Hana's vision blurred as she came to, slowly adjusting to the dim light. She felt a gentle pressure on her side, followed by the sting of alcohol on her skin. "Thirsty," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Haruka didn't say a word; instead, he handed her a dented can of water, watching as she drank eagerly. When he pulled it back, Hana raised an eyebrow. "What, you want some too?" she teased, half-expecting a smirk from him.
Without answering, Haruka placed the can down. His fingers lifted the edge of her shirt to examine the bruises beneath. She gasped, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, and swung at him. Her punch landed weakly on his shoulder, but she quickly crossed her arms over her chest to cover herself. She could feel the bruise's dull ache spreading with every movement. "Give it here," she demanded, extending her hand. "And wait outside."
Haruka didn't respond; instead, he silently handed her a small pack of bandages and turned away, moving toward the door. Hana watched him as she began dressing her wound. His posture was tense, his gaze fixed out the broken window, where the distant hum of voices and faint lights hinted at life in the city's night market.
As she finished up, Hana caught Haruka casting quick glances toward his katana, which rested beside his worn-out boots. He checked his gear, fingers brushing over each piece with deliberate focus.
It hit her then—a familiar restlessness was etched across his face, one she'd seen before in others who lived on survival's edge. He was ready to move, to find answers. "You're going to the market, aren't you?" Hana's voice was low but steady, as though she had pieced together a puzzle. She couldn't quite hide the mix of frustration and admiration in her tone.
Haruka's eyes met hers, and for a split second, she thought she saw something flicker in them—a silent acknowledgment. He didn't need to say a word.
The quiet, star-speckled night sky sharply contrasted with the chaotic din of the market below. Haruka and Hana moved side by side through the crowded gate, the folds of Haruka's blanket concealing his mask and shadowing his eyes.
"Alright, where's this guy you're looking for?" Hana asked, scanning the maze of shacks and dodgy shops, their rusted walls and broken lights casting a cold, brown glow across the streets. Everything looked temporary, crammed between buildings as if hiding from something unseen.
In the distance, Hana's gaze froze on a figure standing rigid in dark armor. "Obsidian… great," she muttered.
Haruka nudged her, pointing to a dilapidated building on the corner. "There," he said, his voice barely a whisper. Once an apartment complex, it now served as the hideout of a man who held answers—perhaps the only one who could tell him where Raito was.
Hana frowned, her eyes sweeping the area. "There's an Obsidian guard posted by the entrance," she warned, looking around for other ways in. Survivors and scavengers moved past them, their faces worn and wary.
Haruka's hand tugged on Hana's jacket again, gesturing toward a shadowy bush close to the guard. She smirked. "Good idea."
Hana and Haruka slipped out from the bush, keeping low as they approached the building. The guard's attention wavered, giving Hana a chance to spot an open door crack leading inside. She turned to Haruka, brows raised. "Are you sure this is the place? There's a way in right there."
Haruka nodded, his grip tightening on the katana hilt beneath his blanket.
Hana crept out of the bush, moving silently past the guard's gaze as he continued to scan the market. She slipped through the doorway, waving at Haruka to follow. Haruka edged out, unsheathing his katana, ready to eliminate the guard if necessary.
But just as he raised his blade, Hana's hand shot out from the door, pulling him inside. The guard spun around, eyes narrowing as he searched, only to find the door closed and the night as quiet as before. With a shrug, he turned back to his post.
Haruka and Hana stood in a rusting blue hall. Haruka sheathed his blade as Hana surveyed the hallway, her eyes scanning for the correct room. Patiently, Haruka walked past her, his presence commanding, until he stopped in front of a blue door. With quiet confidence, he gave a brief glance to Hana. "So, this is his room?" she asked, standing beside him. Before she could even knock, Haruka kicked the door open, sending it crashing into the dimly lit room.
"Knock knock... I guess," Hana remarked dryly.
