October 2021
It was autumn, and the woods were cloaked in darkness. Midnight had arrived, and the moon cast a faint light, barely piercing through the thick canopy above. In the heart of the woods, Martin Hashimoto Krause stood, his figure strong and imposing in the shadows. His blue eyes, red and irritated, reflected the cold night air as he scanned his surroundings. His frame was muscular, a solid wall of power honed through years of discipline. At 5'9", he stood tall and firm, his broad shoulders beneath his dark coat, the insignia of his rank as Federal Director of CIZA proudly displayed—a shield with the letter 'F' and 'Krause' etched in the center. His hair, dark and messy like his son Kai's, framed his face, falling in tousled waves. His gaze was sharp, unwavering, like the edge of a blade, cutting through the darkness around him.
His pistol and knife hung by his side, ready for any threat that might emerge from the blackened woods. Every rustling sound felt amplified in the silence, his irritation making it harder for him to focus, yet he pressed on. His jaw tightened, and he gripped the weapon more firmly.
"Just surrender, Martin…"
A voice rang out from the shadows, deep and foreboding—like a haunting presence that slipped through the night air.
Martin's teeth gritted in frustration, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face the source of the voice. The footsteps around him were moving in every direction, but he couldn't see a single figure.
Damn it.
The thought burned in his mind as his grip tightened around the gun, steadying himself. He began walking towards the sound, his feet crunching against the fallen leaves.
"It won't be too long. I will shoot you."
The voice was firm this time, deadly serious, and laced with an ominous threat.
Martin clenched his jaw, eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to clear the irritation clouding his vision. The rustling footsteps, eerily shifting in all directions, echoed through the stillness of the dark woods. The distant chirping of crickets seemed like a mockery, calm against the rising tension. Slowly, his pistol lowered, though it remained in his grasp, ready for whatever came next.
"Surrender."
"Surrender, Martin."
The words seemed to float around him like whispers in the wind, their repetition a maddening lullaby. His mind, already teetering on the edge, struggled to stay focused.
"Just surrender."
Each voice blended together in a chorus of mockery, each step of the unseen figure adding to the weight pressing down on Martin's chest. The air grew heavy, suffocating, as though the very forest had turned against him. Was this the price of his choices? Of his actions? He didn't know anymore.
"I wouldn't do that. Not after everything I've sacrificed. It's not worth it." His voice was cold, steady—though the lie was thin.
The rustle of footsteps stopped.
"Sacrifices?"
The voice came again, this time with a hint of dark amusement. The laugh that followed chilled Martin to the bone.
"Martin, you're holding information that could change everything, and you expect to just walk away?"
The man's voice oozed with arrogance, mocking him.
"You'll die here, Martin. And with you, the Krause legacy will end."
The words felt like a death sentence—final, inevitable. The tone was firm, unyielding, as though it were not just a threat, but a certainty. A mark of the end. It sent a shiver through Martin's spine, as though the weight of all his decisions was catching up with him in this moment.
Martin closed his eyes again, drawing steadying breaths, each one slow and deliberate. "Speak... for terms," he said, his voice unwavering but carrying a trace of uncertainty beneath the surface.
"You have two choices," the man's voice came out from the shadows, his tone chillingly calm. "Surrender the intel and tell us where it is, or you'll die here. We'll kill your wife and—"
Before the man could finish, Martin's sharp voice cut through the air like a blade. "Don't you dare bring my personal life into this." His eyes snapped open, scanning the darkness with an intensity that could cut through steel.
The man's mocking laughter rang out. "You're scared, huh?"
Martin's teeth clenched in a furious growl. He'd revealed his weakness. The thought gnawed at him, but he refused to let it consume him.
Another cruel chuckle filled the air, followed by the man's derisive words: "You're stupid as a sheep, Martin. All that exterior—trying to prove yourself—it's just a façade. Inside, you're nothing but a frightened lamb hiding among lions. That's who you really are."
The mockery stung, but Martin's fists tightened, his jaw grinding in defiance. "You fuck—" he started, but before he could finish, the man's voice sliced through the air again, causing Martin to flinch.
"You're a fool, Martin. A stupid sheep. You didn't learn from your mistakes, and now you'll learn what happens next."
