Yuma stood frozen.
Not from fear.
From hatred.
The man who took his mother stood before him, breathing the same air as if he had never destroyed anything. Yuma didn't know why he was here. Maybe to kill him. Maybe to finish what he started. Either way, his body remembered the man before his mind could fully understand what was happening.
His fists tightened until his knuckles ached. His blood surged harder through his veins, forcing his body past the level he had reached during training.
"You," he growled through gritted teeth.
The man looked at him in silence, his face hidden beneath the shadow of his hood. Behind him, the sky darkened with every passing minute.
That silence snapped something inside Yuma.
He charged.
The force of his movement tore through the street, pushing the air around him with enough pressure to make the wind howl.
But the man was faster.
No blur.
No sound.
No warning.
He was simply behind him.
Yuma's eyes widened. One moment, the man had been standing in front of him. The next, Yuma was charging at nothing but empty air.
Only then did he understand.
This man wasn't just dangerous.
He was beyond him.
Yuma turned his head, and there he was, standing with his back facing him as if Yuma had never been worth looking at.
"You aren't strong enough," the man said, almost gently.
His voice was deep and ruined, like someone who had spent the entire day screaming until his throat bled. It wasn't only unpleasant. It was wrong. Psychotic. Arrogant. Every word felt like a hand pressing against Yuma's throat.
To Yuma, the insult wasn't even in what he said.
It was the fact that he bothered speaking at all.
Yuma turned fully and raised his fists into a fighting stance.
The man didn't even turn around. He only looked back over his shoulder.
Then Yuma saw it in the darkness beneath the hood.
A smile.
Wide enough for him to see molars through the shadow.
"You think you could fight me?" the man asked, chuckling softly to himself.
Yuma didn't answer. His eyes burned with hatred.
His killing intent filled the space between them. It wasn't courage. It wasn't strategy. It was the kind of hatred that no longer cared if the body survived.
The man seemed amused by it.
In the next second, he was in Yuma's face, looking down at him.
"If I wanted you dead," the man said, his voice low, "I would have taken my time."
A laugh almost slipped out of him.
"But no."
His tone changed at once. The amusement vanished.
"I won't."
Yuma blinked.
The world folded sideways.
One moment, the man stood in front of him. The next, Yuma's back cracked against stone, and
the air vanished from his lungs.
He slumped against the wall surrounding a nearby home.
He hadn't seen the attack.
He hadn't seen a fist.
He hadn't even seen the man move.
Pain spread through his body so violently that his thoughts broke apart. If he hadn't enhanced his durability, he knew he would have died right there.
Yuma tried to move.
His fingers twitched against the ground, but that was all.
Even his hatred couldn't drag him back to his feet.
Through blurred vision, he looked up at the man. He tried to speak, but only a broken sound escaped him. He forced air back into his lungs and tried again.
"Wh-who… are you?" he groaned.
The man smiled wider, satisfied by the damage he had done. Slowly, he reached up and pulled off his hood, revealing his face to Yuma, knowing full well Yuma could barely see him.
"Ha! You're learning the gap between us, and you're still trying to figure me out?" he laughed. "You really are desperate."
Yuma's vision pulsed.
The man breathed in, then smiled again.
"Fine. I like the tenacity. I'll humor you."
He leaned slightly closer.
"My name is Killian Shelby."
His smile stretched.
"But to you, I'm the reason your life ended."
Yuma tried to carve his face into memory, but his vision refused to focus. All he could truly make out was the wide scar running from his forehead down to his chin.
Before consciousness slipped away, one final question clawed its way out of him.
"Why…"
His voice broke.
Yuma swallowed blood and forced the words out.
"Why did you kill my mom?"
Killian smiled.
In an instant, he appeared in front of Yuma, crouching close enough for his voice to sink directly into him.
"Because she suffered beautifully." His voice was warm with the memory.
"And I made sure she knew it was coming."
But Yuma never heard the rest.
His body gave out before his hatred did.
***
When Yuma opened his eyes, the light above him split into pieces.
His skull pulsed. His ribs burned. Even the silence felt loud.
He blinked slowly and looked around. He was lying on a couch. Beside him, Akira sat scrolling through his phone, waiting for him to wake up.
"What… where am I?" Yuma groaned.