The room was cloaked in shadow, a single flickering bulb casting uneven light over its grimy, neglected walls. The air was thick with the stench of mold, sweat, and something more rancid. Rusted shelves leaned precariously against the walls, filled with broken bottles and crumpled papers. A worn-out wooden table sat at the center of the room, cluttered with scraps of food and debris. The floor was littered with trash and stains, the grime untouched for years. A filthy man, with a matted beard greasy with old food, sat slouched in the far corner. His shirtless body was covered in a thick layer of grime and body hair, and his face was hidden behind a mane of dirty hair that replaced the scalp he had long lost.
The man looked up at their entrance, a greasy grin spreading across his face. "Ahhh, Haruka. I knew it was you. It'd be nice if you knocked once in a while, you know?" he said, his voice dripping with mockery.
"Heya!" Hana chirped as she jumped up beside Haruka, peering curiously at the informant.
The man's gaze lingered on her for a moment, then he raised an eyebrow. "Now, who's this? You trading her?" he asked, his grin widening.
Haruka shook his head slowly, his expression unreadable. Hana, meanwhile, was already distracted, her eyes wandering to the mess of empty, moldy shelves that lined the room.
"Boy, do I have some greasy info for you, Haruka. One could say I've been waiting for you," the informant continued, shifting his bulk closer to his battered table, its surface sticky with who knows what.
Haruka stepped forward, intrigue piquing his interest. "Nope. You know our deal," the informant said, holding up his hand in mock refusal.
Haruka opened his bag and pulled out a bundle wrapped in wire, a pack of blood, and a few battered batteries. He placed them on the table, his eyes never leaving the informant.
"HEY! Isn't that MY blood?" Hana shouted, brushing at the holes in her wrist.
"Ahhh yes. Quite valuable stuff today, Haruka," the informant said with a toothy grin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the blood.
"So," he continued, "a little birdie told me there's someone working for Obsidian. Graystone's right-hand man. Does all the dirty work without hesitation. Kills with no mercy, no matter the offer. Doesn't matter who you are, he'll end you." The informant's voice dropped, emphasizing the danger. "But that's not the best part."
Haruka's eyes narrowed, his curiosity piqued.
"There's a rumor. A rumor about him having a mask. And... it looks very similar to yours," the informant said, pointing at Haruka's mask with a smirk.
Hana blinked, surprised by the mention of Haruka's mask. "What's so important about this guy?" she asked, her voice tinged with skepticism.
The informant's grin deepened. "I'm glad you asked. There's talk about him being untouchable. A killer, yes. But with the mask? Even Obsidian doesn't control him. He's an enigma."
Haruka's eyes turned icy as he processed the information.
"His name," the informant continued, "is Raito."
Hana flinched, taken aback by Haruka's sudden, uncharacteristic reaction. She watched as his bag dropped to the ground with a loud thud, the sound echoing in the silence that followed. Haruka stood frozen for a moment before finally asking, "Where is he?"
The informant's gaze softened, almost pitying, before he answered. "I don't know the exact location, but... he's somewhere on the north side of Aesthetic City."
Haruka's shock turned to fury. The mask's cylinders began moving rapidly, shifting with each growing breath. He slammed his arms onto the informant's table, sending a cloud of debris flying. The informant flinched back, his greasy face pale with fear.
"Where is he?!" Haruka demanded, his voice a low growl.The informant's eyes flickered with sudden desperation as Haruka closed in, his boots crunching over the shattered remains of the desk. Without warning, the informant lunged for a radio buried under a pile of grimy papers. His fingers trembled as he shouted, "HARUKA IS HERE!!!" His voice echoed before fading into the radio's crackling static.
Haruka stood poised, his katana unsheathed, the blade gleaming under the dim light. Hana held him back, her grip firm as she steadied him. The room plunged into tense silence, the only sound the faint crackle from the radio.
After a breathless moment, a voice broke through: "Copy that," it replied flatly before the line went dead.
"Cowardly pig," Hana muttered, loosening her grip as she shot a glare at the informant. But Haruka's attention shifted, catching the distant rumble of marching boots. The informant chuckled, his confidence swelling.
