At the same moment Yume's fighting spirit awoke, Kaito reached the long staircase that led up to the entrance of the White Place.
"—The steps..." he muttered, staring at the treads while pressing a hand to his abdomen.
He lifted his arm slightly: blood still flowed from the wound Serika had left. A dull pain ran through him, but his eyes stayed fixed.
"It doesn't matter..." he whispered, and began to descend slowly.
Meanwhile, the security guards posted by the auction hall's door were chatting idly, unaware of his presence.
"Did you hear? Apparently there's going to be a special show this time..." one of the soldiers said.
"I wonder what it'll be... I'm curious," his companion replied with a smile.
"Shut up!" another guard snapped.
"A little while ago we almost let a guy with a weapon in," he said through clenched teeth, his gaze dark. "If we don't stay focused… we could end up sold off too. Or worse." He swallowed, visibly nervous.
Those words were enough to dry the air of its lightness. The two men straightened instantly.
"You're right... sorry," they answered almost in unison.
"Keep it together…" the older man didn't finish the sentence. Footsteps, slow and measured, echoed down the corridor behind him.
"And you… who are you?!" he growled, drawing his pistol.
Kaito didn't answer. He kept walking in silence, head down, each step ringing with a threatening echo.
"Wait... isn't that the same guy from before?" one of the guards remarked.
"Yeah... I thought he'd been taken for questioning," the companion added, confused.
"Shut up and look careful…" the older one hissed, tense.
His gaze lingered on the approaching youth. Kaito's body was bruised; his clothes were stained with blood.
—What the hell happened to him?— he thought, tightening his grip on the weapon.
Kaito passed by the three of them, stopping only a few paces ahead.
"Where are the other guards?" he asked in a cold voice.
The men spun around, pointing their pistols at him.
"Don't move or we'll shoot!" one of them shouted, finger trembling on the trigger.
Kaito's eyes dropped to the weapons leveled at him; he didn't flinch.
"I asked you a question," he repeated, icily.
"Who do you think you are?!" another guard snarled, stepping forward threateningly with his gun raised.
In an instant, Kaito was gone.
A heavy thud: one guard was grabbed by the throat and hurled to the floor. The impact sent tiles exploding in a shower of shards.
Kaito raised his head. His eyes fixed on the remaining two soldiers, who stood frozen in terror.
"Answer me!" he ordered.
The guards trembled and let their pistols clatter to the ground.
"Alright... I'll tell you," one of them stammered, slowly raising his hands in surrender.
"There are often problems during the auction... unwanted buyers, people trying to get in without an invitation."
He drew a deep breath, searching for courage. "That's why many of us, under Master Fuyumi's orders, are sent to... handle those problems."
Kaito narrowed his eyes. "So now, inside here, it's just you?"
"Y-yes!" the other guard blurted, nodding nervously.
A heavy silence settled in the hall.
Kaito walked past them again with slow, deliberate steps.
"Get out of here. I don't want to see you again." His voice froze the blood in their veins.
"Wait!" called the injured guard, lifting his head with effort; his face was streaked with blood. "What do you think you're going to do… you should have run…" he coughed, spitting blood.
"You've gone up against the whole Fuyumi family… including their strongest member..." he managed, offering a pained smile. "When Reiji Fuyumi arrives here, he'll kill you himself!"
Kaito kept moving, not pausing.
"Let him come. I'll crush him too." At the boy's words, a sudden burst of spiritual energy flared.
"Spirit Slayer," he whispered.
From his blades, a slash of spiritual energy tore through the White Place's entrance.
The door exploded outward, flying down the long corridor.
It shot across the amphitheater and smashed violently into the base of the stage.
There, waiting calmly, stood Chizuro Fuyumi.
The crowd — which had been quiet moments before — lurched to its feet at the sight of the doorway.
"I can't believe it... he threw it all the way here!" an onlooker exclaimed in astonishment.
Chizuro watched the scene with cool attention, then stepped forward.
"Don't worry, there's nothing to fear," she said in a steady voice as the murmur of panic among the audience died down.
"I promised you a special show..." she began, unbuttoning her black jacket. "And I intend to keep that promise." She folded the jacket carefully and placed it on the ground.
"I will show you all my skill!" she announced, looking up toward the steps where a figure watched from above.
Kaito and Chizuro had finally met again.
The crowd's whispering resumed as the boy made his slow way down the stairs.
"Kaito… it's good to see you," Chizuro said with a cold smile, "though I would have preferred to meet you in a cage."
Kaito scanned the room, his gaze icy. "You're all disgusting."
The murmur died instantly.
"I'll make this plain," he continued, staring each of them down. "Once I've dealt with her and the Mugentamashii, I'll get to you."
He resumed descending, step by step, unhurried.
When he reached the base of the stage, he sprang forward.
Once again, Kaito and Chizuro stood face to face.
"I've taken out your elite team… you know that. Including Serika," Kaito began.
"Why bring her up now?" Chizuro replied coolly.
"I just want an answer," the boy persisted.
Chizuro lifted a hand to adjust her glasses without taking her eyes off him. "Of course I know. But it doesn't matter."
"Serika was willing to do anything for you… and you feel nothing?" Kaito tightened his grip on the blades.
"In this world, only money matters," Chizuro said, calm and assured. "Those with the right resources can acquire anything."
—She says it as if it's the most natural thing— Kaito's thoughts darkened, unsettled.
"Kaito, I'll show you now what it means to belong to the Fuyumi." Chizuro's shadow shifted.
The confrontation was about to begin.