Kuru sat in silence, her back pressed against the cold stone wall. Her breathing was shallow, steady, but the weight of fatigue clung to her every movement. Her hand absentmindedly brushed against the rough fabric covering her side. The pain from the wound throbbed—a reminder of the previous encounter, where the shadows themselves had seemed to twist against her. She hadn't told anyone where it had come from. Not yet. The bandage, hastily wrapped, was soaked through, but she ignored it.
The room was dim, not that Kuru cared. She had always preferred the darkness—it was easier to hide in. Easier to think. Across from her, Ami Nishida's pacing had become relentless, her frustration as sharp as the tension hanging between them. Kuru could feel Ami's gaze every time it flickered in her direction, the unspoken concern gnawing at the air.
"Are you going to just sit there forever?" Ami's voice finally broke the silence, harsh and impatient. She stopped in front of Kuru, arms crossed. "You've been hurt, and you won't even say a word about what happened."
Kuru didn't move. Her eyes remained fixed on a distant point beyond Ami, refusing to acknowledge her presence. Her mind was elsewhere, still wrapped around the moment she had been struck. It hadn't been a random attack. No, it was deliberate. Someone had known where to find her.
Ami huffed, her tone more accusatory now. "I'm not blind, Kuru. I saw the blood. I know you're hiding something."
Kuru's eyes shifted just enough to meet Ami's, her expression unreadable. "It's nothing," she said, her voice flat, emotionless. "Just a scratch."
"Just a—!" Ami's voice rose, her frustration palpable. She crouched down in front of Kuru, forcing herself into her line of sight. "Kuru, you can't keep doing this. You've been distant for weeks now. You're barely speaking, and now you're injured, and you act like it doesn't matter. What are you not telling me?"
For a moment, Kuru was tempted to tell her. To reveal the truth about the shadowy figure who had come for her, about the wound that hadn't healed as it should have. But the words stayed lodged in her throat, trapped by years of self-imposed silence.
"I told you it's nothing," Kuru repeated, her tone sharper now. She stood abruptly, ignoring the way her side screamed in protest at the movement. "I don't need you worrying about me."
Ami straightened up as well, her eyes narrowing. "I'm your friend, Kuru. I should be worried. But you keep pushing me away, acting like you're the only one who knows what's going on."
Kuru turned her back to Ami, her hands clenching into fists. She hated this. The confrontation, the emotions—it was all too much. She had never been good at letting people in, and Ami was no exception. Even though she had been by her side for years, Kuru still struggled with the idea of trusting someone completely.
"I don't need your help," Kuru said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can handle it."
Ami's expression softened, but the frustration lingered beneath the surface. "You don't have to handle everything on your own, Kuru. I'm here for a reason. We're in this together, aren't we?"
Kuru stiffened at that. Together. It was such a simple word, but it felt foreign to her. She had always been alone, even when surrounded by others. And now, with everything closing in, the weight of the looming threat was almost suffocating. There were things Ami didn't understand—things she couldn't.
The wound pulsed again, and Kuru gritted her teeth, refusing to show the pain. She wasn't ready to admit the full extent of the danger yet. Not when she didn't have all the answers herself.
Ami's eyes softened as she noticed Kuru wince slightly. "Please," she said quietly. "At least let me help with that." She gestured toward the poorly bandaged wound.
Kuru hesitated, her pride fighting against the practicality of letting Ami help. But the pain was becoming unbearable, and she couldn't afford to collapse from exhaustion, not when the situation was as dire as it was. With a reluctant sigh, Kuru sat back down, this time removing the bloodied bandage herself, revealing the gash underneath.
Ami gasped softly, her hands already moving to grab fresh bandages and cleaning supplies from the nearby table. "Why didn't you say it was this bad?"
Kuru didn't respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the wound. The edges of the cut were jagged, almost as if it had been torn rather than sliced. She could still feel the lingering touch of the shadowy Essence that had attacked her, an unnatural force that left her feeling hollow. It wasn't just a regular wound, and she knew it.
"Ami..." Kuru's voice was quiet, barely audible. "Something's coming. Something bigger than what we've faced before." Her words hung in the air, the tension between them thickening. "I don't know what it is yet, but I need to be ready. We need to be ready."
Ami glanced up from where she was wrapping the fresh bandages around Kuru's side, her brows furrowing in concern. "What do you mean? Did something happen out there?"
Kuru nodded slowly, the memory of the encounter flashing before her eyes. "The shadows... they've changed. It's like they're being controlled by something—or someone. It's not natural." She paused, the weight of her next words pressing down on her. "I think the Syndicate is involved."
Ami froze for a moment, her hands hovering just above Kuru's wound. The Essence Syndicate—Raikou Saito's criminal network that thrived on exploiting the fractured balance of Yūgensekai. They had heard whispers of the Syndicate's movements before, but nothing concrete.
"Are you sure?" Ami asked, her voice low, almost afraid of the answer.
Kuru's eyes hardened. "I'm not sure of anything right now. But this... this wasn't random. They're coming for us, and they won't stop until they get what they want."
The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the unspoken dread of what was to come. Kuru could see the fear flickering in Ami's eyes, but she also saw something else—resolve. Despite everything, Ami wasn't going to run. She never had.
"We'll fight them," Ami said, her voice firm. "Whatever the Syndicate is planning, we'll stop them. But you need to stop hiding things from me, Kuru. If we're going to survive this, we need to be honest with each other."
Kuru's lips pressed into a thin line, the weight of Ami's words settling in her chest. She had spent so long keeping people at arm's length, always thinking she could protect them by staying distant. But now, she wasn't so sure.
"Okay," Kuru finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll try."
Ami gave her a small, tired smile, her hands finishing up the bandaging. "That's all I ask."
To be continued...