In Surata’s living room, a man with orange-colored eyes patiently sat on top of the couch, twiddling a dark sickle with a straight, sharp edge.
“Hey, been waiting for ya’. I was going to think you would never show...” They turned to Surata and stopped twiddling. “Oh, you’re not the one I’m looking for. Sorry for trespassing.”
The man’s fiery orange eyes softened as he glanced at Surata. His eyes, filled with excitement, now held a hint of sincerity as he deactivated his noye.
“Who is this guy? I’ve never seen this man before.” Surata's instincts kicked in, instantly putting him on high alert as he assumed a defensive stance. Though the man masked his bloodlust, a palpable and ominous demonic aura enveloped him, sending chills down Surata's spine. “Hold on, wait a minute…this presence… those orange eyes. Is this…? What are you doing in my house!?”
“Like I said, Looking. For. Someone.”
Surata glanced over his shoulder and picked up a kendo stick leaning on the wall beside him. He conveniently left it there because he finished his training for the day.
Surata never felt such powerful energy in a person before. He witnessed the Shikari incident downtown in person. Their auras felt intense and powerful, but never as evil or dangerous as the man facing him.
Every fiber of his being quivered with the instinct to escape, yet he remained steadfast in his decision to become a Shikari, refusing to yield to the urge to flee.
With no hesitation, Surata firmly held the stick and aimed it towards the intruder. “Leave this house now, or I’ll force you!”
“Woah, this is how you treat guests?” the man chuckled, exposing his twisted smile. “Guess I’ll have to show you some hospitality.”
___
Back at the front door, Koroki remained at a standstill as he conversed with Yorui.
He carefully placed his groceries by the side of the door. With his back facing her, he calmly asked, “I shouldn’t have come home? What’s that supposed to mean? Since when did you become my parole officer, Yorui?” Koroki turned his body and glanced at Yorui. “To be honest, it doesn’t suit you.”
“…” Unfazed by his comment, Yorui stood in silence, refusing to speak as she focused all her energy on standing. Her body limped but her glowing, half-lidded green eyes remained focused on Koroki, showing a sense of determination.
After deciding that his sarcasm wouldn’t help, Koroki gave in to Yorui’s manipulation. He deliberately held his hands up in the air where she could see them, role-playing as an officer and criminal. “Ok, you win. I won’t go in the house.” His eyes sharpened, fixated on her eyes. You can turn off your Noye, Yorui.”
As soon as Koroki surrendered, Yorui’s glowing eyes reverted to their natural dark brown color. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, relieved that she had prevented Koroki from fighting Majuro.
After deactivating her noye, her adrenaline disappeared. All the pain she ignored rapidly caught up to her. Exhausted, she graciously fell onto the cold walkway. She quickly tucked on her back, grunting from the sharp, burning sensation.
Koroki finally grew tired of her games. He had recently seen various suspicious activities around Yorui and never received an explanation. He knew it did not concern him, but he constantly witnessed her strange behaviors and actions. Naturally, his curiosity grew.
“So, what’s happening, Yorui?” Koroki wondered, keeping his monotone, disinterested tone. He lowered his arms and clasped them behind his neck.
Despite his tone, his concern felt genuine. From the moment his eyes locked into her, he knew she was in distress. He figured he should ask but doubted he would receive an actual response.
“I… I just… I don’t know anymore.” Her voice quivered with grief, a heartbreaking sound that revealed her deep sense of defeat.
“What do you mean?”
Yorui found herself in a moment of indecision, feeling overwhelmed as her mind filled with conflicting thoughts and potential options for her next move. Her voice stopped quivering and lowered, devoid of warmth in her words. “I’m sorry, Koroki. You’re a good person… and I didn’t want you to… get involved.”
“You mean how your father’s Majuro the manslayer?”
Koroki’s words hung heavily in the air, his tone calm and probing. Yorui’s eyes widened in sheer astonishment, caught off guard by Koroki’s unexpected accusation.
“Huh!?” Disbelief outlined her face realizing he exposed the truth.
She could have played it off and denied his accusation. However, she refused to keep pushing Koroki away and lying to him. Her voice trembled as she stuttered out, “How… how did you know?”
