Fushi's breath came in ragged gasps as he darted into the abandoned café, the chaotic sounds of the battle outside fading into the background. The crumbling walls and shattered windows of the building did little to offer comfort, but it was better than being in the open. The pirate clone's footsteps echoed behind him, getting louder by the second.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it," Fushi muttered under his breath, his mind racing. He had no plan—no real strategy—just sheer panic and the overwhelming instinct to survive. His eyes darted around the café, taking in the dust-covered tables, overturned chairs, and remnants of a place long forgotten. There had to be something, anything, he could use to defend himself.

He glanced back through the glass door he had just kicked in, catching a glimpse of the pirate clone's grotesque grin as it closed the distance. His heart pounded in his chest, fear gripping him tighter than it had ever before. The pirate's expression was one of sick pleasure, as though he relished the hunt, savoring each step that brought him closer to his prey.

Fushi's stomach turned. I can't die here, I can't die here, he told himself, over and over.

His feet moved on instinct, propelling him toward the back of the café where the staff room's door hung slightly ajar. Without a second thought, Fushi bolted inside, slamming the door shut and locking it with trembling hands. His fingers fumbled as he dragged a nearby chair and wedged it against the door handle, hoping the makeshift barricade would buy him some time.

His chest heaved as he tried to calm himself. The dim lighting of the staff room did little to ease his nerves. The small space was cluttered—shelves stocked with dusty coffee supplies, a few old aprons hanging on hooks, and a desk piled high with forgotten papers. Fushi ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think.

I'm trapped, he thought, his breath catching in his throat. No one's coming to save me this time.

The weight of that realization hit him harder than anything else. Souji and Mika were fighting their own battles, and Fushi didn't have anyone with him in this room, he was alone, truly alone.

His gaze fell on a box cutter resting at the far back of one of the shelves. It was small, the blade dull and rusty from years of neglect, likely left behind not because the owner workers here were in a rush, but because it was simply never found, but it was something. Fushi grabbed it, his knuckles white as he gripped the handle.

It's not enough, he thought, panic surging again. He needed more than just a flimsy blade. His eyes scanned the room, searching for anything he could use, any way to slow down the pirate that was now stalking him like an animal.

That's when it hit him. His phone buzzed in his pocket, reminding him it was still there. Fushi pulled it out and stared at the screen, an idea forming in his mind. Maybe… I can fake him out.

Quickly, Fushi set the phone behind the desk, recording some voice lines before he played them back, hiding the phone behind the desk. He angled the speaker toward the door, activating the display to give off a faint glow. Then, he took the box cutter and stood beside the doorway. It wasn't much of a trap, but if the pirate forced his way in, the door would swing open and cover Fushi as he pinned himself against the wall, and while he checked out the phone, Fushi could escape. There's no way I can go for an attack, there's no way I'm strong enough… But, just in case… He thought as he clenched the box cutter, drawing its short blade on the off chance his plan went awry.

His plan was a long shot, to say the least. Fushi knew that. But it was all he had.

He crouched in the corner, his breath shallow as he waited. The silence was unbearable, the tension so thick it felt like the air was pressing down on him. His thoughts drifted back to the moments before this nightmare began. To Souji's calm confidence and Mika's steadfast resolve. How could they face this kind of danger without flinching? How had Souji stayed so quiet, even when everything was falling apart?

I'm not like them, Fushi thought bitterly. I can't handle this! Maybe… Just maybe if I didn't act so cool on the boat, if I didn't act cocky just because I had my phone, would they still have split us up? Why did I follow them in the first place?! Argh! This sucks, I want to go home, I want to go home-

A crash interrupted his thoughts as the door to the staff room shook violently, the pirate clone slamming against it with full force. Fushi clenched his jaw, his heart racing as the door shuddered. The chair creaked, barely holding the door in place.

The pirate's low, guttural voice came through the crack in the door. "Hiding, huh? Perfect! I love this, I love it so much!"

Another slam and the chair slid. Fushi tensed, gripping his knees to keep himself from bolting. The door was going to give. Any second now.

With a final crash, the door burst open, sending the chair tumbling to the floor. The pirate clone stepped into the room, his cruel smile widening as he spotted the glow of Fushi's phone behind the desk. "Got you," he muttered, his voice dripping with malice.

