held in Akutagawa's unexpectedly safe arms, had to bite her lip hard to stifle a nervous laugh. The absurdity of the situation.

"Akutagawa," the black-haired man corrected, his gray eyes fixed on Fitzgerald with deadly intensity. Holding Kanade was an inconvenience, a burden, but also a piece on the board he couldn't allow Fitzgerald to break.

"That's right," Fitzgerald said, snapping his fingers as if he had just remembered a trivial detail. The atmosphere was ready to explode, the power of The Great Fitzgerald against the pure destructiveness of Rashomon and the enigmatic threat of Amaya and her threads of fate.

—

The image suddenly shifted, moving away from the study and the Moby Dick. Now it focused on a drone soaring over the skies of Yokohama. Inside, trapped with their right feet chained to the cold metal, were Kyouka and Eileen. Despair was beginning to close around their hearts like a cold claw.

Then, a melodious and calm voice emerged from a communicator abandoned on the drone's floor.

"Hello, Kyouka-chan, Eileen-chan, can you hear me? It's Kikyo."

In the control room, Kikyo watched the screen that showed the faces of the two young women. Her expression was one of serene concern, her golden, acircular eyes absorbing every detail, every shadow of fear on their faces. Dazai was next to her, his silence eloquent.

"Osamu and I negotiated with the Special Abilities Division to bring you down to the ground. We'll explain how to handle the drone," Kikyo continued, her tone a balm, designed to calm, to instill the confidence that her mere presence inspired. It was the voice that had disarmed enemies and calmed injured children, always gentle, always in control.

"Stop it," Eileen cut in, her voice charged with cynicism hardened by experience. She didn't believe in saviors, especially not those who smiled so easily.

Kikyo, from her seat in the control center, showed no irritation. Instead, she playfully rolled her eyes with an expression of annoyance and leaned toward Dazai. "They're all yours, Osamu," she whispered, her voice a silk thread just for him. "My sweetness seems to be immunized by their premature skepticism. It's a shame, I like their strong spirits." Her smile was knowing, as if she had already anticipated this reaction and was studying their patterns.

Dazai nodded, understanding the change in tactics. His voice, deeper but equally calm, filled the communicator. "To be honest with you, the Agency has no reason to rescue you. Because you are not official members yet."

Kikyo, although she had ceded verbal leadership, continued to observe. Her fingers drew invisible patterns in the air, as if she were weaving the threads of the situation. She listened to Dazai's words and a flash of approval crossed her eyes. It was the harsh truth, the necessary hammer to break the shell of despair and see what lay inside.

"The Agency has an entrance exam," Dazai continued, "and you haven't passed it yet. It examines whether your heart has the necessary strength and kindness to save others."

"We definitely wouldn't pass," Eileen retorted, her voice a hollow echo. It was the belief that had kept them alive on the streets, but that also chained them to a hopeless existence.

It was then that Kikyo spoke again, but this time it wasn't just her. She and Dazai, in a perfect synchronicity that was both unsettling and comforting, closed their eyes in unison. When they opened them, their voices merged into a single channel, creating the entity known as the "Kiyozai," a mind in two bodies.

"We don't like this," they said in unison, their tones intertwined in perfect harmony. "'Murderers have no right to be good people.' Do you really think that?"

The question hung in the drone's air, heavy and direct. It wasn't a judgment, but a mirror held up in front of their souls. Kikyo, the moon-smiling strategist, and Dazai, the wolf-smiling man, had cast their bait. They weren't offering a free rescue; they were offering a choice, a challenge. And at the heart of that challenge lay the true test: could these two girls, marked by darkness, find the strength to save themselves and, in doing so, save others? The game had begun, and Kikyo, from the shadows of the control room, was already pulling the strings, ready to guide them toward the path that she, and only she, could see with total clarity.

—

The scene in the Moby Dick's study was a picture of absurd tension. Akutagawa held Kanade in his arms with irritating ease, his "bridal carry" style as awkward for her as the situation itself. Fitzgerald, with his magnate's smile, tried to regain control.

"Hello, Mr. Akutagawa. I'd love to welcome you, but as you can see, I'm..." Fitzgerald began, with his condescending tone.

But Akutagawa was not in the mood for greetings. With a rough movement of Rashomon, he delivered a dry blow to Atsushi, who was lying on the floor. "Who gave you permission to lie down? You won't escape this time. Get up and fight, Jinko."

Kanade, in Akutagawa's arms, raised an eyebrow. "And your method of motivation is kicking people when they're down? How charming," she said sarcastically, her voice a sharp silver thread. Her playful nature emerged even here, a mask to hide the quick calculation happening behind her pink-purple eyes.

"You said before that you didn't understand me. I don't quite understand you either," Akutagawa continued, ignoring Kanade’s comment and kicking Atsushi again. Kanade wondered, not for the first time, how on earth he maintained his balance carrying her like that. "That cowardly look shows that you don't trust yourself or your powers. And yet you always accept impossible death duels. Where does that contradictory pride come from?"

"Enough, little guy. Besides, I hate being ignored," Fitzgerald interrupted, his patience beginning to wear thin.

Akutagawa's response was immediate and violent. Rashomon tore through the air like a black whip, plunging into Fitzgerald's hand. "Silence. The Tiger and the Karei are my main course. The dessert can wait right there."

Fitzgerald, unperturbed by the black cloth piercing his hand, smiled. "I don't like being the second course. I request a change in that order."

"As you wish!" Akutagawa roared, launching Rashomon in a massive attack. But Fitzgerald, with a brutal display of strength, stopped the black tentacles with his bare hands, causing Akutagawa to lose his balance and fall to the floor, releasing Kagome in the process.

Kanade managed to land with feline agility, immediately turning to help Akutagawa up. Her mind, always looking for unusual angles, was already assessing the situation. This man was not only strong; his power was absurd.

"I'll tell you my fourth secret for your efforts, 'The Bandit and the Lady'," Fitzgerald said, rubbing the hand that miraculously was no longer bleeding.

"It's not necessary... Rashomon! Kuro Hatou (Black Fin)! " Akutagawa yelled, unleashing a new surge of tentacles.

Fitzgerald simply pulled out his credit card. "Fourth secret to success: be strong. Money, influence, abilities, status. Strength is not measured by a single parameter. Although it's best to have everything, like me." His eyes shone with a supernatural glare, and Akutagawa suddenly collapsed, his eyes turning white for an instant. Kanade, still holding him, felt the dead weight of his body.

It was then that Fitzgerald noticed Atsushi had disappeared. A feline movement in his periphery was the only warning before the tiger-boy lunged at him, scrambling over his body like a wildcat. Meanwhile, Kanade, with an effort she concealed behind a serene expression, helped a stunned Akutagawa to his feet.

"Strong, you say?! Money and powers are not for reducing a city to ashes! Strength is meant to help those who live in a pit of sadness!" Atsushi shouted, his voice charged with a passion that came from the depths of his being.

Fitzgerald tossed him aside dismissively. "You are very wrong. Power is not meant to help others. After all, wealth is earned by exploiting the poor. To use that money to save them would be like a fish biting its tail. Power should be used for something more useful."

Atsushi struggled to get up, his body aching but his spirit unbroken. "Ignoring the lives you trample to get it?"

Fitzgerald looked at him with pity. "Weak people who are trampled... Like you a while ago?" Atsushi's eyes widened. "I researched your past. As a child, you were on the verge of death twice at the hands of the orphanage director. When he kicked and broke your ribs, he told you... 'compared to what your parents did to you as a baby, this cannot be classified as violence'."

Akutagawa, now standing but staggering, clenched his jaw. Hearing the cruelty of Atsushi's past awoke something complex inside him, a mix of contempt and... something else.

"Speed has decreased, and it is already falling. Collision in a little over ten minutes," a mechanical voice announced from the terminal.

Akutagawa then laughed, a low laugh filled with irony. "It seems our dessert is getting cold." With a fluid motion, Rashomon wrapped around Kanade’s waist, grabbed Atsushi by the neck as if he were a recalcitrant kitten, and, acting like a grotesque elevator, launched toward an opening in the hull, dragging the Nakajima twins with him.

Without a second thought, Taka jumped toward them. Her protective instinct, that maternal core of steel that defined her, wouldn't allow her to stay behind. "I'm not leaving you alone!" she shouted, her voice firm despite the danger. She was accustomed to abrupt movements and risky strategies; after all, she was from the Agency for a reason. Her heart, marked by loss, could not bear the idea of losing others, especially these two young people who, somehow, had become her responsibility.

Atsushi, with desperate determination, pulled at Kanade’s and Taka's hands, dragging them through the debris.

"Faster!" he shouted, his breath ragged.

"Atsushi, let go, I can run by myself!" Kanade protested, her voice a mix of exasperation and concern. Her independent nature clashed with her brother's overprotection, even though she understood it came from love. Behind her lighthearted facade, her mind calculated escape routes, assessing every shadow as a potential threat or opportunity.

But the escape was abruptly cut short. Akutagawa emerged from the shadows like a vengeful specter. Rashomon, his living ability, shot out like a black snake and bit Atsushi's leg, bringing him down with a grunt of pain. At the same time, another tentacle from the coat wrapped tightly around Kagome

"I take back what I said about not understanding you. I understand you now." Akutagawa's voice was a whisper charged with contempt. "Tiger, you fight so someone will give you permission to live. Even if it means risking your life. You disgust me." To emphasize his words, Rashomon pierced Atsushi's shoulder and violently spun him around, wrenching a choked scream from him.

"Do you really think someone will grant you that permission? Do you think fighting and bleeding for others automatically gives you worth?" Akutagawa shouted, his obsession with pure strength and tangible results directly clashing with Atsushi's idealism.

"What's wrong with thinking that way?" Taka retorted, her voice trembling but firm. Her maternal instinct and sense of justice could not remain silent in the face of such cruelty. Believing in the value of protecting others was the foundation of her own existence.

Akutagawa, without releasing Kanade, looked at Atsushi with pity. "I didn't think you were that stupid, Jinko. Even if I killed you a hundred times, I wouldn't get results. You would never be able to protect your sister if you continue like this." He turned around, ready to leave with his hostage.

"Results?" Atsushi asked, spitting out blood.

"Indeed. That is the only value I have. If I don't get results, they will never acknowledge me. Dazai-san and Kikyo-san will never..." Akutagawa cut himself off, looking away. A rare crack of insecurity showed through his cold exterior.

"Dazai-san? Kikyo-san? Why do you mention those two now?" Kanade questioned, her sharp perception immediately detecting the emotional connection. Her mind, accustomed to deciphering patterns in human behavior, saw a key vulnerability in that hesitation.

But there was no time for more questions. A massive explosion shook the ground, scattering debris everywhere. Fitzgerald descended through the smoke, his impeccable suit and arrogant smile intact.

"I found you, Stray Dogs."

"Great, the enemy showed up..." Kanade muttered, with a tone of annoyance she rarely used. Then, she looked at Akutagawa. "Would you mind letting go of me?"

“No.”

—

The scene changed abruptly. In the serene control room of the Armed Detective Agency, far from the chaos, Dazai and Kikyo sat side by side. Both wore headsets with microphones, and the engagement rings on their fingers shone softly under the dim light of the screens. Dazai looked at a box of cigarettes from Bar Lupin, an artifact from a darker past, while Kikyo, with languid gestures, fiddled with a lock of her black hair. Although it still reached her back, it was noticeably shorter than in her Port Mafia days; a physical change that symbolized her internal transformation.

"Kyouka-chan, Eileen-chan, everyone has their strengths," Dazai said, his voice calm, almost therapeutic.

Kikyo laughed softly, a sound like chimes. "It's clear you have a talent for killing. That's why you think you can't be part of the agency..." Her golden eyes shone with a mixture of empathy and something deeper, an intimate knowledge of that same moral crossroads.

"Nonsense," Kikyo continued, her tone playful but with a sharp edge of authority. "Osamu and I will show you how stupid that idea is in a second." She leaned slightly toward the microphone. "Kyouka-chan, Eileen-chan, how many people have you killed?"

Kyouka's voice came in cold and clear from the capture drone. "35."

Eileen, with her serene and contained tone, added: "65."

Dazai and Kikyo looked at each other. It was a quick exchange, a perfect synchronization that conveyed a universe of shared understanding. A shadow of their past, of a list of crimes so long and dark that they didn't even want to contemplate it, passed between them. It was not a moment of pride, but of acknowledgment. They had been in the Port Mafia much longer, had accumulated a history that, without the intervention of Fukuzawa and his offer of redemption, would have condemned them to a lifetime cell. They knew that, ironically, figures like Mori or Kouyou would probably move heaven and earth to free them, Mori out of sheer convenience and Kouyou out of genuine affection for Kikyo. They were threads of fate that the "Kiyozai" sometimes analyzed in their private late-night conversations.

"Well, 35 or 65 is nothing," they said in unison, their voices merging into the entity known as the "Kiyozai." The statement was not a compliment, but a reminder of the relative scale of sin and redemption.

Dazai took the floor again, his voice soft but relentless. "Listen, Kyouka-chan and Eileen-chan. You don't know everything about the Agency. Nor about yourselves. No one can know everything. That's called potentiality."

Kikyo nodded, though they couldn't see her. Her smile was a weapon of hope. "Atsushi-kun and Kagome-chan, who gave you a chance, were a mess at first." Her tone was affectionate, almost maternal. "But now they are risking their lives to do something that only they and Taka-chan can do. All to protect this city."

From her prison in the air, Eileen listened, her expression as impassive as porcelain, but behind her serene eyes, Kikyo's words resonated with a truth that was beginning to sink in. The idea that her past was not a life sentence, that "potentiality" was unexplored territory, was a concept as alien as it was hopeful. As the drone continued its course and the Kiyozai wove its web of words from a distance, a small but tenacious seed of possibility began to sprout in the barren ground of her heart.

—

The scene unfolded amidst the chaos of the Moby Dick. Atsushi, from his covered position among the debris, watched the fierce skirmish between Akutagawa and Fitzgerald. Flashes of Rashomon clashed against the brute force enhanced by "The Great Fitzgerald's" money, creating a spectacle of pure, destructive power. His mind raced a thousand miles an hour, desperately searching for a solution.

"Kagome!" he called in an urgent whisper. His sister, already assessing the situation with her sharp gaze, quickly pointed toward a cargo elevator that remained semi-open, a crack of opportunity in the floating fortress.

Without losing a second, Kagome lunged toward it with the agility of a feline, her white hair streaming like a banner. "Let's go!" she yelled, and Taka, with her unwavering determination, immediately followed her. Atsushi ran after them, pressing the closing button forcefully as soon as his feet hit the metal floor.

But just as the doors began to close, a dark figure slipped in at the last moment. Akutagawa, his black coat billowing, planted himself at one end of the elevator. A snap of fingers echoed in the confined space, and Amaya materialized a cloud of black and red smoke, appearing elegantly next to her Mafia partner with a mocking and defiant smile.

The atmosphere in the elevator became palpably tense. Atsushi at one end, Akutagawa and Amaya at the other, and Kagome, next to Taka, in the middle, acting as a fragile barrier.

"We can't defeat their powers. We have to think of a way to steal the terminal," Atsushi proposed, his voice charged with determination bordering on desperation.

Akutagawa let out a dry, scornful laugh. "The Jinko's stupidity no longer surprises me."

"What?!" Atsushi retorted, feeling the anger begin to boil within him.

"This elevator is headed to the deck, where there is no escape," Akutagawa declared with glacial calm. "It is the three of us who are cornered."

"Unbelievable," Kagome murmured, massaging the bridge of her nose with a gesture of annoyance. Her mind, always looking for unusual angles, was already discarding options. "Truly, we are cornered." The knowing resignation of her many lives clashed with the frustration of the young woman she was.

Taka, hearing the confirmation of their trap, let out a choked sob and sank to the floor, her shoulders slumped. Frustration and worry shone in her golden eyes. Atsushi couldn't help but look at her with concern, his protective instinct activating even in their own misfortune.

"It can't be," Atsushi whispered, the reality of their situation settling like a slab.

Akutagawa slowly turned, his gaze charged with deep contempt. "I feel terribly humiliated to have been defeated by someone like you." His voice was an edge. "An idiot who seeks a reason to live in others."

"I might be an idiot," Atsushi countered, his voice trembling with anger, "but I prefer that to being a murderer who only wants to show off his powers."

Kagome turned her crimson eyes toward her brother, a silent warning in her gaze. She knew that provoking Akutagawa in such a confined space was a dangerous move.

"You have strength and status! You only fight to inspire fear! That's much more stupid!" Atsushi shouted, losing his temper.

The response was instantaneous. Rashomon emerged from Akutagawa's coat and coiled around Atsushi's neck, choking his words and lifting him off the ground.

"Take it back! That I have power and status?" Akutagawa roared, his own ever-latent anger exploding to the surface. He slammed Atsushi against the elevator wall with a dull thump and then grabbed him by the shirt, bringing their faces inches apart. "I'll tell you why you disgust me. Because you have everything, but you don't realize it, and you keep exploiting your old wounds."

His gaze then shifted to Kagome, whom he also grabbed by the collar of her shirt, pulling her into the confrontation. "You have good abilities and luck! Dazai-san and Saitou-san acknowledged you with hardly any effort, but you don't see that you are blessed." His voice was a gale of bitterness and contained envy.

Kagome, trapped in Akutagawa's grasp, did not struggle. Instead, her eyes met his, serene and calculating. The multiple piercings in her ears shone under the artificial light like small warning stars. "Akutagawa," she said, her voice surprisingly calm, "the validation you seek is not found by crushing others."

But it was then that Taka stood up from the floor.

Her breathing was deep, controlled, and her eyes, usually full of maternal warmth, now shone with a cold, disciplinary rage. The core of strength that defined her, forged in tragedy and polished by responsibility, rose to the surface.

"Enough."

Those two words, spoken with an authority that resonated off the metal of the elevator, made everyone, except Akutagawa, tense up. Kagome, knowing Taka's temper well when it came to this point, immediately stepped back, freeing herself from Akutagawa's grip with a smooth movement. Amaya, whose arrogance usually knew no bounds, also instinctively took a step back, a flash of caution in her dull red eyes. Even they, in their power and pride, knew that confronting Taka's maternal and righteous fury when she was in this state was a battle not worth fighting.

Taka planted herself between Atsushi and Akutagawa, her gaze locked onto the latter with an intensity that could pierce steel.

"Do you think your path is the only valid one?" she asked, her voice low but charged with a power that brooked no argument. "That your suffering gives you the right to belittle that of others? Atsushi and Kagome have fought tooth and nail for every breath of freedom they have. You haven't seen the sleepless nights, the constant fear, the struggle to find a place in a world that rejected them." Her voice rose slightly, not in a scream, but in a declaration of power. "Your obsession with Dazai's and Kikyo's recognition has blinded you. You don't see that true strength resides not in how much you can destroy, but in what you are willing to protect, even at the cost of your own pride."

Akutagawa, surprised by the sudden attack and the authority in Taka's voice, hesitated for a second. His grip on Atsushi's shirt loosened slightly. The elevator continued its ascent, but at that moment, the smallest and most dangerous space was not the deck they were heading to, but the emotional battleground that Taka had claimed with her mere presence. She looked at both of them, Shin Soukoku (New Double Black), not as a threat, but as two troubled young people who needed a firm lesson in reality, and she had no doubt in giving it to them.

The scene on the Moby Dick's upper deck was apocalyptic. The wind whipped fiercely, blowing the white hair of Atsushi, Kagome's black with magenta tips Of Kagome, the black mane of Amaya, and the purplish hair of Taka. In the center, imperturbable, Francis Fitzgerald awaited them with the control terminal in one hand.

Stop playing hide-and-seek," Fitzgerald said in a calm but resonant voice, every word cutting the air like a knife. His gaze swept over the five young people with something akin to clinical interest. "In ten minutes, Moby Dick's flight altitude will be irreversible."

He took a step forward, and the metal beneath his feet seemed to groan in response. He pulled the control terminal from his inner pocket, holding it as if it were a winning card in a game of poker. The small screen flickered with green and red lights, numbers counting down inexorably.

"If any more time passes," he continued, turning the device so they could all see the countdown, "not even this terminal will be able to stop its fall."

He paused dramatically, letting the weight of his words settle on his adversaries' shoulders. Then, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, he added in an almost conversational tone:

"The only survivor will be me, thanks to my powers."

The silence that followed was dense, charged with electricity. Kagome exchanged a quick look with Taka, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Both knew they needed coordination, not individual heroism. Amaya, for her part, simply narrowed her eyes, her fingers twitching slightly as if already sensing the invisible threads that connected everyone on that platform.

But before any of them could speak, Akutagawa stepped forward.

"You're awfully confident," his voice was a deep growl, loaded with contempt. His grey eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Wouldn't it be humiliating for you to lose against five brats?"

Fitzgerald tilted his head, genuinely intrigued by the question. A faintly amused smile curved his lips.

Akutagawa, however, did not wait for an answer. He advanced another step, and the dark aura of Rashomon began to materialize more densely around him, as if the shadows themselves were coming to life. A bolt of lightning tore through the sky above them, illuminating his pale face with a ghostly light.

"You, rookie rich man." His voice distilled venom. "If I defeat someone as strong as you, will I stop being weak?"

Fitzgerald didn't flinch. In fact, his smile widened, genuinely pleased by the question. There was something almost paternal in his tone when he replied:

"Of course."

It was like lighting a fuse.

Akutagawa's eyes flew open, not with surprise but with a determination so absolute it bordered on madness. The veins in his neck stood out, his breathing became heavy and erratic. Rashomon exploded around him with savage violence, enveloping him like a cloak of living darkness.

"In that case," he growled, his voice twisted by fury and desperation, "I don't care if my body is torn to shreds."

"Rashomon! Tenma Tengai!"

The transformation was instantaneous. Rashomon compressed around his body, fitting like dark armor that turned him into something more than human. His muscles swelled beneath the garment, black veins appeared on his pale face like the roots of a cursed tree, and his eyes glowed with an unhealthy red.

Kagome felt the change in the air before seeing it. The Mana around her began to be violently sucked toward Akutagawa, and she had to plant her feet firmly not to stagger. Her staff glowed with warning.

"Veil Beyond," Amaya murmured beside her, her voice barely audible over the roar of the wind.

She extended both hands, and the space in front of her seemed to distort. Invisible threads wove into complex patterns, creating a net that began to absorb the ambient Mana before Akutagawa could consume it all. A sphere of pyrokinetic fire appeared between her palms, fueled by the stolen energy, growing to the size of a beach ball.

But she also felt the pull. Akutagawa, in his enhanced state, was draining indiscriminately, and Amaya had to yield part of her own reserve to keep the Veil Beyond stable. A chill ran down her spine, followed by a slight dizziness. She gritted her teeth, refusing to show weakness.

"Idiot," she hissed under her breath, though no one heard her.

Fitzgerald watched the demonstration with genuine interest, like a collector admiring a rare piece. He did not move from his position, but his aura changed subtly, like a predator recognizing another.

And then, without warning, he attacked.

Fitzgerald moved with superhuman speed, closing the distance with Akutagawa in a blink. His leg arched in a devastating kick aimed at the young mafioso's ribs.

But Akutagawa was prepared. Rashomon expanded like a living shield, absorbing part of the impact, and in the same motion, he countered with a direct punch to Fitzgerald's torso. The blow connected with a dull sound, like a hammer hitting concrete.

Fitzgerald took a step back. Only one, but it was enough.

Akutagawa's eyes gleamed with savage satisfaction. "You're not invincible," he growled, launching into the attack again.

The platform became a whirlwind of motion. Akutagawa, powered by Tenma Tengai, was a force of nature: every blow carried the weight of his desperation, every move was designed to destroy. Rashomon extended in cutting tentacles that sliced the air, forcing Fitzgerald to move constantly.

And, to everyone's surprise, the Guild leader was retreating.

It wasn't a complete withdrawal, but neither was he dominating as before. Every block cost him a little more effort, every counterattack met resistance. Fitzgerald's seemingly limitless power had to be split between defending against Akutagawa and protecting himself from Amaya's pyrokinetic flames, which she launched with surgical precision from the rear.

Kagome and Taka watched from a strategic position, their minds working in sync. Taka had a hand raised, ready to alter the terrain if necessary, while Kagome analyzed the combat's energy flow, searching for the perfect moment to intervene.

But then Atsushi, unable to restrain himself any longer, leaped into the fray.

"Atsushi, no!" Kagome's scream came too late.

The jinko lunged into combat with his claws extended, attacking Fitzgerald from the opposite flank to Akutagawa. For a fleeting moment, it seemed like the coordination would work: two attackers moving in tandem, creating mutual openings.

But Atsushi and Akutagawa had never fought together. There was no synchronicity, no unspoken communication. They were two opposing forces colliding in the same space.

"Don't get in the way, Tiger!" Akutagawa roared, pushing Atsushi aside with a Rashomon tentacle to execute his own attack.

"Same to you!" Atsushi instinctively counterattacked, his claws clashing against Rashomon's dark fabric.

And in that moment of distraction, Fitzgerald smiled.

He moved like lightning, using his opponents' disorder against them. A brutal blow to Akutagawa's chest sent him staggering backward. Another to Atsushi sent him rolling across the platform. Then, with a fluid motion, Fitzgerald unleashed a surge of pure power that pushed them both toward the edge of the precipice.

"No!" Taka reacted by instinct, spreading his hands. "Kawarimi no Kokoro!"

The air in front of Akutagawa and Atsushi instantly solidified, creating an invisible barrier that stopped their deadly fall. Amaya acted in the same second, her threads of fate coiling around the wrists of both young men, pulling them back to the platform's safety.

Akutagawa and Atsushi fell face-down on the metal, coughing and gasping.

And then, the real disaster began.

"What the hell was that?!" Akutagawa sprang up, turning on Atsushi with fury in his eyes. "Your interference almost killed us both!"

"My interference?!" Atsushi stood up, wobbling, his amber eyes glowing with indignation. "You were the one who pushed me! I was about to connect a hit!"

"A useless hit! Your technique is clumsy and predictable!"

"At least I don't risk killing my allies with every attack!"

The two approached each other dangerously, face to face, completely ignoring that Fitzgerald was still standing meters away, watching them with amused curiosity.

Kagome felt something inside her break. It wasn't anger, exactly. It was something deeper: a disappointment so sharp it hurt physically. Her hand closed around her staff until her knuckles turned white.

"Buddha…" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes closed briefly. "Give me salvation in your eternal glory."

Taka heard her and repeated the invocation almost by reflex, recognizing the warning sign. Amaya simply sighed deeply, preparing for what was coming.

Because they knew that expression on Kagome's face. That forced calm. That silence that precedes the storm.

"Enough," Kagome said quietly.

Akutagawa and Atsushi didn't hear her. They continued to scream at each other, oblivious to everything else.

"STOP FIGHTING, YOU TWO!"

Kagome's scream ripped through the air like thunder. Her staff struck the metal floor with such force that the entire platform vibrated. A barrier of ice burst from the point of impact, expanding into a three-meter-high crystalline wall that interposed itself between Akutagawa and Atsushi, separating them by force.

Both young men instinctively backed away, startled by the sudden explosion of power. The ice glowed with a bluish light, and within its translucent structure, slowly spinning kaleidoscope patterns could be seen, hypnotic and menacing at once.

A vein visibly pulsed in Kagome's temple. Her crimson eyes burned with a cold fury that contrasted dramatically with the warmth she normally exuded.

Fitzgerald, from his position, watched the scene with genuine amusement. A curved smile graced his lips as he spoke, his voice cutting the tension like a razor:

"Interesting. The Tiger and the Bandit are really alike. They both share the same fear of the same woman."

The comment touched a raw nerve in both young men. For once, they agreed on something.

Akutagawa and Atsushi turned toward Fitzgerald in unison, their expressions twisted in identical fury. Without a word, without planned coordination, they attacked.

The joint strike was devastating. Atsushi's claws and Rashomon's tentacles converged on Fitzgerald's torso from opposite angles, creating an impact that resonated like a cannon shot. The Guild leader was violently thrown backward, his body rolling across the metal until he stopped near the platform's edge.

He did not move.

For a moment, silence reigned. Only the wind and the agitated breathing of Akutagawa and Atsushi could be heard.

"Did we defeat him?" Atsushi asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Don't be stupid," Akutagawa growled, though he didn't sound convinced himself.

And then Kanade moved.

She appeared next to both of them with surprising speed. Before they could react, her hands rose, and with surgical precision, she delivered a simultaneous double slap that resonated like a gunshot.

"Can you two stop fighting?!" Her voice was sharp, almost desperate, but charged with authority.

Akutagawa staggered, more from surprise than pain. No one dared to touch him like that. No one except...

Kanade gave him no time to protest. Her fingers closed around Akutagawa's cheeks, pulling them hard as if he were a naughty child, not a feared assassin. Her red eyes burned with reprimand.

"You," she hissed, without an ounce of fear in her voice, "are going to calm down right now."

Akutagawa stared at her, stunned. His mouth opened to protest, but the words died in his throat. There was something in Amaya's gaze—a mixture of genuine concern and maternal frustration—that completely disarmed his anger.

His legs failed him. He fell kneeling onto the cold metal, his body trembling. The Tenma Tengai began to unravel, the dark veins on his face slowly fading. A sharp pain shot through his chest, followed by a metallic taste in his mouth. Blood.

"You need to rest, Akutagawa," Atsushi said, extending a hand cautiously.

Kanade gave him a chilling look that would have frozen lava. Atsushi immediately withdrew his hand, swallowing hard.

"Silence! You'll be next!" Akutagawa barked, though his voice lacked its usual force. He coughed, and more blood stained his lips.

"Let's use the terminal first," Kanade intervened with a tense voice, approaching with measured steps. Her expression was a mix of concern and exasperation. "If the ship hits the city, it will affect Dazai-san and Kikyo-san."

She took Akutagawa's hand firmly but gently. Amaya did the same, flanking him on the other side. Taka approached Atsushi, taking his arm with a maternal gesture.

"Let's go," Taka commanded, her voice making it clear she would not accept discussion.

But before they could take a single step, a massive presence materialized in front of them.

Fitzgerald was standing again. But something had changed. His suit, previously impeccable, was torn. Blood dripped from the corner of his lips. And yet, he smiled. He smiled with the expression of someone who had finally found what he was looking for.

"Tell me, Tiger Beetle and Flower Lady," his voice resonated with renewed power, one of his eyes glowing with supernatural golden light. "Do you think the only ones worth sacrificing everything for are your family?"

Kanade tensed. Her fingers tightened around the staff. She knew where this was going.

"I will get the book," Fitzgerald declared, his voice rising to a roar that competed with the wind, "and I will bring my daughter back to this world."

"Your daughter?" Akutagawa asked, genuinely confused for the first time in the conversation.

Fitzgerald's expression softened for a fleeting instant, revealing a crack in his armor of arrogance. Pain. Loss. Desperation.

"My wife, Zelda, went mad when she couldn't accept our daughter's death. She lives in a mirage where the girl is studying in London." His voice trembled slightly before hardening again. "I will make that mirage a reality and recover my family. I will sacrifice whatever is necessary. The fortune I've gathered until now..."

He took a step forward, and the power exploded around him like a supernova.

"I will spend it all!"

A blinding flash enveloped Fitzgerald, a golden aura of energy that distorted the air itself. His aura expanded in concentric waves that made the entire structure of Moby Dick vibrate. The metal groaned under the pressure, and cracks began to form on the platform's surface.

Akutagawa, Kanade, and Atsushi were violently thrown backward, their bodies flying uncontrollably toward the precipice. The edge approached at breakneck speed, the abyss waiting beyond, thousands of meters of free fall to certain death.

But Taka acted. She struck the ground with both palms.

"Kawarimi no Kokoro!"

The metal beneath their companions instantly transformed, going from slippery to adhesive, as if it had magnetic properties. Then, with a twist of her wrist, she altered the air behind them, making it dense like jelly, cushioning the impact and helping Amaya's threads pull them back to safety.

The three fell onto the platform, coughing and gasping. Kanade was the first to sit up.

Fitzgerald, now completely transformed by his power, loomed before them like a human tornado. Energy swirled around him in golden spirals, lifting debris and making the air vibrate with static electricity.

"He's too strong," Taka murmured, wiping blood from a cut on her eyebrow. "We can't face him directly."

Kanade watched Fitzgerald intently, her crimson eyes tracking the patterns of energy flow. Her mind worked at lightning speed, analyzing, calculating.

And then, she saw the opening.

Not in his power, but in his soul.

Fitzgerald was consuming his fortune, literally burning money to fuel his ability. But there was something more: desperation, love, pain. Emotions so intense that they distorted his aura, creating invisible fractures.

"I have a plan," Kanade said suddenly, her voice cutting through the chaos.

Everyone turned to her. Even Akutagawa, who would normally reject any strategy that didn't involve direct violence, fell silent.

Kagome moved to the center of the group, deliberately positioning herself between Akutagawa and Atsushi. Her gaze passed from one to the other, without anger now, only steely determination.

"Listen closely," Kagome began, her voice firm but fast. Time was a luxury they didn't have. "Fitzgerald is powerful, but his power comes at a cost. He is consuming finite resources. If we pressure him enough, he will exhaust himself."

"We already tried that," Akutagawa growled. "It's useless. We're just wearing ourselves out."

"Because you're fighting like idiots!" Kanade’s voice rose again, and both Akutagawa and Atsushi flinched slightly. "You two have complementary powers, but you use them in opposition. That has to change. Now."

She turned to Amaya and Taka. "You two with me. We need to create an illusion, one that is convincing enough to trap Fitzgerald for just seconds."

From her kimono, Kanade pulled out three worn tarot cards. They shone with a faint, pulsing light, as if they had a life of their own. She held them between her fingers, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

"These cards can project illusions based on the target's deepest desires," she quickly explained. "But I need time to invoke them correctly, and I need Fitzgerald to be distracted enough not to realize he's being manipulated."

"How much time?" Taka asked, already calculating possibilities in her mind.

"Thirty seconds. Maybe less if Amaya can help me stabilize the karmic threads."

Amaya nodded without hesitation. "I can weave a net around him, but I'll need someone to keep him in one spot."

All eyes converged on Akutagawa and Atsushi.

"You two," Kanade said, her voice dropping to a dangerously soft tone. She approached both of them, and for a moment, it seemed like she was going to yell at them again.

But she didn't.

Instead, she extended her hands and, with surprisingly gentle movements, took each one by the cheeks. Her palms were warm, comforting, completely opposite to the fury she had shown moments before.

Akutagawa tensed, ready to pull away. Atsushi blinked, confused.

But then they felt something.

A wave of calm flowed from Kanade’s hands into their bodies. It was not a forced manipulation or a controlling spell. It was something subtler: a reconnection with their own memories, with the moments that truly defined who they were.

Akutagawa closed his eyes involuntarily, and his mind was flooded with images.

He saw the ruined orphanage where he grew up. The faces of the children who died around him. The hunger, the cold, the constant despair. And then... an extended hand. Dazai. The promise of purpose, of value, of becoming something more than street trash.

But he also saw other moments. Gin taking care of him when he was sick. Higuchi making him tea even though he never asked for it. And, more recently, the Agency members treating him not as an enemy, but as... a temporary ally.

"You are not alone," Kanade murmured, her voice penetrating the fog of his memories. "You never were. But you keep fighting as if you were."

Akutagawa opened his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he felt something different from hatred or violent determination. He felt... confusion. And perhaps, just perhaps, the beginning of something that could be called hope.

Atsushi, for his part, was transported to his own memories.

The orphanage. The director yelling that he was worthless, that he was useless, that he was cursed. The beatings, the hunger, the constant rejection. The certainty that no one would ever want him.

But he also remembered other things. Kyouka’s smile when he saved her. Kenji's laughter sharing food with him. Tanizaki covering him on a mission even though they barely knew each other. Dazai telling him that everyone deserved to live.

"Those hurtful memories from the past," Kanade whispered, echoing something Akutagawa himself had said minutes earlier, "have no relation to you now. You decide who you are."

Atsushi felt tears burning his eyes. Not from sadness, but from something more complex: liberation, perhaps. Or the beginning of it.

When Kanade finally withdrew her hands, both young men staggered slightly, but there was something different in their postures. The hostile tension between them had not completely disappeared—too many years of enmity could not be erased in an instant—but it had softened. Transformed into something manageable.

"Now," Kanade said, her voice returning to her authoritative tone, "you are going to work together. You are going to coordinate your attacks. And you are going to keep Fitzgerald busy while we prepare the illusion. Understood?"

Akutagawa and Atsushi exchanged a look. It wasn't friendly, but it wasn't hostile either. It was... practical.

"Understood," they said in unison, surprising each other.

Kanade then smiled, just a little, a flash of her usual personality shining through the seriousness.

Chapter Text

The battle on the deck of the Moby Dick was a whirlwind of unleashed forces. The wind was whipping furiously, and the gigantic airship was listing dangerously toward the city of Yokohama, which was agonizing beneath them. In the center of the chaos, Francis Fitzgerald, bathed in a golden, supernatural aura, was an unstoppable titan.

Atsushi, with his tiger limbs, lunged into the attack with a roar. "For Yokohama!"

"Atsushi-kun, wait!" Kanade shouted, but it was too late. Fitzgerald dodged the blow with an almost nonchalant movementAtsush and counterattacked with a blinding flash of his aura that struck the tiger boy, sending him toward the edge of the ship's cliff.

