An explosion thundered somewhere in the distance, alarms immediately shrieking in response as a column of smoke spiraled upward into the chamber’s open air. The sharp scent of burning material carried on the wind.

  Akio touched down with controlled precision, boots barely making a sound against the rooftop. His weapon rested steady in his hand as his gaze fixed on the expanding smoke plume. He did not rush. He waited.

  A shape tore through the debris a moment later—a blur of black cutting cleanly through ash and light. Cloak flaring, chain blades gleaming, the Hollow emerged from the cloud and landed several meters away. The red eye locked onto him instantly. For the briefest fraction of a second, the momentum seemed to falter. They froze like that, suspended in the aftermath of destruction.

  Akio tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable beneath his mask.

  Encounters with the Hollow felt different now.

  Before, the figure across from him had been an abstraction—a masked anomaly, something neither fully human nor fully monster. But now, he knew exactly who stood behind that mask. He could attach a name to the posture. A face to the red eye. The knowledge did not soften anything. If anything, it sharpened it.

  Across from him, Hyakki held both blades ready, the chains coiling and dragging lightly across the ground. He did not break eye contact. His stance was tight, measured. There was the faintest backward shift in his footing, as if calculating whether the engagement was worth the cost.

  Akio did not give him time to decide.

  He spun his weapon once, the curved edges catching the fractured light, and closed the distance decisively. But the air shifted almost instantly—colder, heavier, dense with something wrong. His instincts flared before conscious thought could catch up. He jumped back just as a massive surge of black M.A.W. fire detonated in the space he had occupied a heartbeat earlier. The flames raced along the chains like a lit fuse, the corrupting energy distorting the air itself.

  Akio landed cleanly several meters away, knees bending to absorb the impact. He looked up just in time to see the Hollow pivot sharply and launch upward, cloak snapping behind him as he disappeared through a breach in the roof and into open sky.

  Silence followed, broken only by distant alarms.

  Akio straightened slowly, lowering his weapon to his side but keeping his gaze fixed on the empty space where the Hollow had vanished. A second figure emerged from the thinning smoke. Gabriel landed beside him with quiet grace, the Dusk Hound’s silhouette cutting cleanly against the dim light.

  “He fled?” Gabriel asked, voice modulated and calm.

  Akio gave a faint nod. “Yeah. Second time.”

  Gabriel paused, then inclined his head slightly. “I’ll secure the upper level.”

  He moved past without hesitation, disappearing into the structure with efficient speed.

  Akio remained where he was a moment longer, mind working through the pattern. Every encounter since the observatory had followed the same structure. The Hollow did not engage. He destabilized the field with the M.A.W., forced distance, then retreated before a sustained exchange could begin. It was deliberate. Distance denied the opportunity to gather further data. It prevented replication of the observatory conditions. It kept the engagement incomplete.

  His eyes narrowed faintly as a small, unfamiliar thread of frustration surfaced beneath his composure. Regret followed close behind.

  I shouldn’t have spared him.