He moved toward the desk, his eyes and ears locked on to the voice recordings, the pleading Fushi had on playback, and Fushi held his breath. The trap sprung. Fushi jumped from his cover and bolted toward the door, turning around instantly where a sudden chill ran down his spine, he felt the hand of the pirate gripping the collar of his shirt, it seemed Fushi was too slow…

Ah… I messed up, what happened? Maybe…

"You really think I'd fall for that, kid? I could tell you were behind the door when I swung it open!"

Blood sprayed across the room as the blade bit deep into his neck.

The pirate clone staggered back, his hands flying to his throat in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. His eyes were wide with shock, a gurgling sound escaping his lips as he collapsed to the ground in a heap.

Fushi remained frozen, his mind reeling as he stared at the lifeless body on the floor. His hands trembled violently, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. He had done it. He had killed someone.

No, Fushi thought, swallowing the lump in his throat. It wasn't a person. Just a clone. Not a real person.

But the image of the blood, the way the pirate had fallen, the lifeless eyes staring at nothing—it all felt too real. Fushi looked down at his hands, soaked with blood, real blood, and the short box cutter held tight.

His stomach lurched, and he had to fight the urge to throw up. He leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor, his head in his hands. The weight of what he had done pressed down on him, suffocating him. This wasn't supposed to happen. He had promised himself he would never use his abilities, never become a killer. Yet here he was, covered in someone else's blood, alive because he had chosen to fight back. Fushi's voice broke as he started whimpering in the corner, sitting next to the body that had just traumatized him.

A sudden buzzing noise snapped him out of his thoughts. His phone. He wiped the sweat from his brow and picked it up, his fingers still shaking. He opened various apps and quickly found himself lost in his device, his thoughts elsewhere as he began to laugh aloud, seemingly enjoying his time on the phone, addicted to the device despite a body mere meters away from him…

Fushi stopped his fingers from pressing buttons for a moment, staring at his reflection on the screen. Souji... Mika… They were still out there, fighting their own battles. And he was here, crouching in an abandoned café.

I should, at least check up on them... Right? That's what a normal person would do now, right?

With a deep breath, Fushi pushed himself to his feet, stepping over the pirate's body as he moved toward the door. His knees still felt weak, but he forced himself to move, to think about what mattered—surviving and protecting the ones he cared about.

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Outside, the night was still alive with the sound of battle. The pirates were hunting them, and Souji and Mika were somewhere out there, fighting to stay alive.

Fushi stepped into the street, his heart pounding but his resolve steady. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot. He wasn't sure if he could face the weight of what he had done, but for now, he had to keep moving...

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Mika's heartbeat echoed in his ears as he raced through the narrow alleyway, the heavy footfalls of the clone in hot pursuit. The damp air clung to his skin, every breath laced with the stench of decaying trash and rust. His feet pounded against the cobblestone, sending vibrations through his body, but his mind was elsewhere, locked onto one thought: Protect Souji.

The words of Souji's father, Hajime Ryūnosuke, hammered into his head.

"Remember, Mika, Souji is more than just your responsibility. He is a reflection of the Hajime family's honor. Should you fail to protect him, you will not only disgrace yourself but the entire family."

The old man's cold, piercing gaze haunted Mika even now. Ryūnosuke had been as stern as he was proud, offering no warmth or affection, not even toward his son. Yet, to Mika, Souji wasn't just his "young master." Souji was the one person who had shown him kindness, who had taught him that honor wasn't just about duty but about loyalty to those you cared for.

Protecting Souji is my duty… No, it's my honor.

The clone's footsteps drew closer, a bone-chilling reminder that the enemy was right behind him. Its grating laughter echoed in the alley, mocking Mika's flight. But Mika's fear, which had momentarily clouded his thoughts, was starting to dissipate. His mind sharpened, honed in on a singular goal: end this.

"Enough," Mika muttered, his tone cold, his hesitation replaced with a calm determination.

He veered sharply into a side street, leading the clone deeper into a maze of alleys, away from the open streets and away from Souji. His breath evened out as his strategic mind took control. Mika had always been precise, always a step ahead of his enemies. His survival—and Souji's—depended on it.

Reaching up to his neatly tied hair, Mika's fingers slipped through the silver strands, pulling out the slender needles hidden within. His long hair fell loose, flowing like silk down his back, but Mika's focus remained razor-sharp. These needles were more than weapons—they were tools of his Sorcery.