"Reckless!" Akutagawa spat, as Rashomon, his living cloak, stretched out like a black whip to harass the Guild leader. "You won't die today because of your stupidity, beast."

"Shut up and focus on drawing him out!" Kanade ordered, her voice losing its playful tone for a moment. Her eyes, an intense purple-pink, clouded over with an ethereal glow. She raised her hands and, with a visible effort, two spectral, translucent projections, her Karmic Hands, emerged from the air, leaving a trail of kaleidoscope patterns. They were not aimed at Fitzgerald's body, but at his aura, trying to grasp the very essence of his being to immobilize him. "Taka, now!"

"I got it!" Taka advanced with determination, her face serious. As she stepped onto the metal deck, her ability, Kawarimi no Kokoro (The Heart of Substitution), went into action. She hardened the air in front of Fitzgerald, creating an invisible, dense wall that collided with the millionaire, slowing his advance for a crucial fraction of a second. "Your arrogance ends here."

Fitzgerald laughed, shattering the barrier with a simple push of his golden arm. "Is this all the Agency can muster? Pathetic!"

"It's your turn, idiot!" Kanade shouted, seizing the opening. Her Karmic Hands finally closed over Fitzgerald's aura. Not with brute force, but with surgical precision. She applied the Seal of Eternal Return, forcing him to relive in an accelerated loop the guilt for the loss of his family, the emptiness that his wealth could not fill. "Enjoy the taste of your own karma!"

Fitzgerald screamed, a voice laden not only with physical pain but with deep spiritual torment. As he struggled against the illusion, Taka took the opportunity to strike the ground. "Transition Spines!" The metal deck beneath Fitzgerald's feet transformed into an irregular, pointed surface, stabbing into his feet and breaking his concentration.

"Jinko, snap out of it!" Amaya yelled, launching a tentacle of Mana, the physical manifestation of her will over the threads of destiny, to grab Atsushi, who was falling into the void. She hurled him back into the battle just as Akutagawa created a path with Rashomon. "Finish this!"

Atsushi, now with clear eyes and full of fierce determination, ran along the black path. "For everyone you are destroying!"

"Finish him, tiger," Akutagawa said in a hoarse voice, an order that sounded almost like an acknowledgment.

The final clash was blinding. Fitzgerald's golden light collided with Atsushi's silver, bestial force. The air vibrated, and with one last, powerful punch, Atsushi managed to knock the colossus down. The glow faded, showing the tiger boy, panting but victorious, over the defeated millionaire.

Immediately, exhaustion took its toll. Kanade deactivated her ability and massaged her eyes, which saw everything blurred and stained with the colors of her overtaxed companions' souls. "Damn it... the price of seeing too much..."

Taka immediately coughed, a dry attack that doubled her over. Her body, which had altered so many states, now suffered the consequences of her own ability. Akutagawa fell to his knees, gasping, his fragile constitution at its limit. Atsushi barely remained standing, his breath ragged.

Fitzgerald, standing for a moment like a ghost, finally fell into the void.

Atsushi ran toward the control terminal, but Akutagawa stopped him with a weak movement of Rashomon. "Stupid. I snatched it in the last attack." He showed the device's screen.

Kanade, her vision still blurred, approached. "Let me see." She snatched the terminal from Akutagawa's hands. Her purple-pink eyes, trying to focus, met Akutagawa's gray, fatigued ones.

It was an instant. Their gazes held, and a bright, sudden blush illuminated both their cheeks. Kagome looked away first, feeling a pang of heat that had nothing to do with the battle. "Idiot, don't look at me like that when I'm seeing double," she muttered, throwing the terminal to Atsushi to hide her embarrassment.

Upon seeing the countdown, her expression turned to horror. "This must be a joke... please, tell me I'm seeing blurry from using my ability so much..." She pleaded, but the image of a smiling rat confirmed the worst. Someone else was in control.

"There's nothing we can do. Something is happening," Akutagawa declared, his voice rough.

Without losing a second, Kanade grabbed Akutagawa's hand, ignoring the last trace of her blush. "We won't stand idly by!" Taka and Amaya, with superhuman effort, grabbed Atsushi's hand and, dragging them, the three headed for the control cabin.

"Nothing," Kanade declared after a few seconds of trying uselessly to hack the system with her Karmic Hands, searching for a spiritual signature that she couldn't find. "It's not working. At this rate, the Moby Dick will fall on Yokohama." Despair began to take hold of her voice, usually so full of vitality.

"There's no time! If we don't think of something, everyone is going to..." Atsushi couldn't finish, his mind clouded by panic.

The appearance of Herman and Kyouka's subsequent voice through the drone gave them a flash of hope. But when Kyouka revealed her sacrifice, their world came crashing down.

"No! Don't do it! Change course!" Atsushi pleaded, his voice broken with grief.

Kanade lunged toward the drone, her eyes, still clouded, desperately searching for Kyouka's on the screen. "Kyouka-chan, no! There are other ways! Let me try something, I can... I can try a Destiny Exchange!" She shouted, her mind frantically searching her arsenal of abilities for a solution, a way to change this future.

But it was useless. Akutagawa, with the last of his strength, used Rashomon to wrap around Atsushi and pull him away from the edge as Herman pushed them toward the parachutes. Amaya, with silent tears of frustration running down her cheeks, grabbed Taka and, with a tentacle of Mana, carried Knade.

"Put me down now! KYOUKA! EILEEN!" Kanade’s cry was heartbreaking, a pure sound of helplessness and pain. She struggled against Amaya's tentacle, her Karmic Hands weakly appearing and vanishing, unable to grasp anything that could change reality.

As Atsushi's parachute deployed and Akutagawa fell next to him, Kanade, finally freed from Akutagawa, did not use a parachute. Instead, an aura of dark energy, the product of transmuting her own pain and despair, enveloped her. With one last agonizing glance at the ship crashing into the sea, taking her friends with it, Kanade began to fly, suspended in the air not by wings, but by the sheer force of her broken will, as the final explosion illuminated the night, sealing the sacrifice and the bitter victory.

The sun began its descent, painting the Yokohama sky with shades of orange and purple that reflected on the gentle waves lapping the shore. The salty air carried the scent of victory and loss. On the beach, the group was regrouping, exhausted and bruised, but alive.

Atsushi was on his knees in the wet sand, his shoulders trembling slightly. The adrenaline of the battle had subsided, leaving room for a painful void. "Why? Why did she have to sacrifice herself like that?" he whispered, his voice broken with emotion, his fists clenched against the sand.

Akutagawa, standing near him, doubled over in a violent coughing fit, a physical reminder of his fragility. Regaining his breath, he spat with disdain. "Kyouka. Eileen. They were stupid. If they hadn't been drawn to that absurd 'light' of redemption, they wouldn't have died." His tone was harsh, but there was an unusual tension in his jaw, a refusal to admit any hint of respect.

"Don't say that!" Taka's voice surged, charged with a rare fury. His eyes, usually so full of calm, glistened with tears of frustration. "They chose to save everyone. It was an act of valor, not stupidity."

Before the argument could escalate, familiar voices cut the tension.

"It was for the best, Atsushi-kun."

They all turned. There, walking serenely along the beach, were Dazai and Kikyo, flanked by President Fukuzawa and Kin. The group of newcomers emanated a calm that sharply contrasted with the young people's emotional turmoil.

"Dazai-san! Kikyo-san! And the President? Kin-dono?" Atsushi looked up, a spark of hope illuminating his distressed face.

Kikyo stepped forward, her smile a spectacle of sadness and pride, her golden eyes catching the sunset light as if they were a part of it. "Kyouka-chan and Eileen-chan earned their worth and saved the city. And with a nobility worthy of the Agency." Her voice, melodious and serene, was a balm and a mystery at the same time.

"But they didn't have to die!" Taka insisted, his protective instinct boiling over. "They were just children."

Kin, who had remained silent at Fukuzawa's side, spoke in his direct, unadorned tone. "It's true that is too harsh an end for a fourteen- and fifteen-year-old." His gaze swept over the group, assessing, understanding. "But there was a reason for doing this."

Fukuzawa nodded slowly. "My power, 'All Men Are Created Equal,' only works with my direct subordinates, that is, the Agency detectives."

Kikyo raised a finger, her burgundy nails standing out against the dim light. "Its effect regulates our abilities, allowing us to control them better. Atsushi-kun started controlling the tiger after joining the Agency. Kanade-chan can already use her ability better, even when it was partially sealed." She paused dramatically, her smile turning slightly playful, as if she were revealing a magician's final trick. "And Kyouka-chan and Eileen-chan passed the entrance exam. Do you know what that means, Atsushi-kun?"

As if her words were an invocation, two figures emerged from the shadows of the nearby buildings on the beach. Kyouka, in an immaculate white kimono, walked with a renewed serenity. Behind her, the ethereal form of Shirayuki floated silently. By her side, Eileen. Her black hair with the dark blue gradient waved gently in the sea breeze, and her amber eyes, for once, were not veiled by neutrality but shone with genuine peace. The plum blossom ornament she usually wore was gone.

"I cut the chain with Shirayuki's sword and escaped. I came back," Kyouka announced, a small but sure smile on her lips.

Eileen nodded toward Kanade. "I managed to use Bai's jian." Her voice was as low as ever, but clear. She was referring to Bai Lianhua, the female spirit who was the manifestation of her own ability. Then, her gaze met Kanade’s. "Hello again, Kanade-san."

Kanade didn't say a word. With a speed that surprised everyone, she closed the distance between them and enveloped Eileen in a hug so strong it nearly lifted her off the ground. She hid her face in the young woman's shoulder, her own shoulders trembling slightly. "Idiot," she murmured against the fabric, her voice choked by a wave of relief so overwhelming she couldn't afford to show it any other way. "Don't ever scare me like that again."

"I'm sorry," Eileen whispered, and for the first time, her usual stiffness broke enough for her to return the embrace timidly.

Dazai laughed softly, breaking the moment. "Kikyo and I are sorry we kept it secret. But if we hadn't, the exam would be meaningless."

Atsushi then remembered the cryptic conversation of the three ADA geniuses hours earlier. "Did you plan it from the start?" he asked, looking alternately at Dazai and Kikyo.

Kikyo closed her golden eyes, her expression one of deep satisfaction. "They defeated the enemy, and Kyouka-chan, along with Eileen-chan, passed the exam. I'm glad it worked out."

It was then that Akutagawa, who had been observing the scene with a mixture of disdain and something more complex, found an outlet for his own emotional confusion. He straightened his back and pointed a trembling finger at Dazai and Kikyo.

"Dazai-san! Kikyo-san! No one will stand in the way now, I'll show you my power today!" His declaration sounded hollow even to his own ears, considering he could barely stand.

Dazai and Kikyo looked at each other, and a light, sincere laugh escaped both of them in unison. They walked toward him with a disarming calm.

"Really?" Dazai leaned in, putting a hand on Akutagawa's shoulder. The contact was almost paternal. "You reached your limit. You defeated the Guild leader and, by the way, you got to enjoy a few moments with your beloved Kanade." His tone was playful, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement.

"That's not true, I still...!" Akutagawa tried to protest, but the words died on his lips.

Kikyo placed herself on his other side. "You've grown stronger," she said, and her voice held no trace of mockery, only quiet, genuine recognition.

That simple sentence, spoken in unison by the two people whose recognition he most craved, was too much for him. Akutagawa's composure broke. Not with violence, but with a sigh of surrender. Small tears of happiness, frustration, and utter exhaustion rolled down his pale cheeks before his eyes closed and his body gave way, collapsing unconscious onto the sand.

Kikyo watched the fainted body with an angelic smile. "I think he overestimated himself a lot today..." She smoothly took Akutagawa's cell phone, dialed a number, and held it to her ear. "Higuchi-chan? Yes, it's Kikyo. Your boss is on the main beach. Please come pick him up. He's... resting."

As she hung up, Atsushi and Kanade looked at Akutagawa's unconscious body. A warm, slightly tired smile spread across Kanade’s face.

"It's a beautiful sight, don't you think?" Kikyo murmured, following their gaze toward the horizon where the sun stained the sky with fiery colors. Her golden eyes seemed to capture all the light of the sunset.

"You protected her," Dazai and Kikyo said in unison, their voices intertwining perfectly. "This is your city."

Kanade smiled, a genuine, carefree expression she rarely showed. Atsushi did too, feeling the weight of the battle finally lift.

It was then that Taka, driven by a wave of pure relief and joy that swept away all his usual shyness, lunged at Atsushi and wrapped him in an embrace so strong and affectionate it made him stagger.

"We did it, Atsushi-kun! We did it!" He laughed, a clear, cheerful laugh that was music on the quiet beach.

Atsushi's cheeks burned bright red, but he didn't resist. The sincerity of the moment was contagious.

Kanade, seeing the scene, noticed that Akutagawa was beginning to wake up, disturbed by the laughter. A mischievous glint lit up her pink-purple eyes. Without a second thought, she ran toward him and, before he could protest or unleash Rashomon, jumped to hug him with all her strength, spinning with him in the sand.

"You were great, Kuro!" she sang, burying her face in his neck, completely oblivious to his stiffness or the looks around them.

"Hey, Karei! Let go of me!" Akutagawa growled, trying to free himself from her grip, but his body was too weak and his will, surprisingly, wasn't as ironclad as usual. He remained there, trapped in her embrace, his own face flushed.

Kin, who had been observing the scene with his typical impassive expression, couldn't help but cover a small, rare smile with his hand. His voice, low but clear, rose over the sea breeze. "The four of them are the perfect couple, aren't they?"

Kikyo laughed softly, a melody that blended with the sound of the waves. Her eyes met Dazai's in perfect understanding.

"Completely," she affirmed, sealing the moment under the twilight sky of the Yokohama they had, once again, managed to save.

—

The morning after the battle against the Guild dawned serene over Yokohama. Atsushi, Kanade, Kyouka, and Eileen stopped in front of the familiar wooden door of the Agency. Kanade, with her hair waving softly, looked at the two young women with a smile that mixed pride and a hint of her usual mischief. Her pink-purple eyes, as perceptive as ever, scanned Kyouka and Eileen’s faces, looking for any sign of anxiety.

"Ready?" Kanade asked, her voice as light as the morning air, but with a spark of contained excitement. She knew this moment was important, a true new beginning.

Kyouka, with serene determination, and Eileen, with her usual composure, nodded in unison.

It was Kyouka who opened the door. The moment they crossed the threshold, the space exploded in color and sound. Streamers of all colors rained down on them, thrown by almost every member of the Agency. Ranpo, smiling from ear to ear, directed the chorus with a theatrical gesture.

"One, two, and...!"

"Congratulations on getting the job, Kyouka-chan and Eileen-chan!" Kenji, Tanizaki, Naomi, Haruno, Yosano, and Ranpo shouted in unison. Kunikida, Fukuzawa, and Kin watched from the background, with approving smiles. Dazai and Kikyo, notably absent, were surely plotting something elsewhere, Kanade thought with a touch of amusement.

Kyouka's cheeks flushed a vibrant red, but for the first time in a long time, it wasn't from embarrassment, but from a pure happiness that made her eyes shine like beacons.

Eileen, for her part, remained still. Her face didn't show an open smile, but her amber eyes, always so serene, shone with a light Kanade had never seen in them before. It was shock, disbelief, and a glimpse of an emotion so profound it almost managed to break her impassive facade. Kanade, watching her, felt a surge of warmth. Finally, she thought, she is starting to believe she belongs here.

The party began in earnest. The office filled with laughter, conversation, and the aroma of food that several people had brought. Kanade leaned against a wall, nibbling on a strawberry shortcake with a look of satisfaction. Her gaze, however, landed on Kyouka, and a strange, almost maternal smile spread across her lips. It was the smile of someone who had seen a spirit reborn and knew the incalculable value of that miracle.

Kunikida approached the Nakajima twins, his Ideals notebook in hand, although he seemed less rigid today than usual.

"Atsushi. Kanade. How are your wounds?" he asked with genuine concern.

"We're already healed," Kanade replied with a shrug, her nonchalant tone hiding the deep gratitude she felt for Kunikida's concern. She knew that behind his strict exterior beat a heart that cared deeply for his team.

"Thanks to your actions, the city was not destroyed." Kunikida cleared his throat, adopting his most formal posture. "As a veteran, I wanted to tell you one thing..." His voice suddenly rose, making Atsushi jump. Kanade, instead, didn't even blink, continuing to eat her cake with a stoicism that bordered on the comical.

"Solo operations are an irregularity! I won't deny your success, but don't let it become a habit. The same goes for you, Kyouka and Eileen! Be aware of your position as detectives and don't even think about doing anything dishonorable."

Before the sermon could continue, Yosano appeared and linked her arm with Kunikida's.

"Hey, Kunikida. No one can keep up when they drink with me, only Kikyo-chan can compete, because of her Archon resistance," the doctor said, dragging him toward the drinks.

"I don't drink much either," Kunikida protested weakly.

"Wouldn't you like to say something to them?" Yosano insisted with a mischievous smile.

Kunikida adjusted his glasses, a gesture everyone recognized as his way of regaining composure. He looked at Atsushi, Kanade, and then at Kyouka and Eileen.

"Good job. All five of you."

The words, simple and sincere, had an immediate effect. Atsushi looked down, touched, before his eyes met his sister's, Naomi's, and Haruno's, who were watching the scene with affectionate smiles. An old weight of guilt seemed to squeeze his stomach.

"Haruno-san, Naomi-san, Kanade-san," Atsushi began, his voice trembling. He bowed deeply before the three women. "I am so sorry! I did something terrible to you by coming into contact with Q's power. If I had known how dangerous I am..."

The three women blinked, exchanging surprised glances before breaking into understanding smiles.

"Ah, that," they said almost in unison, downplaying the matter.

"I'm so sorry, truly," Atsushi insisted, still bowed.

"Atsushi-kun, we can't afford to..." Haruno began gently.

"...Hold grudges for those kinds of things here," Naomi completed with a bright smile.

"Really?" Atsushi asked, slowly rising.

"Yes," Kanade affirmed with her characteristic calm, but her smile toward her kohai was warm and approving.

At that moment, Tanizaki appeared as if from nowhere behind Atsushi, his expression somber. He had heard the mention of Naomi being hurt.

"Atsushi-kun. I didn't know about that. Explain yourself, Atsushi-kun," Tanizaki said, and the tone of his voice made Atsushi flinch slightly.

The tense moment was dispelled when the main doors opened again, revealing the tall, timid figure of Edgar Allan Poe, with Karl, his raccoon, peering from his shoulder.

"Ranpo-kun. I brought the new novel you ordered by phone..." Poe muttered, his voice almost drowned out by the commotion.

"Ah, it's you, Poe. Thanks for coming," Ranpo said, waving to him from the center of the party.

"Are you sure I can stay? I'm from a rival organization," Poe asked, uncertainly, as his eyes scanned the joyful chaos of the ADA. A small, genuine smile spread across his lips as he settled down with Poe in a corner, away from the epicenter of the ruckus. "They seem to be having a lot of fun, Karl," he whispered to his raccoon, who chirped in response from his head.

In another corner of the office, Taka gently blew a small soap container, creating a parade of iridescent bubbles that floated toward the ceiling. Her purplish-red hair swayed with the soft breeze coming through the open window. Her gaze, a dark and thoughtful gold, accidentally met Atsushi's, whose purple eyes with yellow flashes were watching her. In an instant, both their faces flushed scarlet red, victims of a shared and embarrassing memory.

The image of the previous day on the beach flashed through their minds: Taka, swept up by emotion, hugging Atsushi with a force that made him stagger; their laughter mixing as they spun, completely oblivious to the knowing glances and soft laughter of their companions, who couldn't help but find the new, shy couple adorable. The heat in their cheeks was a tangible reminder of a moment of pure, uninhibited happiness, and the tender embarrassment that now followed it.

Kanade, attentive to everything as always, observed the exchange of glances between her brother and Taka. A genuine, wide smile lit up her face. As Taka's soap bubbles continued to float and the shy Poe quietly integrated into the celebration, she knew, with the certainty of one who has seen hope reborn where there were only shadows before, that this was one of those rare and perfect victories that made all the struggle worthwhile.

—

The soft light of the Port Mafia's boardroom reflected in the deep burgundy glassware, twinkling on the polished ebony table. The five Executives, the backbone of the organization, were gathered in an unusual calm, a reprieve after the chaos of the battle against the Guild.

Chuuya Nakahara elegantly held a bottle, his expert gaze appreciating the amber contents. "It's a '64 Romanée," he announced, a genuine note of respect in his voice.

Takako, seated with her impeccable posture, let out a soft, melodious laugh. Her fingers, which had been toying with a sharp stiletto a moment before, closed around the handle to tuck it into a fold of her kimono. Her ice-blue eyes shone with a cold, appreciative light as they settled on the bottle. "An impeccable choice, Chuuya."

Kouyou Ozaki, beside her, offered a serene smile. "Can we really open such an exquisite item?" she asked, her voice a cultivated whisper.

Takako tilted her head slightly, a mocking smile playing on her lips. "There's no better day to open it than today, Ane-san." Her tone, as always, was a mix of formal respect and subtle irony that only those in their inner circle could discern.

Mori Ougai, from the head of the table, raised his glass once the wine was served. "To victory," he declared, his serene smile concealing the infinite calculation behind his eyes.

The other three Executives—Chuuya, Kouyou, and Takako—smiled in turn, raising their own glasses. It was then that Nana Shigetsu, who had remained in silent observation, let out an almost inaudible sigh. Her presence, as always, was a blend of silky elegance and a threatening density, floating on the edge of perception like the blade of a knife.

"Boss," Chuuya began, addressing Mori, "should we impose a punishment on Akutagawa and Shiranui?" His question broke the momentary harmony, charging the air with the possibility of a disciplinary conflict.

Before Mori could answer, Takako sharpened her gaze. The gesture was subtle, but enough for the atmosphere to tighten another degree. "A punishment?" she asked, her voice icy and precise. "They are the ones who ensured our success."

Mori nodded slowly, his smile intact. "Exactly."

Nana spoke then, with a disconcerting calm. As she poured a little more wine into her glass with fluid movements, she spoke, and every word seemed to weigh more than a brick. "Akutagawa-kun and Amaya-chan were always like this. They move on their own and destroy, but in the end, they contribute enormously." Her gaze, imperturbable, settled on Chuuya. "We must trust their instincts. As long as they deliver decent or exceptional results, they shouldn't be punished. Discipline should not suffocate effectiveness." Her analysis was surgical, devoid of all emotion, a pure evaluation of resources and outcomes. She wasn't defending out of loyalty, but out of an implacable logic.

Kouyou, observing the exchange, took a sip of her wine. "By the way, Kouyou-kun and Takako," Nana intervened, addressing them in her low, controlled tone, "why didn't you escape the Agency when you were captured? Escaping shouldn't be difficult for you, Takako."

Kouyou offered an enigmatic smile before replying. "Why would I? Perhaps because they served good tea..." She paused dramatically, and her smile softened with a hint of genuine affection. "...and my beloved Kikyo was there."

A brief flashback erupted in the minds of those present, brought on by her words:

Dazai and Kikyo, standing in front of them in an improvised ADA cell. Kikyo, leaning on crutches due to her injured leg, but with unshakeable determination in her golden eyes.
"We're going to negotiate like adults," Dazai was saying.
"Osamu and I know how to rescue Kyouka-chan and Eileen-chan," Kikyo added, her voice serene but charged with intensity.
"What?" Kouyou asked, bewildered.
"If it works out, it's the only way to ensure their lives and their dream," Dazai and Kikyo declared in unison, their voices intertwining in a perfect synchronization that was always unsettling.

The memory faded, and Kouyou sighed, a trace of resigned admiration on her face. "Dazai and Kikyo foresaw everything, right to the end. They are terrifying people."

Chuuya made a visible grimace, looking away in annoyance at the mention of his former partner. Nana, for her part, simply tilted her head slightly, a flicker of acknowledgment in her eyes. The mention of Kikyo did not provoke the distaste in her that Dazai caused in Chuuya, but a cold assessment of a formidable rival piece on the board.

Mori directed his attention back to Kouyou and Takako. "Kouyou-kun, Takako, you are strong. Now that Saitou-chan and her dear Kyouka and Eileen are not with us, it will be difficult to stop you if you decide to leave."

Kouyou looked at him directly, her expression serene but firm. "Of course. But unfortunately, I must help the boss reconstitute the organization."

"I'm happy to hear it," Mori said, and his smile turned into that unsettling, lopsided expression they knew so well. "But I'm only interested in those under twelve."

The pedophilic comment, like a bad habit, floated in the air. Kouyou didn't lose her composure, but her voice dripped ice. "Silence. Or I'll sew that mouth shut."

Takako, beside her, rolled her eyes with a look of weary annoyance, as if she were fed up with that recurring joke. Without looking at Mori, she addressed Chuuya as she poured him a little more wine. "Don't drink too much, Chuuya. You might end up with a hangover the next day," she warned him with a pragmatism that contrasted with the deadly elegance she usually projected.

It was Nana who put an end to the uncomfortable moment. Her voice didn't rise, but it cut the air with the precision of a blade. "Stop your pedophilic jokes for once, Ougai." There was no plea in her tone, no anger. It was an order, plain and simple, spoken with the authority of someone who knows her word carries the weight of reason and power. An implacable lesson, as always, reminding everyone, even the boss, of the limits of decency within their own twisted morality.

Mori, at the reprimand from his coldest and most strategic Executive, simply smiled again, falling silent. The conversation returned to the wine, to the victory, and to the threads of power that, in the Port Mafia, were always woven between elegance, violence, and the calculating mind of those who knew that true control didn't always require raising one's voice.

—

The filtered afternoon light streamed through the tall museum windows, illuminating the silent corridors where time seemed to have stopped. Between the galleries, Dazai and Kikyo walked with a synchronicity that defied chance, their footsteps echoing in unison on the marble floor. They paused in front of a melancholic-looking painting: an autumn landscape with thin-branched trees and scattered red leaves, a backdrop of dark thicket and a grayish sky that promised rain.

"What a strange painting," they commented in unison, tilting their heads in opposite directions but with identical expressions of mocking curiosity. It was like observing a living mirror, where each other's gesture was anticipated and reflected.

"I could paint that," Dazai declared with carefree confidence.

Kikyo laughed, a soft sound like the tinkling of a wind chime. Her golden eyes, with that feline quality that always saw everything, sparkled with amused incredulity. "Are you serious, Osamu? Could you really paint a picture like that?" she asked, her voice a playful whisper that carried only a hint of mischief. "With your nil artistic skills? I highly doubt it. Your talent lies in disarming things, not creating them with your hands." Her comment wasn't a reproach, but an established fact in their shared reality, another example of their symbiosis.

He opened his mouth to reply with some equally frivolous exaggeration, but the moment was interrupted when a familiar figure approached with respectful steps.

"Hirotsu-san," they both said at the same time, turning with twin smiles that were a little too perfect to be innocent. The pair of lovers looked at each other, laughing between themselves in a silent language before addressing the elder again.

"Thank you very much for your help, Hirotsu-san," Kikyo thanked him, her tone sweet but loaded with the certainty of someone who knows that every piece fits exactly where it should.

"Was what I did enough?" Hirotsu asked, adjusting his glasses. "I only told Higuchi-kun about the infiltration of the Moby Dick."

Dazai chuckled, an echo of Kikyo's laugh. "It was more than enough."

Kikyo nodded, an almost maternal smile—but with a hint of mischief—on her lips. "If she knew, Akutagawa-kun would find out. We already know how Higuchi-chan is with Akutagawa-kun." She paused dramatically, her golden eyes twinkling with amusement at the thought. "The poor girl has no idea how much and how fast Akutagawa-kun and Kagome-chan's relationship is evolving. She must be imagining scenarios that are already obsolete."

"And with Akutagawa-kun and Amaya-chan knowing that Atsushi-kun, Kagome-chan, and Taka-chan were on the Moby Dick, they would head to the ship," Dazai completed, as if reading Kikyo's mind. "It worked out as we planned."

Hirotsu observed them, once again impressed by the perfect choreography of their minds. "What was the reason for gathering Akutagawa-kun with that... Karei, the Lady of Change, and the tiger boy?"

The smile on Dazai's face became deeper, more strategic. "We wanted to test one thing." Kikyo emitted a soft "mm-hmm" of agreement, her own smile mirroring his. "To prepare for the calamity that is about to fall," Dazai continued. "He's surely acting already."

Kikyo nodded slowly, her expression serene but her eyes sharp as knives. "That demon we once knew... I doubt we can avoid a confrontation." Her voice was soft, but every word was loaded with a fatal certainty. "Akutagawa-kun is very destructive when acting alone, but his power is more valuable in the rear. If Akutagawa-kun supported someone fast and resilient like Atsushi-kun, their combined strength would be unmatched."

"And to face that demon," Dazai said, picking up the thread of the explanation without even blinking, "we need more strength than ever."

Kikyo finished the thought, her smile taking on a shade of somber anticipation. "Stronger than Souhaku and much stronger than Soukoku."

"And those four are the answer," they declared together, their voices merging into a single prophecy.

Hirotsu looked at them, understanding the enormity of their plan. "Dazai-kun, Kikyo-chan, why do you value the city of Yokohama so much?"

The Kiyozai looked at each other, and an entire conversation seemed to pass in that silent exchange. Finally, it was Dazai who spoke, but his tone had lost all its previous frivolity. There was a gentle melancholy, a rare spark of sincerity. "Some old friends told us to side with the ones who protected others, to look after some children." His gaze lost itself for an instant in the distance, beyond the museum walls. "That it would make us a little better." The reference to Odasaku and Sawako didn't need to be said aloud; it floated in the air between them, a benevolent ghost that still guided their steps.

"'A perfect beauty,' huh?" Hirotsu murmured, an understanding smile on his lips.

Kikyo laughed softly, a clear sound that cut the solemnity of the moment. She raised a hand to her short black hair, unconsciously adjusting the red rose kanzashi she wore. The ornament was a touch of vibrant color on her elegance, as distinctive as Dazai's bandage. "Something like that," she said, her golden eyes meeting Dazai's in absolute understanding. Together, they continued walking through the museum, two minds, one single purpose, weaving the fate of Yokohama with the tranquility of those who have already seen the end of the game and are simply moving the necessary pieces to reach it.

Chapter Text

Cherry blossoms fell like pink rain over the streets of Yokohama as the Armed Detective Agency headed to the courthouse. The wind gently moved their hair, all impeccably styled for the occasion. Even Kanade's little guardians —Ran, Miki, Suu, and Dia— fluttered happily around her, wearing small bows that matched their miniature dresses.

"My feet hurt from walking in these heels," Kanade complained, pouting as she trudged along.

Kikyo smiled at her with that characteristic gentleness, though there was an amused glint in her golden eyes. "There's nothing we can do. We have to be dressed this elegantly since we are the witnesses."

Dazai walked beside Kikyo, his fingers subtly brushing against hers. "Though I must admit we all look quite presentable. Especially you, Kikyo-chan~"

Kikyo shot him a warning glance, but the slight blush on her cheeks betrayed her. "Dazai, behave. We are on an official mission."

"How will General Pei Xiu be punished?" asked Atsushi, nervous about his first formal trial.

"He will probably be exiled," Kikyo replied, her golden eyes with acircular pupils shining with certainty.

They entered the courtroom, where General Pei Ming awaited them with a severe expression. His eyes immediately fell upon Kanade.

"I have heard much about you, Miss Kanade. Thank you for what you have done for General Pei Junior," he said formally.

"It is I who have heard more about you, General," Kanade replied with a polite smile, her purple-pink eyes sparkling.

Pei Ming made the clone of General Pei Junior appear, covered in deep wounds and distinctive tears.

"What does this mean?" Kanade asked, her tone losing some of its warmth.

"I discovered something strange while interrogating the General," Pei Ming began, subtly invading Kanade's personal space. "Although his clone is not as powerful as he is, with his abilities, he should have fought that Wrath to a standstill. However, there was someone who defeated him without giving him a chance to defend himself. So I asked... apparently, at that moment, the one by your side was Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, who massacred hundreds of those generals without a chance to defend themselves."

The name dropped like a bomb in the hall. Whispers started immediately.

"I dare to ask, Miss Kanade. What is your relationship with that mafioso?"

Kanade felt her heart quicken, but she maintained her composure. "To be honest, I don't clearly remember why Akutagawa was there."

She used his real name instead of the affectionate nickname "Kuro" she usually employed, and that did not go unnoticed by Kikyo, who was watching intently.

"That is a lie, Miss. Pei Junior told me that you two were very close."

Asuna coughed slightly and walked forward, her heels echoing in the tense silence. Her salmon-pink hair was pulled back in an elegant bun, and her jade nails shimmered slightly under the light.

"Dear General, you are only relaying General Pei Xiu's version of events. But he committed a crime. First, we need to evaluate how much we trust his words."

The judge nodded. "Let Mr. Dazai Osamu and Miss Saitou Kikyo come forward to give us their opinion."

Dazai and Kikyo approached the clone's body. Dazai leaned in, examining the wounds with an expert eye, while Kikyo remained beside him, so close that their shoulders almost touched. They both spoke in unison, with that uncanny synchronization that characterized their relationship:

"It was Akutagawa Ryuunosuke."

"With his Rashomon."

The whispers in the court intensified, palpable fear filling the air.

"That same black beast he used when he faced 34 squads minus the Hunting Dogs?" the officials murmured.

Fukuzawa watched with an impassive expression, but his keen eyes missed no detail.

"Thank you very much, detectives. I see I was right," Pei Ming said. "If the feared Akutagawa was there, the matter is not so simple."

"Are you insinuating that Kanade-chan conspired with Akutagawa-kun to frame Pei Junior?" Kikyo asked in a dangerously calm tone.

"Not necessarily. Akutagawa's power is immense; we cannot rule out that he might have tricked the young lady."

Kanade felt indignation burn in her chest. "Even if you don't trust me, you should at least trust Soldier Yoru Mikazuki and Soldier Kiyoko Shimizu. Those two heard the General's confession with me. And as for whether I have ever been tricked, ask Kikyo-san."

Kikyo nodded slightly, silently confirming Kanade's integrity.

"General, forget it. They didn't trick you. It was me," Pei Xiu interrupted from his position. "I know I have disappointed you. I know when to surrender. I must accept my punishment."

The judge raised his gavel. "Enough. The Ban Yue case is closed. Pei Xiu will be exiled in a few days."

"Nevertheless, the clone's marks are made by Rashomon," Pei Ming insisted.

"Yes, that is another matter," the judge declared.

"Please, I want the ADA to investigate," the General spoke firmly.

Kin, who had remained silent throughout the trial with her characteristic impassive expression, finally spoke in a grave voice: "So be it."

"That is all for today."

As Kanade prepared to withdraw with the other ADA members, the judge stopped her.

"Miss Kanade, you stay."

Kanade groaned with fatigue as her companions began to loosen their uncomfortable suits.

"Good luck," Kunikida said, but when he turned, he saw that Ranpo had fallen asleep like a baby, leaning against the wall.

"Ranpo-san, wake up," Asuna whispered to the detective, shaking him gently.

"What did I miss?" Ranpo asked with a yawn.

"The trial is over," Fukuzawa said with a barely perceptible sigh. "We can go back now."

---

The ADA withdrew, leaving Kanade tense in front of the judge, who soon left as well. In his place appeared Yoru, whose dress shimmered slightly in the dim light of the courtroom. Her black hair with a violet gradient fell elegantly over her shoulders, and her gray eyes watched Kanade with a mixture of gentleness and concern.

"The Flower Protected by the Dark Rain, Rashomon... what is all this about, Miss Kanade?" Yoru asked in a soft but firm voice.

"I'm sorry," Kanade replied, lowering her gaze.

"Do you admit your mistake?"

"Yes."

Yoru sighed, walking forward. Her heels echoed through the place as her hair cascaded down her back. "What was your mistake, little one? Don't you know? You've changed too much, little Kanade."

She stopped in front of her, studying her with those gray eyes that seemed to see beyond any facade. "I know you would never conspire with the Mafia. But I don't know if I can trust you with this mission that the Hunting Dogs cannot complete without the Ghosts and Yokai down there decapitating us."

"What is the mission?" Kanade asked, looking up with interest.

"Seven days ago, a cloud of fire suddenly rose to the sky from the mountains. There were countless witnesses but no injuries."

"It's a call for help," Kanade understood immediately. "Those flames don't hurt people."

"Exactly. Someone important must be asking for help."

"Is there something you're worried about?"

Yoru looked her directly in the eyes. "Yes. Do you know who governs the Ghost City?"

Kanade's heart stopped for a moment. "Is it... Akutagawa?"

"Exactly. But you seem to get along with him, so it's not a problem. However, we do believe he is involved. If you become a liability, I will ask another of your companions to take on this mission."

"I will go," Kanade replied without hesitation. "I doubt the Flower Protected by the Dark Rain is involved in this."

Yoru smiled slightly, but her eyes retained their concern. "I know you have excellent judgment, but I also know you give too many benefits of the doubt." She placed a gentle hand on Kanade's shoulder. "I don't want to incriminate your friend, but be careful with Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, especially his Rashomon."

---

In the ADA office, Kanade showed the mission pamphlet to her companions. Fukuzawa watched her with his typical serious but attentive expression.

"Who will be your companions?" the Director asked.

"Anyone who is pleasant and who can help me with their supernatural ability if I have to fight," Kanade said with a smile on her lips.