A subtle sigh escaped from Koroki’s lips. “It makes sense. The description fits. A manslayer noye user. That scrawny guy I met earlier when I hung out with you had the presence and eyes of a killer. And his assistant just happened to be a weak green-haired girl.”
Yorui’s mouth quivered, accepting her defeat. She planted her face on the cold concrete, covering her face for a moment. After hiding, she lifted her head and desperately shouted, “Then… you should know why I can’t be around you anymore! It’s because-”
“You don’t want me to die? Is that it?” interrupted Koroki. “Is that why you don’t want me to go in there? Thanks for your concern, but I’m not as weak as you think.”
“That’s…not it!”
Yorui came to a realization. She felt useless, unable to do anything in her current condition. Yorui’s thoughts scattered. She couldn’t stop her dad… and she couldn’t stop Koroki.
She stayed silent for a second, her eyes aimed downward as she struggled to find the right words. Her thoughts cleared up, suppressing the pain, as she found the courage to confess.
“Listen, Majuro saw us hanging out and wanted me to use you.” Yorui chuckled, trying to make herself feel better. “To be honest, I never liked what I did… but he would force me.”
The atmosphere fell into a heavy, desolate silence, enveloped in a bone-chilling cold that mirrored the emptiness in her heart.
“I would meet up with these wealthy boys and start dating them, even if they weren’t my type. After I used them for their money, I would lure them somewhere where Majuro would finish them off. That’s how we have been surviving this entire time.” Her nails dug into the flesh of her palms as she tightly clenched her fists. She angrily bit down on her lower lip, struggling to contain her built frustration.
“Betraying and taking advantage of people was the last thing I ever wanted to do. I wanted to stop but, if I refused, he would punish me. So, I had no choice but to continue. I kept taking advantage of people until I met you.”
Yorui gently focused her softened gaze on Koroki. “You were my first male friend ever. I only dated boys, so I didn’t know how to act with you. You were a weird boy. But you were different from the others. Teasing each other. Fighting over dumb things. Running away and partying together. With you, I can just be myself. I finally found someone I liked to be around with for the first time. But since I refused to use you,” Yorui gestured to her back wound. “This is what happened.”
Koroki stood with an emotionless expression, but his dead eyes softened as he glanced at her back. “That explains her injuries,” he mused gently, conveying a sense of understanding.
Stolen novel; please report.
“He thinks I betrayed him, but I just wanted him to know what we were doing was wrong. But he didn’t listen. Now, he wants to take matters into his own hands.”
Koroki briefly connected the pieces together, saving her the trouble of using more energy. “So, basically… he’s after me.”
“Ever since he killed my mother, I’ve always hated Majuro. His stupid ways of using people make me sick… but… he’s still my dad! I-I just wish I had my old family back.”
“...” For a fleeting moment, Koroki's typically piercing gaze widened, a subtle shift that went entirely unnoticed.
In a state of vulnerability, Yorui begged, puckering her forehead to show her concern. “I know I can’t physically stop you, but I just want you to be careful. Please.”
Koroki, with a composed demeanor, pivoted to face away from Yorui and directed his attention toward the front door, concealing his worry from her. “Thanks, Yorui. You’re a kind person, but… you shouldn’t worry about me.”
“Huh?”
Koroki’s dead eyes glared at the front door with his jaw clenched, almost unleashing bloodlust. “There’s someone else you should be worried about.” His intense glare pierced through the door, so intense and full of malice that it could cause even the most resilient person to hesitate.
___
Back in the living room, the air hung heavy with tension, making every movement feel fraught with the potential for conflict. Tension crackled like electricity, and it felt as though the tiniest sound could ignite a fierce battle.
Majuro and Surata glared at each other, making for the starting pistol to shoot. It would not take long until Surata lightly applied his weight to his feet, creating a creaking sound on the floorboard. With the creak breaking the tension, Surata lunged at Majuro at full speed.
His wooden weapon swiftly slashed through the thick air where Majuro had stood-- but missed its target. The kendo stick swished through nothingness as Majuro vanished from sight in a split second.