  Akio allowed the thought to linger for only a fraction of a second longer before forcing it aside. Regret was inefficient; it did nothing to alter outcomes already set in motion. He redirected his focus toward the lower level and began moving, steps measured and deliberate as he prepared to secure the rest of the area.

  ~~~

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  It was midday when Akio stepped out of the campus building, the sun bright but softened by a thin veil of drifting clouds. The advisor meeting had run longer than expected, leaving him with a narrow stretch of time before his next class. He welcomed the quiet. The path between the two buildings was lined with trimmed hedges and pale stone, students passing in loose clusters, conversation blending into an indistinct hum.

  He rounded the corner and heard a voice he would recognize anywhere.

  “Hi Akio!”

  Aira stood a few meters ahead, mid conversation, her expression lighting up the moment she saw him. She lifted a hand in an enthusiastic wave, already shifting her attention fully toward him. He smiled automatically. Warmth moved through his chest before he could regulate it, a reflex as natural as breathing.

  “Hey Aira,” he said, his tone softening without conscious effort.

  Then his gaze shifted.

  Hyakki stood at her side.

  The warmth receded instantly. Akio’s smile faded into something neutral, controlled. The transition was subtle but decisive, like a door closing quietly behind him. His posture straightened a fraction. His eyes sharpened, focus narrowing with clinical precision.

  Hyakki had gone completely still. Aira continued speaking, unaware of the shift in air between them, but the man beside her held her attention without moving a muscle. He stood too close—close enough to reach her in less than a second.

  Akio held his gaze steadily. Just hours earlier, that same man had been unleashing the M.A.W. across a city block. The same hands that now rested casually at his sides had wielded corruption like fire. Twice, he had attempted to kill her. Twice. The fact did not dull with repetition. And she did not know.

  She laughed lightly at something she had just said, oblivious to the silent standoff unfolding around her. Hyakki’s expression remained unreadable, but there was tension in it now—subtle tightening at the jaw, a faint narrowing of the eyes as if he felt the scrutiny like pressure against his skin.

  Akio did not look away. Cold, controlled fury settled into place beneath his composure. He wanted to step forward, to reposition himself between them, to remove the threat cleanly and permanently. He could not. Not here. Not without exposing everything.

  For a brief moment, something flickered in Hyakki’s gaze. Then, without a word, he turned and left abruptly, walking away with a speed that bordered on retreat.

  Aira blinked in confusion. “Hyakki? Where are you going?”

  There was no answer. He did not look back. Within seconds, he disappeared around the far corner of the path.

  Aira frowned and stepped closer to Akio, glancing after the empty walkway. “Huh… that’s weird. He’s usually not like that.”

  Akio’s expression softened again as he looked down at her. The smile he gave her was gentle, almost fond—carefully measured, entirely real in its warmth.

  “Maybe he remembered something,” he said lightly.

  He did not add that he was simply relieved she was standing here unharmed, unmarked, unaware of how close danger had once come to her. That thought remained locked behind composure.

  “That’s… a shame.” Aira said, a faint crease forming between her brows. “I was looking forward to hanging out since we both don’t have class during this time.”

  Akio noted that silently, displeasure threaded faintly through his voice. “Is that so?” he asked, keeping his tone even.

  She nodded, turning back to him. “Yeah. One of his classes got rescheduled, so now we have an overlap. Do you have class during this time?”

  “No,” Akio replied with a small, measured smile. He filed that information away too. The timing felt too deliberate to be coincidence.

  Aira brightened immediately. “That’s great! The three of us can totally hang out together next time.”

  The three of us.

  Akio’s smile did not falter, but something in his chest tightened. Shared empty hours, repeated proximity. The frustrating idea of having to tolerate his sister’s would be killer.

  He lifted his gaze toward the corner Hyakki had vanished around, the warmth draining once more as quickly as it had surfaced. The pattern of avoidance was obvious, but with her present, the equation changed. Neither of them could act without consequence. Whether consciously or not, the Hollow was using Aira as a shield.

  Aira’s voice drew him back. “I hope he’s not too busy…” she said thoughtfully.

  Akio inclined his head slightly, voice calm yet detached. “I’m sure he’ll manage.”

  But even as he said the words, his thoughts were already elsewhere.

  If the Hollow had positioned himself that close to her, that meant she was at risk—not only as leverage, but as an eventual target. Men who relied on shields did not abandon them permanently. They adjusted.

  And what Akio hated most was the proximity—the casual, effortless closeness that placed danger within arm’s reach of her. He was painfully aware that he could not be present at every interaction, every unguarded moment. The fact that there was even a measurable risk to begin with was intolerable, but he couldn’t eliminate the variable. That constraint, more than anything, was what coiled into frustration beneath his composure.

  Akio exhaled quietly and forced his focus back to her. “Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” he asked, tone easy, as if nothing in his mind was unraveling.

  Aira brightened immediately. “Not really! I was thinking of grabbing coffee, maybe checking out that new place near the arts building—oh, and I still need to show you something hilarious from earlier.” She slipped into step beside him without hesitation, talking faster as her thoughts outran each other.

  He adjusted his pace to match hers and began walking with her down the path, listening, nodding at the right moments. However, his mind lingered on the decisions he had made that night—beneath the observatory lights, standing over his opponent with his blade at the eyes.

  The memory of that moment pressed against him now, choices that had felt controlled at the time now felt dangerously naive. The simplest solution remained the same as it had been before: he should have removed the threat when he had the opportunity. When the situation was in control.

  I shouldn’t have spared him.

  But there was no way to go back on that now.

  ─ ? NEXT CHAPTER POV ? ─

  Aira