Kin, who was sitting with her arms crossed and that masculine posture that surprised new members so much, spoke in her grave voice: "How about Asuna? We won't all be able to go like when we went to the desert to see if Akutagawa was attempting anything, but she can support you as much as possible."

"I would be delighted!" Asuna said excitedly, her jade eyes sparkling cheerfully. Her salmon-pink hair fell over her back as she jumped up.

"I'll go too," Atsushi announced with determination.

"Kyouka will accompany you," Dazai added, distractedly running his hand through the hair of Kikyo, who was sitting next to him reviewing documents. She didn't pull away, accustomed to those small displays of affection.

"Eileen and Taka too," Fukuzawa decided.

Taka rose gracefully, her expression serious but determined. "It will be an honor to accompany you."

Atsushi glanced at her, feeling his heart quicken slightly at her elegant presence and protective attitude.

And so, the group departed: Kanade, Asuna, Atsushi, Kyouka, Eileen, and Taka, all heading to the Ghost Realm under the command of Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.

"Let's pray that Akutagawa doesn't realize our presence," Atsushi murmured nervously as they walked.

---

The portal to the Ghost Realm was located on one of the most distant and darkest streets of Yokohama. The group followed several ghosts who were talking about foolish things: that their face had rotted again, that the threshold would finally open after eight months, and other similar nonsense. Until they noticed the presence of the sextet.

"Who are you?" a female ghost asked the group.

"We are ghosts from a more distant cemetery. That's why we've never seen each other before," Asuna lied quickly with a charming smile.

"Yes... we wanted so much to go to the famous Ghost City that we traveled from very far away," Kanade added, playing along.

"Hey, friend..." the ghost said, looking at Kanade, Taka, Asuna, Kyouka, and Eileen. "Your faces... they look so well preserved! They're not rotten at all! Where did you get them fixed? Do you recommend your doctor?"

The ghosts also noticed Atsushi's perfect face, and he blushed slightly under the attention.

They continued their walk towards the City. When they finally reached it, everyone gasped.

The Ghost City was prosperous, vibrant, and alive in ways none of them had anticipated. It was covered in a reddish mist as dark flower petals fell. There were various yokai and spirits, but they didn't look threatening or miserable. There were merchants selling strange goods, musicians playing haunting but beautiful melodies, and an atmosphere of constant activity.

"Wow..." Ran whispered, fluttering around Kanade's head. "It's like a festival!"

"But a ghost festival," Miki added in her more analytical tone, observing everything with her artistic eyes.

"There are so many people here," Suu murmured nervously, moving closer to Kanade.

"It shines in a different way," Dia observed with fascination, her eyes catching the ethereal sparkles emanating from the spirits.

"It's more... organized than I expected," Atsushi admitted, surprised.

Taka walked close to him, her senses alert. "Don't lower your guard. Akutagawa governs this place, and that means there is order, yes, but also danger."

They walked past a yokai who was making a cauldron of eye soup, which Kyouka observed with morbid interest and Eileen with complete indifference.

They walked more quickly until they reached a gambling house. There was a sign with fluid and elegant Chinese calligraphy.

Everyone looked at Eileen, who approached and translated in her soft, monotonous voice: "If it's for money, risk your life. In order to win, forget shame and honor."

"Get out of here!" The shouts of some guards were heard as they threw out a ghost who was crazy about gambling.

"Sirs," said a more human-looking yokai woman with a helpful smile. "Did you come to play?"

"Yes, but we don't have any money. Can we just watch?" Atsushi asked.

The young woman laughed. "It doesn't matter that you don't have money; no one uses it to bet here. Follow me, please."

The group entered the betting hall, which was vast and luxurious. There were gaming tables everywhere, spirits betting parts of their existence, memories, years of service. But what caught everyone's attention was the slightly translucent black curtain in a higher location.

There, like a king on his throne, was Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.

He wore clothes that did not reveal his connection to the Mafia: a dark hanfu embroidered with shadow patterns that seemed to move of their own volition. His white hair contrasted dramatically with the black fabric, and his gray eyes observed the hall with a mixture of boredom and absolute authority.

Kanade's heart skipped a beat violently when she saw him. Kuro...

"This way, sirs," said the lady who had let them in, leading them closer.

Before they could observe more closely, they heard the desperate cry of a yokai who was gambling with Akutagawa, though he was not directly in front of him.

"I bet my hand!" the man shouted, sweat running down his disfigured face.

Akutagawa smiled. It was a cold, beautiful, and utterly ruthless smile.

"I don't want it."

Several yokai began to laugh at the humiliation. The gambler trembled, unable to process the rejection.

Kanade immediately turned around when she heard Akutagawa's voice, so familiar, so dear, so dangerous.

Akutagawa leaned back in his seat, his voice resonating with cold authority: "Forget a hand... when even your pathetic dog life isn't worth a single penny here."

The silence that followed was absolute. The yokai collapsed, defeated not by physical violence but by the cruelty of the truth.

"Kuro..." Kanade whispered, so quietly that only Asuna, who was next to her, could hear it.

Asuna gave her a meaningful look, noticing the way Kanade's eyes had softened, how her generally cheerful expression had transformed into something more vulnerable, more longing.

From his elevated position, Akutagawa seemed to tense slightly. His gray eyes moved almost imperceptibly, as if he had sensed a familiar presence.

*It can't be*, he thought, his heart quickening against his will. *She wouldn't be here. Not in my territory. Not where it's dangerous.*

But a part of him, that part that had lived centuries waiting for her, knew with absolute certainty that she was there. In his city. In his domain.

And despite the danger, despite everything, a deep and dark part of his being rejoiced.

Aquí tienes la traducción, con espacios entre párrafos:

---

## The Ghost Realm Casino

The situation remained quite tense in the casino. The Agency's sextet exchanged nervous glances, wishing that Akutagawa wouldn't go overboard with those bets. It was quite ironic, considering the young man was not a compulsive gambler at all, which made it even funnier that he was the boss of the Ghost City's gambling house.

"It's strange to see him here," Atsushi murmured, watching Akutagawa manage the game with an almost bored ease. "Akutagawa has never been the gambling type."

"Remember that when it comes to fortune itself, Akutagawa has a lot of good luck," Asuna commented with a knowing smile, her jade eyes sparkling with amusement. "He always rolls high numbers in the casino. He is quite powerful, and it is a matter of luck that he became the master of a city."

Taka nodded, crossing her arms as she watched the scene with an analytical expression. "Luck favors the strong in this realm. It is not just skill; it is destiny."

"It's your lucky day! You get to see the Master. It's very rare for the City Master to be here," said the woman who had brought them, delighted to see Akutagawa in his maximum splendor.

Kanade smiled, thinking she was lucky to be with her beloved, even though her heart was pounding erratically. *Kuro is here. He is really here.*

"But... the guy earlier bet his two legs, didn't he?" asked the yokai who had been humiliated by Akutagawa's ruthless words.

"He's a legendary thief and has very skilled legs. That's worth chips. You, on the other hand, are not a famous craftsman or a doctor. What value could your hand have?" the dealer scoffed with a cruel smile.

"I bet ten years of my daughter's life!" the yokai shouted, clearly desperate.

"What?" Atsushi took a step forward, horrified. His fists instinctively clenched.

Taka placed a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "We must not question the ghost logic, Atsushi-kun. We are on their territory, not ours."

Akutagawa thought about it for a moment, his expression impassive, and then with a cold smile, he spoke: "Alright."

*"Kuro has excellent luck,"* Kanade thought quietly, watching the man play as he rolled an odd number. "If they bet one-on-one, I don't think that guy will win."

But the yokai didn't stop there. Desperate, he began to bet more and more, until the moment came when he was going to bet his own daughter's hand in marriage.

"This is crossing the line," Kyouka murmured in her monotone voice, though her violet eyes showed a flash of disapproval.

Eileen, beside her, simply watched with her impassive expression, but her fingers moved slightly, as if she were ready to intervene if necessary.

"Don't be rash, please," Asuna pleaded with her companions, though her own voice trembled slightly. "I think reinforcements are coming too. I heard that... Kunikida-kun is coming..."

Asuna broke out in a cold sweat. The detective was competent at his job, but in that gambling house, he would make a disastrous spectacle.

"We are in Akutagawa's territory," Asuna explained to the others, her tone becoming more serious and strategic. "That man was the one who wanted to bet; we can't interfere unless we break the pact that the ADA will not get involved in matters concerning ghosts. If we do, they could accuse us of violating interdimensional treaties."

Until they heard the sound of gunshots. Kunikida arrived at the worst possible moment, and he was absolutely furious.

Asuna facepalmed, Taka looked at her supposed superior in disbelief, Kyouka and Eileen blinked in surprise, Atsushi gave a nervous jump, and Kanade covered her purple-pink eyes with a hand.

"Oh, no..." Kanade groaned.

"You scoundrel! You have no scruples!" Kunikida shouted at the yokai, his voice echoing throughout the casino. "It's one thing to want money and fame, **but to kill others?!** You even bet your daughter's life and marriage! **Have you no shame?!**"

"...why couldn't Dazai-san or Kikyo-san come?" Atsushi asked, mortified, his face pale.

Yes, he didn't like the place, but he knew it was a **CASINO**, not a library!

"They were supposed to come, but Kunikida-kun ended up answering the call and came..." Asuna said, a drop of sweat running down her face.

Taka sighed deeply. "This is going to end badly."

Until Akutagawa's voice was heard, cold and charged with absolute authority: "You have a lot of nerve to cause trouble in my domain, Kunikida Doppo."

Everyone felt the temperature of the place seem to drop several degrees. Akutagawa's presence was overwhelming, like a shadow stretching over the entire casino.

"You are the owners of the gambling house?!" Kunikida yelled, clearly failing to process the gravity of the situation.

"Kunikida-san is screwed," Taka said bluntly, a hand on the bridge of her nose. "Completely screwed."

"What an immoral and wicked place!" Kunikida declared with moral indignation.

Kanade couldn't help but yell, exasperated: "**Because this is a ghost realm and it is owned by two mafiosos!**"

But Kunikida didn't even realize they were there until Akutagawa spoke again, his voice resonating with a power that made the curtains tremble.

"This is a place of frenzy and pleasure. If those who should be on the human surface sneak into the darkness of the ghosts, what do you expect me to do? Close the entrance to my Realm?"

"We've been discovered," the six detectives said in unison, resigned.

Kunikida, with a strength no one knew he possessed, threw a table. But Akutagawa, using Rashomon with an almost lazy elegance, threw it back at him. The black tentacles of his ability tied him up easily, immobilizing him completely.

"Impressive control," Taka murmured, observing the surgical precision with which Rashomon moved. "There is no wasted energy."

Then, Akutagawa pulled out a strange-colored dust and blew it onto Kunikida. He could not use Doppo Ginkaku while tied up by Rashomon.

"Ouch..." Taka said, grimacing.

"Akutagawa must have sealed Doppo Ginkaku with Rashomon... we're safe for now," Kanade said, peeking out from their improvised hiding spot.

"It's for the best," Asuna agreed, her jade eyes gleaming with strategic analysis. "We are in Akutagawa's domain. Our organizations don't mix, much less do we meddle in the territory of ghosts that is ordered by the mafia. If these ghosts find out that humans entered here without proper permission, a small interdimensional war will start."

Akutagawa reclined in his throne, observing Kunikida as a cat would watch a trapped mouse. "I have caught a great prize today. Whoever has the fortune to win can do whatever they want with this detective."

The yokai brought a new table, and another game began. The atmosphere became even more tense, if that was possible.

"...we'll have to play," Taka sighed, deliberately taking off her gloves.

"How good is everyone's luck?" Kanade asked, looking around.

"Changeable," they all replied in unison, with varying expressions of worry.

Atsushi rubbed the back of his neck. "Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose. I'm not very reliable."

"In my case," Kanade said, holding up two fingers with an almost embarrassed expression, "whenever I roll the dice, the most I get is two. My bad luck in that sort of thing is well known."

Asuna suddenly smiled, a brilliant idea lighting up her face. "In that case, let's play who rolls the lowest number! If your maximum is two, no one could beat you, Kanade-chan."

They walked forward, and Asuna raised her voice with that natural charm that characterized her: "Hey! Let's see who rolls the most boring number among everyone! Let's change the rules and see who rolls the lowest number!"

Kanade rolled the dice confidently, but to her horror, a double twelve came out. She lost completely.

The group sighed in unison.

"I think we should prepare to break everything," Taka said, taking out her gloves again with resignation.

"Yes..." Kanade muttered, frustrated.

But then Akutagawa spoke in a soft tone to the lady running the game, barely a whisper that nevertheless echoed throughout the hall.

"Silence, everyone. I have a message for you," the lady announced with reverence. "Master Akutagawa is in a very good mood and wants to play with those present. Whoever beats him can take the young man with glasses."

"What did you say?! I am not a thing! How dare you bet me?!" Kunikida shouted, his face red with indignation.

Taka threw some dice at him to shut him up once and for all. "Be quiet, Kunikida-san. You are making things worse."

"Could I try my luck?" Kanade asked, raising her hand timidly.

From his throne, Akutagawa smiled. It was a genuine smile, not the cruel sneer he had shown earlier. He stood up with fluid grace, and everyone in the casino held their breath.

"Alright. Step forward, young lady," the lady said.

Kanade started to climb, but then the lady stopped her. "Wait, Master Akutagawa said your posture is incorrect for shaking the dice. He himself will teach you to correct it. Come up."

"WHAT?!" Atsushi shouted, his voice full of alarm and confusion.

"Oh, Kanade-chan..." Asuna sighed, though there was an amused glint in her eyes. "This is getting interesting."

Taka narrowed her eyes. "Since when does Akutagawa offer to teach someone?"

Kyouka tilted her head. "It is strange. Akutagawa-san is never... gentle."

Eileen simply watched in silence, but there was a question in her expressionless eyes.

Kanade climbed onto the platform, and there she saw Akutagawa's gentle smile, the one she hadn't seen in years. His gray eyes shone with a light they hadn't held before, a warmth reserved only for her.

*Karei*, Akutagawa thought, feeling his heart—that organ he had forgotten he had—beat strongly. *My Karei is here. In my city. In my territory.*

"Do you want to roll a lower or a higher number, Karei?" Akutagawa asked in a soft, almost intimate voice.

Below, all the ADA members froze.

"KAREI?!" they shouted in unison, their voices echoing throughout the casino.

"Did he just call her... Karei?" Atsushi blinked repeatedly, as if he couldn't process what he had heard.

"That is an extremely affectionate nickname," Asuna murmured, her jade eyes gleaming with interest. "*Karei*... precious flower. How... intimate."

Taka's eyes were wide open. "Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, the Mad Dog of the Mafia, just used a pet name. With Kanade-san."

"This explains a lot of things," Kyouka said in her monotone voice, though there was a flash of understanding in her violet eyes.

The yokai were also confused, looking at each other with expressions of complete bewilderment.

"Well... a high one," Kanade replied, trying to ignore how wildly her heart was beating.

"Alright, I'll roll first," Akutagawa said, taking the dice. He rattled them, and an eleven came out on a single try. Then he handed the dice to Kanade, his fingers deliberately brushing hers.

Kanade was about to rattle the dice, but Akutagawa put his hands together with hers, completely enveloping them.

"Let's do it together," Akutagawa requested, his voice so soft it sounded like velvet.

The situation felt like they were in a romance movie. All the tension in the casino had transformed into something completely different.

Kanade rolled a pair of threes.

"I'm sorry, I lost," Kanade said, looking down in embarrassment.

"This round doesn't count. I'm teaching you," Akutagawa said with a patience no one in the ADA knew he possessed.

"This is what they call playing?!" the ADA detectives thought, completely stunned.

Atsushi's mouth was open. "This is not... this is not playing. This is..."

"Flirting," Asuna finished with a knowing smile. "This is blatantly flirting."

Taka blushed slightly, looking away. "It's... surprisingly sweet."

The yokai were just as lost as the seven humans from the ADA who were there, observing the scene with a mixture of confusion and fascination.

"Do it again," Akutagawa requested, and his voice had a hypnotic quality.

Kanade did it and rolled a pair of fours.

"See? It's a little higher. Very good, Karei. Keep doing it like that," Akutagawa praised her with a genuine smile that completely illuminated his normally severe face.

"Stop shaking those dice! It's obvious he's trying to trick you, Kanade!" Kunikida shouted from his bound position.

Asuna threw a fan she found lying around, hitting him directly on the head. "Be quiet, Kunikida-kun! You're not helping!"

Kanade rolled a pair of fives this time, but Akutagawa interrupted, putting his hand against hers so she wouldn't roll further. Their fingers intertwined for a moment, and the contact sent electricity through Kanade's entire body.

"My dear Karei hasn't told me what will happen if you lose," Akutagawa said, and there was something possessive in the way he pronounced "my dear Karei."

"DEAR KAREI?!" everyone present shouted, yokai and humans alike.

Atsushi staggered. "Dear? DEAR?!”

"This is more serious than we thought," Taka muttered, her eyes fixed on how Akutagawa looked at Kanade with an almost religious devotion.

"That's true... but the only thing I have here is... some onigiri I made," Kanade said, oblivious to the scandal Akutagawa's declaration had caused.

"That's fine, let's bet that," Akutagawa said, and there was genuine tenderness in his voice.

"What does that mean?! I'm not worth the same as some onigiri!" Kunikida protested, but received another hit from Asuna's fan.

"Shut up once and for all!" the jade-eyed Archon yelled, clearly exasperated.

"Good, this will be the last round. Don't be nervous," Akutagawa said, his voice comforting.

"I'm not," Kanade replied, although it was an obvious lie.

Their hands met again, and this time Akutagawa lost the round.

"I lost," he said so naturally, as if it didn't matter to him at all.

"Get me down now!" Kunikida demanded.

Akutagawa scoffed and put Rashomon away immediately, releasing him unceremoniously.

Kanade immediately ran to Kunikida to help him up. "Are you alright, Kunikida-san?"

"I'm fine. Thank you," he said while adjusting his glasses. "Good thing you won."

Then Akutagawa stepped out from behind the curtains, and everyone in the casino—including the ADA members—gasped.

His appearance was incredibly striking. He was not wearing his usual mafioso clothing. The main ensemble consisted of a deep black sleeveless tunic, fitted to the torso and decorated with fine metallic edges that looked golden. A stiff high collar framed his neck, reinforcing the sense of nobility and discipline. Oriental-inspired embroidery was distinguished on the chest, with symmetrical shapes reminiscent of royal emblems.

His arms were partially uncovered but covered by metallic accessories and leather bands. On his left arm, he wore a wide bracelet with an ornate design, while on his right, he sported a fitted partial sleeve. His pants were also black, with soft pleats that provided movement, decorated with straps, buckles, and metallic embellishments. The boots were high and stylized, with engraved metallic details.

"Wow..." Atsushi whispered involuntarily.

"It's... impressive," Taka admitted, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Like a prince of shadows."

"Akutagawa-san looks different here," Kyouka observed. "More... complete."

Eileen simply watched with her expressionless eyes, but there was a flicker of recognition. A king in his domain.

Asuna smiled with appreciation. "I must admit he has style. He definitely knows how to make a statement."

The red lights made him stand out even more, creating dramatic shadows that enhanced his slender figure and dominant presence.

"You win, Karei," Akutagawa said, walking forward with measured steps, every movement full of predatory grace.

"Don't make fun of me," Kanade requested, visibly blushing.

"I am not," Akutagawa replied with absolute seriousness, stopping in front of her. His gray eyes watched her with an intensity that made it difficult to breathe.

"Thank you," Kanade murmured.

She grabbed Kunikida, and as they were about to withdraw, Akutagawa spoke with authority: "Stop."

Everyone froze.

"You haven't given me what you bet yet."

"What do you want, Kuro?" Kanade asked, using the affectionate nickname that made him melt inside.

"What you bet me. I won in the first round," Akutagawa said, extending his hand.

Kanade took out the carefully wrapped onigiri. Akutagawa took them with surprising delicacy and took an immediate bite, savoring it as if it were the most exquisite delicacy in the world.

His eyes closed for a moment, enjoying the flavor. "Delicious. As always."

Kanade blushed up to her ears.

"Where will you go, Master?" one of the yokai bodyguards asked.

Akutagawa finished his bite and replied in a satisfied voice: "I'm in a good mood. I'm going to Paradise Manor."

The way he said it—satisfied, almost happy—was something none of the ADA members had ever heard in the voice of the feared Mad Dog of the Mafia.

And as he walked away, everyone could see how his gray eyes looked back at Kanade one last time, filled with a devotion and love that had transcended centuries.

*My Karei*, Akutagawa thought as he disappeared into the shadows. *Always my Karei.*

Chapter Text

The group ran out of the casino as soon as they were out of sight of the Rashomon user, panting slightly from the accumulated tension.

"We're safe..." Asuna gasped with relief, placing a hand on her chest.

But before she could enjoy that relief, Taka turned to Kunikida with a severe expression.

"Kunikida-san! Don't do those things!" the woman with purplish-red hair scolded him, her eyes shining with indignation. "You were lucky Akutagawa only humiliated you! He could have done much worse."

"I'm sorry. But that way of betting is not normal," Kunikida defended himself, adjusting his glasses with a sigh. "I got angry unintentionally and..."

He trailed off, looking away, clearly embarrassed by his outburst.

"And is that a reason to lose control like that?" Taka sighed deeply, pointing an accusing finger at him. "We are in foreign territory, Kunikida-san. We can't act impulsively."

"If I hadn't done it, no one would have," Kunikida muttered defensively.

Taka was about to continue scolding him, her maternal temper emerging in all its glory, when Kanade intervened with a calm voice.

"That's enough... but, Kunikida-san, we still have our mission, so let's be careful from now on to avoid more trouble." Her tone was gentle but firm, establishing a precarious peace.

The group walked forward, and after a few moments of tense silence, Asuna smiled with that mischievous expression that meant her strategic mind had conceived an idea.

"Good! Let's infiltrate head-on," she said enthusiastically, her jade eyes gleaming. "Go find your beloved Akutagawa, tell him you want a date with him, and we'll infiltrate while they're distracted!"

Kanade's cheeks burned a deep red. She began to stammer incoherently: "W-what? Asuna-chan! Y-you can't...! That's...!"

A crisis passed over Kanade. She was completely red, waving her hands frantically as she tried to form coherent words. Atsushi and Taka had to give her air until she finally calmed down.

But then they heard voices in the distance. Some yokai shouting at each other about something... or someone.

"That voice..." Kanade murmured, her expression changing immediately. She had seen an sick child with a curse before, the same one they were looking for.

"What's wrong, Kanade-san?" Atsushi asked, following her gaze.

Kanade turned and saw the child with bandages, being harassed by several ghosts who surrounded him threateningly.

"Get out of the way!" Kanade ordered, pushing all the yokai with authority. Her appearance stood out among those spectral shadows as she made her way towards the frightened child.

"Out of my way!" shouted one of the larger yokai, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

The ADA ended up getting involved in the fray, moving the yokai away to give Kanade a clear path.

Kanade abruptly pushed away the remaining ghosts, but the child, terrified, looked at her in horror and darted away before she could reach him. In her desperate run, Kanade collided with a yokai wearing an ornate mask.

"I'm so sorry! I'll come back to compensate you as soon as I find the one I'm looking for," Kanade apologized quickly.

But the yokai had become aggressive, and more ghosts began to appear, surrounding them with clearly hostile intentions.

"Stop!" a feminine voice ordered, pushing through the crowd.

There stood the members of Black Lizard along with Akiko, the Full Moon Officer. The presence of the mafia group made the yokai immediately back away.

Akiko gave an elegant bow, letting her exotic attire—which mixed deep violet tones with silver details—be seen. Her black hair with purple streaks fell softly over her shoulders, and her violet eyes observed the scene calmly.

"Everyone, please remain calm and return home," she ordered in a soft but firm voice.

The yokai muttered among themselves but began to disperse before the authority emanating from the Black Lizard group.

Hirotsu stepped forward, his veteran presence commanding respect. "Miss, the city master wishes to see you."

"Me?" Kanade asked, pointing to herself, surprised. The remaining yokai began to whisper among themselves.

Gin remained silent next to Hirotsu, her expression indifferent behind her characteristic assassin attire, but her eyes watched Kanade with contained curiosity.

Tachihara, with his usual arrogant smile, whistled softly. "Well, well. So you're the famous Karei. Akutagawa-san hasn't stopped talking about you."

"Tachihara!" Shiroi scolded him from her position, her voice cold and controlled. "Maintain your composure."

"Indeed, the master wishes to see you," Akiko continued, raising her hand gracefully. Her violet eyes shone with genuine gentleness. "He has waited for you for too long. I ask that you come with me, please."

Kanade looked at her companions, who nodded with varied expressions of worry and resignation.

"Be careful, Kanade-san," Atsushi murmured.

"Don't do anything reckless," Taka added in a protective tone.

Asuna smiled knowingly. "Go, we'll look for the child in the meantime."

Kanade began to walk with the mafiosos and Akiko, who seemed to be their leader in this operation. The path was illuminated by spectral lanterns that cast dancing shadows.

"Miss Kanade," Akiko spoke softly as they walked, "the master has been in a very good mood since you arrived at Ghost City."

Gin nodded slightly, an almost imperceptible gesture.

"It's rare to see him like this," Tachihara commented with a chuckle. "He's usually a headache."

"Tachihara," Hirotsu warned in a severe voice, although there was a hint of amusement in his veteran eyes. "Show some respect."

Shiroi walked in silence, observing everything with that calculating expression that never left her. Her eyes settled on Kanade with clinical analysis.

They finally stopped in front of an imposing structure.

"This is it," Hirotsu declared formally.

Kanade took the first step inside, noticing how the residence was incredibly luxurious, full of grace and dignity. The walls were decorated with dark tapestries embroidered in gold, and the air smelled of sandalwood incense mixed with night-blooming flowers.

In the middle of the main hall, Akutagawa was playing distractedly with gold foil, building a delicate and elaborate castle with an almost childlike concentration.

Kanade watched, fascinated, as his long, pale fingers manipulated the precious metal with surprising dexterity.

Then, with a casual movement, Akutagawa destroyed the castle. The foils fell in a golden cascade onto the dark table.

The Rashomon user walked forward with measured steps, his ceremonial clothes whispering with every movement. The dim light of the candles created dramatic shadows on his face, enhancing the intensity of his gray eyes.

"Dear Karei, do you plan to stand there forever?" Akutagawa questioned in a soft, almost intimate voice. "After a few days apart, have I become a stranger to you?"

His tone was not accusatory, but rather... hurt. As if the mere idea of her seeing him as a stranger caused him genuine pain.

"At the casino, you were the one who pretended not to recognize me," Kanade retorted, crossing her arms with a pout.

Akutagawa approached closer until he was only a step away. "It's because Kunikida was there. I didn't want to cause you trouble, that's all." His voice softened further. "That man doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut."

Kanade felt her heart beat faster at the proximity.

"Did you come to see me specifically this time?" Akutagawa asked, and there was a vulnerability in his voice that he rarely showed.

Kanade looked away, not knowing exactly what to answer. The truth was complicated.

"It doesn't matter," Akutagawa said with a genuine smile that illuminated his entire face. "It makes me happy that you are here."

He gently took her hand and guided her towards a more comfortable area of the mansion, decorated with luxurious cushions and a low table where freshly brewed tea was steaming.

"Although you didn't come for us, I'm glad you're here," he repeated as they sat down.

Kanade, remembering something, took a ring out of her bag. The jewel was a purple-pink shade that shone with its own light, almost identical to the color of her eyes.

"Did you forget this?" Kanade asked, holding it out.

Akutagawa looked at the ring with an inscrutable expression. "Yes. It's nothing valuable, you can keep it if you want."

But the way he said it, casual and unconcerned, contrasted with the intensity with which his eyes were fixed on the object.

"At the casino, I heard you were coming here," Kanade began, trying to change the subject. "I thought it was a brothel."

Akutagawa laughed, a genuine and amused laugh that he rarely let out. "What are you implying, Karei? I have never been to a brothel."

"Really?" Kanade asked suspiciously.

"Of course," Akutagawa replied with absolute sincerity. "This is just a residence we created on a whim. A place to retreat when the City needs less direct supervision."

"Wow, so this is your home," Kanade commented, looking around with appreciation.

"It is my residence. Not my home," Akutagawa corrected in a thoughtful tone.

"Is there a difference?" Kanade asked, tilting her head.

Akutagawa looked at her with those gray eyes that seemed to contain centuries of loneliness. "A home has your family. A place where you only live without anyone cannot be called a home." He paused, and his voice softened to almost a whisper. "If we talk about homes, your home is a thousand times better than this mansion."

Kanade's heart tightened at those words loaded with meaning.

"Really? You can come to my home whenever you want," Kanade said, smiling at him with genuine warmth.

Akutagawa's eyes lit up as if he had been offered the most valuable treasure in the world. "In that case, I will go all the time. Let it be known that you invited me, Karei." His voice acquired an almost playful quality. "Talk to me here with confidence, don't hold back. I will give you anything you ask for."

There was a promise in those words, an absolute commitment.

"I want you to help me find a child. He has a curse..." Kanade began to say, her expression turning serious.

Akutagawa immediately raised a hand. Black Lizard, who had remained in the shadows, stood up in unison. Akutagawa whispered something inaudible to them, and everyone nodded.

"Hirotsu, Gin, Tachihara, Shiroi," he ordered in a commanding voice. "Find the child with the bandages. Now."

"Yes, sir," they all replied in unison.

"Akiko, stay close in case your assistance is needed," Akutagawa added.

"As you order, my lord," Akiko replied with an elegant bow.

Akutagawa turned back to Kanade with a satisfied smile. "Done. Just wait here. They will arrive in less than ten minutes."

"Thank you very much," Kanade said with a sigh of relief.

"It's no big deal," Akutagawa replied, as if moving his entire elite squad were a trivial matter. "By the way, are you sure you can leave Kunikida Doppo here alone with your companions?"

"I'm sorry, he caused you a lot of trouble at the casino," Kanade apologized.

Akutagawa let out a laugh of contempt, though it was not cruel but rather amused. "We can't even classify that guy as a threat. He is too idealistic for this world."

"Doesn't it bother you that we're roaming around your domain?" Kanade asked him, her black hair with violet highlights falling down her back.

Akutagawa stood up and walked to the window, observing his city with a contemplative expression. "I see you don't know, Karei." He turned to her. "Although everyone says this place is a dirty and chaotic hell, full of demons and ghosts, in reality..." he made a significant pause, "no matter how clean a person is, everyone comes here to satisfy their vices and carnal pleasures. I have seen it thousands of times. Getting involved would only cause me unnecessary headaches." His eyes hardened slightly. "But if they cause problems that affect order, all the better. I can exterminate them at the root without remorse."

Kanade observed him carefully before speaking. "Kunikida-san didn't do it on purpose. He just wanted to stop the game because it seemed unfair to him. It was an impulse."

"He doesn't know how the world of darkness works," Akutagawa replied in an educational rather than critical tone. "When choosing between embittering your life or shortening your enemy's, choosing the latter undoubtedly shows what a person is like at their core."

Kanade bit her lip before continuing. "Kuro, maybe it's not my place to say this, but I still want to. I'm very worried about your casino."

Akutagawa turned completely towards her, and his eyes showed genuine surprise at the concern in her voice.

"Your Highness," she began in a more formal tone, although there was affection in the title, "did you ask Kunikida why he rushed in like that?" She didn't wait for an answer. "'If I hadn't done it, no one would have.' I'm sure that idiot said exactly that."

"Yes, he actually did," Kanade admitted with a nervous smile.

"In my case, it's completely the opposite," Akutagawa explained, beginning to pace back and forth with elegant movements. "The casino constantly attracts people who want to stay and spend or win. Yokai, ghosts, desperate humans... everyone comes looking for something." He clenched his fist. "That's why, instead of letting someone else have that control and use it for darker purposes, it's better to have it under my supervision. At least this way I can establish rules, maintain order."

"But, thank you for your concern, Karei," Akutagawa said, and there was a genuine tenderness in his voice that contrasted dramatically with his fearsome reputation.

At that moment, Hirotsu appeared at the entrance, gently carrying the child so as not to scare him further. The veteran mafioso moved with surprising gentleness for someone of his reputation.

"My lord, we found him," Hirotsu reported in a professional tone.

Behind him came Gin, Tachihara, Shiroi, and Akiko. The child was trembling slightly but seemed unharmed.

"He was hiding in one of the alleys near the tea house," Gin explained in her soft, monotone voice.

"The yokai hadn't hurt him yet," Tachihara added, scratching the back of his neck. "We arrived just in time."

Shiroi simply nodded, confirming the report without additional words.

Akiko approached Kanade with a gentle smile. "The child is frightened but unharmed, Miss Kanade."

"Bring him here, Hirotsu-san," Akutagawa ordered in a firm but non-threatening voice.

Hirotsu walked forward and carefully transferred the child to Kanade's arms. The little boy immediately clung to her, seeking comfort.

## The Lost Child and the Infiltrators

Kanade was observing the child attentively, her purple-pink eyes shining softly with a maternal warmth that contrasted with the darkness of the surroundings.

"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you," Kanade whispered gently, approaching slowly so as not to scare him.

The little one saw the food on the table, and his eyes lit up with desperate hunger. Kanade immediately extended a plate, watching the child grasp it with trembling hands.

"Take your time. There's no rush," Kanade said with a comforting smile. "What is your name?"

The child did not answer, simply continuing to eat with a heart-wrenching urgency.

"He probably hasn't spoken to anyone in years. He must be terribly hungry," Akutagawa commented from his position by the window, observing the scene with a thoughtful expression.

"Let's go slowly, then," Kanade replied, pulling a small bottle of medicine and some clean bandages from her bag.

She knelt beside the child, her movements soft and deliberate. "Let me treat your wounds," she asked tenderly, beginning to apply ointment to the visible marks on his face and arms. "What country are you from?"

"Yong'an..." the child whispered in a voice barely audible, as if he feared the words themselves might hurt him.

"He must be exhausted. It's better to let him rest," Akutagawa suggested, clapping his hands.

Immediately, some maids appeared and took the child with extreme care, almost as if he were made of glass, leading him toward a prepared room.

Kanade seemed to tremble slightly, the emotional weight of the situation suddenly catching up to her. Akutagawa noticed her immediately and gently picked her up, his arms embracing her with a tenderness reserved only for her.

"Let me help you. Sit down and rest," he ordered in a firm but concerned voice. "If he has questions, I will make him confess everything he knows."

"If he can't speak well, leave him be," Kanade requested, looking at him with pleading eyes. "Take it easy. He's just a frightened child."

Akutagawa nodded, but then his expression changed. Rashomon was trembling slightly under his clothes, an unmistakable sign.

"I will excuse myself for a moment," he said in a more serious tone. "Someone is nearby who shouldn't be. I won't be long."

Kanade collapsed onto Akutagawa's bed as soon as he left. It was incredibly warm, full of soft mattresses and extremely comfortable, with black silk sheets that smelled subtly of incense.

*Kuro helped me again,* she thought, burying her face in a pillow. *I can't keep bothering him for everything. He already does too much.*

But then she remembered her real mission. The child was important, yes, but she also needed to investigate more about the distress signals and what was truly happening in the Ghost City.

Getting up from the bed with renewed determination, she quickly walked toward the hallway. She immediately noticed how the Black Lizard members were on guard at strategic points: Hirotsu near the main entrance, Gin in the shadows of the east corridor, Tachihara patrolling the perimeter.

*Too much security,* Kanade thought, biting her lip. *I need to find another route.*

She decided to follow them from above. With agile and silent movements, she climbed onto the roof of the mansion, her purple-pink eyes shining in the moonlight as she observed the patrol patterns.

It was then she noticed Shiroi leaving something at a side entrance: some dice.

Kanade approached carefully, observing the mechanism. *It looks like if I roll a pair of sixes, the door will open...*

She looked at the dice with an expression of utter defeat. *Does the world hate me? It's completely impossible for me to roll a pair of sixes.*

Her legendary bad luck in gambling was well known at the Agency. She vividly remembered how in the casino she had rolled double twelve when she needed the lowest possible number.

She sighed deeply and turned around, deciding to look for another entrance.

Kanade started walking back toward the room, her steps silent on the roof tiles, when she suddenly bumped into Akutagawa returning.

"I've been looking for you for a long time," Akutagawa said, walking toward her with an expression between worried and amused. "If you want to see the child, we can send him to your room. There's no need for you to walk or go personally all over the mansion."

"I didn't expect this place to be so big," Kanade lied awkwardly, scratching her cheek. "I got lost looking for him."

Akutagawa watched her for a moment, and Kanade felt those gray eyes could see through any lie. But then he simply smiled.

"It's alright," he said, moving closer. "I want to show you something. Would you honor me with your presence?"

"Of course," Kanade replied with a genuine smile.

They walked together toward another wing of the mansion, their steps synchronized. Kanade took the opportunity to ask casually:

"Are your matters resolved yet?"

"Yes. Once again, some trash came to make a fool of themselves," Akutagawa scoffed with evident disdain. "Annoying flies who don't know their place."

"Are you referring to the ghost named Arata?" Kanade asked, recalling the rumors she had heard.

"Exactly, but it's not actually him. It's the Green Spirit possessing his body," Akutagawa explained with annoyance. "That spirit constantly sends his ghosts to cause trouble and spy on me. He doesn't know his place in the order of things." He paused, and his voice softened as he looked at her. "Don't worry about him. I won't allow him to bother you."