Without hesitation, Martin spun on his heel, pistol raised, his finger pulling the trigger. The shots rang out, one after the other, tearing through the silence.
The rustling of footsteps in the grass echoed through the woods.
"So now you're shooting, huh?" The man's voice was dead-serious, but the mocking undertone still lingered. "Is that supposed to intimidate me?"
A deafening crack pierced the night air as the bullet tore through the darkness, striking Martin's hand with a brutal precision. The impact was immediate and violent. Blood erupted from the wound, spraying in a crimson arc as his fingers reflexively released the pistol. The weapon slipped from his grip, falling to the ground with a soft, metallic thud.
Martin staggered back, a guttural groan escaping his lips, the pain sharp and searing. The blood continued to spill from the jagged wound, staining his coat and the ground beneath him. He gritted his teeth, the blood pulsing in rhythm with his rapidly beating heart, as a wave of nausea hit him.
"Fucking—" he muttered, his voice strained with fury and disbelief, but he refused to drop to his knees. His blue eyes, clouded with anger and the sting of the wound, narrowed, scanning the darkness around him. He didn't know how much longer he could stay upright, but one thing was clear: he wasn't done yet.
The mocking voice echoed once more, sending a cold shiver down his spine. "Just a little shot-back, huh?"
"Since time is ticking, I'll ask you again, Martin," the man's voice echoed from the shadows, dead-serious and chilling. "Surrender, or die?"
The words struck like a cold iron, tightening around Martin's chest. His heart pounded, his body aching from the wound, but he forced himself to remain still. The darkness seemed to press in around him, the weight of his choices suffocating. His grip on the pain in his hand tightened, and for a fleeting moment, the world around him seemed to fade away.
A flash of Airi's face appeared before him. His mind, clouded with pain, spiraled back to the memories of her. Her long red hair, flowing softly as she turned toward him, the way her eyes lit up when she smiled. He could still feel the warmth of her embrace, the gentle way she held him after every long day, and the way she would whisper his name, her voice a comforting melody. He remembered the moments of quiet tenderness between them, the intimacy that bound them together, and the way she'd look at him as if he were her world.
Airi, he thought. It's you in front of me now, so vivid in my mind.
Everything slowed. The noise around him faded, the forest falling silent as the weight of his memories pressed him into stillness. The pain from his wound pulsed through his hand, but the mental torment of the choice he had to make was what truly tortured him. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as though to steady himself, but all he could hear now was the echo of his own heartbeats, each one louder than the last.
"I'll die here," he whispered to himself, but not at the cost of the information.
He thought of his family, his wife, and his children—Kai, Aira, Aika. I will not betray them. A weight settled over him, knowing what was coming, but also knowing it was his fate. I'll protect them, even in death.
His thoughts spiraled further, imagining himself as an angel or a demon guarding them from beyond, apologizing for his choices that led him here. Airi, forgive me. I am sorry. I will never get to hold you again. Never get to see that smile.
The voice from the darkness persisted, demanding his answer, but Martin had already made his peace. He knew what was coming, and in a final, steady breath, he spoke.
"Kill me."
The words were like a declaration, a resolve born from the deepest part of his soul. A final surrender, not to death, but to the inevitable. His hands, still trembling with anger and pain, clenched into fists. He would face the end with defiance, even if it cost him everything.
Without warning, the sharp crack of gunshots pierced the night. The first bullet struck his forehead, tearing through skin and bone, a spray of blood erupting from the wound. The second followed quickly, a brutal follow-up that shattered his skull. Martin's body jerked, his knees buckling beneath him. Blood poured from the gaping holes in his head, soaking into the ground below.
He fell forward, lifeless, his body crumpling to the cold, wet earth of the woods. His arms remained clenched into fists, a final testament to his strength—even in death.
The distant sound of footsteps faded as the dark figure who had hunted him retreated into the night. The only sound left was the wailing of sirens growing closer, as police arrived on the scene. Their flashlights cut through the dark, revealing nothing but Martin's body—broken, lifeless, and still. His blood soaked the grass beneath him, a silent testament to the end of his fight.
The figure in the shadows was gone, and with him, the promise of a legacy lost to time. Martin's sacrifice, his final stand, would be all that remained.