"Oh, little girl," he sneered, leaning back in his chair and sliding toward the corner. "You really don't know who you're with, do you?"
Hana glanced at Haruka, who was now focused on the back door across the room. The footsteps grew louder, rhythmic and relentless, shaking the walls.
"Obsidian's been itching for Haruka ever since he was a child," the informant gloated. "A massive bounty sits on his head, and now it's all mine."
The door burst open, and Obsidian soldiers flooded in, guns drawn, encircling them. "Freeze! Under Obsidian authority, you're under arrest! Any resistance will result in immediate elimination!" barked a soldier, his gaze fixed and unyielding.
Haruka glanced at Hana, who was already bracing herself for the inevitable fight. Her eyes glinted with defiance as she muttered, "Yeah, right."
In one swift motion, Hana grabbed a heavy book from the shelf and hurled it at a soldier, sparking pure chaos. The room exploded in gunfire as the two fought side by side, weaving through the storm of bullets and bodies. Hana darted under an Obsidian soldier's legs, then rebounded off a wall, driving a blade into his neck. Haruka sliced through their ranks, his katana deflecting bullets as he advanced.
Seizing a fallen weapon, Hana returned fire, holding off the wave. When a soldier crept up behind her, Haruka hurled his katana, pinning the assailant against the wall. Hana spun, yanking the blade free and slashing through the next soldier, while Haruka tackled another with a series of crushing blows.
The two moved in tandem, each attack flowing into the next. Haruka delivered a high kick, sending a soldier stumbling toward Hana, who finished him with a swift, clean slice. As the dust settled, the room filled with smoke, blood, and silence. Hana handed Haruka his katana, both of them panting, eyes scanning the wreckage.
But then, the sound of marching boots echoed once more, even closer this time. "Screw this! Let's bounce!" Hana said, grabbing Haruka's hand and dragging him toward the exit. Haruka hesitated, pulling free and pointing to the back door.
He took a deep breath, the cylinders on his mask rising and falling with the motion. As he exhaled, a thick shield of water materialized in the doorway, blocking the advancing soldiers who stood mesmerized by the shimmering barrier. Hana stared in awe, her gaze fixed on the swirling water.
Knowing the informant was powerless, Haruka seized the moment to grab Hana and bolt through the blue door. They burst out into the open, only to be met by an Obsidian guard with his weapon trained on them. They froze, arms raised. Hana glanced at Haruka, whose stance wavered, his breathing shallow and labored. He suddenly collapsed to the ground, the distraction giving Hana her chance. She delivered a high roundhouse kick, knocking the guard out cold.
Rushing to Haruka, she shook him. "Come on, get up—we're almost there!" she urged, panic lacing her voice. But he didn't stir. Her eyes darted around, finally landing on a vehicle parked nearby. She dragged Haruka into the back, clambered into the front, and hot-wired the car. With a roar of the engine, they sped off, leaving the Obsidian soldiers scrambling in confusion as they escaped into the city.
The vehicle sputtered to a halt near an abandoned apartment complex. In the distance, the low growls of zombies drifted through the air, faint but unsettling. Hana stumbled out, half-carrying Haruka's limp form. Both were battered, Haruka barely conscious, his breaths shallow and uneven.
Hana dragged him up to the third floor of the apartment, her footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. She set him down gently, folding her oversized jacket beneath his head as a makeshift pillow. With a weary sigh, she sank back onto a worn, brown couch, glancing at Haruka's resting body. "I was going to give you water, but I guess you've got that covered," she chuckled softly, watching the steady movement of the mask's cylinders. The exhaustion finally overcame her, and her eyes closed.
Sometime later, Hana woke with a start, her heart pounding. "Dad!" she cried out, her hand reaching out, fingers grasping at air. She blinked, her vision clearing, and saw Haruka still resting nearby. Something was different this time. The cylinders on his mask moved with a gentle, rhythmic rise and fall.
Curiosity sparked, Hana edged closer, her hand slowly extending toward Haruka's mask.