They finally arrived at a special room, and Kanade's eyes shone with absolute fascination upon seeing what it contained: an impressive collection of sharp weapons, each more beautiful than the last. There were katanas with ornate handles, daggers with curved blades, spears with ancient inscriptions. All perfectly preserved, gleaming under the dim light.

"They're stunning," Kanade said, circling the area like a child in a candy store. Her fingers gently brushed the surfaces without touching them directly, admiring the craftsmanship.

"Take whatever weapons you like," Akutagawa offered with absolute generosity.

"Seriously?!" Kanade exclaimed, and she instantly grabbed a particular katana that had caught her attention from the moment she entered. It had a small golden *ume* flower seal on the hilt, and the blade shone with a unique silver tone.

"It's perfect," she murmured, admiring the weapon's balance.

"By the way," Kanade said with sudden curiosity, "will you let me see Rashomon?"

Akutagawa blinked, clearly surprised by the request, but then he manifested a form of Rashomon. The black fabric materialized, floating softly in the air between them.

"Hello," Kanade greeted with a bright smile, as if she were speaking to an adorable pet.

The fabric seemed to shimmer with happiness, its edges waving enthusiastically as an eye formed in the center, looking at Kanade with what could only be described as affection.

"He says he likes you," Akutagawa translated, and there was a note of genuine astonishment in his voice.

"Really?" Kanade asked, her purple-pink eyes shining with pure joy.

"Absolutely. Otherwise, he wouldn't even pay attention to you," Akutagawa explained seriously. "It's extremely rare for Rashomon to take a liking to anyone. He usually only tolerates my presence."

"Thank you so much! I like you too," Kanade told Rashomon enthusiastically.

Rashomon's eye seemed to communicate something, and then Akutagawa lightly tapped the fabric with his hands, a vein appearing on his forehead.

"No," he said firmly.

"What did he say?" Kanade asked, curious about the interaction.

"He wants you to pet him," Akutagawa admitted with resignation.

"No problem," Kanade said, extending her hand and touching Rashomon gently.

The fabric wrapped softly around her wrist, like a cat seeking affection. *Animals always take a liking to me,* Kanade thought with amusement, *but I never imagined an ability would too.*

After a while exploring the weapon collection and playing with Rashomon, the duo returned to Akutagawa's chambers, both with smiles on their faces.

"How much fun did you have?" Akutagawa asked, though he already knew the answer from the radiant expression on Kanade's face.

"A lot! I have a new weapon that isn't the boring guns the ADA gives us, and I also made friends with your ability," Kanade laughed, her black hair with violet highlights falling down her back as she twirled to show him the katana at her waist.

"My lord," one of the maids interrupted with a bow, "the child can speak now."

Kanade immediately approached, her expression returning to that maternal warmth.

"Sit next to me," Kanade requested in a gentle voice. She pulled the child closer to her and smiled at him, her pink lips shining under the candlelight. "I like to take care of children at my shrine. I would be delighted to have you under my protection. Would you like to be with me?"

The child shyly nodded his head.

"I'm so glad," Kanade said with genuine joy. "By the way, if you can't remember your name, I'll give you a new one. How does Takeru sound to you?"

The child nodded again, this time with a little more confidence, and Kanade smiled at him tenderly.

Akutagawa clapped his hands, and servants appeared carrying a full feast: plates of steaming rice, fresh fish, colorful vegetables, aromatic soups, and desserts that shone like jewels. Everything was set just for her and little Takeru.

"Eat. Come on," Kanade asked, smiling at the child, serving him generous portions.

The child accepted and began to eat, but then Kanade observed him more closely and something in his expression, in the way he devoured the food with that mix of gratitude and desperation, vividly reminded her of someone else.

She saw in that child Akutagawa in his time as a street kid: hungry, frightened, expecting at any moment to have the little he had snatched away.

Her heart painfully squeezed at the memory.

She looked up to share that thought with Akutagawa, but then she froze completely.

There, among the other maids coming and going with additional dishes, were... **Asuna?! Eileen?! Kyouka?! Taka?!**

And behind them, trying to go unnoticed with contact lenses that hid his characteristic amber eyes, was Atsushi dressed as a butler.

All the girls wore perfect maid outfits that blended seamlessly with the rest of the mansion staff. Asuna had her salmon-pink hair pulled back in an elegant bun. Eileen maintained her characteristic impassive expression. Kyouka looked like a perfect doll in her uniform. And Taka tried not to make eye contact while carrying a tray.

They all winked at her in unison with knowing expressions, and then left without saying a single word, moving with the grace of those who had perfectly rehearsed their role.

Kanade violently choked on the wine she was drinking, coughing and hitting her chest.

"Girls?!" she thought in absolute shock, her eyes wide as saucers as she watched her Agency companions disappear down the hallway as if nothing had happened.

*When...? How...? Why did no one tell me they were also going to infiltrate?!*

Akutagawa immediately came closer, concerned. "Are you alright, Karei?"

"Y-yes," Kanade coughed, trying to regain her composure while her mind processed the absolute madness of the situation. "Just... the wine went down the wrong way."

But internally, she was in complete panic. *Asuna! Taka! Girls, what are you doing?! If Akutagawa recognizes you, this is going to turn into an international disaster!*

Chapter Text

The scene shifted with Kagome still recovering from her coughing fit, the sake burning her throat in a way that reminded her of darker times, when she drank to forget instead of to celebrate.

"What is the matter? Is it too much for you?" Akutagawa asked, though his tone lacked mockery. His gray eyes watched her with an intensity that made Kagome feel as if he could see straight through all her layers of pretense.

"Oh, no, it's not that. I'm just used to drinking stronger stuff," Kagome laughed, running a hand through her black hair with violet highlights, mussing it slightly in a gesture intended to be casual but which betrayed her nervousness. Shit, I almost spat out the sake. What a way to make a fool of myself in front of the owner of a ghost city.

"Speaking of which, Kuro. Your gambling skills are incredible," Kagome said, watching Akutagawa's hands as he manipulated the dice with an almost hypnotic dexterity. There was something unsettling in the precision of his movements, as if every gesture had been calculated a thousand times before.

"It is of no consequence. It's merely luck," Akutagawa replied indifferently, dropping the dice onto the table with a dry clatter. His words sounded hollow, devoid of false modesty.

"Don't mock me," Kagome pleaded, frowning. She knew the difference between genuine luck and expert manipulation, and the latter was as obvious as the ghost floating in the corner of the room.

"I am not," Akutagawa retorted, and for the first time that night, something akin to amusement shone in his eyes. "If you wish, I could teach you a method that would make you invincible. The weak lack the right to choose their destiny, but you... you are not weak."

"Is there really a secret trick to rolling dice?" Kagome asked, curious despite herself. She knew she should keep her distance, that every second spent in this mansion was another second on enemy ground, but there was something magnetic about the way Akutagawa looked at her, as if she were the only real thing in a world of shadows.

Amaya, who had remained silent observing the exchange, finally spoke. Her voice was cold, devoid of the warmth that had once characterized the girl Kagome knew in her previous life. "Try it," she said, extending the dice with hands that Kagome noticed were slightly trembling.

The Port Mafia duo extended both their hands simultaneously. Kagome watched them for a moment—Akutagawa's pale, barely scarred hands, and Amaya's, smaller but just as tense—before accepting them.

The contact was electric. Kagome felt something course through her, an ancient and powerful energy that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

"Roll them," Amaya murmured, and there was something in her tone that sounded almost like a plea.

Kagome obeyed, and the dice landed showing two perfect eights

"What technique is that?" the young woman asked, looking at the dice as if they might bite her.

"It is nothing," Amaya commented with an inscrutable expression. "We merely lent you some of our luck. The next time you have to do something related to luck, come to us. We have plenty to spare."

Because you two have nothing left to lose, Kagome thought with a pang of pain in her chest.

"Accept these dice as a souvenir," Akutagawa requested, and Kagome accepted them, feeling the cold weight of the ivory in her palm.

After it had grown late, the Port Mafia duo departed Kagome's room with formal bows that seemed to belong to another era.

"Kuro and Amaya were impeccable hosts," Kagome murmured once she was alone, lowering her gaze to the dice in her hand. "I hope this has nothing to do with him. After this is over, I will apologize to him."

Her words sounded hollow even to her own ears. As if an apology could fix centuries of betrayal.

A noise at the window pulled her from her thoughts. Figures materialized with the grace of alley cats: Taka removing her heels with a groan of relief, Kyouka and Eileen shedding servant hats, and Atsushi who looked profoundly uncomfortable in his butler disguise.

"That was awful!" Asuna whined, shaking her salmon-pink hair as if she could physically rid herself of the experience.

"What about your clothes?" Kagome asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We would stand out too much!" Asuna retorted indignantly. "It was hard enough to infiltrate without being detected!"

"Didn't we agree to meet in three days?" Kagome asked, crossing her arms.

"We heard you had been called to the Paradise Mansion, we got worried, and decided to infiltrate," Atsushi laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. The elaborate hairstyle he was wearing was already half-undone.

"And Kunikida-san?" Kagome asked with genuine concern. Imagining Kunikida handling this alone was like imagining a storm trying to follow a schedule.

"We left everything ready! It's idiot-proof!" Asuna laughed, though her expression turned into an childish pout. "You have such good luck, Kagome-chan! Kunikida-kun and the rest of us had a terrible time here. Instead, you've had a wonderful time. You even got Akutagawa Ryuunosuke and Amaya Shiranui to sweetly attend to you!"

Kagome felt a pang of guilt. "It wasn't exactly—"

"And do you still remember our mission?" Eileen interrupted, her voice low but piercing. Her dark eyes watched Kagome with an intensity that brooked no evasion.

"Of course! I snuck out a while ago and prepared for this," Kagome said, pulling out a small map she had drawn on a piece of rice paper.

"Really?" Asuna muttered skeptically. "I only saw you two flirting while playing dice. It looked like you were about to have a three-way kiss."

Kagome felt her cheeks burn. "Don't say it like that, damn it. I was just practicing. I found some clues. But, to investigate further, I need to have luck."

Taka stepped closer, adjusting her sleeves. "Then these dice that Akutagawa gave you..."

"They are the key," Kagome confirmed. "Or at least, I think so."

The group arrived at the site where the Black Lizard had been earlier. The atmosphere immediately changed; the air felt denser, charged with an energy that made the hair on the back of the neck stand up.

Kagome rolled the dice. Two pairs of sixes.

"We need to investigate," she said, though her voice betrayed her apprehension.

She opened the door and they walked inside. Atsushi lit a small flame with a lighter, casting dancing shadows on the damp walls.

"I discovered this passage by following the Black Lizard," Kagome explained, her voice echoing strangely in the confined space. "But something doesn't add up. It's too obvious."

They reached a wider chamber. Kagome extended the dice again, but this time only a six and a two came up.

The floor pattern beneath their feet instantly shifted.

"Shit!" Kagome screamed, but it was already too late.

The walls moved with a deafening mechanical screech, and the floor opened up beneath their feet. The six of them tumbled down in a tangle of arms and legs.

"Ouch!" Taka rubbed her head where she had hit Atsushi's shoulder.

"What is happening?" Atsushi asked, disoriented.

"I think the wall was a distraction... and the real trick was in the floor," Kagome said, assessing her surroundings with trained eyes. They had fallen into a space so narrow they could barely stand. "Damn it. I should have anticipated that."

They tried to stand upright but bumped their heads against the low ceiling.

"We have to crouch," Eileen said, ever practical. Her voice lacked emotion, but her movements were efficient.

"We can't go back. We need to figure out how to get out of here," Kagome said, and while she maintained calm in her voice, inside she cursed her own arrogance.

They walked hunched over through the passageway. It was damp and gloomy, with a smell of wet earth and something else... something rotten.

The remains of dead animals were scattered on the ground, as if this place had once been a hunting ground. Or a sacrifice site.

A dull noise echoed in the distance.

"Did you hear that?" Asuna whispered, her usual cheerfulness completely gone.

The noise repeated, closer this time. And then it began to multiply.

"Run!" Kagome shouted.

The group started running, but the passageway was inclined and slippery. Kyouka almost lost her balance, and only Eileen's hand prevented her from falling.

Two grotesque shapes emerged from the shadows: giant worms, each as thick as a barrel, with segmented rings that contracted and expanded as they crawled toward them. Their bodies shone with a repulsive slime.

"Damn it!" Kagome felt her stomach churn. "Does anyone have a lighter? We need light and heat."

Everyone pulled out their lighters, and they began to set fire to small portions of the dry debris they found, creating an improvised barrier of fire between themselves and the creatures.

The worms recoiled, but they didn't leave.

"The air here is limited," Taka murmured, her face glistening with sweat. "The flames won't last much longer... and neither will we."

"Let's use a teleportation spell," Asuna said, showing a glyph she had memorized from ancient Agency texts.

But when they tried to execute it, a stone door materialized beneath their feet.

Kagome looked at the dice in her hand. "Atsushi, roll them."

The young tiger obeyed, and the dice fell. The door opened instantly.

And they fell again.

The impact was brutal. Kagome felt the air leave her lungs as she hit the wet dirt.

"One is never bored working with you, Kagome-chan," Asuna laughed weakly, spitting out dirt.

Everyone got up with effort and crawled toward the exit of what looked like a cave.

The sunlight momentarily blinded them.

When their eyes adjusted, Kagome felt her brain refuse to process what she saw.

They were in a jungle.

"What the hell...?" she murmured, looking around in complete disbelief. Huge trees towered over them, vines hung like green snakes, and the air was thick and humid.

"I think the stone door is a teleportation object," Kagome said slowly, trying to maintain her calm as her mind raced. "And the different numbers send us to places depending on how dangerous they are."

"To guard his secrets, Akutagawa created a powerful teleportation system," Atsushi commented with forced admiration. "You can tell he was trained by Dazai-san. It's Machiavellian."

"More than evil, I think he just likes to play tricks," Kagome said, though her voice sounded tense. And testing people. Always testing.

A sound made them turn: the crunching of branches, the rustle of movement in the vegetation.

Figures emerged from the jungle. Humans, or something that had once been human. Their bodies were painted with red clay and ash, their eyes glowed with a primitive hunger, and they carried spears sharpened with flint.

Taka paled. "Are those...?"

"Cannibals," Kagome confirmed, her voice completely flat. "Of course. Why not?"

The hunters watched them for a moment, assessing them as a lion assesses a gazelle.

Then they smiled, showing teeth filed to points.

"RUN!" Kagome shouted.

And the chase began.

The group ran through the jungle as if the devil were on their heels. Asuna tripped over a root and nearly fell, but Taka grabbed her arm and kept her on her feet.

"I can't believe we're running from cannibals!" Asuna gasped. "Of all the possible dangers in a ghost mansion, it had to be cannibals!"

"Less talking, more running!" Kagome barked, leaping over a fallen log.

Eileen ran in silence, her expression neutral even as she dodged spears that stuck into the trees around them. Her Mafia training served her well here.

Kyouka briefly invoked her Demon Snow, using the ability to deflect some spears, but the effort left her panting.

"Don't use your ability yet!" Kagome shouted. "Save it for when we really need it!"

"And what is this?" Kyouka retorted, but she obeyed.

The cannibals' screams echoed behind them, getting closer and closer. Kagome could hear their bare feet slapping against the wet earth, she could feel their hot breath on the back of her neck.

Bad luck follows us wherever we go, she thought bitterly. Or maybe this is exactly the luck we deserve.

The group continued to run through the dense jungle undergrowth, dodging spears that whistled through the air, knives that stuck into tree trunks, and sharp stone projectiles that the cannibals threw with chilling accuracy.

"By all the demons!" Kagome gasped, leaping over a gnarled root. "Of all the damn things that could go wrong, it had to be cannibals! CANNIBALS!"

"Kagome-chan, focus on running!" Taka yelled, holding Asuna by the arm when she stumbled.

A flint knife cut through the air and grazed Asuna's cheek, leaving a bleeding scratch that made the young woman stop dead in her tracks.

The silence that followed was more terrifying than the hunters' screams.

Asuna lowered her gaze. A vein pulsed visibly in her temple, even under the filtered jungle light. Her jade eyes, normally warm and strategic, turned cold as ice.

"How dare you?" she whispered, and her voice was so low it was unnerving.

Then she screamed: "HOW DARE YOU?!"

Her hands rose, and the earth beneath her feet began to tremble. Massive vines burst from her palms, not the delicate ornamental plants one might expect, but grotesque, twisted vegetative structures, with thorns the thickness of a finger and an unnatural growth speed.

This was The Caterpillar, her ability.

The vines lashed out like living whips, striking the cannibals with a brutal force that sent them flying several meters. They did not kill them—Asuna still maintained that control—but the impact was enough to leave them unconscious or wounded enough for the pursuit to end.

The remaining hunters retreated, looking at the mutant plants with primitive terror, before disappearing among the trees.

Asuna wiped the scratch with an embroidered handkerchief, her expression still furious. "They deserved it," she sniffed indignantly. "I don't abuse my ability, but there are limits."

The rest of the group looked at her with a mixture of relief and exasperation.

"Asuna-san," Atsushi said in a shaky voice, "it was just a small scratch..."

"A scratch that can be healed with alcohol," Taka added, though there was a nervous smile on her lips.

Asuna ignored them, crossing her arms. "We'd better roll the dice."

Taka already had the dice in hand, extending her palm toward Kagome. "It's your turn, Kagome-chan. Kuro and Amaya gave you luck, remember?"

Kagome took the dice with hands that were still shaking from the adrenaline. "We'd better find the stone door to get out of here before those bastards come back with reinforcements."

She bent down, searching through the vegetation until she found the smooth surface of the stone door, almost invisible under the vines and moss.

She rolled the dice.

They landed showing different numbers than before, and the door opened, revealing a dark portal that seemed to lead... back to the start?

"We have to play along with Akutagawa," Asuna sighed, her previous fury already dissipating. "Or we'll be stuck here forever."

One by one, they stepped through the portal. They landed in a different passage, but definitely within the mansion.

"Good news," Kagome announced, inspecting the walls. "This is not the passage we entered through at first."

The smell of blood hit them then. Fresh blood. The group immediately tensed, following the scent to a side chamber where a figure was leaning against the wall.

"I have nothing to say," the person muttered, his voice weak but recognizable.

"It's Ranpo-san!" Asuna exclaimed, running toward him.

The world's greatest detective was in a deplorable state: his clothes torn, bloodstains on his shirt, and an expression of deep annoyance on his face.

"Is this a dungeon?" Kagome wondered aloud, looking at the chains on the walls and the dark stains on the floor.

"I knew it. It's you, Ranpo-san!" Asuna extended her hands, and soft vines sprouted from the ground, forming a kind of improvised stretcher that lifted the detective carefully. Then, in a surprisingly maternal gesture, she carried him princess-style.

"Be careful," Asuna murmured, adjusting her grip so Ranpo was more comfortable.

"How did you end up here?" Atsushi asked, alarmed.

Ranpo sighed, as if the whole situation were merely annoying. "I stepped wrongly on a Port Mafia territory, fell into a passageway, and ended up here. They didn't torture me, if that's what you're worried about. They just left me here to rot, I suppose."

He shrugged, still in Asuna's arms, as if being trapped in a ghost dungeon were barely a minor inconvenience.

"We need to get out of here," Atsushi said, looking nervously into the shadows.

The group began to move, with Ranpo clinging to Asuna's arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Kagome rolled the dice again, hoping they would lead them to a safe exit.

The dice fell.

The door opened.

And Kagome fell.

Only her.

She landed with a dry thump on cold stone. When she looked up, her blood ran cold.

She was directly in front of two raised thrones, and on them, seated with an almost supernatural elegance, were Akutagawa and Amaya.

And in front of them, trembling violently, was Lang Ying, the child Kagome had rescued days ago. His eyes were full of tears, and he seemed seconds away from passing out.

"Hello..." Kagome greeted with a bead of sweat running down her face, raising a hand in a weak gesture.

The Port Mafia duo looked at her with inscrutable expressions.

"Get out of the way!" a voice shouted from above.

Eileen had appeared at the edge of the portal, a lit match in her hand, ready to set the whole place on fire if necessary.

"Sorry!" Kagome lunged forward, pushing the child out of Eileen's line of fire and, in the process, accidentally shoving Akutagawa and Amaya off their thrones.

The three landed in a confused pile of limbs.

Akutagawa and Amaya slowly rose, dusting off their clothes, and looked up to see the rest of the ADA team descending through the portal like an uncoordinated invasion.

Poor Kagome was now face-to-face with the guy she liked, her best friend from a past life, her co-workers, and the child she had just adopted, who immediately hid behind her.

The silence was deafening.

"I can explain," Kagome finally said, her voice sounding strangely high-pitched.

Akutagawa watched her for a long moment, his gray eyes reading every micro-expression on her face. When he spoke, his voice was cold, but not hostile. "We are listening."

"You are the one who owes us an explanation," Asuna interrupted, still carrying Ranpo like a very valuable sack of rice. Her tone was courteous, but there was steel underneath. "What was Ranpo-san doing in your dungeon?"

Akutagawa seemed about to say something, but stopped abruptly, as if remembering some important detail. He looked at Amaya, who also seemed to have reached the same silent conclusion.

"Kuro, Amaya," Kagome said, trying to mediate in a soft voice, her purple-pink eyes shining with urgency. "I don't know what problem you might have with Ranpo-san. But let's talk about it calmly, okay? It doesn't have to end in violence."

Akutagawa snorted with disdain. "Are you talking about that dwarf who is being carried princess-style by the Archon of Flowers? He simply fell into one of the portals that led here. It's not my fault that his deductive skills do not include a sense of direction."

"Stop looking for a fight with us!" Atsushi snapped, taking a step forward with his tiger claws already beginning to manifest.

In a blink, Amaya appeared in front of him, displaying the supernatural speed that only someone brutally trained by the Port Mafia could possess.

"Then let me ask you this, Jinko," Amaya said, her voice soft but sharp as a scalpel. "Why would a detective have 'accidentally' touched our secret passages to the Ghost Realm? Coincidence? Clumsiness? Or espionage?"

Akutagawa walked to where his ceremonial swords were mounted on the wall. He touched them, evaluating them, and then grabbed one with a movement that made it clear he knew exactly how to use it.

"I understand what happened," Kagome said quickly, raising her hands in a gesture of peace. "It was our fault. We were investigating without permission. Nevertheless, I hope you can let this go for today."

She pleaded. She literally pleaded, something Kagome rarely did. Her voice was soft, almost vulnerable, and her eyes shone with a sincerity that was hard to fake.

Akutagawa sighed deeply, as if he were dealing with a massive nuisance, and put his weapon away.

"Your Highness," he said, and the title sounded strangely genuine coming from him, "there are things you should not get too involved in."

But then Amaya gritted her teeth, and dark vines began to sprout from the ground around her. A war fan dropped into her hands, materializing from nowhere.

"You also have a fan," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "What a coincidence. Let me return the favor."

She threw the hidden ninja weapons in the fan with deadly precision.

Everyone narrowly dodged them, and Asuna's vines instantly materialized to destroy the weapons in the air.

"Asuna! Stop that!" Kagome yelled.

"If we stop now, everything will have been in vain!" Asuna replied, her usually serene face now marked by determination. More vines sprouted, but these accidentally destroyed a wall—

Revealing Kunikida on the other side, armed with his notebook and pointing directly at the Port Mafia duo.

With a single fluid movement, Akutagawa and Amaya dodged the wood that Kunikida had materialized.

"My apologies, Asuna-san," Kunikida said in a tense voice. "I couldn't help myself and had to follow you."

"You came at a good time, Kunikida-kun," Asuna replied, and her vines twisted to trap the enemy weapons.

The gold pieces decorating the weapons were immediately absorbed by Kunikida's notebook, who was using his Doppo Ginkaku to neutralize objects of value.

Akutagawa and Amaya emitted laughs filled with scorn, their eyes shining with a mixture of amusement and disdain.

"How greedy the ADA are!" Akutagawa said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The weak always cling to scraps. They won't let go of even a single piece of gold."

There was a violent clash between powers: Akutagawa's Rashomon against Kunikida's creations, Asuna's vines against Amaya's, all in a chaos of destructive energy.

Kagome couldn't take it anymore.

She lit a match and threw it, creating a controlled fire explosion that forced everyone to step back.

"Asuna, create a vine to lift us up!" Kagome ordered, and the pink-haired young woman instantly obeyed.

The giant vine lifted them toward the ceiling, where there was another exit.

But when they looked down, they saw that Akutagawa and Amaya were still standing there, amid the dust and fire, as if none of it affected them.

Akutagawa's lung disease seemed to have disappeared. He no longer coughed, he was no longer affected by the dust or smoke. Something had changed in him.

The lesser yokai inhabiting the mansion were frightened by the commotion and fled, shrieking.

I'm sorry, Kuro... Kagome thought with a knot in her chest, before disappearing through the portal.

—

They arrived at the ADA in a deplorable state. They quickly changed into more presentable clothes—detective suits, formal skirts, clean shirts—but the fatigue was evident in each of them.

Asuna was still carrying Ranpo, who seemed perfectly comfortable being transported like an aristocratic sack of potatoes.

"Yosano-san, I need help!" Asuna requested, rushing toward the treatment room where the doctor was already preparing her medical kit.

Yosano took Ranpo from Asuna's arms with professional efficiency, but her dark eyes quickly assessed the detective's condition.

"What happened?" Dazai asked, appearing out of nowhere as he always did, but his casual gaze stopped at Kagome's arm, which was visibly bruised and beginning to swell.

"What happened?" he repeated, this time in a more serious tone.

"What the hell happened?" Kikyo questioned, quickly approaching to examine her pupil. Her eyes, normally soft and playful, were now sharp as blades.

All the ADA members began to congregate: Tanizaki emerged from his desk, Kenji stopped reading his agricultural magazine, Kin rose from his silent corner, and even Fukuzawa emerged from his office.

"I'll heal," Kagome said, downplaying the injury, but then she noticed something strange.

Kunikida was too quiet.

Too still.

And his gaze was fixed on her with an intensity that made the air feel dense.

"What is wrong, Kunikida-san?" Kagome asked, feeling a chill run down her spine.

Kunikida approached with measured steps and took Kagome's injured hand, but not gently. His grip was firm, almost painful.

"You undoubtedly have great powers," he said, and then grabbed Kagome's blouse with his other hand, pulling her face close to his. His eyes, normally so controlled, burned with something Kagome couldn't identify. "Why did you never say?"

"Could you explain to us what happened?" Fukuzawa intervened, his leader's voice cutting the tension like a knife. "Why don't you let go of Kagome, Kunikida?"

He addressed both of them, but his gaze was primarily on Kunikida, who swallowed hard.

"She is a killer!" Kunikida burst out, and the silence that followed was absolute. "I want to challenge her to a duel. Be our witness, President."

"What proof is there that Kagome-chan is that killer?" Dazai questioned, and his tone was deceptively light, but everyone in the room knew that when Dazai used that tone, he was calculating twenty steps ahead.

"Her fighting style," Kunikida said, and his voice cracked slightly. "It is the same. Exactly the same. She was my master."

"Kunikida, calm down at once," Kin said, physically intervening to separate them. His hand closed on Kunikida's shoulder with enough force to make him step back.

"Kagome," Fukuzawa said, and the whole room seemed to lean toward him when he spoke. His wolf eyes evaluated her, not with distrust, but with the need to understand. "Is what Kunikida says true?"

Kagome looked around. At Atsushi, who was looking at her with confusion and concern. At Dazai, who wore that inscrutable expression that meant he already knew the answer. At Kikyo, whose face showed a mixture of shock and comprehension. At Taka, Asuna, Eileen, and Kyouka, all waiting.

At Kunikida, who was looking at her as if she were a ghost from his past.

And at Fukuzawa, who was waiting for the truth.

Kagome closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, there was no trace of the carefree joker. Only someone remained who had lived too long, seen too much, and carried too many secrets.

"Yes," she said simply.

"WHAT?!" several members shouted in unison.

And the Armed Detective Agency, for the first time in a long time, was completely speechless.

Half of the ADA was utterly lost, looking between Kagome and Kunikida as if they were trying to put together a puzzle with pieces that didn't fit.

But the other half—Dazai, Kikyo, Fukuzawa—simply watched, waiting to see how this revelation would unfold.

Because in the world of abilities, ghosts, and second lives, few things were impossible.

And Asahina Kagome had just admitted she was one of those living impossibilities.

Chapter Text

The ADA members exchanged glances following Kagome's confession. She kept her gaze lowered, her black hair with violet highlights falling like a dark curtain over her face. The silence was so dense that even the wall clock's ticking seemed deafening.

"You just... accept your guilt just like that?" Kikyo questioned. There was something in her voice that wasn't accusation, but genuine curiosity mixed with concern. Her golden eyes with acirculated pupils studied Kagome with the intensity of someone who knew something didn't add up. She doesn't give up without a fight, Kikyo thought, frowning slightly. And that is the most known thing about Kagome in the ADA: that death is a better gift than surrender.

"So you admit it. Better this way," Kunikida said, and though he tried to maintain his professional composure, his hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his glasses. He was already mentally preparing to give Kagome the beating of her life, but she remained more serene than ever, as if she had accepted an inevitable verdict.

"I will be delighted to be fired and banished," Kagome said with a voice so flat it was unsettling.

Everyone looked even more lost than before.

"Wait, what?" Atsushi stepped forward, her amber eyes full of confusion. "Kagome-san, why...?"

"You honorably passed your ADA exam!" Kunikida burst out, his voice cracking slightly. "And you just surrender like this?! Just have a duel with me! Prove you are worthy of redemption!"

"No," Kagome replied, and finally lifted her gaze. Her purple-pink eyes were vacant, as if something inside her had been extinguished. "If you faced me, you would undoubtedly lose... I would end up humiliating you."

The way she said it was not arrogance. It was a cold, calculated fact, pronounced with the same emotion one would use to comment on the weather.

She lowered her gaze again and addressed Fukuzawa. "Just fire me, President."

But before Fukuzawa could respond, Kikyo cleared her throat slightly, a soft but deliberate sound that made everyone turn towards the black-haired woman with burgundy nails.

"I have something to say, President," Kikyo began, her voice calm but charged with authority. "My colleagues, if Kagome-chan truly wanted to murder the entire Kunikida family... why didn't she kill his only heir with a supernatural ability? The logical thing would be that he is the one she would most want to kill."

She paused, letting her words sink in.

"To save him, she even took a lashing from Amaya and was badly wounded," she continued, looking directly at Kagome with an unreadable expression.

"There are many doubts in this matter. We need to investigate it," Kikyo requested of Fukuzawa, and there was a weight in her words that brooked no argument.

"Kikyo-san, thank you very much to everyone. It is more than enough," Kagome said, but her voice sounded hollow, as if she were reciting lines from a script.

Fukuzawa observed the scene for a long moment, his wolf eyes evaluating every detail. Finally, he spoke, his voice cutting the air like a katana.

"Kagome. Since you refuse to tell the whole truth, you are placed under house arrest in your Shrine. Until then, you and Kunikida are not allowed to meet."

It was an order, not a suggestion.

Kunikida left, slamming the door so hard that the frame trembled. The sound resonated in the silence he left behind.

Kagome whispered to Kikyo, leaning close enough for only her to hear: "Please, take care of little Lang Ying for me, Kikyo-san."

Everyone looked at each other, but no one said anything.

—

Kagome was in the Shrine she had built herself, using it as her personal apartment. It was a space that combined the modern with the ancient: polished wooden walls, tatami in some areas, Western furniture in others, and in the center, dominating everything, a cherry tree that bloomed even out of season, its petals falling softly like pink snow.

"Everything is the same as I left it," she thought aloud, touching one of the petals that had fallen on her hand.

She sat under the tree, looking at the sky through the branches. "I wonder how Kuro and Amaya are... they would surely be furious. When they banish me, the best thing I'll do is find a job far from here."

She was talking to herself, a habit she had developed during her years of solitude in past lives.

She grabbed the dice that Akutagawa and Amaya had given her, feeling them cold and heavy in her palm. She tossed them onto the tatami.

It came up snake eyes (a two of ones).

"I've used up all the luck they both lent me," she murmured with a bitter smile.

The door opened, revealing Kikyo with a small medicine box in her hands.

"Here is some medicine for your wound," she said, extending the package.

Kagome opened the medicine and applied it to her swollen arm, wincing as the cold ointment touched the bruised skin.

"Thank you."

"And did you really kill Kunikida-kun's entire family?" Kikyo asked directly, without preamble.

Before Kagome could answer, the door opened again and the entire ADA entered: Yosano with her medical satchel, Ranpo chewing sweets, Dazai with that enigmatic smile, Atsushi with worry written on every line of her face, Taka, Asuna, Eileen, Kyouka, Tanizaki, Kenji, Kin, and even Fukuzawa.

"Kagome-chan, what you said about Kunikida..." Asuna started, but Kagome interrupted her.

"It's true. Every word I said today at the ADA is true."

She lowered her purple-pink eyes, and for a moment, she looked a thousand years older.

Before she could elaborate, half the ADA began to argue loudly among themselves:

"But that doesn't make sense!" Tanizaki exclaimed. "If it were true, why would she save us so many times?!"

"Past actions do not erase past crimes," Yosano commented in a measured voice, though her expression was thoughtful.

"Kagome-chan is not a murderer!" Atsushi insisted, her tiger claws involuntarily beginning to emerge.

"The evidence suggests otherwise," Ranpo murmured, though he did not seem particularly interested in the drama, more focused on opening another packet of sweets.

"Silence!" Taka tried, but her voice was lost in the chaos.

Eileen tried to speak to Kagome, but her low voice couldn't compete with the volume of the discussion. Her lips moved, forming words no one heard: "Kagome-san... me too..."

"I'm going to see if the President can silence them," Kagome thought, about to stand up.

But then her eyes widened in shock.

Butterflies.

Butterflies made of Rashomon, Akutagawa's ability, began to materialize out of nowhere, emerging from the shadows like dark, beautiful flowers. There were hundreds, thousands, filling the air with a silky whisper that was both beautiful and terrifying.

"EVERYONE, TAKE COVER!" Fukuzawa shouted, and the ADA immediately hid behind a table, except—

"Kagome-chan! Get out of there! It's incredibly dangerous!" Taka shouted to her friend, reaching out a hand as if she could reach her from a distance.

But Kagome didn't move.

A butterfly fell gently into her open hands, its wings pulsating with a softness that contradicted their lethal nature.

"I find these butterflies very beautiful," Kagome said with a genuine smile, the first real expression of emotion she had shown since the revelation.

The butterflies surrounded her, grasping her gently by the arms, the waist, as if they were invisible hands, and began to drag her toward the darkness that had materialized in a corner of the Shrine.

"KAGOME!" Eileen cried out, her eyes opening wider than anyone had ever seen, an expression of pure panic crossing her normally expressionless face.

But before anyone could move, Akutagawa appeared from the darkness as if he had always been there, waiting.

He embraced Kagome from behind, and the gesture was so unexpectedly intimate that several ADA members froze in surprise.

"Kuro..." Kagome whispered with a smile that lit up her face, her purple-pink eyes shining at the sight of him. All the weight, all the resignation, vanished in an instant, replaced by something that looked dangerously like hope.

"Insolent! You are incorrigible!" Atsushi shouted, partially transforming her legs into those of a tiger and running towards them.

Kyouka and Eileen immediately followed, both small former assassins with weapons already materialized in their hands: Demon Snow for Kyouka, concealed daggers for Eileen.

Akutagawa looked at them with disdain, not letting go of Kagome. "That should be me saying that. You enter and leave the Phantom Realm without permission. And I don't complain."

His voice dripped with mockery, but there was a dangerous edge underneath.

He lifted Kagome princess-style with a fluid movement, and she clung to his neck instinctively, feeling safer in his arms than anywhere else in the world.

They both began to fade into the darkness.

"Let her go!" everyone shouted except Kikyo and Dazai, who watched the scene with thoughtful expressions.

"That will depend on how capable you are of finding me," Akutagawa sneered, and there was an implicit promise in his words: try it, and you'll see why the Port Mafia fears me.

Dazai finally spoke, his voice cutting through the emerging panic: "Akutagawa."

It was not a plea. It was a declaration. A reminder.

But Akutagawa had already disappeared into the shadows with Kagome.

Kagome's communicator rang, a sharp beep in the darkness surrounding them.

"Where are you?" Dazai asked, his voice calmer than anyone would expect in this situation.

"Everyone calm down," Kagome pleaded, and there was a note of panic in her voice that she rarely showed.

But Akutagawa had other plans.

"Long time no see, hasn't it?" he said, his voice resonating not only through the communicator but also in the physical space where they were. "How has everyone's health been?"

He paused, and when he continued, his tone became darker, more provocative.

"Did you miss me? Because I didn't miss you at all. Lately, I have too much free time. And it's been years since I measured my strength against detectives."

Another pause, deliberate.

"I don't care about the truce with the ADA. The Boss always forgives me when I do something that elevates the Port Mafia's reputation. And after what I did three years ago..."

He didn't need to finish the sentence. Everyone in the ADA knew what had happened three years ago.

Akutagawa was seventeen when he defeated thirty-four complete military squads. When he publicly humiliated those who did not keep their promise to the Mafia. When he burned their facilities to the ground, creating an inferno so bright it could be seen from Yokohama.