Majuro twistedly chuckled. “Why does everybody love to attack me? Do they forget why they call me a manslayer?”
Majuro vanished. A split second later…
Bam!
Majuro's foot collided with Surata's stomach like a thunderous wrecking ball. Surata flew backward, knocking over the furniture and crashing through the patio doors.
Majuro marched towards Surata out to the backyard with a sinister look on his face, his feet pounding against the ground as he pursued his target.
The expansive yard stretched out, similar in size to a soccer penalty box. The house sat at a gentle elevation, with a charming patio encircling its perimeter. A towering wooden fence enveloped the back. The lush greenery of the trees and bushes created a picturesque backdrop, harmonizing with the natural body of water situated in the front.
Surata rolled across the backyard, attempting to recover from the heavy strike. After stopping, Surata took a knee, clutching his stomach as he coughed up stomach acid that had accumulated from the impact.
Surata’s concentration wavered for a moment, allowing Majuro to dash towards Surata, his sickle in a swinging position.
“He’s fast!” Surata realized he could not fully dodge the attack. Without any time to think, his body instinctively moved his body out of the way. His opponent's reflexes were much faster than his, and Majuro's sharp sickle grazed Surata's calf, leaving a small cut reminiscent of a papercut.
Surata didn't have time to think as Majuro unleashed a barrage of attacks at him. It took all his energy to dodge the first attack. If his mind wandered for a single second, Majuro’s attacks would land.
With every strike, Majuro's agile movements became almost impossible for Surata to anticipate. His rapid motion created the illusion that he vanished from sight, reappearing only when he struck from his blind spot.
Slash after slash. Cut after cut. Majuro continued coloring Surata’s body with his own blood like an artist painting on an empty canvas.
Surata endured the attacks, standing tall and defending his body for as long as he had energy. He limped, bearing multiple cuts on his body.
Majuro twistedly laughed as he ran around the backyard. “You’re still standing? Hehe, good! Don’t die so soon, I want to keep playing with you.”
Surata felt his body gradually weakening from his injuries. His breath became heavier, and the weight of the injuries began to take its toll. He noticed that he was at a disadvantage. How could he attack someone he couldn’t see?
Surata delved into his subconscious and pondered Majuro's attacks while defending. “He’s… too fast! I can’t react to his movements. No wonder he’s an ex-Shikari. The difference in our power is insane! He keeps attacking me from my blind spot. I can’t see him, but my body reacts to him.”
Surata’s eyes widened, uncovering something. “Wait, if I can’t see his attacks… maybe I can predict them.”
Surata dropped his defenses and shut his eyes, utilizing his other senses. His ears canceled out almost everything, from the sound of the water splashing to his own breathing. Sweat dripped from his pure concentration. Surata recalled Majuro’s attacks and concentrated on his sense of touch, feeling the gentle breeze against his body.
Majuro observed Surata’s weird behavior from a distance. “What’s he doing? Did he finally give up and admit defeat?” A cocky smirk escaped his face. “Hehe. Looks like you finally came to your senses.”
With victory in his grasp, Majuro closed the gap, then reappeared from thin air and delivered the decisive strike. “You’re mine!”
As soon as Majuro struck his sickle, Surata felt the subtle change in the wind. His body pinpointed the direction of the change and felt Majuro’s presence. Surata quickly opened his narrow eyes with strong determination, turned around, and swung his wooden sword with all his might.
Whack!
Surata's kendo stick sliced through the air, finding its mark with a forceful impact on Majuro's chest. The powerful swing felt like a professional baseball player hitting a game-winning home run. The point of the impact left a red bruise on his upper chest, pushing Majuro back.
“It worked! Whenever he attacked, my body felt his presence because of the wind! If I focused on that, I could predict where he would attack.”
Startled by Surata, Majuro angrily swung his sickle. It could have been a lucky hit.
Surata retook his stance and repeated his actions. He focused on feeling the wind, predicting Majuro's next attack, and countering with a blow of his own, slowly understanding Majuro's movements.