Akira glanced up. His face was calm, but his phone was gripped too tightly in his hand.
"You're awake," he said. "You're at my house."
He said it flatly, like the situation didn't deserve panic.
Yuma tried to sit up. Pain hooked beneath his ribs and pulled a sharp breath out of him. He held his head, his hair slipping between his fingers.
"What happened?" Akira asked, putting his phone down.
"Ran into our mystery man…" Yuma answered weakly, still trying to gather himself.
"I figured. I sensed his residue when I found you."
Akira stood and looked him over, checking the extent of his injuries with a careful eye. Yuma watched him for a moment, then forced out the one piece of information that mattered most.
"I found out his name…"
Akira stopped.
The room seemed to tighten around them. He looked at Yuma's face, quiet.
"And?" he asked.
Yuma's voice dropped.
"Killian Shelby."
Akira didn't answer.
For the first time since Yuma woke up, his expression changed.
Only slightly.
But it was enough.
Yuma looked up at him.
"I couldn't even catch up with him. His speed was uncanny, like he was teleporting." Yuma swallowed. "He's out of our caliber. Even with you."
Akira took one step back and stared at the floor, his arms crossed as his thoughts sank deeper.
"Akira…" Yuma's hand curled against the couch. "He isn't just some guy with powers. He's beyond us. If we face him like this, we die."
Akira lifted his gaze from the floor.
"I'm well aware," he said coldly. "We need to find Aymar and Daya by tomorrow. If he's already approaching you this boldly, then he's not waiting anymore."
"That's the thing," Yuma said. "He wasn't there to get us."
Akira looked at him.
"He was taunting me."
Akira's expression tightened slightly.
"He showed me his face," Yuma continued. "I couldn't see it properly, but I saw a scar running
down the middle of his face. It was wide."
Akira said nothing for a moment.
Then he nodded.
"I see. Good to know. I can see if I can get the Arrow to pull information on him." His voice lowered. "But for now, we need to let this rest. Daya and Aymar are still out there, and Keisuke and Kae found Naoto, but that turned into a dead end."
"Dead end?" Yuma asked, furrowing his brows.
"He's a dead conduit," Akira said.
Then, after a pause:
"Just a vessel."
Yuma stared at him.
"What do you mean?"
"He doesn't have any resonance. Having zero is almost like being dead. Once that happens, it's nearly impossible to grow to even one percent. That makes him nothing more than a vessel."
Yuma's confusion only deepened.
"Is that even possible?"
"Extremely rare," Akira answered. "Rarer than achieving fifteen percent on an initial contract."
Yuma shook his head softly and immediately regretted it. Pain flashed through his skull, making him wince.
Akira turned and grabbed his phone, flicking through it as if searching for something.
Yuma watched him through the ache in his vision.
"What are you doing?"
"Calling Keisuke," Akira answered. "We need him tomorrow. Unfortunately, I found out Daya and Aymar don't attend our school, so the more people we have searching, the better chance we have of running into them."
Yuma looked down.
He had assumed all the targets were students.
Now that assumption was gone.
Hokkaido was large. Sapporo alone was packed with people, and foreigners moved through it every day. If Daya and Aymar weren't tied to their school, then Kae's tip had become much weaker than he wanted to admit.
His thoughts began to drift until Akira's voice pulled him back.
"Yuma?"
Yuma looked up.
"Did you hear what I said?"
"No. Sorry…" Yuma muttered. "What did you say?"
"You should stay with me for the meantime. Your house isn't safe, and right now, my family isn't going to be home. Same with the others."
Yuma hadn't expected the offer, but he wasn't going to reject it.
Not now.
Not after seeing Killian again.
Besides, he had already made his vow.
He would never return home until Killian was dead.
Yuma gave a simple nod and lowered himself back onto the couch, covering his eyes with his arm.
"Yeah…" he muttered. "Seems like the best move."
Akira sighed and turned toward the door.
"Get some rest. We've got a long day tomorrow."
Yuma made a quiet sound in response, too tired to form a proper goodnight.Then sleep took him.
Fwoosh.
Blue flames flashed behind his eyes.
Usually, the burning house came next.
The heat.
The smoke.
Waiting.
But there was nothing.
That couldn't be a good sign.