He literally elevated the Port Mafia to a level they hadn't held before.

It was suicidal to face Akutagawa when he was angry. Atsushi had defeated him once, yes, because she knew Rashomon's specific weakness. But that was before. Now Akutagawa had evolved, he had grown, and his lung disease was disappearing.

He would not stop unless things were clarified.

"If anyone is as free as I am and wants to challenge me, I'll gladly wait for you," Akutagawa finished provocatively.

In the Shrine, the tension was palpable.

"That bastard..." Yosano murmured, clutching her medical satchel until her knuckles turned white.

"We cannot confront him directly," Fukuzawa said in a measured voice, but there was concern in his eyes. "Not on his territory. Not when he has Kagome."

"But we can't just let him take her!" Atsushi protested.

"We won't," Kikyo intervened, and there was a quiet determination in her voice. "But we need a plan. Attacking now would be exactly what Akutagawa wants."

Dazai smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Ah, my former student. Always so dramatic."

In the darkness of Rashomon, Akutagawa looked at Kagome in his arms.

"My dear Karei," he said to her, using the nickname only he used with her: Soul Flower. "Let's go now."

He casually switched off the communicator.

Then, with a tenderness no one in the Mafia had ever seen, he squeezed Kagome's hand with his own.

"Let's escape together," he pleaded.

Akutagawa and Kagome walked through the darkness of Rashomon until they finally emerged in a forest quite far from Yokohama. The air was fresh, clean, and the silence was only interrupted by the singing of birds and the rustle of the wind through the leaves.

*Kuro did all that to save me...* Kagome thought, feeling a strange warmth in her chest.

But then she remembered something that made that warmth freeze: she had set Akutagawa’s mansion on fire in the Phantom Realm. She had destroyed his home, the place he had built with such care.

*It’s true... why did I think he came to rescue me?* The thought hit her like a punch. *He surely came to pay the debt...*

She stopped dead, looking at Akutagawa’s back as he continued walking.

"Kuro, I’m sorry," Kagome said, and her voice came out smaller than she intended.

Akutagawa stopped, slowly turning to look at her. "Why are you apologizing?"

"I burned your house. You have always been very honest with me, but I lied to you. I regret it very much. But soon I'll be fired from the ADA and I'll find a way to compensate you no matter what..."

Akutagawa clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"Why?" The word came out as a low growl. "Why do you want to compensate me? I’m the one who hurt you, not the other way around. Because of Amaya’s attack and mine, you were injured."

He moved closer to Kagome, and she could see the intensity in his gray eyes.

"Are you referring to my arm?" Kagome laughed, trying to lighten the moment. "It’s fine, it doesn't hurt, and I can move it. Look—"

She lifted her arm, demonstrating her range of movement, but Akutagawa didn't seem convinced.

"I caused you a serious wound. How can you smile at me and ask for my forgiveness? And on top of that, you want to compensate me. Why?" he asked, and there was something in his voice that Kagome couldn't identify. Frustration? Confusion? Pain?

"I was injured because I wanted to face you myself. I couldn't blame you for that," Kagome said simply.

Akutagawa looked down and walked forward, moving away from her.

His sadness was palpable in his gaze and demeanor. Akutagawa’s hands trembled from the helplessness he felt at not having been able to interfere to save Kagome sooner, at not having arrived in time to prevent her accusation, to prevent her from feeling so alone.

The weak did not deserve to live, that was what he had always believed. But Kagome was not weak. Kagome was strong, brave, brilliant. And yet, the world condemned her again and again.

*Just like me,* he thought bitterly.

—

Meanwhile, at the Shrine, the ADA faced its own dilemma.

"Does anyone have an idea how we'll open this?" Kikyo asked, touching the shadow door Akutagawa had left. Her hand passed through it as if it were smoke, but it wouldn't open.

"I suffered a lot with that trick while I was with Kagome-chan," Asuna commented, rubbing her temples as if the memory gave her a headache. "We have to throw the dice. The door might open if we throw them."

They grabbed the dice Kagome had used earlier. Fukuzawa threw them with a precise motion.

They landed showing a four and a two.

The door opened.

And everyone was sucked into it.

They landed in the most random place possible.

A women's restroom.

"HOW DID WE END UP HERE?!" Atsushi yelled, completely red with embarrassment, covering her eyes with her hands.

There were women there. Many women. In various states of... well, they were in a public restroom.

The silence that followed was brief.

Then chaos began.

"PERVERTS!!!" a woman shouted, throwing her purse directly at Tanizaki's face.

"Wait, we can explain—!" Fukuzawa tried, but a bar of soap hit him on the forehead.

"This is a misunderstanding!" Kenji pleaded with his usual smile, only to receive a high-heeled shoe to the head.

Dazai, of course, seemed to be enjoying it. "Ah, what an interesting way to die! Lynched by furious women in a public restroom!"

"DAZAI, YOU'RE NOT HELPING!" Yosano yelled at him, as she, along with Kikyo, **Taka**, Asuna, Kin, Eileen, and Kyouka, tried to calm the other women while also hitting their male colleagues for good measure.

Ranpo simply sat in a corner, eating sweets. "I told you this was going to be trouble."

They finally managed to escape the restroom (Atsushi had a black eye, Tanizaki was limping, and Kenji had lost his hat), and Kikyo threw the dice again.

This time they landed on a four and a one.

They ended up in a swamp full of insects.

It was obvious why Akutagawa had programmed this place into the dice: he knew perfectly well about Kikyo's non-normal disgust for dirt and insects. She, who was always meticulously groomed, who never had a single hair out of place, who would rather die than get dirty.

"This is... horrible..." Kikyo murmured, looking at the mud that reached her ankles with an expression of absolute horror on her normally serene face.

Dazai, next to her, looked equally disgusted. "Akutagawa really knows me well. This is..." He shuddered.

"Look out!" Tanizaki shouted, but it was too late.

He stumbled and accidentally splashed dirty water directly onto Kikyo.

The woman froze.

Mud dripped from her perfectly styled black hair, stained her impeccable clothes, and there were... things... moving in the water.

"GROSS!!!" Kikyo screamed, and it was the first time anyone in the Agency had heard her lose her composure like that. She squeezed her eyes shut as she struggled to wipe herself off with trembling hands.

Dazai immediately helped her, using his own sleeve to clean her face. "Breathe, Kikyo. Breathe."

"Akutagawa..." Kikyo growled through clenched teeth, "he is going to pay for this."

Asuna threw the dice again.

Four and three.

This time they appeared in a corporate conference room.

In the middle of a very serious business meeting.

All the executives in expensive suits looked at them with expressions of shock.

"...Hello," Dazai greeted with a smile. "Did we interrupt something important?"

"SECURITY!" someone shouted.

"Run!" Fukuzawa ordered.

Taka threw the dice while they were running.

Four and four.

They appeared in a zoo.

In front of the lion cage.

Which, of course, was open for maintenance.

"Oh no," Atsushi murmured, looking at the three lions watching them with interest.

Kyouka instantly summoned Demon Snow.

"No one hurt the animals!" Kenji shouted. "They're innocent!"

"Kenji, they're going to EAT us!" Tanizaki retorted.

Eileen, without a word, simply began walking towards the lions with her characteristic neutral expression.

The lions, confused by the total lack of fear, backed away.

"Eileen has a special connection with predators," Yosano commented with admiration. "They recognize one of their own."

Kin threw the dice efficiently.

Four and five.

They appeared in a nightclub.

With loud music.

With strobe lights.

And a bachelorette party in full swing.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Ranpo yelled, covering his ears.

A woman with a "BRIDE" tiara staggered up to Dazai. "You! Dance with me!"

"With pleasure," Dazai smiled, but Kikyo dragged him away.

"We don't have time for this."

Fukuzawa, his dignity intact despite being in the middle of a dance floor full of drunk people, simply walked towards the exit. "Move."

Finally, after what seemed like hours (but was probably only thirty minutes), Fukuzawa took the dice himself.

He observed them for a long moment.

"Akutagawa," he said quietly, "is more cunning than I give him credit for."

He threw the dice.

They landed showing two sixes.

The door opened, but this time it didn't suck them in.

"This will take us back," Fukuzawa announced. "But not to where Kagome is."

"How do you know, President?" Atsushi asked.

"Because Akutagawa didn't program any combination that would lead directly to him. They are all distractions. The numbers we need..." Fukuzawa closed his eyes, thinking. "Are not on these dice."

Dazai smiled. "As expected of my former student. He never makes things easy."

—

Meanwhile, Akutagawa and Kagome continued walking through the forest in contemplative silence.

"Kuro," Kagome finally said, breaking the silence. "If I throw the dice and get a two, will I be able to see you?"

Akutagawa stopped.

He turned to look at her, and in his gray eyes there was something Kagome hadn't seen before: absolute tenderness.

"No," he said, and then added with a softness that completely contradicted his reputation as the Port Mafia’s most dangerous dog. "Whenever you want to see me, no matter what number comes up, you will reach me."

Kunikida had appeared out of nowhere where Akutagawa and Kagome were, materializing with a blast of icy wind that caused the forest leaves to whip up into a chaotic swirl. Both instantly jumped back to shield themselves from the blizzard he created, Rashomon instinctively emerging as a dark barrier between them and the newcomer.

"This is your sword, sensei," Kunikida said, his voice cold, controlled, but trembling slightly at the edges. He held out his hand, grasping a katana wrapped in white cloth.

It was Kagome's sword. The one she had left behind five years ago.

Akutagawa was about to move toward him, Rashomon already forming lethal claws, when Kagome stretched out her arm to stop him.

"I’ll handle this, Kuro," she requested in a soft but firm voice.

Akutagawa looked at her for a long moment. He wanted to protest, wanted to tell her that the weak like Kunikida didn't even deserve to be in her presence, much less challenge her. But there was something in Kagome's eyes that stopped him.

He nodded, stepping back but remaining close enough to intervene if necessary. His gray eyes never stopped watching Kunikida.

Kagome walked forward, taking the sword from Kunikida’s hands. She unwrapped it slowly, revealing the blade shining under the blue moonlight. The engraving of an ume flower was perfectly preserved on the steel.

"No matter the outcome of this battle, neither of us will turn back," Kagome spoke, and her voice had lost all its usual warmth. It was the voice of a warrior, of someone who had fought hundreds of battles over centuries.

Kunikida unsheathed his own weapon, materialized from his notebook.

Kagome leaped.

Her movement was so fast that Kunikida barely had time to blink before he felt something tighten around his body. Golden threads, almost invisible under the moonlight, wrapped around him like a spiderweb.

"What do you think you're doing?! Let me go!" Kunikida shouted, struggling against the bindings.

"I tied you with my threads," Kagome laughed, but it wasn't her usual cheerful laugh. It was something darker, more calculated. "If you are not cautious, you are taken by surprise. If I were not your opponent, you would already be dead."

She approached him, her purple-pink eyes shining with an intensity Kunikida had never seen before.

"You've changed so much, sensei. You weren't like this before," Kunikida said, and there was pain in his voice.

"I have always been like this. You just didn't know it," Kagome replied, and every word was as sharp as blades. "I remember a long time ago I told you not to put me on a pedestal without my permission. I am not the person you imagine, and in the end, you will be the one who is disappointed. Think it through. And next time, don't let yourself be fooled."

She turned, ready to leave with Akutagawa, but Kunikida cut her off.

"Give me an explanation." His voice cracked. "My parents and I treated the survivors of your country well. After what you did, many wanted to blame them, but we had to jump to their defense."

He paused, taking a deep breath.

"You managed to conceal your identity for five whole years. You were conferred the honor as my teacher, and I respected you. I protected your family's lives. Did you deceive all of us on purpose?!"

His voice rose in volume, emotion finally breaking through his usual control.

"That day was my birthday! Just because you were killed at seventeen, did you want to kill me too?"

The silence that followed was absolute.

Then Kunikida screamed with all the force of his lungs: "If you want me to be filled with resentment like you, I WON'T DO IT! I will never be like you!"

Kagome stood still for a moment.

Then she began to laugh.

It wasn't a cruel laugh. It was something more complex: joy mixed with sadness, pride mixed with regret.

Akutagawa looked at her with a gleam in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Admiration. Understanding. Love.

Kagome lifted her gaze to the blue moonlight, letting it bathe her face.

"That’s good. That’s the way to talk," she told Kunikida, and her voice was genuinely soft now. "Remember what you have said today... and never be like me."

Before Kunikida could respond, Akutagawa pulled some powder from somewhere hidden in his coat and threw it directly into Kunikida's face.

The effect was instantaneous.

In a flash of light, Kunikida transformed into... a doll. A rag doll with tiny glasses and a perpetually annoyed expression stitched onto his cloth face.

"Kunikida-kun?" Kagome asked, picking up the doll carefully, almost tenderly.

Akutagawa gave him a slight tap on the head with his fingers to bring him to awareness.

The doll blinked (which was strangely disturbing coming from a cloth object).

"He truly looks foolish, no matter what form he's in," Akutagawa snorted with disdain, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Why does he look like that?" Kagome looked at him with exasperation. "Stop playing and change him back."

"Let's take him with us," Akutagawa said, completely ignoring her request.

"Where are we going?" Kagome asked, though she already knew she probably wouldn't get a direct answer.

Akutagawa threw the dice.

The world dissolved around them.

—

When reality solidified again, they were standing in front of the entrance to a dark, damp cave.

"Karei, follow me," Akutagawa asked in a soft voice, extending his hand.

Kagome smiled slightly and took it, intertwining her fingers with his as they walked into the darkness of the cave.

The Kunikida-doll hung from Kagome's other arm, swinging with every step.

"Where are we?" Kagome asked, her purple-pink eyes adjusting to the gloom.

Akutagawa signaled for silence, raising a finger to his lips.

Then Kagome saw them: strange beings with lit candles over their heads, moving in orderly formations like soldiers. Their bodies were pale, almost translucent, and their eyes glowed with a sick yellowish radiance.

"What are they?" Kagome whispered to Akutagawa.

The creatures saw them. For a moment, Kagome thought they would attack.

But they simply walked away, continuing their patrol as if Akutagawa and Kagome were part of the scenery.

Before Kagome realized what was happening, Akutagawa had transformed her with a transformation spell. She looked down and saw that she now looked the same as those creatures: pale skin, a candle floating over her head, glowing eyes.

Akutagawa had also transformed himself into one of these things.

"It's not necessary to go to this extreme," Kagome said, touching the candle over her head with curiosity.

"It’s Qi Rong's fault. He has always had terrible taste," Akutagawa said with evident disdain in his voice. "The ghosts under his command have their brains filled with wax. No wonder they are idiots."

A figure materialized from the shadows ahead: Amaya, also transformed into one of those creatures.

"Hadn't you destroyed Green Spirit’s lair?" Kagome asked, vaguely remembering hearing about that mission months ago.

"Yes," Amaya sighed, and there was weariness in her voice. "But he managed to escape. It took him two years to make a new lair. Cockroaches always survive."

They walked deeper into the cave, passing more patrols of those candle-headed ghosts.

"If you came to find Green Spirit, why don't you break the spell on Kunikida-kun, free him, and I'll accompany you?" Kagome asked, looking at the doll she was still carrying.

"No," Akutagawa said, stopping to look at her. His gray eyes shone even through the disguise. "He will come with us. I want him to meet someone."

"Who?" Kagome asked, but Akutagawa was already walking again.

Amaya approached Kagome, walking beside her in silence for a few moments before speaking.

"Kagome," she said softly, using that tone she only reserved for her, "what you said to Kunikida... about not being like you..."

"Yes?" Kagome looked at her.

"It was the right thing to say," Amaya continued. "But it doesn't mean you are a bad person. It just means you have survived when others couldn't. And that... that requires doing things that 'good' people would never understand."

Kagome felt a lump in her throat. "You think so?"

"I know so," Amaya affirmed firmly. "Because I've done them too. And I don't regret any of them, if it meant you stayed alive."

Akutagawa, who had been listening in silence, added without turning around: "The strong do what is necessary. The weak complain about morality because they have never had to make real decisions."

"How philosophical, Kuro," Kagome laughed, but her laugh was more genuine now.

"It is not philosophy. It is a fact," Akutagawa countered.

Amaya smiled slightly, a rare expression on her normally impassive face. "Although I must admit that turning Kunikida into a doll was... excessive."

"He looks better this way," Akutagawa said with complete seriousness.

The Kunikida-doll, apparently able to hear everything, began to shake furiously in Kagome's arms.

"Calm down, Kunikida-kun," Kagome soothed him, stroking his tiny cloth head. "We'll turn you back to normal... eventually."

"Eventually," Akutagawa repeated with a tone that suggested "eventually" could mean anything from "in an hour" to "never."

They continued walking deeper into the lair, with the Kunikida-doll swinging, the candles floating over their heads, and the mystery of who they were going to see growing with every step.

The blue moon shone at the entrance of the cave behind them, like an observing eye following their descent into the unknown.

And Kagome, for the first time in a long time, felt strangely at peace.

Because she was with the two people who truly knew her: Akutagawa, who saw her as something precious and worthy of protection, and Amaya, who understood her because they had walked through hell together.

Perhaps, she thought, I don't need to be forgiven by everyone. I just need to be understood by the ones who matter.

And with that thought, she continued deeper into the darkness, ready to face whatever came next.

Chapter Text

They walked forward, their disguised forms shedding as the transformation spell dissolved like mist under the sun. The path in the cave grew narrower, darker, and the air smelled of dampness and something worse: decomposing flesh.

"I'm surprised you wanted to infiltrate instead of charging in with force," Kagome commented, glancing to both sides of the narrow passage. Her voice was light, almost mocking, but her pink-purple eyes were sharp, watching every shadow.

"Do you want us to go head-on, Kagome?" Amaya asked, smiling slightly. Her red eyes gleamed in the gloom with a glow that wasn't entirely human. There was something predatory in that expression, something that recalled the days when she had been forced into becoming a weapon.

"No, no, I prefer to infiltrate," Kagome said quickly, gesturing with her hands. "I've had enough fights for today. Besides, the element of surprise is always more fun."

"That parasite won't escape this time," Akutagawa declared, his voice cold as steel. There was no emotion in it, just a promise of inevitable violence. "We cannot let him realize our presence until it's too late."

"Do you want Kunikida to meet Arata?" Kagome asked, looking at the doll still hanging from her arm. The Kunikida-doll twitched indignantly.

"That cousin of yours is not the problem," Akutagawa said with disdain. "Although he's useless, good for nothing in combat, at least he's extremely cautious. His henchmen, however..." He paused, and there was pure contempt in his voice. "They are short of understanding. Typical of those who serve parasites."

Kagome frowned, and for a moment, her playful expression completely disappeared. "In my memories of my past life, Arata was very kind. He always took care of me when we were children. What the hell could have happened to him?"

Amaya walked forward, her burnt-red fingernails gleaming slightly in the darkness. Her short black hair swayed with every step, and there was a tension in her shoulders that suggested she was ready to attack at any moment.

"Your cousin is a good person, I have no doubt of that, Kagome," Amaya said in a soft but firm voice. "But unfortunately for us, he doesn't have Spiritual Sight like we do. He was possessed by the Green Ghost. We have to take care of freeing him and making him see reason."

"The spirit that is in Arata's body," Kagome paused, and when she continued, her voice was laden with disgust, "is he a cannibal?"

"Unfortunately," Amaya confirmed, and there was something in her tone that suggested she had already seen too many horrible things in her life to be surprised.

They did not stop walking until they reached a wider chamber.

And then Kagome saw the forest.

A forest of hung bodies.

Human bodies, suspended from the ceiling by chains and hooks, some fresh, others in various states of decomposition. A dark liquid dripped from them, forming puddles on the floor.

"And he likes to hang people too?" Kagome questioned, her voice dropping to that dangerous tone that indicated she was truly upset. There was no fear in her, only absolute contempt. "What a son of a bitch."

"For some reason," Akutagawa scoffed, looking at the bodies with total indifference, "that spirit wants to imitate the way that strange black rain, which always appears when I finish missions, falls. He thinks it's dry blood for some reason. Pathetic."

They continued advancing, and the chamber expanded, revealing an even more grotesque scene: living humans, tied up and waiting to be boiled in a gigantic iron pot that was bubbling over an intense fire.

Akutagawa clenched his teeth when he noticed a figure kneeling in the center of the chamber, bound with iron chains.

It was a statue. But not just any statue.

"Is that... me?" Kagome asked, and for the first time, there was something akin to vulnerability in her voice.

The statue was of her, but represented in a humiliating position: kneeling, head bowed, as if asking for forgiveness or begging for mercy. It was a cruel depiction by someone who clearly held an intense hatred for her.

"That parasite has a sick resentment towards you," Amaya murmured, her red eyes glowing dangerously. "When we get the spirit out of Arata's body, I'm going to make him suffer."

Then the king of this putrid kingdom appeared.

It was Arata. Or at least, his body. He walked with an unnatural grace, his eyes gleaming with a sickly green that was definitely not Arata's natural violet color.

Akutagawa was about to walk to the front, Rashomon already beginning to materialize, ready to rip the spirit out of its host's body by force.

But then one of the henchmen appeared, dragging a small child toward the boiling pot.

The child could not have been more than eight years old. He cried, pleaded, his small hands trying to cling to anything that could save him.

And that bastard was going to throw him into the boiling water as if he were trash.

Akutagawa moved.

His speed was inhuman, a blur of black and red that crossed the distance in less than a blink. Rashomon materialized completely, forming a barrier between the child and the pot.

The henchman backed away, startled.

Akutagawa walked toward the throne where the green spirit, using Arata's body, watched the scene with cruel amusement.

"What's wrong with this brat? Catch him," the spirit said with Arata's voice, but distorted, deeper and raspier.

"Do you not plan to show some respect before a god, while you are just a spirit occupying someone else's body?" Akutagawa questioned with icy mockery. His lips curled into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Has death left you without manners, parasite?"

"What a brave idiot!" the spirit rose from the throne, furious. "You dare to joke about that in my presence! Tell me whose god you are!"

He threw something toward Akutagawa—a poisoned dagger—but Rashomon easily deflected it, shattering it to pieces before it could even get close.

"Of slaughter," Akutagawa said, and his voice was so cold that the air itself seemed to freeze.

The spirit called his henchmen, dozens of them emerging from the shadows to surround Akutagawa.

Akutagawa just laughed.

It was a laugh full of contempt, the kind of laugh one makes when something so pathetic tries to be threatening that it becomes comical.

Then, with a speed that made even the spirits seem to move in slow motion, he leaped directly to where Arata's possessed body was.

"Snap out of it, kid!" Akutagawa exclaimed, grabbing his head with one hand.

The green spirit tried to counterattack, but Akutagawa had him firmly gripped.

"What the hell do you think you are, Green Spirit?" Akutagawa questioned, pressing harder. "How dare you act like this in front of us? Do you think that because you stole a body you have the right to defile this place?"

Amaya stepped out of the shadows where she had been waiting, her hands already glowing with dark energy.

Kagome was in the back, beads of sweat on her forehead, not from fear but from the tension of holding herself back. She saw the children—there was more than one, all tied up, all terrified—and something in her broke.

She couldn't stay behind.

She walked toward the child Akutagawa had saved, interposing herself between him and any threat that might approach.

Meanwhile, Akutagawa pressed the green spirit's face against the stone floor, laughing as he hit him harder and harder. Each impact resonated in the chamber like thunder.

"Someone stop him!" the spirit screamed, and now there was real panic in his voice.

"Don't you know?" Akutagawa asked, his voice almost polite, as if he were explaining something obvious to a particularly slow child. "Some things in this world are inevitable, Green Spirit."

He lifted him by the neck.

"Like the sun setting in the west," he continued, squeezing tighter.

"Like an elephant crushing an insect," he hurled him against a wall, shattering the stone.

"And also..." Akutagawa walked slowly toward where the spirit had fallen, Rashomon forming lethal claws, "THAT I WILL END YOUR DISGUSTING EXISTENCE, GREEN SPIRIT!"

His voice echoed throughout the cavern, charged with absolute power and fury.

"GET OUT OF ARATA'S BODY!"

He threw him again, this time destroying the stairs leading to the throne. Stones and dust filled the air.

Akutagawa walked toward Arata's body, which seemed to be fighting the consciousness of the Green Spirit. The body writhed, the eyes changing from violet to green and back again, as if two entities were battling for control.

"You still haven't fulfilled my request," Akutagawa said, his voice so cold it seemed capable of freezing the very air. "Get out of that brat's body."

He moved closer, Rashomon already forming dark tentacles ready to choke the spirit until it left once and for all.

"Kuro!" Kagome called out, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Calm down, please. Let him go."

Akutagawa looked at her, and for a moment, it seemed he would ignore her plea. But then he placed a hand on her cheek with a tenderness that completely contradicted the violence of moments before, and handed her something.

Kagome's pink-purple eyes widened when she saw what it was: a small protection amulet, the kind used in her past life to ward off spiritual possessions.

She couldn't speak, emotion closing up her throat.

The Green Spirit took advantage of the distraction to try and sneak away, pathetically crawling along the floor like a wounded insect. But Akutagawa casually cut him off, blocking his path with Rashomon.

"You damned rabid dog!" the spirit shouted, and there was real panic in his voice now. "Are you getting angry at me for eating in my own house?!"

The audacity of the question made Amaya clench her fists until her knuckles turned white.

"Will you leave Arata Kurosawa's body?" Akutagawa asked, and every word was charged with a promise of violence.

"NO!" the spirit shrieked.

Akutagawa slammed his face to the floor with such force that the crunch of bones was heard—bones that would heal once the parasite was expelled, but which for now served to cause pain.

"GET. OUT. OF. THAT. BODY," the bearer of Rashomon ordered, and his voice echoed throughout the cavern with supernatural power.

The Kunikida doll tumbled out of Kagome's bag, apparently of its own accord, and Akutagawa snapped his fingers to release him from the spell.

The transformation was instantaneous: the doll expanded and contorted until Kunikida was standing again in his human form, adjusting his glasses with an expression of deep confusion and horror.

"What the devil are you?" Kunikida questioned, looking at the spirit with obvious disgust. "You only speak nonsense. Do you not have the brain to think that usurping a human body is wrong?!"

The Green Spirit laughed, and it was a broken, hysterical laugh. "What are you doing here? I was the one who killed your family."

The silence that followed was absolute.

Kunikida gripped his notebook until his knuckles turned white. "The rumors are true. You are despicable and so immoral to steal a poor young man's body."

"At least it's better than being stupid, like you. You disgust me!" the Green Spirit retorted.

But then he noticed something. His gaze fixed on Kagome, who was still holding the amulet with trembling hands.

"And who is this?" he said, narrowing his green eyes.

Kagome opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Akutagawa had placed a temporary silence spell on her—probably to prevent the spirit from provoking her.

He removed the spell with a flick of his hand.

Kagome had a coughing fit, her throat adjusting to the sudden change, and then she spoke with a voice that echoed throughout the chamber.

"That's utter nonsense!"

The echo repeated over and over: nonsense... nonsense... nonsense...

"Who says I'm lying?" the Green Spirit asked with false innocence.

"You do," Kagome said, walking towards him with measured steps. Each stride resonated with contained divine power. "You only say what comes to your mind, regardless of whether it's true or not."

She gestured with her hands as she spoke, her expression showing every ounce of contempt she felt.

"A slaughter is a slaughter. Years have passed. What evidence could there be?" the spirit questioned, trying to sound reasonable.

"You insist on reliving the past and won't stop provoking him," Kagome replied, and her voice had dropped to that dangerous tone that indicated her patience was running out. "You get inside my cousin's body, and he fights with all his skill to get rid of you."

She turned to Kunikida, and there was a desperate plea in her eyes.

"The Green Spirit just wants revenge! Don't believe him!"

Kunikida looked at her for a long moment, processing everything he had seen and heard. Finally, he nodded. "Yes, it's true..."

"Is that really you, dear Kagome?!" asked a different voice, and one of Arata's eyes returned to natural violet. It was him, fighting for control. "My dear cousin?"

Kagome's heart broke upon hearing that familiar voice, so different from the spirit's.

"Arata, I'm so sorry I couldn't save you from the Green Spirit," she said, her voice cracking. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when he possessed you, I'm sorry—"

But the Green Spirit took control again, and he laughed.

It was a horrible laugh, full of pure malice.

"What are you laughing at?" Amaya questioned, her red eyes gleaming with barely contained fury. Her burnt-red nails had lengthened, ready to tear.

"My dear cousin," the spirit said with Arata's voice, profaning the affectionate tone her cousin had used. "It's none of your business, Blood Princess. But I apologize for saying your stupidity lasted over fifteen years."

He made a dramatic pause.

"Like teacher, like disciple. How could I expect anything from a teacher like that? I couldn't expect you to be that smart."

Every word was a deliberate insult, designed to hurt Kagome to the core.

Akutagawa slammed his head into the ground again, this time with such force that a crater formed.

"Release. That. Body," he ordered, and there was something absolutely terrifying in his calm.

The spirit lifted its head, blood dripping from Arata's nose.

"I'll insult her even if you don't want to... you're a disgrace, a shame...!" he continued to say, but Akutagawa and Amaya began hitting him simultaneously as if he were their personal punching bag.

Each blow was calculated to inflict maximum pain without killing the host body.

Amaya struck with a fury she rarely showed, her red eyes glowing with visceral hatred. This parasite had insulted Kagome. It had profaned an innocent's body. It had committed cannibalism. It had tortured children.

Now I understand, Kunikida thought with growing horror, why this spirit is hated in the Three Realms.

It wasn't just for his crimes. It was for his twisted personality, his pleasure in causing pain, his absolute lack of remorse.

As Amaya was about to deliver another blow, Kagome raised her hand to stop her.

"Kuro, Amaya, stop," she requested.

"Why are you stopping us?" Akutagawa questioned, and there was genuine confusion in his voice. He wanted to keep hitting the parasite until nothing was left.

"It's not worth it," Kagome said, and her voice was hard as steel. "The Green Spirit is despicable. Please ignore him. I'll take care of it."

They both nodded and stepped away, though Akutagawa did so with visible reluctance.

"Why are you trying to be good now?" the Green Spirit questioned, crawling pathetically.

"I think you got that wrong," Kagome said, looking at him with absolute disdain. "I didn't want the two of them to dirty their hands with scum like you."

The spirit writhed with laughter. "How you make me laugh, my dear cousin! I see you get along well with Flower Protected by the Dark Rain and with the Blood Princess."

He deliberately used the titles from the Ghostly Realm, trying to cause discord.

"You even call Dark Rain 'Kuro'," he continued with malice. "Dear cousin, you're a detective. You shouldn't hang around with mobsters and monsters, don't you think? After all, you're so pure, perfect, and immaculate. A saint whose light illuminates the whole world, right?"

Every word dripped poisonous sarcasm.

"The boy won't stop thinking about you! I made this statue of you!" The spirit pointed to the destroyed remains. "It looked good, didn't you like it?"

Akutagawa was about to walk over to hit him more, his patience completely exhausted, but Kagome raised a hand for him to calm down.

"At least you put effort into that statue," Kagome sighed, though her eyes said something completely different.

Akutagawa still had a death stare fixed on the spirit, practically telepathically begging Kagome to just perform the damn exorcism and get rid of that parasite once and for all.

Amaya didn't look any better. Her hands were trembling with the effort of holding back, her burnt-red nails gleaming dangerously in the gloom.

"Look at him!" the spirit laughed, pointing at Akutagawa. "I start criticizing you and he's almost smoking with how furious he is. Could it be that your halo of holiness has blinded him? Oh, no, this idiot has always been blind."

CRACK.

The slap Kagome gave him echoed throughout the cavern like a gunshot.

The silence that followed was absolute.

Akutagawa looked at her with something that could be described as pure adoration. With every passing second, he fell more deeply in love with this woman who wasn't afraid to dirty her hands, who didn't pretend to be something she wasn't.

"How could you?!" the spirit shrieked dramatically. "Our noble, kind, and sweet princess, who wouldn't hurt a fly, got upset! Who would have thought!"

"What spirit is this?" Kunikida asked, watching him in horror. He had never seen something so twisted, so deliberately cruel.

"The Green Spirit is not in his right mind," Kagome said, pulling a white ritual chalk from her bag. "Don't believe what he says. He's a born manipulator."

"Are we going to do the exorcism and seal that thing away somewhere now?" Amaya asked, and there was impatience in her voice. She wanted to finish this. Now.

"We will," Kagome confirmed.

She began drawing a circle on the floor with the chalk, her movements precise and practiced. It was an ancient exorcism circle, the kind used in her past life to expel particularly stubborn spirits.

Akutagawa and Amaya watched her, ready to intervene if the spirit tried anything.

Kunikida simply watched, trying to process everything he had witnessed.

And the Green Spirit... laughed one last time, because he knew that in less than twenty seconds, his existence would be sealed forever.

"Let the exorcism begin," Kagome murmured, and her pink-purple eyes began to glow with divine power.

The group was performing the exorcism seals, but the Green Spirit was spouting idiocies that made everyone want to cut out its tongue.

"Green Spirit, shut up for good." Kagome commanded, clenching her fists with an expression that mixed frustration and exhaustion. Kunikida pulled the spirit's hair and threw it into the cauldron. The spirit scurried out as Kagome grabbed her cousin and pulled him out before he could be burned.

"He's out of Arata's body now..." Kagome sighed with relief, her shoulders finally relaxing. The group was about to leave that place when they noticed Kunikida had left faster than them, his silhouette disappearing into the shadows of the hallway.

"We should let him calm down a bit," Akutagawa told Kagome, observing the direction the detective had fled with a calculating gaze.

"He freed my cousin from that thing, but the Spirit is still free," Kagome said, looking at Arata who was still unconscious on the floor, his breathing barely perceptible.

Something inside her snapped. The guilt, the pressure, the weight of all the lies she had maintained for so long finally crushed her.

"I deserve any punishment I receive! What's wrong with blaming me for everything?! I committed a thousand and one crimes, I must pay for them!" Kagome shouted, her anger bursting out for once, breaking that playful facade she always maintained. She grabbed Akutagawa's collar, and he didn't resist, simply letting her express all that contained fury.

"Was it necessary for Kunikida-kun to know that everything I taught him was empty, false, and worthless nonsense?!" Kagome cried out, tears welling up in her pink-purple eyes.

Akutagawa and Amaya looked at her with soft, gentle eyes, an expression they rarely showed anyone else. That compassion made her react, pulling away from them as if their kindness burned her.

"I'm sorry, Kuro, Amaya. I'm so sorry. I lost my mind..." Kagome said, covering her face with her black hair with violet reflections, tears streaming down her face uncontrollably.

"It's nothing. Forgive me," Akutagawa pleaded in an unusually soft, almost vulnerable voice.

"No! It's all my fault!" Kagome yelled, hands on her head, pulling at strands of hair. "It's horrible! A real disaster!" she said, falling to the floor and hugging her legs, making herself small.

"It's not your fault. It was my idea to let him go," Akutagawa said, sitting down with Amaya beside Kagome. "You haven't done anything wrong. No one could have done better. You killed Kunikida's family to stop a madness, and you let him murder you for revenge." The bearer of Rashomon finished with a firmness that allowed no rebuttal.

"But I don't feel like I did the right thing. Those with good intentions shouldn't end up like I did. Everything I do turns into deceptions and nonsense..." Kagome whispered, her pink-purple eyes clouded by unshed tears.

"I'm tired... I don't want anyone to go through what I did... I can't forget what I did..." Kagome whispered, her voice breaking.

"Don't dwell on it. Everything that happened was the Green Spirit's fault," Akutagawa said, trying to alleviate her burden.

"Green Spirit is right... I'm a failure..." Kagome whispered bitterly.

"Don't believe the words of someone like that. He's good at stealing bodies, avoiding exorcisms, and avoiding death, but he hasn't done anything else. He's trash," Akutagawa said, looking straight ahead, his voice loaded with disdain. "You are the opposite. You've saved more lives than you can count."

Kagome walked toward where her statue had been, kneeling down in tears. She took its head and destroyed it in a few moments with her sword, the fragments of stone scattering like ashes. Then she stood up to look at Akutagawa and Amaya, who also rose.

"There might be more survivors in the lair. Let's go rescue them," Kagome requested, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. Akutagawa nodded to her, and they left.

They managed to free the people who were trapped there, who ran out towards freedom with expressions of mixed relief and terror. They left the lair after having freed those lost souls.

The doors burst open, letting out the ADA who had been quite tired, disheveled, and exhausted.

"We finally made it," Kikyo sighed, wiping the dirt from her hair with an elegance that contradicted her messy appearance. Her eyes, however, shone with that sharp perception that never left her.

"Kikyo-san!" Kagome laughed upon seeing her teacher, her expression momentarily lighting up.

"There you are, Kagome-chan! And Akutagawa-kun and Amaya-chan are here too!" Kikyo laughed, approaching them with that warm smile she always offered.

Kagome was about to approach them, but Akutagawa gently took Kagome's arm and stayed by her side, as if he feared she would vanish if he let her go.

"Could you come over here with us?" Atsushi asked, looking around with some anxiety. "And Kunikida-san?" The tiger asked, his voice full of concern.

"He went to calm down," Kagome said, her pink-purple eyes shining with softness but also sadness.

As the ADA was about to leave with Kagome, Akutagawa laughed slightly, his gray eyes shining with disdain, and Amaya mirrored him with a twisted smile.