Surata's wooden weapon wasn't sharp enough to cut Majuro, but his strikes felt as though his opponents had been sliced open.
Majuro’s Noye pulsated brighter from his anger. Surata gradually reacted to his speed. Majuro fiercely charged toward Surata, determination blazing in his eyes. With a swift and calculated strike, Surata hit Majuro's wrist, causing him to lose his grip on his sickle as it clattered to the ground.
Bruises form throughout Majuro’s body like he’s infected by a disease. Majuro gaped at his weapon, stunned into silence. “Grr… How’s this happening? Tch. I underestimated him. This twerp’s stronger than he looks.”
The better Surata grasped Majuro's fighting style, the more his confidence returned. “I got him! I’m getting used to his attacks. As long as he doesn’t activate his noye, I actually might have the advantage now.”
Majuro figured he was going easy on Surata. His raspy voice cleared up, and he became serious. “Alright, maybe it’s time to stop fooling around.”
Majuro’s eyes and sickle beamed into a bright orange color. Majuro focused his inner energy and raised his Noye once more. His body unleashed a formidable aura that wrapped around Surata, leaving every muscle in his body frozen.
“So… much… murderous intent! I-is this… his Noye?” The sheer force of Majuro's aura bore down on Surata, making it almost impossible for him to even draw a breath.
Majuro narrowed his thin eyebrows, fixated on Surata. “Now, let’s have some fun, kid! Hehe.”
Majuro violently charged towards the paralyzed Surata, laughing menacingly. He swung his sickle and delivered a deep cut to Surata’s forearm, causing it to feel as though it had been severed from his body. Surata excruciated in pain, dropping his weapon and firmly gripping his arm.
Majuro, with a look of curiosity, tilted his head slightly to the side as he stood directly in front of Surata, gazing at his injured forearm intently. “C'mon, kid. Hehe. What’re you doing just standing there? Make this fun for me,” encouraged Majuro, with a sense of cockiness in his voice.
To convey his dominance, Majuro violently punted Surata’s body, knocking him to the floor.
Majuro relentlessly pounded on Surata’s bruised body. A helpless Surata coughed up blood, covering the cut grass in red.
“This is crazy. Ugh…He just turned on his Noye, yet it feels like the difference in strength is massive. It’s almost impossible to fight someone using Noye without using your own power. Damn it!”
Majuro momentarily stopped his attack, gazing over Surata.
As hard as he tried, Surata couldn’t summon the energy to fight back. His bruised ribs made his breath hurt. His body prioritized his injured calf and arm. His thoughts were clouded in pain. He knew if Majuro used his noye against him, he would be beaten.
Majuro smacked his lips, aggravated. “You’re done, kid? Tch. You’re no fun.”
Declaring his victory, Majuro lifted his sickle high in the air. “You’re better than I thought, kid. But, this is as far as you will go!”
Majuro thought putting Surata out of his misery would be best for him, so he rapidly swung his sickle with murderous intent toward Surata.
Surata gazed at Majuro’s sickle with eyes filled with resolve. He could not let this be the end. He had to move! He had to overcome this battle and survive! He still had to become a Shikari!
Surata exerted every ounce of his willpower to try to shift his body. His veins throbbed and bulged with the sheer force of his determination. “C’mon body, move…move…move!!!”
As Surata swung… the sound of footprints echoed through the house.
The inside floorboard creaked toward Majuro; his ears perked up.
As the creaking approached Majuro, a monotonous voice grew louder. “Didn’t your mom tell you not to play with your food?”
The voice froze Majuro in his tracks, stopping his swing. The sheer bloodlust from the house itched his skin. “This presence?”
“That voice!” Surata glanced inside the house.
Two figures approached the patio doors. In front, a boy with short, wavy, pink hair stared intensely at him, emanating his bloodlust.
Next to him stood a girl with dark green hair, her arm visibly injured and resting gently around the boy’s neck for support. She winced in pain as she limped, grunting softly, while carefully observing the unfolding events around them.
Majuro cackled in excitement, turning around with a twisted grin. “Hehe. There’s the main entrée. I was wondering when you would show yourself. Hope it was worth the wait!”
___