"Sōsa majutsu - Cheri Cheri Lady" (Manipulation Sorcery - Cheri Cheri Lady)

With practiced precision, Mika flicked the first needle, embedding it into the brick wall of a nearby building. The second needle followed in quick succession, striking the ground just a few feet away. A thin, ethereal thread of Sorcery connected the two points, invisible to the naked eye, but unbreakable to those unaware of its existence.

The clone barreled forward, oblivious to the trap Mika had laid. Its grotesque face twisted into a sneer as it anticipated the kill, and it lunged forward with reckless abandon.

Mika's eyes narrowed. Fool.

With a swift flick of his wrist, he yanked the thread, pulling the two connected points together in an instant. The air was filled with the sound of grinding stone as the wall and the ground collided with a deafening crash, and the clone was caught in the center of it all. The crushing force of the impact snapped the clone's body like a twig, its bones cracking under the immense pressure.

But Mika didn't stop there.

His movements were fluid, each action deliberate and without hesitation, followed by the apathetic look in his eyes. Another pair of needles flew from his fingers, striking the clone in the shoulder and the opposite leg. The threads connecting the needles pulled taut as Mika moved his fingers with precision, controlling the threads as if they were extensions of his own body.

The clone let out a guttural scream as its limbs were forcefully yanked together, its body contorting into an unnatural and grotesque shape. Mika watched with an emotionless gaze, calculating the exact moment to finish the job.

With one swift motion, Mika pulled the threads apart, severing the clone's body like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Blood splattered the walls, the ground, and the remnants of the broken alley, but Mika remained untouched, his steps graceful and controlled.

The fight had lasted mere seconds, and Mika hadn't even broken a sweat. He stood amidst the wreckage, his expression calm and composed, like an artist admiring his handiwork. This was the culmination of years of training and discipline, the power he wielded to protect Souji and fulfill his duty to the Hajime family.

Huh, didn't even need to use all 5 needles.

As the clone's dismembered body dissolved into black mist, dissipating like smoke, Mika sheathed the needles back into his hair, tying it up once more with practiced ease. His hands moved methodically, but his mind was already racing ahead. The battle was just a distraction, a mere inconvenience. What mattered now was Souji.

Souji... I need to find him.

Mika turned on his heel, his footsteps as light as shadows as he moved through the alley, leaving behind the carnage without a second thought. His mind replayed the last time he had seen Souji—the young master was stubborn, reckless even, but there was something admirable about his fiery determination. Souji had a light inside him, a fire that burned brighter than any mutant that dared challenge him.

Oh, Souji... He thought, his hand against his heart as he felt sorry for the young boy.

You'd go this far to save Toru… It was only now that the situation had dawned on him. Usually, this wasn't anything too far from his regular duty as a hire of the Hajime family, but since he was placed on bodyguard duty it's clear that regular life isn't as chaotic as this, and Souji was no exception, he had lived a regular life until now, as a regular high-schooler, and regular teen with regular goals…

How noble… He thought, a tear running down his eye.

I can't… I can't let anything happen to your precious dreams! He thought, his determination hardening as his pace quickened.

Mika moved through the labyrinthine streets, his senses on high alert. The distant sounds of battle filled the air, the clash of steel and the roar of Sorcery echoing in the night. The pirates had spread throughout the city, hunting down Souji and the others with merciless precision.

But Mika wouldn't allow Souji to be caught. Not while he still drew breath.

His thoughts briefly drifted to Ryūnosuke's cold gaze. The old man had never approved of Mika, always treating him like nothing more than a tool, and that was fine with Mika. But Souji was different. Souji had looked at Mika with kindness and had treated him like a person, not as a tool like the others in the family had. That small kindness had lit a fire in Mika's heart, a fire that now drove him forward with unyielding determination.

Souji!

Mika's eyes scanned the streets, looking for any sign of his young master. The moonlight cast long shadows across the buildings, the city a twisted maze of dark alleys and abandoned storefronts. But Mika knew these streets like the back of his hand. He had memorized the layout of every district, every side street, every potential escape route. It was part of his training—a necessity for protecting Souji.

As he rounded a corner, Mika paused, his ears picking up the faint sound of footsteps. Not the heavy thud of the pirates, but something lighter, faster. He pressed himself against the wall, his body tense, ready to strike…