"Do you think Karei shouldn't associate with monsters like us? Why don't you just say it directly?" Akutagawa scoffed, his voice loaded with that familiar venom.

Dazai raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curving his lips. "Ah, how direct, Akutagawa-kun. But tell me, since when do you care what we think? I thought your philosophy was that the weak die and the strong survive."

"Kuro, calm down," Kagome pleaded with her beloved, placing a hand on his arm. "I'll explain everything, but there are still things we need to do."

Akutagawa pulled out a wagasa (Japanese umbrella) from nowhere, opening it over himself and Kagome.

"Why did you open the wagasa?" Kagome asked, confused.

"Wait. It's going to rain heavily..." Akutagawa said. A black rain came out of nowhere, soaking the ADA members, except for Kikyo who had taken cover in a cave with Dazai, who had predicted Akutagawa's move with his supernatural intuition.

"Predictable as always, Akutagawa-kun," Dazai commented from his refuge, shaking his head with amusement. "Though I admit your timing has improved."

Kikyo watched the scene with those analytical eyes that missed no detail. "Interesting," she murmured, more to herself than to Dazai.

"They're..." Kagome said, seeing her soaked companions, and she put a hand over her mouth when she saw all of them dripping black water. "Kuro!"

Yosano wrung out her hair with an expression that promised violence. "This is going to ruin my kimono," she said in a dangerously calm voice.

Ranpo shook his soaked cap. "I knew I should have stayed in the office."

Fukuzawa simply stood tall, the water running off his yukata without altering his impassive expression, though there was a slight twitch in his eyebrow that betrayed his irritation.

Tanizaki was trembling, more from nervousness than cold. "T-that was..."

Kenji smiled as if nothing happened. "How refreshing!"

Atsushi sneezed, hugging himself. "T-this is..."

Taka frowned, watching Akutagawa with disapproval. "That was unnecessary."

Asuna sighed, wringing out her hair with practiced elegance. "Well, at least it wasn't acid."

Kin simply stood still, letting the water run off her clothes without reacting, though her eyes narrowed slightly.

Eileen looked at the water in her hands as if it were something fascinating, her expression as neutral as ever.

Kyouka shook her kimono with mechanical movements, showing no emotion whatsoever.

"Are you all right?" Kagome asked her group, genuinely concerned. Akutagawa and Amaya were already getting up to leave towards their homes.

"Perfectly," Yosano said with sarcasm. "Nothing a good revenge can't cure."

"Shouldn't you go back to the Mafia?" Kagome asked Akutagawa, looking at him with those eyes that melted him.

"Aren't you going back to your agency?" Akutagawa replied with that soft voice he reserved only for her. "But if you want, come with us for as long as you like."

Dazai emerged from his refuge with Kikyo. "What a tempting offer. Though I wonder if the Mafia has changed its policy on ex-members."

Kikyo smiled, observing the exchange between Kagome and Akutagawa with interest. "It's fascinating to see this side of you, Akutagawa-kun. So different from the rabid dog we knew in the Mafia."

"I'll go later. If I can, I'll help you rebuild your Mansion," Kagome smiled, ignoring the tension.

"It's not necessary. If you come, just sit and watch us work," Amaya said with a genuine smile.

"Thank you for everything," Kagome said to the duo from afar, who waved a hand in farewell and left.

Atsushi looked at Kagome with confusion. "Kagome-san... what was all that? Why is Akutagawa so... different with you?"

Kagome blushed slightly. "It's... complicated."

"Complicated is an understatement," Ranpo murmured, watching her with those eyes that saw too much. "But I suppose we all have our secrets, right, Kagome-chan?"

Fukuzawa finally spoke, his voice grave and authoritative. "We have a lot to discuss. Let's return to the agency." He paused. "And someone find Kunikida."

Kikyo approached Kagome, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Everything will be alright, Kagome-chan. Although," she added with an enigmatic smile, "you owe me a very detailed explanation about your... relationship with the Mafia's dog."

Dazai laughed. "This gets more and more interesting. Though I must admit," he looked towards where Akutagawa had disappeared, "I never thought I'd see the day Akutagawa acted like a lovesick puppy."

Yosano approached Kagome, wringing her hair out over her deliberately. "I hope he's worth it, Kagome-chan. Because if that boy hurts you, no Rashomon will save him from me."

Kagome smiled faintly, feeling the weight of all the gazes on her. "I know, Yosano-san. I know."

As the group started on their way back, Kagome looked one last time in the direction where Akutagawa had disappeared, her heart torn between two worlds that should never have crossed.

But it was too late for regrets.

Chapter Text

A boy with ragged clothes and a collar tied to Ace's ability. He has an X-shaped scar under his right eye.

He removed the bags covering the faces of Fyodor Dostoevsky and Anna Grigoreyvna.

Fyodor looked at him piercingly, his eyes dull, while Anna merely looked at him with her one visible eye, the other covered by her hair.

—

The Port Mafia's meeting room was a cube of oppressive luxury, where the air smelled of expensive polish, quality tobacco, and the metallic chill of power. The light, dim and directional, fell onto the ebony table like an interrogation spotlight, illuminating the faces of its five occupants with cruel clarity.

Ace, with his ostentatious suit and his nouveau riche attitude, had just made his declarations with the petulance of someone who believes the world can be bought with coins. His mention of Fyodor, Anna as "mice" still resonated in the charged silence.

It was then that Nana Shigetsu's voice rose, a thread of poisoned silk that cut the air. She did not raise her tone; she did not need to. Every word was a precise stitch.

"Fyodor? Anna?" Mori asked, with that feline curiosity that concealed a dozen stratagems.

"Yes. Those two are responsible for the fall of Moby Dick. I used a professional kidnapper to catch them. They are the leaders of the Rats in the House of the Dead. They were also involved in the Tatsuhiko Shibusawa case. Nevertheless, to me they are nothing more than mice." Ace gestured with a wide sweep, as if brushing aside insignificant scraps.

Kouyou Ozaki, to his left, sketched a smile that did not reach her eyes, a perfectly drawn curve of contempt. Next to her, Takako, the Archon of Calamity, let out a deliberately languid yawn, a gesture of such profound boredom that it was insulting. Her ice-blue, pupil-less eyes rested on Ace as if examining a particularly uninteresting specimen.

"What kind of people are they?" Nana inquired, leaning back slightly in her chair. Her black dress, a coffin of silk and velvet, did not rustle. The Hippocrates' Eye emerald on her chest seemed to absorb the room's light, the golden veins inside it moving with reptilian slowness. Her lime-green gaze fixed on Ace, and although her tone was one of pure intellectual curiosity, there was a layer of ice beneath it. She, who knew the true nature of her Archon sisters, Anna and Maria, wove her game with a spider's patience.

"They have no souls. They are like vampires. But in the end, they are just the leaders of some mice. With the financial power of my organization, hunting them was easier than plucking a croupier." Ace blurted out, puffed up like a peacock.

Kouyou narrowed her eyes, and her smile of contempt broadened, transforming into a silent but eloquent sneer. "Your organization, huh?" she murmured, as Ace turned his head towards her, defiant.

"Sooner or later, they will learn the pain of the Port Mafia's retaliation." Mori declared, closing the circle of institutional threat.

"Do you want me to go, Boss?" Takako spoke then. Her voice was clear and melodious, but with a resonance that suggested echoes of distant storms. She did not move. Her black and sky-blue kimono, patterned with plum blossoms that seemed frozen in time, was a statement in itself. The ice-blue camellia in her hair, a lethal ornament, glittered softly. Her offer was not an act of submission, but the placement of a piece on the board. It was elegance made a weapon.

"Wait a moment. Could you let me handle him?" Ace interrupted, anxious to claim his trophy.

"You?" Nana's eyebrow arched micrometrically. A movement so small, yet capable of containing all the skepticism in the world. Her lime-green eyes flashed with a frosty glint. "Well, well, what a hard worker. For the leader who was the first to flee when facing the Guild." Kouyou added, her closed fan resting on her lap like a sword in its scabbard.

"I'm more suitable than those who were captured first, aren't I?" Ace retorted, with a twisted smile.

Kouyou placed a hand on her cheek, a gesture of false contemplation. Takako, for her part, tightened her gaze. The white and blue fringes of her hair barely moved, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop a degree.

"And who was it that rescued Q, Ace?" Takako asked, her voice now a sharpened caress. Her lips, painted a pale sky-blue, curved into a smile that was not of joy, but of pure, refined mockery. "Because, if I recall correctly. I, Chuuya-kun, Dazai, and Kikyo went to rescue them. I think it would be most feasible for me to go." Her ice-blue, pupil-less eyes fixed Ace with the intensity of an insect trapping its prey. There was no emotion in them, only a cold assessment and monumental disdain. Every word was a deliberate reminder of his place, of her proven loyalty and effectiveness, contrasted with Ace's cowardice and greed.

"Those two deceived the Guild. We have to deal with them. And I have an idea." Ace insisted, clinging to his thread of argument.

Mori, who had observed the exchange with narrowed eyes and a corner smile, took the floor. "Take care of the rats you captured." His tone was final, a verbal slamming door. He closed his eyes, a gesture of apparent resignation that everyone in the room knew was pure theater. "It will be an honor. With your permission." Ace rose and quickly left the room, leaving behind a much denser silence.

When the door closed, Takako was the first to break the silence. She slowly turned her head toward Mori, the movement causing the light to play with the metallic edges of the camellia in her hair. Her eyes, those bottomless pits of glacial blue, rested on her boss.

"Are you sure about that, Boss?" Her voice was different now, more intimate, reserved for this closed circle. There was no defiance, but strategic precision. "He's the player who dominated the Port Mafia casinos. He doesn't have an ounce of loyalty. He became one of the six leaders thanks to his money, but he only sees the Port Mafia as a bodyguard." Her analysis was cold, clear, and deadly accurate. It was not a complaint; it was a risk assessment, offered with the loyalty of one who sees the strings that others prefer to ignore.

"You are right." Mori conceded, opening his eyes. His smile widened, showing his teeth. "But money is also power. Let's see what he's capable of." He was the scientist observing the mouse in the maze, ready to see if it found the cheese or fell into the trap.

"As you say, Boss." Takako's reply was an echo of acceptance, but not of submission. Her gaze then shifted to Kouyou, a look of shared understanding between two women who knew the true price of loyalty and power. In her ice-blue eyes there was no doubt, only infinite patience and the quiet certainty that when Ace failed—because it was inevitable that he would—she would be there to clean up the mess with the silent elegance of a flower opening over a grave. She did not bloom to die, but to wound. And Ace, in his arrogant blindness, did not even suspect it.

Nana, for her part, added nothing more. She simply watched, her hands clasped on the table, her jet-black nails contrasting with the porcelain paleness of her skin. Her silence was more eloquent than any words. It was the silence of one who has already calculated all the variables, of one who has seen the end of the game from the first move. And in the depth of her lime-green eyes, one could glimpse the cold, relentless verdict that, sooner or later, would reach all those who underestimated the subtle and deadly harmony of the Port Mafia.

—

Ace had already reached the cell where Fyodor and Anna were held. Fyodor was laughing chillingly, while Anna wore a look heavy with disdain.

"Pass me the knife," Ace instructed one of his subordinates, then turned to the pair.

"A pleasure to meet you," the silver-haired man said. He looked as if he was about to cut them, but instead, he simply sliced through the restraints that bound them.

Anna blinked, arching a scornful eyebrow before glancing at Fyodor, who was massaging the circulation back into his limbs.

"Well... that was unexpected," Maria drawled with sarcasm, stretching slightly and making her body crackle. Anna's earrings gleamed faintly in the warm cell light.

Anna’s lilac eyes then fixed on Ace's subordinates, and her Ability flared, her pupils glowing subtly.

"You. Get us our clothes, and some food and drink. That's an order," commanded the Archon of Control. Her voice was a silken lash, absolute and unquestioning. The subordinates froze, a flicker of bewildered obedience crossing their
The Poker Game of the Damned

Fyodor was playing poker with Ace, though it was Anna who should rightfully have been engaged in this petty game, as she was the Archon of Gambling, not Fyodor. But, so be it.

Fyodor was back in his usual attire: a buttoned white shirt and white trousers, accompanied by a long black coat with white fur, and an ushanka hat. He also wore long red boots.

Anna had also returned to her usual clothes: a fitted yet fluid black silk blouse with a high collar and long sleeves. Matte black slim-fit dress pants, with small, discreet, but strategically placed silver details on the waistband. Fine fingerless leather gloves, exposing only her fingertips as a reminder of her control over every movement. A long black coat with a dark blue inner lining, cinched at the waist but loose at the ends, giving her an elegant and powerful silhouette. Black stiletto heels with red soles, reflecting danger and precision with every step. A small, silver bishop chess-piece brooch, a nod to her strategic mind.

"I'm a solitary man. The Port Mafia doesn't trust me. Though I don't trust them either. I only trust poker, the jewels in the safe, and, of course, my fifty personal guards," Ace declared.

Fyodor stared expressionlessly at the guards, while Anna, seated beside him, subtly indicated the best move—a necessity since, obviously, as the Archon, she was the expert in games of chance.

"Diamond Straight Flush. I win," Ace said, revealing his cards. Fyodor showed his: a three-club and two-heart straight.

"Today I found guards fifty-one and fifty-two. Care to join me?" Anna asked, her empty eyes fixed on Ace. Fyodor mirrored her look.

"We'll cut off Ōgai Mori's head together. That doctor won't foresee you joining me. I greatly value your Ability to deceive the Guild," Ace said, before Fyodor spoke.

"And if we refuse, we'll spend the rest of our lives without seeing the sky. Is that it?" Fyodor replied, smiling as Ace showed them the dog collars.

Anna’s eyes narrowed. She had enough of being tied to Fyodor against her will by the idiotic 'Human and Archon' contract that bound her to him.

"We can't refuse, can we? We're in a completely enclosed underground room. And as you can plainly see, Fyodor is a weak man. So, we have a counter-proposal." Maria interjected, her voice carrying a cynical edge, then allowed Fyodor to speak for her, with a macabre smile.

"We'll kill you."

Ace's eyes widened. He immediately slammed a wine bottle onto both of them, soaking them completely and staining their clothes.

"You disappoint me, Fyodor-kun, Anna-chan. Fine," he said, throwing the bottle onto the floor.

"I'll make you understand the situation." Ace clenched his fist, causing one of his subordinates to begin dying, and making jewels materialize.

"This is my power. I convert the lives of my subordinates into jewels of equal value. I transform the life of scum into something valuable. It's a merciful power. The collar you see can only be put on if they consent. And once it's on, it can't be removed," Ace stated, then opened the door.

"Get used to the idea of wearing one, and I'll let you live. Don't worry. I'm sure it'll look good on you." Ace closed the door, leaving the Russian pair covered in wine and seemingly humiliated.

Anna let out a deep sigh, looking at her reflection in a wine-stained poker chip. "I hope you don't expect me to keep this on all night," she murmured, brushing her coat with an air of fastidious disgust.

Fyodor smiled. "Patience, moya Tsaritsa. The real game has barely begun," the Human told his Archon, who only sharpened her eyes in return.

—

The luxurious suite-prison was enveloped in the oppressive stillness of the predawn hours. The tick-tock of a grandfather clock marked the passing of time, a metronomic sound suddenly interrupted by twelve deep chimes that announced midnight. The echo faded, leaving a silence even heavier than before.

Fyodor Dostoevsky and Anna Grigoryevna emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in white silk robes that contrasted sharply with the darkness that seemed to emanate from them. Anna, with her damp hair falling like a curtain of silver over one side of her face, sat with an innate elegance before the poker table. Her visible eye, scrutinized the cards laid out on the green felt with the intensity of a falcon.

On the other side of the suite, the boy in tattered clothes, Karma, worked silently, drying Fyodor’s long, dark hair with a different towel. The X-shaped scar beneath his right eye appeared deeper in the dim light.

"Give up," Karma murmured, breaking the silence. His voice was young, yet laden with an ancient resignation. "You won't beat Ace. You'll have to put this on." With his free hand, he pointed to the thick metal collar circling his own neck, a symbol of servitude that seemed heavier than lead.

Fyodor did not answer immediately. His gaze, lost in nothingness, was as impenetrable as his companion's.

"It's impossible to get out of here," Karma continued, gently rubbing the Russian's hair. "The only one with the key is Ace. Not even we can come or go without his permission." A spark of bitterness crossed his eyes. "You told Ace you'd kill him earlier. You startled me. I wish I could tell you that. But I can't. If I betrayed him, he would turn my remaining life into gems."

Anna, without looking up from the cards, let out a slight sigh, almost of annoyance. Caprice, that primary force in her nature, churned beneath her icy surface. To be locked up, subject to another's designs, was an intolerable affront to her need for absolute control.

Karma pressed on, his voice a desperate monologue. "My dream was... to someday become a Port Mafia Executive. I wanted to become the boss and try my luck at dominating this city. But now, I'm one of Ace's slaves." A twisted smile, full of self-contempt, appeared on his lips. "I didn't remember, but I was sold by a human trafficker. And they brought me here. I dreamed of a ridiculous miracle, where someone would be able to free me from this collar. I finally realized that no one could save a villain like me."

It was then that Fyodor spoke, his voice a serene thread that cut through the boy's self-pity. "What's wrong?"

Karma blinked. "Sir?"

"I cut my finger on a piece of glass," Fyodor stated with a calm that was disturbing, lifting his hand slightly to show a thin trail of blood welling from his fingertip.

Anna turned her head slowly. Her gaze, filled with a glacial irritation, fixed on Fyodor. The air seemed to chill by several degrees. "You utter fool, Dostoevsky," she sentenced, each word as sharp as a stiletto. Her contempt for him, for his unpredictable nature and unnecessary theatrics, simmered just beneath the surface of her self-control. That he would wound himself so trivially, in the midst of their captivity, was an exasperating reminder of his anomaly, that variable that constantly corrupted her perfect calculations.

Karma watched them, confused by the dynamic between the two. "Aren't you afraid?" he asked, his voice a whisper.

Fyodor smiled, an expression that didn't reach his dark eyes. "No. This room could just as well be ours."

Maria let out a soft, mocking laugh from where she stood drying Anna's hair. Her smile widened, showing a hint of feline malice. "It's because of his ability to control consciousness and space, little one," she explained, her tone playful but her eyes calculating every reaction. "Though it doesn't hold a candle to the Archon of Victory's Ability, of course. A simple room is child's play for minds like ours." Her loyalty wasn't blind, but she understood the power Fyodor and Anna represented, and she enjoyed the game of shadows and superiority.

Anna, for her part, shifted her attention from Fyodor and fixed her gray eye on Karma. The frustration of her confinement and Fyodor's presence channeled itself toward the boy, toward his story of broken dreams and submission. For Anna, resignation was a capital sin.

"A ridiculous dream, indeed," Anna said, her voice clear and sharp as crystal. She took a card between her long, pale fingers, observing it as if it held the secrets of the universe. "Dreaming of power from a cage is the favorite pastime of the weak. The Port Mafia is not won with dreams. It is taken with will." Her gaze became penetrating, using that instinctive mirroring that allowed her to find the crack in any armor. "You say no one can save you. And what have you done to save yourself, other than accept your collar and dry the hair of your captors?"

Karma flinched under her scrutiny. The question, delivered with absolute coldness, burned him more than any insult.

Fyodor watched the scene, cleaning the blood from his finger with a white handkerchief he had pulled from nowhere. His smile remained in place, an enigma within an enigma. "Everything has a price, child," he murmured, directing his words to Karma but keeping his gaze on Anna. "Including freedom. And loyalty." His bleeding finger was a mute reminder that even small wounds could be signals, and that in his hands, nothing was accidental.

Anna averted her gaze from Karma, bored by his defeatism. Her caprice demanded action, not lamentations. Her fingers caressed the edge of the table, imagining it not as furniture, but as the center of a new game board. Ace thought he had control. But Anna Grigoryevna, the Archon of Control, breathed in a plane where locks and collars were only illusions about to dissipate. And when they did, the price to be paid wouldn't be measured in gems, but in the total surrender of all wills that had dared to confine her. Including, especially, that impertinent Russian who kept smiling as if everything were part of his own twisted romance.

—

The suite, a cage of gold and velvet, smelled of expensive tobacco and the silent tension of a duel about to begin. Fyodor, Anna sat across from Ace, whose confident smile failed to mask a flicker of anxiety. On the poker table between them lay a deck of tarot cards, old and slightly worn at the edges.

Anna Grigoryevna leaned slightly forward. Her platinum-white hair, illuminated by the chandeliers, formed a pale halo around her face. Her lips, painted a deep lilac, curved into a smile that was not of friendliness, but of purely calculated defiance.

"Well?" she said, her voice a thread of silk cutting through the air.

Ace raised an eyebrow. "Compete?"

"You want me and Fyodor to join you," Anna declared, each word a brick in the wall of her logic. "But if you cannot, you will need to extract information from me about my resources and my plans with Fyodor. Therefore, you cannot kill us outright." Her smile widened slightly, a cold, precise gesture. "That is why I propose we compete in something we are both good at."

She swept the poker cards off the table with a fluid motion and set them aside, sharing a brief glance with Fyodor. A look he held with that expression of perpetual amusement that so exasperated Anna.

"If you win, Fyodor and I will put on the collar," Anna, the Archon of Control, said, naming the symbol of her potential servitude as if speaking of a trivial accessory. "But if I win, I will be free." She did not need to mention the indissoluble bond with Fyodor; it was an axiom, a law of nature that not even Ace himself could violate.

Ace, feeling the confidence of one who believes they have control of the situation, leaned back in his chair. "Agreed. However, I will let you choose the game."

"Generous," Anna murmured, and there was no gratitude in her tone, only the acceptance of what was her due. She rose with an elegance that was an insult in itself, and from the folds of her robe produced a deck of tarot cards, much more elaborate than the poker deck. "I will explain the rules, player. For better or worse, today's wager will change our destiny drastically."

She placed the deck on the green felt with a dry thud. "The name of this wager is: The Tarot Cards of Fate. The 22 cards of the Major Arcana, each with different meanings. Three of us will select a card from this deck." Her gray eye, fixed on Ace, did not blink. "The Major Arcana cards have a number from zero to 21 that will serve as a score. If it is right-side up from the perspective of the one who chose it, it will be positive. Negative if it is reversed. If the total of the three cards ends up positive, Ace wins. If it is negative, I win."

She paused, letting the deceptive simplicity of the rules settle. Then, she drew a card from the deck without looking at it, holding it between her long, pale fingers. A deeper, almost voracious smile touched her lips. "However... there is one special card. The Fool. This card's value is zero, and it will be the wild card. Regardless of the other cards, if The Fool is drawn right-side up, Ace wins. If it is reversed, I win. This card tips the result of the wager. So there is always a chance for you to win." Her voice was hypnotic, weaving the spell of the game. "The tarot cards can divine how time flows. The three cards we draw will be the Past, the Present, and the Future."

She, as the architect of the challenge, would draw the Past card. Ace, the current host, the Present. And Fyodor, the master of coming plans, the Future.

The game began.

Anna extended her hand over the deck. Her fingers did not hesitate. There was no chance, only certainty. She drew the first card and placed it in front of her. "The Past," she announced. She flipped it over. The Wheel of Fortune. Number X. Positive. A favorable start for Ace, a turn of fate in his favor. Ace smiled, confident.

"My turn," Ace said, mimicking her gesture with an arrogance that Anna found vulgar. He drew his card, the Present. The Emperor. Number IV. Positive. His smile widened. With two positive cards, victory was almost assured. Unless Fyodor drew a very high negative value card, or The Fool appeared reversed. The odds, in a normal game, were on his side.

All eyes turned to Fyodor. He smiled, that serene, enigmatic smile that made Anna clench her teeth internally. With deliberate slowness, he took the last card from the deck. He held it for a moment, as if savoring the tension, and then placed it on the table without turning it over.

"The Future," he said softly.

Anna didn't wait. With a swift, decisive motion, she herself flipped the card over.

It was The Fool.

And it was reversed.

The room plunged into absolute silence. Ace's smile froze and then vanished, replaced by a furious incredulity.

"Is it already over? That was quite amusing," Fyodor commented, as if they had just finished a casual game of chess.

The illusion shattered for Ace. "Call the troops! The game is over! Cut off the limbs of these cheats!" he screamed, frantically pressing a button on his phone. "What's wrong?! Answer me!"

Ann began to laugh. A low, melodious laugh, laden with irony and a touch of pity. "The door will not open," she said, announcing it like a weather fact.

Ace leapt up and ran toward the door, pulling out a key. He turned it again and again. Nothing. The mechanism remained immobile.

"It took them a while, but our companions have conquered the place," Fyodor explained, standing up languidly. Anna followed suit, and the three began to slowly circle Ace, like predators cornering their prey. "After all, the Rats live underground."

"You provoked me into playing to buy time?!" Ace roared, his gaze jumping between them, comprehending the magnitude of his mistake.

"What will you do?" Fyodor asked with false sweetness. "If you give us the key to the jewel safe, I and moya Tsaritsa will spare your life." The Russian word for "my Tsarina" sounded like a mockery in the air, and Anna shot Fyodor a look that could have frozen a mortal man's soul.

Ace, however, found a final breath of arrogance. "You're lying! Not even the Boss knows where this place is. And we are not in an underground room. We are on a ship on the high seas. A ship prepared to fight people with powers. It's impossible they conquered it without making a sound." His smile returned, triumphant. "Besides, Anna said that Fyodor's power controls consciousness and space. I heard the whole conversation with the boy! And now I understand. His power traps the consciousness of others inside his own. We are not in reality, but inside his head! We are in the space Fyodor's mind creates! That’s why Anna knew the number of all the cards! It was all an illusion!"

He pointed to the wall clock. "The clock! It hasn't moved since I entered this room. I know perfectly well what the Rats are thinking!"

Fyodor looked genuinely impressed. "You're one of the Port Mafia leaders for a reason, Ace-kun. We see you in a different light now." His compliment was more condescending than an insult. "And? What does it matter that you know the trick? Since our consciousness is in another space, our real bodies are unconscious. Until we starve to death. I train to endure, what about you?"

"You are the only one who has the key to this place," Maria added, her voice a feline whisper from the shadows. "Your underlings cannot rescue you. We are locked in until either you or Fyodor die."

They had him cornered, and they had allowed him to believe he had discovered their secret—a secret that was, in itself, another layer of their game. The true nature of their confinement was irrelevant. Anna's victory hadn't been over the cards—that was just theatrics—but over Ace's perception, time, and arrogance.

The suite was silent, broken only by Ace's ragged breathing. The smell of emotional gunpowder and defeat mingled with the room’s expensive perfume. Ace, cornered but with a final flash of triumph in his eyes, smiled.

"I have a question," he said, his voice charged with a nascent certainty. "Why didn't you use your power when you were kidnapped and brought here?"

Fyodor opened his eyes, momentarily showing a rare spark of attention. Anna, for her part, narrowed hers, the glacial gray of her iris filtering through like a dagger's edge.

"You were captured by the best professional kidnapper in the country," Ace declared, swelling with his own discovery. "He thoroughly investigates his victims and prepares against them. He discovered how to escape the space you create. That’s why you didn't use your powers. Or rather, you couldn't use them." His smile widened, victorious. "I am an innate king. The King is the one who controls information. You were fools to waste the opportunity to serve me."

He walked toward a floor lamp, ripping it from its socket with a crunch of wires. "This is the way back to reality. I will contemplate your lifeless faces in the real world. Farewell." With that declaration, he turned and headed for the door, holding the broken lamp like a grotesque trophy.

It was then that Anna laughed.

It was not a laugh of joy or open mockery. It was a cold, icy sound, devoid of all human emotion. An echo emerging from an abyss of absolute calculation. Her voice, when she spoke, was a whisper that nonetheless cut the air like glass.

"The door to darkness... has been opened..."

Ace froze, but did not turn around. He tightened his grip around the lamp base and exited the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

The scene changed. They were now in a luxurious but functional corridor, outside the suite-prison. Fyodor, Anna, and Maria, impeccable and serene, encountered Karma, whose face was pale with confusion and fear.

"What are you doing out here?! Where is Ace?!" the boy screamed, his voice broken by panic.

The trio ignored his cries. Their eyes settled on a heavy safe embedded in the wall.

"Is this where Ace temporarily keeps the jewels for safekeeping?" Anna asked, her tone one of pure academic curiosity. Without waiting for an answer, she pulled a key from the fold of her robe and inserted it into the lock. The mechanism turned with a satisfying click.

"How did you get the key?" Karma asked, his mind struggling to keep pace with the events.

Fyodor turned slowly, a playful smile on his lips. "The answer is simple. My power does not control space and consciousness."

Anna opened the heavy door and stepped into the vault chamber. Fyodor and Maria followed her.

"What do you mean?" Karma’s voice was barely a thread.

Anna, looked at him with exasperating calm. "Are you deaf, child? Fyodor lied. We assumed there was a microphone in the room.”

"Where is Ace?" Karma insisted, a horrible suspicion beginning to form in his mind.

"Humans want to believe that we think everything through ourselves," Fyodor explained, one eye looking at Karma over his shoulder as he examined documents inside the safe. "He believed in how he himself saw the clock and heard the conversation. He did not want to consider how Anna and I were manipulating him. The kidnapper told him that to escape that space, you must eliminate your consciousness from it. But we were the ones who made him give me that information."

Karma could not bear it any longer. He ran, his bare feet hitting the cold flagstone, back to the suite. What he saw there made him fall to his knees. Ace's body, pale and already cold, hung from an improvised rope made of the lamp cables he had torn out. His face was congested, his eyes glassy and wide open, staring into nothingness.

Fyodor appeared in the doorway, followed by Anna and Maria. "Before he returned to the room, we tampered with the clock and the radio with wine. We put the cork in the lock and pretended it was another space." His explanation was clinical, like a pathologist describing a procedure.

"The card game was thrilling," Anna commented, standing next to Fyodor. Her dull violet eyes rested on the body. "He was a great player. Ace was wrong. We did not win by using our power." She took out her tarot deck and let a card, The Fool, dance over her knuckles. "I memorized all the scratches on the back of the cards. And since I am essentially the goddess of games of chance, I always win at any game involving chance." Her Ability, The Gambler, had allowed her to read the imminent fate in the tiny imperfections of the deck, ensuring that the crucial card, The Fool reversed, reached their hands at the exact moment. She had not altered the probability of drawing it, but had known exactly what it was and how to use it to seal the illusion of their absolute triumph.

Karma, kneeling, looked at the body with horror and increasing understanding.

"The rest you see," Fyodor concluded, his smile now sinister, his eyes deep as bottomless pits. "He thought for himself and ended up killing himself. Thinking is a crime. Breathing is a crime. He is now free of them."

"What? Was being captured part of your plan? Did you want the jewels?" Karma asked, his voice trembling.

"The jewels?" Fyodor pulled a document from among several in the safe. "I am not interested in those stones. Our goal is the list Ace secretly compiled with the powers of the Port Mafia members and whether they had any Archons in their ranks. Even the super-secret power of the bosses is noted." Beside him, Maria slipped a shining gold brooch into her pocket with the dexterity of a natural pickpocket. A habit that not even the gravest situation could eradicate.

"We will use it to free, through death, the villains of this place," Fyodor said, and his smile was a promise of chaos.

Anna pulled one of her tarot cards. Death. She did not turn it over to show anyone, simply held it. Her lilac nails shone under the dim light.

"If the Port Mafia discovers that we know their powers and that they have the Archon of Calamity among them, the value of the list will decrease," Anna said, her voice soft but final. "Therefore, we cannot allow anyone to know what happened." Her gaze, for the first time that night, landed directly on Karma. There was no hatred, no anger, not even pity. Only a pragmatic evaluation. "You were a good boy, Karma. I wish I didn't have to do this, but we grant majestic silence to you too."

Before Karma could react, Anna made a slight movement with her index finger, as if flicking an invisible card. There was no sound, no flash of light. But Karma instantly slumped to the floor, a small, perfect mark, like the symbol of a tiny sword, appearing on his forehead. A final sigh escaped his lips, and etched on his face was not a grimace of pain, but a serene, almost beatific smile. Anna had used The Gambler not to alter a bullet or a knife, but to manipulate the most subtle variable: Karma's own acceptance. She had sown into the flow of his immediate destiny an instant of absolute peace and liberation from his yoke, making his brain interpret the cessation of function as the greatest of blessings.

"Be free of the yoke of your crimes and may your soul rest in peace," Fyodor murmured, his words sounding hollow in the room of death. "Next will be the Port Mafia and the Armed Detective Agency."

Anna sighed, a sound of existential annoyance. She turned to Fyodor, a smile of contempt on her lilac lips. "Still a long way to go to free myself from this contract, isn't there?"

Fyodor looked at her, and in his dark eyes was a mixture of adoration and possession that made Anna want to tear them out. "Of course there is, moya Tsaritsa."

She held his gaze for one more second, hatred and the need for control silently colliding in the space between them, before turning and walking toward the exit, leaving behind the bodies and the smell of death, her elegance a funeral shroud over the masterpiece of manipulation they had just consummated.

—

The light from a desk lamp bathed Kikyo's study, a sanctuary of order within the Armed Detective Agency’s habitual chaos. Stacks of documents were perfectly aligned, shelves were packed with books on philosophy, psychology, and military strategy, and in the center, a corkboard was covered with colored threads connecting photographs, notes, and maps. Kikyo and her golden eyes, with their reddish, acircular pupils that seemed to catch more light than normal, shone with concentrated intensity as she traced formulas in a notepad with exquisite calligraphy.

The door opened without warning. Dazai slid inside, his beige trench coat hanging from his shoulders like the skin of a second identity. His gaze, as sharp as ever, scanned the room before settling on her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice a perfect balance between genuine curiosity and that studied laziness that so exasperated Kunikida.

Kikyo looked up, and an immediate, warm smile lit her face upon seeing him. The complicity between them was an almost tangible force field.

"Nothing in particular," she lied with a sweetness that sounded like the truth. "Just reviewing some cases." She swiveled in her chair to face him completely, her movements fluid as a calm river. Her lips, painted a deep red, curved into a mischievous expression.

Dazai needed no more. He approached, leaning against the edge of the desk with a familiarity no one else would have dared to take. "Hey, do you remember when we found Kagome-chan? When she was revived by that lunatic Kaori."

The change of subject was not random. Kikyo understood instantly, her mind connecting the dots with a speed that would make a computer pale. Her fingers, with burgundy nails gleaming under the light, stroked the edge of a report.

"Does it have to do with the fact that a Port Mafia executive died a few days ago?" she asked, her voice still melodious, but with a newly sharpened steel edge beneath the silk.

"Exactly," Dazai nodded, his gaze fixed on her. "It must be a sign that someone is looking for, you know what." He didn't need to name The Book. In the space between them, dangerous words often remained unspoken.

Kikyo let out a soft, theatrical sigh. "Then... we already know which people must be out there looking for it. Besides Fitzgerald." Her smile became a little sharper, a little darker. It was not the smile of the protective older sister, but of the strategist who sees the pieces of a deadly chess game begin to move.

"Yes..." Dazai drew out the word, and for a moment, the mask of the slacker vanished, revealing the man who was once the Port Mafia's most feared enforcer. "We'll have to face three demons."

He didn't say the names. There was no need. The air in the room immediately thickened. A surge of cold, dense energy emanated from Kikyo, causing the papers on the desk to vibrate and lifting soft swirls of dust into the air. A pencil rolled to the edge of the table and fell to the floor with a dull clack. It was the power of her Archon, a primordial force responding to contained fury, momentarily losing control at the mention of those three names that represented an existential threat.

Kikyo brought a hand to her mouth, not to stifle a cry, but to hide a smile that had become too wide, too charged with a fierce emotion. Her shoulders trembled slightly.

"Pardon me," she said, and her laugh, when it came, had lost its usual melodious note. It sounded harsh, an echo of her past in the shadows. "I couldn't help but be disturbed." She lowered her hand, revealing an expression of pure, calculated defiance. "Who would have thought they would arrive here so soon...?"

She laughed again, a blood-chilling sound. She rose and walked to a small lacquered chest, from which she took a bottle of sake and two fine porcelain cups. Her movements were deliberate, a ritual to calm the storm that had just erupted within her.

"Well, dear Osamu," she said, her voice regaining its characteristic softness, but now tinged with fatalistic resolve. It was a sigh, an acceptance. "It's time for us to take charge." She filled the two cups and extended one to Dazai.

He took it instantly, his fingers brushing hers in a familiar contact. "To the future and inevitable headache," Dazai toasted, with a twisted smile that did not reach his eyes.

Kikyo nodded, raising the cup to her lips. "To the future headaches and how we should leave the future of Yokohama to our children." She took a long sip, the alcohol seeming to stoke the fire in her golden eyes. She was referring to Atsushi and Kagome, the fragile but shining pillars of the future they had both chosen to fight for.

Dazai swirled his cup, watching the golden liquid dance. "I'm sure Fyodor dragged Anna here to Yokohama kicking and screaming," he commented with a hint of dark humor.

A genuine laugh, full of shared irony, escaped Kikyo. But the joke faded as quickly as it had arrived. Their smiles softened, transforming into expressions of serious contemplation. They looked at each other, and in that charged silence, they transmitted a volume of strategies, warnings, and an unbreakable determination. The three demons were in Yokohama. The board was set. And they, Dazai and Kikyo, the perfect symbiosis of genius and power, were the only pieces capable of facing the approaching storm. The air still vibrated with the echo of Kikyo's unleashed power, a reminder that, behind the sweetness and the jokes, stood the cold, lethal Archon who would do anything to protect the fragile world of light they had both managed to build.

