I hold Kiyomi's hand as I help her up from the chair. Her fingers slide along my arm until they find support at my elbow. She clings gently, as if my body were a tactile map of the world around her. I walk slowly, guiding her to the room in front of the kitchen. Her steps are light, almost silent.
I never imagined I'd be caring for someone like this. A blind girl. A Kitsune. A race that, fifty years ago, humans called a myth. Now, she's here, alive, real, sitting on my couch. And maybe… maybe that means I haven't lost all of what remained of my humanity, even after years of eliminating the vermin who uphold Nix's dictatorship.
"Here. Sit here for a moment," I say, helping her to sit on the couch.
She settles calmly, but when I turn to head to the office, I feel her fingers slide down to the hem of my shirt, holding me back. She says nothing. She doesn't need to.
"Easy. I'm not leaving you alone," I say, keeping my voice steady but soft. "I'm just grabbing something from the office. Two minutes."
Kiyomi twitches her ears as if she understands. She slowly lets go of the shirt and turns her face toward the television, which is still on. She can't see it, but she listens. And she seems to absorb everything through sound.
I walk to the last door in the hallway, to the right of the elevator. I open it, grab the tablet, and return to the living room. I sit in the armchair across from her, and a floating screen projects in front of me. Aerolin appears, in her usual hurried way.
"Go ahead. I'm listening," I say, settling the tablet on my lap.
"Boss, you took your time. Thought you'd forgotten about me," she replies.
Kiyomi twitches one ear, alert to the new voice.
"Just tell me what you've got for today," I say, already swiping my fingers on the screen. "Got the tablet. Business as usual."
The floating screen glows softly in the air. Aerolin sits on a metal chair with a cup of coffee in hand.
"It's a light day," she says, sliding a few files to my tablet. "But tell me, boss… how's life over there in Neo?"
"Hm?" I murmur, flipping through documents with a gesture. "It's… manageable. But can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"About your world. About Kitsunes."
Aerolin tilts her head, frowning slightly as if pulling up old memories.
"Ah… the foxes. Well, the elves never had much contact. They lived in isolation, in the eastern forests. They were… intense. Discreet. Practically legends, even in our world."
"I'll take any info you've got," I say, still reading the reports.
"Before the collapse of Fragment Zero, they controlled spiritual energy. Literally. They could shape illusions, launch attacks, turn into giant foxes… that sort of thing."
I lift my eyes from the tablet.
"Can they still do that here?"
"In this world? No chance. The energy's dead. But… something remained. A kind of sixth sense. They can still feel what's inside a person. Intentions, emotions… Truth."
At that moment, Kiyomi shifts on the couch. Her face is turned toward the screen, but it's not the TV that unsettles her. Her ears lower slightly, and a reddish hue colors her cheeks. She's hearing everything.
"Winning one's trust isn't easy," Aerolin continues, with a slight smile, "but if you manage it… they'll never leave your side. Loyal doesn't even begin to cover it. It's a lifelong bond."
Kiyomi presses her hands against her thighs, as if trying to disappear. With every word from the elf, she looks smaller on the couch. And more flushed.
"The nine-tailed ones…" Aerolin says, thoughtful, "they say they can still create light illusions. And… well, in our world, they showed their tails with pride. Here, they only show them when they trust someone. When they choose to stay. Forever."
My eyes remain on her. She turns her face away as if that could fool me, but even blind, she's exposed. Almost fragile. And beautiful.
"Kitsunes have accelerated healing, if that's what you're wondering," Aerolin adds casually, taking a sip of coffee.
"Fast recovery, huh?" I narrow my eyes. "Suppose one loses her sight and voice. How long until... she recovers?"
"Depends on the severity. The voice, days. The vision… weeks. Maybe months. But they're resilient."
I close the files and send them back with a gesture.
"And food?"
"Fruits, meat. Nothing too different from ours. They eat well. And with appetite."
"I see," I murmur, without taking my eyes off the tablet.
"Oh, boss," Aerolin says, with that casual tone she uses when she's about to say something important as if she's commenting on the weather, "there's a variation of Kitsunes. They're called Kumiho."
I raise an eyebrow.
"Kumiho?"
From the couch, Kiyomi's ears perk up, alert.
"From what I know, they're different. Completely carnivorous," Aerolin explains. "Kitsunes smell like cherry blossoms. Kumihos… raw meat."
I glance at Kiyomi. She's still quiet, but now her senses are clearly on high alert. Then I look back at Aerolin and give a slight nod.
"Thanks for the info."
"Anytime, boss. Signing off."
The screen goes dark with a brief hiss. Silence returns.
I get up, place the tablet on the armchair with a soft thump, and walk slowly toward Kiyomi. The sound of my bare feet is silent against the base's metal floor. But she hears, turns her face toward me — even without sight, her senses guide her through every movement around her.
Only the sound of my breathing between us.
I bring my face close to hers. Then I feel it. A delicate scent. Sweet, subtle… cherry blossom.
Definitely a Kitsune.
I step back calmly. My eyes drift to her tail — gray, with the tips tinged pink. Trembling, but there. Always trying to decipher what's left unsaid.