Chapter Text

The morning sun bathed the streets of Yokohama in a warm, promising light. Taka stood in front of her room mirror, carefully applying a touch of clear gloss to her lips. Her amber eyes met her own reflection, and a soft, almost shy smile curved her mouth. The dress Kikyo had chosen for her—that beautiful piece in golden ivory tones with emerald details and a wine-red skirt that caught the light like dancing flames—made her feel special, different.

It wasn't vanity. It was the anticipation of sharing something important with someone equally important.

She picked up the bento box she had prepared that morning, carefully wrapped in a floral-patterned cloth, and placed it in her bag along with the small umbrella that would shield her from the bright sun. Her fingers brushed against the two aquarium tickets Kikyo had gifted her with that characteristic mischievous smile of hers.

"Go with the person you care about the most," she had said.

And Taka hadn't hesitated for a second.

The train station was moderately busy when Taka arrived, her heart beating a little faster than usual. Her eyes scanned the area until she found him: Atsushi, waiting by one of the structure's pillars, dressed in casual clothes that contrasted greatly with his usual detective attire. Dark pants, a simple light-colored shirt, and a light jacket that made him look... normal. Approachable. Human.

Beautiful.

"Sorry I'm late," Taka said with a slight gasp as she approached, smiling at the sight of him. Her chest rose and fell slightly from the hurried walk.

Atsushi turned to her, and for a moment, his expression lit up in a way that made something in Taka's chest feel warm. But then his eyes swept over her outfit—the dress, the golden details, the peony in her hair—and his face flushed a deep pink.

"No, no problem," he replied quickly, bringing a hand to the back of his head in a nervous gesture. "I arrived twelve minutes before the agreed time." His smile was shy, almost apologizing for his own excessive punctuality.

"Don't worry," he added after a pause, though he couldn't stop glancing at her. Finally, he gathered enough courage to say, his voice slightly choked: "You look nice in that outfit."

Taka felt the heat rising to her own cheeks. She looked away, fiddling with the edge of her bag. "Kikyo-san chose it..."

A comfortable but charged silence settled between them as they boarded the bus. They both sat in the same seat—Taka by the window, Atsushi on the aisle—with just a few centimeters of distance that felt both enormous and insignificant at the same time. Their shyness was palpable, reflected in the persistent blush on their cheeks and the way they avoided looking directly at each other.

The bus moved through the city streets, passing familiar buildings, familiar shops, until it finally stopped in front of a modern, elegant building with a luminous sign: Yokohama Aquarium.

"I didn't know there was an aquarium here," Atsushi commented as they got off, observing the structure with genuine curiosity.

Taka smiled, walking beside him. "I came once with Yosano-san and another time with Asuna-san." There was a pause, and then she added, with a special softness in her voice: "But this is the first time I've come with you."

She held out one of the tickets, holding it between her fingers. "Here."

Atsushi looked at it, then at her, with an expression of surprise mixed with something deeper. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. They were given to Kikyo-san, but she gave them to me, saying I should go with the person I care about the most."

The words hung in the air between them.

Atsushi froze, processing what he had just heard. His face turned a deep red, brighter than before, and for a moment he seemed to forget how to breathe. "The person you care about the most?" he repeated clumsily, his voice cracking slightly.

Taka realized what she had said, and her own face flushed to the same crimson tone. They both stood there, like two ripe tomatoes in the sun.

"L-let's go," Atsushi stammered, trying to regain some composure while his heart beat like a war drum.

"Yes..." Taka replied in a thread of a voice.

They walked toward the aquarium entrance, both still red as tomatoes, aware of every step, every breath, every millimeter of distance between them. A small child passing by with his mother pointed at them curiously.

"Mommy, why are they so red?"

The mother smiled tenderly. "It's because they love each other very much."

If possible, they both turned even redder.

The interior of the aquarium was a different world. The dim, bluish lights created an almost magical atmosphere, as if they had entered an underwater kingdom. The first tank they encountered housed brightly colored jellyfish—pinks, blues, greens—that floated with an ethereal grace in the dark water.

"They're beautiful," Taka murmured, leaning closer to the glass. The light of the jellyfish reflected in her amber eyes, making them sparkle.

Atsushi nodded, but his gaze was more on her than on the marine creatures. There was something about the way Taka looked at the world—with that mix of wonder and warmth—that made everything seem brighter.

Atsushi's cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He blinked, pulling it out with some confusion. A message from Kagome appeared on the screen, and when he opened it, they could both read it:

"It's a date with your beloved Taka-chan! Don't be shy, and escort her properly!"

Attached was a photo of Kagome and Akutagawa sitting somewhere, both eating takoyakis. Kagome smiled broadly at the camera, while Akutagawa wore his usual expression of slight irritation.

"...What was that?" Taka asked, trying to stifle a laugh.

Atsushi sighed, putting the phone away. "A message from Kagome-chan. Sometimes she seems to have the power to appear or text at the worst moments."

Taka laughed softly. "She sends me messages at the best moments. And she calls from Akutagawa's house when I want to talk to her. She tells me about their wedding." She paused, thoughtful. "It's strange to think they're getting married soon."

"I see," Atsushi murmured, imagining those two together and feeling curiously relieved not to have to deal with Akutagawa today.

"I'll message her later," Taka said with a mischievous smile.

They continued through the aquarium, moving from one tank to another. They saw tropical fish of impossible colors, rays that glided like ghosts across the sandy bottom, and small sharks that circled with a predatory elegance. But the most memorable was the penguin show.

They rode the escalator up to the upper level, where a large open area housed a colony of penguins. Observers clustered around the railings while the penguins—clumsy on land but graceful underwater—performed their daily show. They leaped, swam, and chased each other with a comical energy that drew laughter from the entire audience.

Taka leaned over the railing, smiling widely as one of the smaller penguins tried to catch up to the adults with wobbling steps. "They're adorable," she said, and there was so much genuine joy in her voice that Atsushi couldn't help but smile too.

"Yes," he agreed, though once again his attention was divided between the penguins and the woman beside him.

When the show ended, they both headed toward the food court. It was a spacious and bright area, with tables arranged around large windows that offered views of the ocean outside. The aroma of fresh food floated in the air.

Taka looked at Atsushi with a smile, pointing toward one of the stalls. "They have really delicious kakigori there."

Without a second thought, she took Atsushi's hand to guide him toward the table. They both froze at the same time upon realizing the contact—the warmth of their joined hands—but neither let go immediately. They walked like that, with their fingers intertwined and their cheeks flushed again, until something caught their attention.

Some very familiar faces.

They turned around slowly, almost fearfully, as if expecting to find an enemy. But what they saw was different.

In a private section of the food court—clearly reserved for people with considerable resources—were Akutagawa and Kagome. They were both sitting in front of a low table, completely focused on what appeared to be an elaborate construction game with real gold sheets. What they were building was a Meiji Era Japanese castle, with an almost obsessive meticulousness.

Akutagawa's eyes barely moved, his fingers placing each piece with surgical delicacy. His expression was one of absolute concentration, as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. Beside him, Kagome worked with equal precision, her tongue slightly poking out between her lips in a gesture of total focus.

"Hi!" Kagome suddenly greeted them, raising a hand but being careful not to bump the delicate structure. Her pink-purple eyes sparkled with genuine joy, and her piercings caught the light of the food court.

She was wearing a wine-red sweater with silver details on the sleeves, gray shorts with metallic trim, and high socks that perfectly matched her unique style. Everything about her seemed carefully chosen yet effortless, as if she had woken up that perfect.

"Are you two on a date too?" Taka asked, moving a little closer.

Kagome nodded with a wide smile. "Yes! Kuro brought me here. We were eating takoyakis and decided to build this." She pointed to the castle under construction with evident pride.

What neither of them mentioned was the tension that had instantly flared up between Akutagawa and Atsushi.

Akutagawa slowly looked up, his gray eyes meeting Atsushi's amber ones. For a long moment, they stared at each other, and although neither said a word, the hostility was palpable. It was as if invisible lightning bolts were crackling between them, each one evaluating the other with a mixture of disdain and challenge.

Weakness, Akutagawa thought, watching Atsushi. Always depending on others to be strong.

Unnecessary cruelty, Atsushi thought, returning the gaze. He will never understand the value of a life.

But neither of them did anything. They were both too aware of the women by their sides, who would not hesitate to pull their ears if they dared to cause a scene. Akutagawa especially had no intention of being kicked out of his own home for destroying part of the aquarium. Kagome could be incredibly forgiving in many aspects, but not when it came to unnecessary destructive behavior.

The waiter arrived at the perfect moment, breaking the tension with his professional presence. "What would you like to order?"

"Give us two kakigoris," Kagome said cheerfully, affectionately hugging Akutagawa's arm. "One strawberry and one lemon flavor."

Meanwhile, Taka and Atsushi sat at their own table, ordering the same thing. The two women began to converse easily, as if they were lifelong friends, while their boyfriends continued to exchange silent murderous looks from their respective places.

"That dress looks gorgeous on you, Taka-chan," Kagome commented with genuine admiration. "The colors are perfect for you."

"Thank you. Your style is incredible too. You always manage to make everything look so... coordinated."

Kagome laughed, a light, musical sound. "It's practice. Although Akutagawa-kun says I use too many accessories." She gave her boyfriend a playful nudge, who merely grunted in response, still focused on glaring at Atsushi.

The kakigoris arrived moments later—cones of shaved ice covered with colorful syrup and condensed milk—and the quartet began to eat in relatively friendly silence. Or at least, the women ate while chatting; the men ate while continuing their silent war of looks.

And then it happened.

A sharp sound, like breaking glass, cut through the air.

Everyone looked up at the same time. The large window separating the food court from the main exhibition tank began to crack. The fissures spread like spiderwebs, branching out in all directions with alarming speed.

"No..." Atsushi murmured, immediately standing up.

Before anyone could react, the glass shattered completely.

A wall of water rushed toward them with the force of a tsunami. Screams filled the air as visitors ran in all directions, but it was too late. The water reached them in seconds, sweeping everything in its path.

Akutagawa reacted first. "Karei!" he yelled, extending his arm to summon Rashomon. Dark shadows erupted from his coat, stretching toward her like living tentacles.

But something in the water—an invisible current, a whirlpool—pulled Kagome down before Rashomon could reach her. Her pink-purple eyes widened in surprise before the water covered her completely.

"Taka!" Atsushi tried to grab her, transforming his arm into a tiger's to have more strength, but the same phenomenon occurred. Something invisible coiled around Taka's feet, dragging her into the depths of the flooded water.

There was no doubt or hesitation.

Akutagawa plunged into the water after Kagome, his coat billowing like black wings. Atsushi did the same, partially transforming as he submerged to rescue Taka.

Underwater, the visibility was chaotic. Fish of all species swam in a panic, seeking orientation in an environment they no longer recognized. Light filtered down from above in diffuse, ghostly rays.

Akutagawa swam toward where he had last seen Kagome, his gray eyes sweeping the area until he found her. She was trapped, a swirl of water coiled around her ankles like invisible chains, keeping her anchored to the bottom. Her eyes were closed, her hair floating around her face like a dark crown.

Not far away, Atsushi located Taka in a similar situation. Panic threatened to overwhelm him—that old fear of not being strong enough—but he pushed it down, forcing himself to think clearly. I have to save her. I have to...

Akutagawa was quicker to analyze the situation. His eyes moved systematically, searching for the source of the problem. And then he saw it: a drain valve at the bottom of the flooded area, barely visible among the debris and murky water.

He swam toward it with a speed that defied the water's resistance, using Rashomon to propel himself. Atsushi followed, understanding the intention. Together, they reached the valve.

Akutagawa turned it hard, his muscles straining with the effort. The metal protested, rusted and old, but finally gave way. A deep roar echoed as the water began to drain, being sucked downwards with tremendous force.

The whirlpools around Kagome and Taka's ankles weakened, finally freeing them.

Atsushi swam to Taka, wrapping her in his arms and carrying her toward the surface as the water continued to drop. He carried her princess-style once they could touch the ground, holding her firmly against his chest. She coughed, spitting out water, but was conscious.

Akutagawa did the same with Kagome, though he opted to carry her on his back, his arms holding her securely. She also coughed, clinging tightly to him.

The water continued to drain, carrying with it writhing fish, shattered furniture, and various debris. In a matter of minutes, the area was reduced to a soaked disaster, with deep puddles and scattered objects everywhere.

It was then that Taka remembered something. "The bento..." she murmured weakly, looking around.

Kagome, still clinging to Akutagawa's back, saw it too. The bag with the bento Taka had so carefully prepared was floating in one of the remaining puddles, soaked and likely ruined.

Without hesitation, Kagome slid off Akutagawa's back. "I'll get it," she said with determination.

"Karei, don't—" Akutagawa started, but she was already running toward the puddle, splashing in the residual water.

Akutagawa coughed—a dry, hacking cough that evidenced the damage to his lungs—but he plunged in after her anyway, grabbing her arm just as she recovered the bag.

They both emerged from the puddle, dripping wet. Kagome held the bento carefully, though the cloth was soaked and the food inside was probably ruined.

She approached Taka, who was still in Atsushi's arms, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Her smile was soft, understanding. "We'll talk later in the dorms," she said gently.

Then she waved goodbye, walking toward the exit with Akutagawa at her side. Both urgently needed to dry their clothes before catching a cold—especially Akutagawa, whose health was fragile to begin with.

Atsushi and Taka stood there for a moment, processing what had just happened. The food court was a chaos of water, overturned furniture, and aquarium staff running in all directions, trying to control the situation.

"Are you okay?" Atsushi asked softly, setting Taka down on the floor but staying close just in case.

She nodded, though she was trembling slightly. Her beautiful dress was soaked, the golden edge of the skirt darkened by the water, and some petals from the peony in her hair had fallen. "I'm fine. Thank you for... for saving me."

"You don't have to thank me," he replied quickly, feeling his cheeks heat up again. "I just... I couldn't leave you there."

Taka looked at him, and in her amber eyes there was something warm, something deep that made Atsushi's heart beat faster. "Even so... thank you."

They stood in silence for a moment, until a nervous laugh escaped Taka's lips. "Akutagawa-san and Kagome-san are... interesting together, don't you think?"

Atsushi blinked, processing the question. Then, to his own surprise, he laughed too. "I guess so. I can't imagine what their daily life is like."

"Kagome-san is very sweet," Taka commented as they started walking toward the food court exit, looking for somewhere they could dry off a bit. "But there's also something... deep about her. As if she has lived much more than her age suggests."

"And Akutagawa is..." Atsushi stopped, struggling with the words. There were so many things he wanted to say about Akutagawa—his cruelty, his contempt for the weak, his obsessive need for approval—but something stopped him. Perhaps it was the way Akutagawa had plunged in without hesitation after Kagome. Perhaps it was how he had worked with him to open the valve, without a word of reproach or competition. "He's... complicated."

Taka nodded, understanding more than the words conveyed. "Kagome-san loves him. That's evident. And he... I think he loves her too, in his own way."

"Yeah," Atsushi agreed softly. And then he added, with more honesty than he intended: "It's strange to think someone like him can have that. Love, I mean."

Taka stopped, turning to look at him. Her expression was serious but not stern. "Everyone deserves love, Atsushi-kun. Even those who have done terrible things. It doesn't mean their actions are justified, but... love isn't a prize you win. It's something you give freely."

The words hit Atsushi harder than expected. He thought about his own life, his past in the orphanage, all the times he had been hit, humiliated, rejected, and told he didn't deserve to exist. He thought about how Dazai had welcomed him into the Agency, how his colleagues had accepted him without question.

He thought about Taka, standing in front of him in her soaked dress and warm smile, telling him things he needed to hear.

"You deserve love too, Atsushi-kun," she added softly, as if she could read his thoughts. "Never doubt that."

He felt a knot in his throat. "I... thank you. You too. You deserve everything good in the world."

Taka smiled, and in that moment, with the water dripping from her hair and her cheeks slightly flushed, she was the most beautiful person Atsushi had ever seen.

—

The bluish light of the screen illuminated Taka's face as she spoke via video call with Kagome. She was wearing her pajamas—a simple cream-colored cotton garment—and her burgundy hair fell loosely over her shoulders. Her amber eyes reflected a mix of disappointment and resignation.

"And the omelet turned out so well..." she sighed, letting discouragement color her voice.

On the other side of the screen, Kagome smiled with that characteristic warmth that always seemed to soften any situation. She had just gotten out of the shower, her black-to-magenta gradient hair still damp, and she wore comfortable loungewear. Behind her, barely visible in the frame, Akutagawa remained completely engrossed in his gold leaf construction, his fingers moving with surgical precision over the pieces of the Meiji Era Japanese castle.

"Make another bento the next time you and Atsushi-kun go out on a date," Kagome suggested while distractedly playing with one of the rings on her hand—the engagement ring Akutagawa had given her—tossing it in the air and catching it with fluid movements. "Now you can see each other whenever you want."

Taka nodded, though sadness lingered in her expression. She had put so much effort into that meal, every ingredient carefully chosen, every presentation perfect. And it had all been ruined by that strange incident at the aquarium.

Silence stretched for a moment, until Kagome asked with a more serious tone: "Shall we go capture the card tonight?"

Taka frowned, considering the implications. "It would be terrible if it destroyed the aquarium."

"I know," Kagome agreed, but then she turned her head toward where Akutagawa was working on his castle. Her expression subtly changed—her eyes narrowed with determination and a small but firm smile appeared on her lips. It was a look that clearly said: you are going to accompany me, whether you want to or not.

Akutagawa, without looking up from his construction, let out an almost imperceptible sigh. He already knew what that silence meant.

Night fell over Yokohama like a dark cloak, and the aquarium—closed and empty after the afternoon incident—stood as a ghostly structure against the starry sky. The security lights cast long, distorted shadows, and the sound of the nearby sea was the only thing breaking the silence.

Four figures moved stealthily through the shadows.

Atsushi led the way, partially transformed—his eyes glowing with a feline yellow in the dark, his senses honed to the maximum. Every sound, every movement of the air, was registered with supernatural precision. His heart pounded fiercely, not only from the tension of the infiltration but from the acute awareness that Taka was right behind him.

I have to protect her, he thought, clenching his fists. I can't let anything happen to her.

Taka walked with the silent grace she had perfected through years of training. Her dress had been replaced by more practical attire—dark pants, a light jacket—but she kept the peony in her hair as a reminder of calmer moments. Her eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, looking for any sign of the anomalous presence.

Behind them, Kagome moved with an almost supernatural lightness, her steps so silent that she seemed to float above the ground. Her pink-purple eyes shone with a light of their own in the darkness, and there was something in her expression—a profound seriousness that contrasted with her usual joviality—that made her look much older than her appearance suggested.

Akutagawa closed the formation, his black coat fluttering slightly with each movement. His expression was the same as always: cold, distant, with that permanent hint of disdain. But his gray eyes swept the area with lethal efficiency, cataloging every shadow, every possible point of ambush.

"The guard is making his rounds on the other end," Atsushi murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "We have five minutes."

"Sufficient," Akutagawa replied dryly.

They entered through a side entrance, where Kagome had previously manipulated the lock using her Karmic Hands to "convince" the mechanism that it was already open. The door slid open silently.

The interior of the aquarium was a different world at night. The tanks were still lit with dim, bluish lights, casting rippling patterns on the walls and ceiling. The fish slept or swam with hypnotic slowness, oblivious to the human intruders.

"The strongest presence is near the water features," Taka said, closing her eyes for a moment to concentrate. Her ability, Kawarimi no Kokoro (Heart of Substitution), allowed her to perceive alterations in the "state" of things, and there was something definitely unnatural about the energy emanating from that area.

Kagome nodded, her own senses—tuned by the Kaleidoscope of the Eternal Soul—confirming the observation. "It's a Card. I can feel how it distorts the karmic flow around it. It's... hungry."

"Hungry," Atsushi repeated, feeling a shiver run down his spine. "For what?"

"For energy," Kagome simply replied. "For life. For chaos. The Cards are not rational entities. They are manifestations of pure concepts."

They advanced toward the fountain area, where water fell in decorative cascades into shallow pools. Moonlight filtered through a skylight in the ceiling, creating a silver sheen on the water's surface.

And then they saw it.

At first, it looked like just a strange reflection in the water, a pattern of ripples that didn't correspond to the liquid's natural movement. But then it began to rise, taking shape: a spiral of crystalline water that spun upon itself with increasing speed, projecting droplets that sparkled like diamonds in the moonlight.

"There it is," Taka murmured, taking a step forward.

The Card—because that was clearly what it was—seemed to detect their presence. The spiral paused for a moment, as if observing them, evaluating. And then it attacked.

It lunged toward them with the speed of a spear, the water concentrated into a lethal projectile.

"Move!" Atsushi shouted, pushing Taka aside as he rolled in the opposite direction.

The attack passed between them, impacting against a glass wall with enough force to crack it. The sound echoed in the enclosed space like thunder.

Kagome was already in motion. Her Karmic Hands manifested—spectral, translucent projections that left trails of kaleidoscopic patterns in the air—reaching out toward the water spiral. But the Card was fast, too fast, dodging the grasp and launching itself into attack again.

"Karei!" Akutagawa's voice cut the air like a blade. It was the first time he had spoken since they entered, and the nickname he used for Kagome—a term meaning "elegance" but which he pronounced with a tone of protective possession—made her immediately turn toward him.

Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, and in that silent exchange, a complete plan was communicated.

Kagome ran, not away from the Card but toward it, her movements fluid and precise. The spiral pursued her with renewed fury, firing pressurized water projectiles that she dodged with a grace that defied physics.

"What is she doing?" Atsushi gasped, watching with growing horror as Kagome moved deeper into the aquarium, leading the creature away from them.

"She's buying you time to think, Jinko," Akutagawa replied coldly, using the derogatory nickname he always reserved for Atsushi. But there was something different in his tone this time—it wasn't pure mockery, but rather a statement of fact.

Atsushi gritted his teeth at the nickname but forced his mind to focus. Think. You have to think. How do you fight something made of water?

Taka stood beside him, her presence reassuring even amidst the chaos. "Water has states," she said in a calm voice, as if explaining something in a classroom instead of in the middle of a battle. "Liquid, solid, gas. If we can force a change of state..."

"Freeze it," Atsushi completed, understanding lighting up his eyes. He turned to Akutagawa, and for the first time since they had known each other, there was no hostility in his gaze, only urgency. "Do you have anything that can do that?"

Akutagawa looked at him with those impassive gray eyes for a long moment. Then, without a word, he reached into his coat and pulled out a scroll. It wasn't like the ones he used with Rashomon—this one was different, covered with ancient characters that glowed with a pale blue light.

"A gift from Karei," he said dryly. "She insisted I take it."

Of course she did, Atsushi thought. Kagome is always two steps ahead.

At that moment, Kagome shot out of the interior of the aquarium, closely pursued by the spiral. She had led the creature exactly where it needed to be—to the open area in front of the fountains, where they had room to maneuver.

But even she had limits. A whip of water struck her on the side, sending her tumbling across the floor. She quickly got up, but Atsushi could see the grimace of pain that crossed her face.

"Now!" Taka yelled.

Akutagawa unfurled the scroll with a sharp motion. The characters glowed intensely, and his voice resonated with a power that seemed to come from another place, another time:

"God of Ice, come!"

The air instantly became icy. Breath condensed into white clouds, and the humidity on the walls began to crystallize. The water spiral, in the middle of its attack on Kagome, slowed down, stopped, and began to freeze from the outside in.

In a matter of seconds, what had been a fluid, lethal creature had transformed into a perfect ice sculpture, suspended in the air like a deadly work of art.

"Now, Karei!" Akutagawa's command was like a whip-crack.

Kagome was already moving. Her hands moved with speed and precision, forming seals in the air—ancient gestures that left luminous trails in their wake. Her lips pronounced words in a language that sounded like music and thunder at the same time.

The Kaleidoscope of the Eternal Soul manifested in its purest form. Patterns of multicolored light began to surround the ice sculpture, weaving into an increasingly complex net. It wasn't just a physical seal—it was an imprisonment at the soul level, binding the very essence of the Card.

The sculpture began to glow from within, the light becoming more and more intense until it was almost blinding.

And then, with a sound like glass breaking in reverse, the Card compressed, the ice and water collapsing into a single point of light that flew directly into Kagome's outstretched hand.

When the light faded, a Card rested in her palm—a literal tarot card, with the image of a water spiral on its surface.

Silence fell over the aquarium.

Kagome looked at the Card for a moment, then carefully put it in her pocket. She turned to the others with a tired smile. "We're finally done with this."

Taka let out a sigh of relief so deep that she felt as if she had been holding her breath for hours. "We're finally done with this," she repeated, her shoulders relaxing.

Atsushi felt his legs tremble slightly—the adrenaline crash finally hitting him. He had almost completely transformed during the battle without even realizing it, and now that it was over, fatigue hit him like a wave.

Akutagawa put the scroll back in his coat, his expression returning to that mask of indifference. But his eyes lingered on Kagome for a moment longer, scanning her for injuries.

"I'm fine," she said softly, though the bruise on her side where the water whip had struck her told another story.

They left the aquarium as silently as they had entered, slipping into the shadows while the guard continued his rounds on the other side of the building, completely oblivious to what had happened.

Once outside, under the starry Yokohama sky, the group paused for a moment.

"Good job, Jinko," Akutagawa said suddenly. The words sounded forced, as if it took physical effort for him to utter them.

Atsushi blinked, completely taken by surprise. "I... thanks. You too."

They looked at each other for a moment—there was still no friendship there, probably never would be, but perhaps, just perhaps, there was the beginning of something closer to mutual respect.

Kagome and Taka exchanged a glance, both smiling with that feminine complicity that men never quite understood.

"We should head back," Taka said finally. "Before someone notices we're not in the dorms."

Kagome nodded, but before leaving, she walked up to Taka and gave her a quick hug. "See you tomorrow. And remember—make another bento. I'm sure Atsushi-kun will appreciate it even more after all this adventure."

Taka blushed slightly but nodded.

The group split up—Kagome and Akutagawa in one direction, Taka and Atsushi in another—each pair disappearing into the Yokohama night.

Two Days Later

Taka was sitting in her room in the ADA dormitory, the soft light of her desk lamp illuminating her cell phone. She was reviewing the photos from the aquarium day, and an involuntary smile curved her lips when she came to one in particular.

It was the photo she and Atsushi had taken in front of one of the tropical fish tanks. They were both smiling—genuine smiles, not forced poses—and there was something about the way they were standing, barely centimeters apart but clearly connected, that made her heart feel warm.

But what really caught her attention was the background of the photo.

There, barely visible but unmistakable, were Akutagawa and Kagome. They both had their hands intertwined—a surprisingly intimate gesture for someone as reserved as Akutagawa—and they were eating crêpes. A savory one for Kagome, who preferred complex flavors, and a fig one for Akutagawa, whose simple taste always surprised those who knew him.

Taka zoomed in on the image, studying the couple in the background. There was something almost surreal about seeing Akutagawa—the man who had attempted to kill her colleagues on multiple occasions—doing something as mundane and sweet as sharing crêpes with his fiancée.

Love truly changes people, she thought. Or perhaps it just reveals parts of them that were always there, hidden beneath layers of pain and defense.

Her phone vibrated with a message. It was from Atsushi:

"Still awake? Just wanted to make sure you were okay after last night."

Taka smiled, her fingers moving over the keyboard to respond:

"I'm fine. You?"

"Me too. Though I still can't believe we worked with Akutagawa without anyone getting hurt."

"Except Kagome-san with that bruise."

"True. But she's strong. Like you."

Taka felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She looked at the photo one more time—the visual evidence of a day that had begun with nerves and excitement, had been interrupted by chaos, and had ended with a night mission alongside former enemies.

It was strange how life worked sometimes. How the most unexpected moments could become the most memorable. How the people you least expected could become allies, even if only for a night.

And how, amidst all the chaos and uncertainty of Yokohama, you could find something beautiful and valuable: connection, companionship, and perhaps—just perhaps—the beginning of something that could be called love.

She put her phone away and got ready for bed, but not before saving that photo as a favorite. It was a reminder that even in the dark and dangerous world they lived in, there was room for moments of light and warmth.

And that, Taka decided as she closed her eyes, was enough.

Chapter Text

The afternoon was falling over the Akutagawa mansion with an unusual stillness. In the library, surrounded by dark wooden bookshelves and the scent of old paper, Ryūnosuke Akutagawa remained motionless in his favorite armchair. A book rested between his pale hands, but his gray eyes did not register the printed words. The same page had remained untouched for several minutes.

His mind wandered into territories he had once considered forbidden, even ridiculous. He recalled that celestial procession from his childhood, when the despair had been so absolute that death seemed the only way out. And then she appeared. A ghostly, ethereal figure, shining with a light that did not belong to the world of mortals. In that instant, something changed. The darkness that consumed him found an anchor, a reason.

"The weak must die and give way to the strong," he had repeated for years like a mantra. But Kagome... she had looked at him with those rose-purple eyes and had given him permission to live. Not for strength, but for something he had never fully understood: compassion.

Now she was here, in his home. They shared the same roof. And he... he had become someone different when he was by her side. A version of himself that his Black Lizard subordinates would never recognize.

"Hey, Kuro!"

Kagome’s voice cut through his thoughts like a crystal bell. Akutagawa looked up from the book, though his expression remained impassive. Only the slightest softening at the corner of his lips betrayed anything more.

"What do you need, Karei?" His tone was dry, direct, but devoid of the cutting coldness he used with the rest of the world.

Kagome approached with that natural grace that characterized her, her black hair with violet highlights catching the golden light of the afternoon. She was wearing casual, comfortable clothes, so different from the elaborate attire she wore on her missions.

"Are you free this weekend?"

Akutagawa closed the book with a precise movement. "I requested a week off. State your purpose." He wasn't being rude, merely efficient. Unnecessarily long conversations were not to his liking, not even with her. Although with Kagome... he tolerated far more than he would with anyone else.

Kagome’s face took on a thoughtful, almost worried expression. "You see, Akahana has been too quiet in my dreams lately. Since we defeated The Guild, I barely feel her. I think..." She paused, biting her lower lip. "I think she would feel better if she met you. Properly, I mean."

Before Akutagawa could fully process the request or formulate a response, Kagome had already picked up an umbrella from the nearby coat rack—one he knew belonged to his sister Gin—and was heading towards the door.

"I’ll be back soon. I need to stop by the Agency," she said with an enigmatic smile that left him contemplating the closed door.

Akutagawa remained motionless for a long moment.

"Unbelievable..." he muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper in the empty library. "It all happened so fast."

He remembered when killing was as simple as breathing. When the blood on his hands was just another reminder of his superiority, of his right to exist in a world that devoured the weak. But now... now he had promised Kagome he wouldn't kill unnecessarily. That he would control that impulse that had defined much of his existence.

And he had done it. For her. For Karei.

In her room, Kagome stood in front of the open wardrobe, contemplating the limited options with frustration. Most of the clothes were borrowed from Kikyo, her friend at the Agency, who had a more... conventional taste than her own.

"How should I dress?" she wondered aloud, passing the hangers one by one.

The full-length mirror next to her bed began to darken. Not like a natural shadow, but as if something from the other side was emerging. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

A figure gradually materialized in the reflection: a young woman of unsettling beauty, almost artificial in her perfection. White hair with a pink fade pulled up into a flawless high ponytail, held by a red kanzashi that shone like fresh blood. Her skin was pale porcelain, her black eyes with a red fade observed with an intensity that could freeze the blood. Unlike Kagome, she was not reflected in the mirror normally: her figure was translucent, ghostly, as if she existed between two planes of reality.

Akahana wore an elegant black dress that contrasted dramatically with her pallor, and her nails were painted a brilliant crimson red. In her hand, she held a black Western umbrella that, when partially opened, revealed an interior decorated with the pattern of a red flower.

"What's wrong? Why are you dressing up so much?" Akahana’s voice was soft but firm, with a tone of genuine curiosity mixed with suspicion.

Kagome turned toward the mirror with a shy smile. "I’m going out with Kuro."

Akahana’s face imperceptibly brightened, the closest thing to an expression of joy her porcelain countenance allowed. "On a date? I’m so glad things are finally better after what happened with Arata and The Green Spirit." There was something in her tone that sounded almost... protective. "That man has been loyal to you from the start. From before you regained your physical form."

Kagome chuckled softly as she selected a simple but elegant cream-colored dress. "Although it won't be with me..."

"What did you say?" Akahana tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Nothing, nothing," Kagome quickly replied, holding the dress against her body. "What do you think of this one?"

Akahana observed her in silence for a moment, her eyes studying every detail. "It is appropriate. Simple but elegant. Kuro will appreciate that you haven't overdone it." A pause. "Is he in danger? Do you need me to be on alert?"

"No, Akahana. Everything is fine. It’s just..." Kagome hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "It's just that I think it's time for you to meet him properly. Not just as a presence he senses through me."

Akahana’s eyes narrowed further, now with distrust. "Kagome. What are you planning?"

But Kagome had already begun to change, deliberately ignoring the question.

An hour later, Akutagawa was waiting in the main hall of the mansion. He had carefully selected his outfit: an impeccably cut black three-piece suit, dark gray shirt, and black tie. Over the suit, he wore a long gray coat that reached almost to his ankles, perfect for concealing Rashōmon if necessary. He completed the ensemble with dark sunglasses, a practical measure to avoid being recognized by civilians who might know his face from police files.

It was not vanity that motivated his choice of clothing. It was pragmatism. If they were going out together—he and Kagome's alternate manifestation—he needed to go unnoticed. A Port Mafia executive being seen in public with the woman he loved was asking for unnecessary trouble.

Although, he reflected with a touch of irony, he had faced much worse threats than possible public exposure.

He heard hurried footsteps. Kagome was running down the hallway, her shoes tapping against the polished wooden floor. When she appeared in his field of vision, Akutagawa noticed she was wearing the cream-colored dress Gin had mentioned the previous week. Simple, elegant, perfectly appropriate.

But there was something different in her expression. A determination mixed with... nervousness?

"Kuro," she greeted him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Akutagawa nodded briefly. "You are ready."

"Yes. But there's something I need to do first." Kagome closed her rose-purple eyes, her breathing becoming slower, deeper.

Akutagawa watched with clinical attention. He had seen this process before, though never so deliberately. Usually, Akahana emerged in situations of danger, when Kagome needed that protective strength that she herself refused to fully exert.

The atmosphere shifted. The air became colder, denser. It was as if something ancient and powerful were displacing reality itself.

Kagome’s body tensed for a moment. When she opened her eyes again, they were no longer rose-purple.

They were black with a red fade.

Her posture subtly changed: more upright, more rigid, like a statue coming to life. Her hair, which moments before fell freely, was now pulled back into a perfect high ponytail, held by the red kanzashi Akutagawa recognized from Kagome’s descriptions. A black Western umbrella appeared in her hand, materialized from nothing, which she held with the lethal elegance of someone who knew it as an extension of their own arm.

Her nails, previously bare or covered by Kagome’s usual gloves, now shone with blood-red polish.

"What is the meaning of this, Kagome?!" The voice was different. Colder, more controlled, with a sharp edge that could cut through steel. Akahana had taken complete control.

Akutagawa did not flinch. His gray eyes, partially hidden behind the dark glasses, met Akahana’s black and red ones. There was something fascinating in that encounter: two predators recognizing each other, two dark forces sharing a single purpose.

To protect Kagome.

For a moment, neither spoke. Silence stretched between them like a battlefield before the first blood.

Finally, Akahana slightly lowered the umbrella she had been using to cover her face, fully revealing her porcelain features and that unsettling beauty that seemed more the work of a sculptor than of nature.

A drop of sweat—or perhaps something else—slipped down her temple. Her eyes studied Akutagawa with an intensity that would have made most men recoil. Searching for weakness. Searching for a threat. Searching for any reason to deem this man unworthy of the devotion Kagome professed to him.

What she found was a distorted reflection of herself. Someone willing to burn the world if it meant keeping what he loved safe.

Akutagawa slowly removed his sunglasses, revealing his gray eyes that looked at her with absolute calm. There was no fear. No uncertainty. Only an unyielding determination.

"Hello..." The word left Akahana’s lips almost as a question, laden with evaluation and a cautious curiosity she would never openly display.

The air between them crackled with unresolved tension. Two guardians. Two absolute devotees. One born of eternal devotion, the other materialized from pain and the need for protection.

And both knew, in that precise instant, that the encounter about to unfold would define much more than a simple formal introduction.

—

The fast-food restaurant buzzed with the typical noise of lunchtime: conversations intermingling, the sizzle of fryers, the clink of cutlery against plastic trays. Amidst all that mundane chaos, Akutagawa and Akahana remained in a silence so dense it seemed to create a vacuum bubble around them.

Akahana had one hand wrapped around a soda cup, her crimson-nailed fingers contrasting violently against the transparent plastic. She raised the liquid to her lips with measured, almost mechanical movements, but it was evident—at least to someone as observant as Akutagawa—that she wasn't enjoying it. Each sip seemed more like an obligation than a pleasure.

Akutagawa watched her over his own drink, which he hadn't even touched. His gray eyes studied every micro-expression on that porcelain face, searching for cracks in the impenetrable mask.

"We are sitting here like idiots without saying anything," he thought with a rare pang of frustration. Social interactions had never been his forte. In the Port Mafia, conversations were reduced to orders, reports, and occasional veiled threats. This... this was uncharted territory.

With Kagome, it was different. With her, the silence was never awkward. But Akahana was not Kagome, even if they shared the same body. There was something about her that kept him constantly on alert, as if he were facing a predator that had not yet decided whether to attack or retreat.

He sighed imperceptibly and reached into the inner pocket of his coat, pulling out a small notebook bound in black leather. He placed it on the table between them with a deliberate motion.

"Do you want to see this?" His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but not hostile.

Akahana looked up from her drink. Her black eyes with the red fade settled on the notebook, then on Akutagawa, evaluating.

"It is a collection about people with Abilities throughout history." Akutagawa opened the notebook to a specific page he had marked beforehand. A detailed illustration occupied most of the space: an ethereal, ghostly figure, dressed in elaborate ceremonial robes. "This is Kagome."

It was not a question. It was an affirmation.

Akahana remained motionless for several seconds. Then, with slow, controlled movements, she set her drink aside and reached out for the notebook. Her fingers grazed the page, tracing the outline of the illustrated figure.

"I think so..." The whisper slipped out almost against her will, laden with something Akutagawa couldn't immediately identify. Nostalgia? Pain?

The silence returned between them, but this time with a different quality. More reflective. More honest.

Akahana turned her gaze toward the window. The afternoon sun filtered through the glass, illuminating the silver bracelets circling her wrists. Bracelets Akutagawa had seen Kagome put on that very morning in front of the mirror, with a thoughtful expression he hadn't understood then.

"She put these on in front of the mirror this morning..." Akahana's voice became harder, sharper. "I didn't realize it was for this." Her hands clenched into fists on the table. "She always hides so many things. Like what happened with Green Spirit."

The mention of the name made something dark cross Akutagawa's face. He remembered that incident. The way Kagome had returned injured, exhausted, yet smiling as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn't been on the brink of death.

"She is worried about you." The words left Akutagawa without the tone of reproach he would use with anyone else. It was simply a fact.

Akahana laughed. It wasn't a cheerful laugh, but something bitter and harsh that scraped the air like broken glass. "She doesn't even know what she wants for herself." She squeezed the soda cup so hard that the plastic creaked ominously. The red nails gleamed like drops of blood under the sunlight. "She is searching for who she truly is in this world. She still wants to know why she has the curse of never stopping her reincarnation."

Every word was tinged with a deep, almost visceral frustration. It was the type of emotion Akutagawa recognized intimately: the helplessness of not being able to protect someone from their own pain.

"She should focus on the present instead of looking for answers she doesn't yet know how to find." Akutagawa's voice was firm, almost severe. It was not cruelty, but brutal pragmatism. "The past does not change. The future is uncertain. Only the present can be controlled."

It was the same philosophy that had governed his life since the slums of Yokohama. Survival required focusing on the now, not on the ghosts of yesterday or the promises of tomorrow.

Akahana stared at him, her eyes studying him with an intensity that would have made most people back down. But Akutagawa held the gaze without blinking. Two immovable forces recognizing each other.

Finally, Akahana nodded almost imperceptibly. It wasn't full agreement, but it was something.

Akutagawa stood up with a fluid movement, extending his hand toward her. "Let's go."

The streets of Yokohama were unusually busy for a weekday. Akutagawa and Akahana walked side by side, maintaining a calculated distance that was neither too close nor too far. Passersby instinctively gave them space, though they didn't know why. Something in the way they both moved—with that lethal grace of natural predators—triggered primitive survival alarms.

They visited several shops. Akutagawa was not an enthusiastic shopper—in fact, he detested the frivolity of consumerism—but he tolerated the process because it was what he was supposed to do on a date. He observed Akahana with clinical attention, taking note of every reaction, every micro-expression, every pause.

It was Akahana who stopped abruptly in front of a flower shop.

Her gaze had fixed on the display window, where bouquets of red roses glowed under LED lights designed to enhance their color. There was something in the way she watched them—motionless, almost mesmerized—that made Akutagawa stop too.

"Do you like red flowers, Akahana?"

"Yes." The answer was simple, direct, devoid of unnecessary elaboration.

Akutagawa looked at her for a moment, evaluating. Then, without saying anything else, he pushed the flower shop door open. The bell above the entrance tinkled softly.

"Do you want to go in?"

Akahana followed without hesitation. The inside of the store smelled of damp earth and fresh petals, a marked contrast to the asphalt and smoke of the city outside. The woman behind the counter greeted them with a professional smile that momentarily faltered upon catching the intensity of their presences.

Akahana moved among the floral arrangements with silent steps, her fingers occasionally brushing petals. She stopped in front of a particularly elaborate bouquet: deep red roses, almost blood-colored, mixed with small white flowers that created a dramatic contrast.

Without a word, she took it.

Akutagawa paid without haggling, ignoring the florist's curious gaze. When they left the shop, Akahana held the bouquet against her chest with a delicacy that violently contrasted with the harshness of her usual expression.

The museum was almost empty. It was a blessing, Akutagawa thought, as he preferred spaces without crowds that could turn into complications if something went wrong.

They walked through the galleries in contemplative silence. The installations ranged from contemporary art to historical exhibits, an eclectic mix that reflected the cosmopolitan nature of Yokohama.

It was in the historical art section where everything changed.

Akahana stopped so abruptly that Akutagawa nearly collided with her. Her eyes had widened completely—the first expression of genuine shock she had shown all afternoon—and her hand rose tremblingly toward a painting on the wall.

It was large, almost the size of a door, framed in elaborately carved dark wood. The scene depicted was unsettling in its beauty: two female figures who shared the same face but radiated completely different presences. One dressed in white and pink ceremonial robes, her expression serene and compassionate. The other dressed in black and red, her gaze fierce and protective. Both stood back-to-back, like two sides of the same coin, surrounded by an aura of energy that the artist had captured with brushstrokes that seemed to vibrate with life.

"Who painted this?" Akahana’s whisper sounded broken, vulnerable in a way Akutagawa had never heard before.

Her hand trembled as she touched the frame, as if afraid the painting would disappear upon contact.

Akutagawa stepped forward, his trained eyes searching for the artist's signature. There was none. Only a small bronze plaque at the bottom of the frame that read: "Eternal Duality - Unknown Artist - Circa 1890."

Before he could answer, a female voice cut the museum's silence.

"We have been waiting for you, Miss Kagome..." A deliberate pause, laden with meaning. "Or rather, Miss Akahana."

Both turned simultaneously, adopting defensive postures purely by instinct. Akutagawa's hand moved to his side where Rashōmon slumbered beneath his coat. Akahana’s fingers closed around the handle of her umbrella with enough force to make her knuckles turn white.

The woman observing them was dressed in casual clothes—dark jeans, a cream-colored blouse, a leather jacket—but there was something in her posture that screamed military training. Her black hair with a violet fade fell in soft waves over her shoulders. But the most striking feature was her eyes: storm-gray, yet with a depth that spoke of forbidden knowledge and buried secrets.

"Are you...?" Akutagawa left the question unfinished, his eyes evaluating every detail. He recognized the type of presence this woman projected. It was similar to Fukuzawa's, to Mori's. Someone dangerous wrapped in a civilized appearance.

"I am Yoru Mikazuki." The woman slightly inclined her head, a gesture that could be interpreted as respect or subtle mockery. A small smile curved her lips. "We met in the desert, during the investigation of the Ban Yue case. Although I understand you were... preoccupied with other concerns at the time."

Her eyes slid to Akahana, studying her with clinical intensity. "I knew you would come here. This painting has a way of calling those connected to it."

"Explain yourself." Akutagawa's voice was flat, dangerous. He had no patience for riddles.

Yoru was unfazed by the threatening tone. Instead, she took a step toward the painting, her hands clasped behind her back in an almost relaxed stance. "There will be a great battle in a few days." Her voice became more serious, losing all trace of lightness. "You will have to face problematic enemies. Enemies who know your history, your weaknesses, your patterns."

"And why are you warning us?" Akahana spoke for the first time, her voice sharp as a blade. "What do you gain from this?"

Yoru looked directly at her, and for a moment something dark crossed her gray eyes. Something ancient and weary. "Because science without ethics is destruction. And destruction without purpose is waste." She took a deep breath. "I am not an enemy. At least not for now. I only warn you so that you are prepared."

She turned to leave but stopped after a few steps. Without fully turning back, she added: "You will understand when it happens. The rest you must discover on your own. Some secrets cannot be told, only experienced."

Her figure retreated down the museum hallway, her footsteps echoing on the marble until they completely faded away.

Akahana remained motionless, her gaze fixed on the painting. "Who could have painted this?" she whispered, more to herself than to Akutagawa. "Who knew us over a century ago?"

Akutagawa felt the onset of a headache pulsing behind his eyes. He recognized the symptoms: too much information, too many unanswered questions, and the exhausting weight of secrets accumulating like layers of dust over buried truths.

"We have to go." It was not a suggestion. Akutagawa gently took Akahana's arm, guiding her toward the exit. "You need to rest before Kagome returns."

Akahana did not protest. She allowed herself to be guided, although her eyes remained fixed on the painting until it disappeared from her view. The bouquet of red roses was still clutched against her chest, its perfect petals contrasting with the storm of confusion clearly brewing behind those black and red eyes.

As they left the museum into the dying afternoon sun, neither of them spoke. But both knew that something had changed. Yoru Mikazuki's warning was not just a threat of the future.

It was a confirmation that the past had never stopped pursuing them.

And that the coming battle would not just be against external enemies, but against the ghosts of lives neither of them fully remembered.

The wind blew, carrying away petals from the red roses. They fell to the ground like drops of blood, marking their path back home.

Chapter Text

The night fell over Yokohama like a dense, heavy blanket, laden with omens. Fukuzawa and Kin walked with the stillness of those who have seen too much, their steps synchronized in a silence that only years of working together could forge. It was Kin who stopped first, her indigo eyes fixing on the dark stains splattered on the pavement.

"Blood." Her voice was low, inflectionless, like one confirming a fact without surprise.

Fukuzawa nodded briefly. They followed the crimson trail, their figures moving like shadows among the shadows, until they reached the alley. The final pool was the largest, forming a small dark lake under the dim moonlight.

"This is the last pool..." Kin murmured, her fingers instinctively brushing the hilt of her sword.

The attack came without warning. A masked figure emerged from the darkness, the glint of a weapon reflecting the moon's light. But Fukuzawa had already moved, intercepting the attacker with a surgical precision that halted the blow mid-swing.

"It is a dangerous night..." Kin's voice had changed, acquiring an almost predatory undertone. A bestial smile appeared on her usually serene face, contrasting with the lethal elegance of her movements as she threw the aggressor backward.

The masked person changed direction in the air, their feet stepping on the void as if it were solid ground.

"You change direction by stepping on the air." Kin's eyes shone with professional interest, her indigo nails gleaming under the light. "A good ability."

"Death to beings with powers." The masked person's voice was cold, mechanical. "A gift to the earth."

Fukuzawa took a step forward, his posture relaxed but ready. "You hunt people with powers? If we are not your only target, we won't let you escape."

"You won't catch me." The masked person moved with arrogant confidence. "You cannot reach me; even if you master martial arts, you cannot subconsciously dodge an attack."

It happened so fast that even Fukuzawa couldn't react in time. An invisible ray struck their necks, and a thread of blood began to run down their throats.

"Did you perceive my intentions? But it is enough." The mockery in their voice was palpable. "Death can be found everywhere. Bullets, sickness, loneliness... or poison, for example."

Kin brought a hand to her neck, her eyes widening slightly—the only external sign of pain she allowed herself to show. Next to her, Fukuzawa fell to his knees, his face contorted in agony.

"Damn you..." was the last thing Kin managed to articulate before darkness consumed them both.

The door of the Armed Detective Agency burst open. Atsushi ran in, his amber eyes wide with worry.

"Is it true that the President and Kin-dono were attacked?" His voice trembled.

Kunikida looked up from his desk, his expression grim. "Yes. They will survive, but they are unconscious, and we don't know what is wrong with them. Not even Yosano-sensei's ability or one of Kikyo's Roses can alleviate the symptoms."

At the other end of the room, Kikyo was elegantly and deliberately filing her nails, her golden eyes shining with an intensity that contrasted with her relaxed posture. There was something unsettling about her calm, as if she were observing a chessboard rather than a crisis situation.

"Recently, there have been several similar murders." Dazai had his eyes closed, his hands behind his back. His voice was quiet, almost disinterested, but there was a hidden edge to every word. "They attack people with powers in deserted places. There are already several dead."

"What do we know about the killer?" Kunikida asked, adjusting his glasses.

"That they wear a mask and have an unknown ability." Kikyo stopped filing her nails, her voice sweet and soft, enveloping the room like silk. "Though they might die before we do anything."

Kagome, sitting cross-legged on the window sill, turned to look at Atsushi with her pinkish-purple eyes, assessing him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. The violet reflections in her black hair captured the light in an almost hypnotic way.

"Atsushi-kun," her voice had that playful tone she used when she wanted to make someone think without directly pressuring them, "which association would these murders affect?"

"Special Operations?" Atsushi frowned, trying to follow her line of reasoning.

"Not in this city." Kikyo raised one of her burgundy nails, examining it with clinical interest. A small, almost imperceptible smile curved her lips. "It's the Port Mafia."

Eileen, who had remained silent by the window like a porcelain statue, finally spoke in her low, neutral voice: "The guardians of the night."

"Exactly, Ei-chan." Kikyo gave her a warm look that instantly dissolved when she addressed the group again. "For them, as guardians of the night, for another to kill without their supervision, and considering that they use abilities, it is like me wielding a kitchen knife right in front of them."

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs with studied elegance. There was something in the way she said it, in that soft, almost maternal tone, that made the implied threat sound even more terrifying.

"If a Port Mafia victim were to appear..." Dazai began, opening one eye.

"They would lose their authority." Kunikida completed the thought, his frown deepening. "But will they mobilize before there are more victims?"

Kikyo let out a soft, almost musical laugh. Her reddish, acircular pupils moved like the hands of a clock, an unsettling tic that only appeared when her mind was working at full speed.

"Mori-san and Nana-san often say that the one who takes the initiative wins." Her smile became sharper, more dangerous. "They must be mobilizing right now. I think they must have already found his hideout."

Kagome let out a short, almost sardonic laugh. "I bet Nana already has three contingency plans, and Mori is dragging her to another clothing store."

"And Aíra will be complaining about how many they've already been to," Eileen added with the slightest hint of amusement in her monotone voice.

The door to the hideout exploded into splinters. Black Lizard swept in like a black tide, with Hirotsu at the front and his ability destroying everything in its path. Gin, Shiori, and Tachihara scattered throughout the room with military efficiency, checking every corner.

But it was empty.

"We were too late." Tachihara spat the words out in frustration, his brow furrowed.

Hirotsu pulled out his phone with professional calm. "Boss, Chief. The hideout is empty."

On the other end of the line, Nana's voice was calm, almost bored. "It seems he knows how to flee from his pursuers... he is cunning. It doesn't matter."

Inside the Mafia's car, Nana maintained her elegant composure even as Aíra, sitting on her lap, pulled her cheeks with a petulant expression. Her lilac hair tied in pigtails moved with every dramatic gesture. Beside her, Elise was doing the exact same thing to Mori.

"Rintarou! Shigeko!" Elise complained, using the nickname she liked so much for Nana.

"Aren't we going for sweets yet?" Aíra whined, making an exaggerated pout, her monochromatic violet eyes shining with genuine annoyance.

"Soon, Aíra-chan." Mori smiled at her with that unsettling sweetness characteristic of him. "I want us to go to one more store first."

"Another one?!" All three—Elise, Aíra, and Nana—shouted in unison. "That makes fifteen!"

Nana sighed, her lime eyes closing briefly in a gesture of infinite patience. "We will go by car. If you try anything on, I can die in peace." Mori clasped his hands together in an exaggerated gesture of supplication.

The three women sighed in defeat and got into the car. Nana took the moment to return to her conversation.

"Boss, Chief," Hirotsu's weary voice resonated again.

"What were we saying?" Nana questioned, her tone returning to that neutral, calculating state.

"The trap is set."

"He will commit the next murder soon." Mori got into the car, his smile never faltering. "We will attack at that instant."

The explosion illuminated the night like a false dawn. But when the smoke cleared, Mori and Nana were unharmed, carried in the arms of Aíra and Elise, respectively. Aíra's expression was one of absolute annoyance, while her violet eyes looked at Nana with something akin to reproach.

"See? This is why I hate going out with you," Aíra murmured, dropping Nana without much ceremony.

Nana landed with feline grace, not a hair out of place. "Thank you for your enthusiasm, Aíra."

"It wasn't enthusiasm. It was my own survival instinct."

Dazai and Kikyo were in the alley, the crime scene illuminated by the faint light of the streetlamps.

"The alley where the President and Kin-dono were attacked..." Dazai murmured, his dark eyes fixed on the dried bloodstain.

Kikyo knelt beside the largest pool, her fingers hovering over the pavement without actually touching it. "The first bloodstain they saw. A mysterious pool. A dead-end alley..."

She looked up at Dazai, and in that moment, something changed. Their expressions synchronized perfectly, as if they shared the same thought, the same pulse. Both smiled at the same time, that twin smile that so disturbed those who knew them.

"An ability that allows him to move by stepping on the air," Dazai continued.

"We already know who the culprit is," they both said in unison, their voices intertwining in an chilling harmony.

—

Aíra dropped Nana without much ceremony, her monochromatic violet eyes gleaming with annoyance as she surveyed the chaos around them. Above them, Elise still held Mori by the shirt, suspended in the air like a doll.

"This is awful." Elise's voice sounded almost bored as she hovered.

"Good job, Elise-chan." Mori was turning blue, his voice choked. "But you're strangling me."

Elise let go of him without warning. Mori fell to the ground with a thud while Nana and Aíra waited for them outside, watching the flames consume the vehicle with expressions that couldn't be more different: Nana, calculating and serene; Aíra, visibly annoyed at having had to move.

Mori's cell phone rang. His smile widened when he saw the names on the screen: Akutagawa and Amaya.

"It's me, the Boss." His voice instantly changed, adopting that tone of authority that made even shadows stand up straight. The fact that he and Nana shared the leadership had created this necessary distinction: Chief for Nana, Boss for Mori.

On the other end of the line, Akutagawa's voice resonated with his characteristic harshness. "Just as I thought, the prey fell into the trap."

"Take a good bite out of them." Mori smiled, sharing a look with Nana.

Their voices synchronized perfectly, as if they were a single organism: "The one who takes the initiative wins."

Akutagawa and Amaya were running through the alleys of Yokohama with superhuman speed, their silhouettes barely visible in the darkness. Higuchi's voice crackled through Amaya's communicator.

"The remote signal that caused the explosion came from area C-33."

They both stopped abruptly. There was blood on the ground.

"Blood?" Amaya knelt down, her fingers brushing the crimson liquid before bringing them to her lips. Her tongue tasted it with the same naturalness as someone tasting wine. "And it's slightly wet. It's recent."

"Death. The rest of death to people with powers." The masked person's voice emerged from the shadows.

Akutagawa didn't even flinch. "The chased rabbit shows itself in front of predators. How reckless. Are you the killer of people with powers?"

"I will form a death pact to revive the person I love most."

Amaya let out a laugh, her red eyes devoid of any shine. "You know ghosts exist, right? She might decide to turn you into a ghost for her. Although, your goal is noble and beautiful…" Her voice turned icy. "It makes no sense to say it without force!"

Amaya's threads shot out like silver snakes while Rashomon emerged from Akutagawa, dark spikes impaling the masked person from multiple angles. The man disappeared in an explosion of blood, falling to the ground.

When the mask slid from his face, both mafiosi froze.

"Are you the ability user killer, Hawthorne?" All amusement had left Amaya's voice.

In front of the burning car, Mori, Elise, Nana, and Aíra watched the curious people who were beginning to gather. Mori smiled at the three as if they were a perfect family: Nana his wife, Elise and Aíra his daughters.

"There are many curious onlookers. We're drawing attention."

"You don't say." Nana scoffed, her lime eyes shining with something akin to controlled exasperation.

Two police officers ran toward them, one with a masculine silhouette, the other more feminine.

"Are you alright? We were informed a car exploded."

"Don't worry, officer." Mori put a hand on Nana's shoulder with exasperating familiarity. "The thing is, my wife was smoking."

Nana slowly turned to him, her lime eyes shining with a dangerous intensity. "Since when do I smoke?" she whispered, her voice so low it could freeze the air.

"So it was an accident. Your clothes are scorched. Are you okay?" the female officer asked.

"Yes, perfectly fine, as you can see." Nana maintained her impeccable composure, although her fingers briefly clenched into an almost imperceptible fist.

The duo of police officers sighed, their silhouettes tensing.

"This is a problem."

The female officer launched a knife strike at the duo. Mori and Nana parried them in a synchronized movement, their hats falling to the ground to reveal familiar faces.

Fyodor Dostoevsky and Anna Grigoryevna.

Fyodor smiled with that expression that always seemed to hide a thousand secrets. Nana let down her long black hair, allowing it to fall like a silk cascade, applied her purple lipstick with precise movements, and ran toward Fyodor.

Nana sent Aíra upward, but seconds later, the annoyed voice of her invocation resonated from the heights.

"I lost him. What a pain."

"So the onlookers were also part of your plan…" Nana murmured with a genuine, admiring laugh, but then her body staggered. She fell to the ground alongside Mori, blood beginning to pool around them.

Amaya walked in circles around Nathaniel, her steps almost dancing, while Akutagawa spoke with that harsh voice he reserved for those he didn't care about.

"The Scarlet Letter, that is your ability, it controls blood. So you use blood to move through the air. Furthermore…"

The blood-covered bullets flew towards them.

"That explains the blood attack. You threw bloody letters." Amaya laughed with absolute contempt. "I didn't expect such a serious religious person like you to use such tricks. Life brings surprises."

"Are you planning to revive Margaret Mitchell?" Akutagawa asked.

Hawthorne's eyes widened with genuine confusion. "Who…? Who are you?"

The eyes of the two mafiosi snapped open.

Had Hawthorne's memory been erased?

Somewhere in Yokohama, Fyodor was calmly dressing while Anna waited, the sound of her black heels echoing through the empty space. She wore a high-necked black silk blouse, tailored dress pants with silver detailing, fingerless fine leather gloves, and stiletto heels with a red sole. A small silver pin shaped like a straight pin decorated her chest, and her nails were painted a deep purple.

"Are you looking for this?"

Dazai had a Russian hat over his face while biting into an apple. Kikyo, by his side, wore sunglasses that clearly didn't belong to her, also eating an apple with studied elegance.

"Hello, Fyodor, the demon." Dazai greeted him with that voice that always sounded like he was telling a joke no one else understood.

"And Anna, the Archon of Control and Destiny." Kikyo bit her apple, her golden eyes gleaming behind the glasses. "Also my younger sister."

"So, it's you two." Fyodor smiled.

"Long time no see, Older Sister." Anna maintained her perfectly neutral expression, her long platinum blonde hair moving in the wind.

"You devised a double murder using the masked man." Kikyo smiled along with Dazai, that disturbing synchronization that characterized them. "We figured you would do something like this."

"So we deduced where you would flee and were waiting for you here." Dazai pointed to the hat while Kikyo touched the glasses. "Do these things suit us?"

"Absolutely not," Fyodor and Anna replied in unison.

"No? Then we'll give them back." The Kiyozai removed the stolen accessories with synchronized movements.

Kikyo fiddled with her fingers, her burgundy nails shining under the dim light. "It's a method characteristic of you two. You used Anna's ability to turn the poor man into a puppet of your will, made him a killer, and sent him to attack the two leaders of the two most powerful organizations in Yokohama."

Her voice softened, becoming almost maternal, but there was ice in every word. It was that sweetness Kikyo used when she wanted to disarm, when she wanted the other person to drop their guard right before driving in the knife.

"And what is it that you want?" Fyodor asked.

Kikyo closed her golden eyes, her smile never reaching them. "To tell us what you poisoned the President with, so we can cure him."

"We know your goal." Dazai shared a look with Kikyo, that silent communication that made them a single mind. "To obtain the Book, you must eliminate those with powers in Yokohama. But the Rats cannot burn down the city, like the Guild. That's why you opted to attack the leaders of the Agency and the Port Mafia."

"Why do you think we would do that?" Anna looked at her older sister with that impenetrable expression.

"Because it's what Osamu and I would do if we wanted to destroy Yokohama." Kikyo's voice grew softer, almost like a whisper shared between conspirators. There was something chilling in that sweetness, in how she could say something so terrible with the tone someone uses to share an intimate secret.

"I suppose the four of us are too much alike, Starshaya sestra (Older Sister)." Anna looked at Fyodor, who nodded.

"Alright. We will tell you." Fyodor's voice was calm, almost kind. "The poison we used is an ability of mutual destruction."

The eyes of the Kiyozai snapped open.

"It is a viral ability possessed by a certain criminal individual. Tiny supernatural beings that grow in 48 hours devour the bodies of the infected. But if one of the infected dies before then, the power stops."

"So to save the President, we have to kill Mori-san." All lightness had left Dazai's voice.

"Don't try to nullify the ability. Searching for the virus among organs and touching it directly is suicide. What will you do? Will you talk to the Port Mafia?"

In the executive meeting room, Chuuya Nakahara, Ueno Takako, and Kouyou Ozaki looked at the letter. Mori was on a stretcher, unconscious.

"Damn it! Two days?!" Chuuya yelled.

Takako frowned, her fingers stroking the edge of her fan. She wore her black kimono with cherry blossom details, her white haori with a navy-blue gradient falling elegantly over her shoulders. Her ice-blue eyes shone with a glacial clarity.

"So Anna finally came out of the sewers with her Human, huh?" Her voice was soft, almost melodic, but there was distilled poison in every syllable.

"She intends for the Agency and the Port Mafia to crush each other." Kouyou had a hand on her chin, assessing the situation with her characteristic experience.

"Ane-san." Chuuya looked at her.

"Are you going to fight? That's what the perpetrator wants."

"I'll crush him too! But still…" Chuuya clenched his fists. "Two days are not enough."

Takako sighed, adjusting a sleeve of her haori with movements that seemed like a dance. "We have two options: do what the enemy wants, go to war with the ADA, lose people in that war, kill their President…" She paused, her eyes briefly closing. "Or swallow our pride as mafiosi and ask Kikyo to use Hyakka no Niwa (Garden of a Hundred Flowers), and launch a slow-time rose at the Boss and the Chief. Two days are not enough to find a solution without getting rid of the ADA..."

The three executives fell silent, the weight of the decision falling upon them like a tombstone.

"Human stupidity is a crime." Fyodor's voice was almost poetic. "We cannot stop killing each other despite knowing they are nothing more than ploys. Someone must purify that crime. That's why I long for the Book and made a contract with the Archon of Control and Destruction."

"For this." Anna lifted her sunglasses.

The gunshot echoed in the night. Dazai and Kikyo fell to the ground, blood staining the pavement along with their rolling apples.

"A sniper?" Kikyo coughed up blood, looking at her younger sister. "So you also knew what we would do, didn't you, Anna?"

"It wasn't a fatal shot, Starshaya sestra." Anna stood up, walking next to Fyodor with that icy elegance. "You have the role of marking the beginning of the confrontation against the Port Mafia."

Dazai got up with Kikyo's help, his expression more serious than usual. "You said we are alike. Yes, we are alike, but regarding one point… we think differently."

The Kiyozai spoke in unison, their voices intertwined: "It's true that human beings are stupid and sinful. That we need the Archon Sisters to not harm the world more than it already is. That's the good part."

"You knew we had a sniper prepared, didn't you?" Fyodor said.

"But you came anyway to get information." Anna narrowed her eyes, something akin to disappointment briefly filtering through.

Kikyo smiled, elegantly wiping the blood from her lips. "The Book is a novel. A blank work that makes reality whatever is written in it."

"That's right. We will use that book to create a world without crime. Without powers." The conviction in Fyodor's voice was absolute.

The Kiyozai laughed coldly, that synchronized laugh that froze the blood.

"Try it if you can." Kikyo's golden eyes shone with something between amusement and contempt. Her smile grew sharper, more dangerous. "After all, Anna, you are still the third younger sister of the Archons."

The night continued to fall over Yokohama like a curtain of tragedy. Atsushi, Kagome, Kyouka, and Eileen were running through the dark streets, their breaths ragged as they searched desperately.

"Dazai-san! Kikyo-san!" Atsushi's voice resonated with urgency, his amber eyes scanning every shadow.

"Where did those two lovebirds get to?" Kagome scoffed, her pinkish-purple eyes blazing with frustration. She gestured dramatically with her hands. "I told them not to go alone, but nooo, they had to go 'investigate something important.' As if I don't know that means getting into trouble!"

"They said they had to investigate something around here." Atsushi looked everywhere, worry etched into every line of his face.

Eileen walked silently behind them, her amber eyes fixed on the ground. She said nothing, but her hand clenched into an almost imperceptible fist. Something was wrong. She felt it in the air.

In the alley, Fyodor and Anna stood up with complete calm, their movements fluid and calculated as if they had just won a game of chess.

"Goodbye. We will see each other in the promised land." Fyodor walked away with that smile that always seemed to hide ancient secrets.

Anna followed him, but before leaving, she cast one last look at her victims. "Starshaya sestra," her voice was neutral, but there was something in her eyes that might have been satisfaction, "I expected more resistance from you."

The Kiyozai duo watched them go, but they could no longer maintain their composure. They fell to the ground, bleeding out from the wounds the sniper had inflicted. Blood formed dark puddles beneath their still bodies.

Minutes later, Atsushi, Kagome, Kyouka, and Eileen found them.

"Dazai-san! Kikyo-san!" Atsushi knelt beside them, his hands trembling.

"Shit, shit, shit." Kagome already had her phone in her hand, dialing with frantic fingers. "We need an ambulance now! NOW!"

Eileen silently knelt beside Kikyo, pressing her hands against the wound without saying a word. Her expression remained neutral, but her fingers trembled slightly. "Do not die," she murmured, so low it was barely audible. "You cannot die."

The hospital was immersed in a tense silence. Tanizaki and Kunikida waited in the hallway, while Kagome paced beside Yosano, her pinkish-purple eyes closed as if she were praying—or cursing.

"We finished examining the President and Kin-dono." Yosano emerged from the room, her expression grim. "It's what the enemy warned us about. An ability that is stealing their life force. We don't know if they will regain consciousness."

"I figured as much." Kunikida crossed his arms, his brow furrowed deeper than ever.

"Let's save the President, Kunikida-san!" Tanizaki stepped forward, his voice loaded with desperation. "Killing the Port Mafia boss is the only option!"

"We have to prevent the President and Kin-dono from dying, but…" Kunikida looked away, his jaw tense. "Dazai and Kikyo are being operated on in another hospital."

The silence that followed was dense, loaded with meaning. Everyone understood the reason: as former Port Mafia members, Dazai and Kikyo knew their tactics better than anyone. But the gunshot had left them completely incapacitated. They would have to wait for them to fully recover to gain any advantage.

"Yosano-sensei," Kagome opened her eyes, and there was a darkness in them that was rarely seen, "where are Ranpo-san and Asuna-san?"

"With the President and Kin-dono. They are very nervous." Yosano sighed, running a hand through her hair. "And I understand why."

Atsushi burst in, his feet skidding on the polished floor. "We have a problem! The Port Mafia has surrounded the building!"

Kagome pulled the curtain open sharply, her violet reflections catching the light as she observed the situation. He was right. They were completely surrounded. Her expression hardened, and for a moment, she looked centuries older than she appeared.

"This is going to get ugly," she murmured, her voice losing all its usual cheer.

Eileen moved silently to stand next to her, her amber eyes fixed on the approaching figures. "Protect," she said simply.

Chuuya and Takako leaped across the rooftops with perfect synchronization, two predators on the hunt. The truce had been forgotten. Only one thing mattered: saving their bosses.

They landed on the hospital roof with an impact that shook the structure. Takako stood up with an elegance that belied the violence of her arrival, her battle attire billowing in the night wind.

The black satin blouse with a high collar made her look like a deadly work of art, the small silver butterfly-shaped pins glistening under the moonlight. Her short leather skirt with a slit on the side allowed freedom of movement, while the barely noticeable fishnet stockings added a touch of dangerous provocation. The chunky heeled ankle boots with metallic straps resonated against the concrete like a sentence. Her fingerless leather gloves revealed perfectly manicured nails, and the short coat with snowflake embroidery on the cuffs completed the image of an assassin born from winter itself.

"We are sorry, detectives." Chuuya's voice was harsh, with no room for negotiation. "This is not personal. Hand over your boss's head and you will not die."

Takako opened her wagasa (traditional Japanese umbrella) with a fluid movement, revealing the katana hidden inside. Her ice-blue eyes shone with that frosty calm that preceded the storm. "We regret the circumstances," her voice was soft, almost sweet, but there was distilled ice in every syllable. "But you understand, don't you? Flowers cannot escape the ground where they were planted. And we… we were sown in the darkness."

Inside the hospital, the electricity suddenly cut out, plunging everything into semi-darkness.

"They blocked all the exits." Atsushi's voice trembled slightly.

"They are experts in surprise attacks and assassinations for a reason." Kagome clenched her fists, her usually cheerful face turned into a mask of determination. "Damn Mafia. Always with their damn theatrics."

"What do we do?" Yosano looked at the others, but before anyone could answer, the door opened.

Ranpo and Asuna came out, their expressions more serious than usual.

"Calm down, Kunikida! Aren't you the President's disciple?" Ranpo's voice had that tone he used when he was genuinely worried, hidden under layers of false confidence.

"Ranpo-san, are you alright?" Yosano asked.

"The President and Kin-nee told me to react." Asuna's voice was firm, without a hint of doubt.

"Did they wake up?" Hope sprang into Yosano's voice.

"No. But we heard them." Ranpo opened his eyes, those eyes that saw too much, and pointed to Kunikida. "Give the orders, Acting President. I will extract all the information you need."

Eileen silently approached Kagome, her voice low but clear. "If Akutagawa-san comes…" She left the sentence unfinished, but the meaning was clear.

"I know, Ei-chan." Kagome put a hand on her shoulder. "But this time it's not about him and Atsushi. It's about surviving."

On the roof, Takako's communicator crackled. Higuchi spoke from the other end.

"There is an ability-user escort in the President's room. It's a blonde boy."

Takako observed through the window, her ice-blue eyes fixing on Kenji. A small, almost imperceptible smile curved her lips. "How curious. A child protecting a dying man. There is a certain poetry to that, don't you think, Chuuya?"

Chuuya began to increase his body mass, his feet creating craters in the concrete of the roof. Takako fully opened her wagasa, the katana reflecting the moonlight like a mirror of death.

"The boy is not alone." Higuchi's voice sounded tense. "Kunikida, the Tiger, the Karei (Flounder)… practically the entire agency is protecting the room."

"What?" Chuuya gritted his teeth. "They want an all-out confrontation?"

Takako closed her eyes briefly, her expression becoming more serene, more dangerous. When she opened them, there was a cold resolution in them. "The flowers that bloom in blood are the most beautiful," she murmured, almost to herself. "Even if their beauty lasts but an instant."

Chuuya communicated with the others, his voice booming with authority. "We will send the best. Bring Akutagawa, Amaya, and Black Lizard!"

Minutes later, the two sides faced each other in the hospital corridor. The tension was so dense it could be cut with a knife.

On one side: Atsushi, Kagome, Eileen, Kyouka, Kunikida, Yosano, Kenji, and Tanizaki.

On the other: Akutagawa, Amaya, Chuuya, Takako, Black Lizard, and Higuchi.

The silence was deafening.

Kagome stepped forward, her pinkish-purple eyes gleaming with a mixture of rage and determination. "This is bullshit," she spat, without a shred of her usual cheer. "We all know it. We are being moved like chess pieces."

"And yet," Takako replied with that soft, deadly voice, tilting her head slightly, "here we are. Because flowers don't choose their garden, Karei-san. They can only bloom… or wither."

Eileen moved imperceptibly closer to Kagome, her fingers brushing the edge of her hanfu where she hid her weapons. She said nothing, but her message was clear: if anyone tried to touch Kagome, they would have to step over her dead body first.

Akutagawa looked at Atsushi with those hungry eyes, while Amaya observed Kagome with an unreadable expression. Gin and Shiori flanked their superiors like silent shadows.

Chuuya abruptly knelt, his posture aggressive and ready for combat. Takako took out her set of scalpels with movements that looked like a ceremonial dance, her ice-blue eyes assessing each opponent with surgical precision.

The Mafia executive finally spoke, his voice cutting the silence like a sharp blade:

"Will we fight in turns? Or all at once?" His orange eyes glowed with a dangerous intensity. "Decide. It makes no difference to me."

Takako twirled one of her scalpels between her fingers with lethal grace, her smile never reaching her eyes. "Although," she added with that poisonous sweetness, "it would be more elegant if we avoided the unnecessary shedding of blood. But I suppose elegance is a luxury none of us can afford tonight."

The war between the two organizations was about to begin. Not for pride. Not for revenge. But for the same impossible goal: to save their respective bosses.

Regardless of the cost.