I cross my arms and speak more to myself than to her:
"Asking your age would be a waste of time, huh?"
She stays silent. But the slight clench of her fingers on the couch fabric gives away a restrained nervousness.
I bring a hand to my chin, thoughtful. Aerolin's words echo in my mind: Kitsunes can sense intentions. For them, trust is pure gold.
I look at her again.
"Hey, Kiyomi," I say in a calm, direct tone. "You can feel… who I am on the inside, right?"
She gives a small nod.
"Then..." I continue, with a faint smile, "do you feel like I'm a good person?"
Another nod.
"Is it because I saved your life?"
She confirms again.
I fall silent for a few seconds. Only the subtle hum of the cooling system fills the space. I take a deep breath. I don't say it, but I think:
It's good to know there's still someone in this world who trusts me… even if I don't always trust myself.
I turn around and walk back to the armchair. But before I sit down, I glance over my shoulder.
"Just for the record… if you happen to be one of those Kumihos, give me a heads-up before trying to devour me, okay?"
She turns her face — and for the first time, I see a small smile slip from her.
The night falls like a veil over the city.
Kiyomi sleeps deeply, curled under a thick blanket. The room is warm, gentle, and the amber light from the corner lamp dances over the strands of her black hair. She breathes peacefully, serene. For a moment, I forget the world outside.
I leave the room in silence. The door closes with a soft click, and almost immediately, a holographic screen floats beside me. It's Lyra. Again.
"I've got bad news for you," she says, not even pausing to breathe.
I cross my arms, unfazed.
"When was the last time you had good news?"
She gives me a bored look.
"Nix. She's about to blow up an entire neighborhood. One of her goons kidnapped a guy, planted a bomb inside him, and they're gonna dump the guy in a truck. Then drive the truck into a residential area."
I frown, but my voice stays low and controlled.
"She's completely lost it?"
"No. She's trying to screw you over. Wants to pin the blame on you, genius."
I look at the screen, then down the corridor ahead. A cold emptiness fills my chest.
"My rest will have to wait. I'm signing off."
"Hey, wait, Sirius—!"
But the call's already ended. The screen dissolves into blue particles.
I walk toward the elevator. The doors hiss open and I step inside. The interior is dark, metallic. I stare at my distorted reflection on the wall—cold and impassive.
"Aegis. Activate Security Protocol, Rank A."
"Rank A Protocol activated," the AI replies in its neutral voice.
"Watch over Kiyomi. No one goes into that room."
My casual clothes dissolve in the air, replaced by the Kronos field gear—charcoal-gray shirt, fingerless gloves, and the white coat with blue accents fitting tightly over my frame. The mask forms and covers my face halfway, leaving only my eyes exposed. My breathing passes through a filter now—muffled, but steady.
The elevator opens to the garage.
There they are: rows of vehicles black as night—armored SUVs, assault bikes, attack helicopters, even jets. All perfectly aligned, quiet like a sleeping arsenal.
I walk to the nearest bike—white, aerodynamic, built to cut through the city at high speed.
I mount it, hands gripping the handles. The engine growls low and deep, like a beast ready to bite.
"If anything goes sideways, notify me."
"Understood, sir," Aegis replies.
"Open the exit."
The garage walls shift, revealing a hidden passage leading directly to the outer road.
I twist the throttle. The bike surges forward, gains speed, and launches off the ramp into the open night. My coat flares in the wind, hair whipping violently. The city gleams ahead—cold and alive. A red dot flashes on the visor, marking the target's location.
I shift into max gear. My eyes lock on the path like a predator.
"She wants blood. Fine. But it won't be innocent blood."
The bike slices through the city streets like a white arrow. Neon lights blur at the edges as I weave through traffic with surgical precision at high speed. The digital dashboard blinks—237 km/h. The engine roars, and the wind lashes at my coat, making it billow like the cloak of a nighttime avenger.
If I didn't have balance, I'd already be smeared across the asphalt like a bug. But balance was never my problem.
I glance at the dashboard. The blinking red location—I'm close.
"Let's put an end to this crap," I mutter, voice muffled by the mask.
I turn sharply around a corner, the bike's roar echoing between buildings. Then I see the truck. Matte gray body, no plates, armored windows. It's barreling down the street like a damn urban missile. In the side mirror, I spot two goons—black uniforms, tactical vests. Bingo.
I accelerate and pull up beside the cab, one hand still on the handlebar. I raise my other hand like I'm about to write a ticket.
"Kronos Unit," I say in a light, almost mocking tone. "You gentlemen are way over the limit. You gonna pull over... or take off?"
The driver stares at me, hesitates for a second… then slams the pedal. The truck charges forward like a blind bull, crushing everything in its path.
"Of course you're not gonna cooperate," I sigh. "It always has to be the hard way…"
I swerve to avoid a sedan cutting across without signaling, nearly getting crushed between it and the truck. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the passenger pull out an AK-47 and aim it at me.
"Now comes the fun part."
The gunfire starts — tracers buzzing past like angry wasps. I duck low, sliding the bike between two cars, kick off the asphalt, and tilt the bike until it's nearly horizontal, dodging a burst of bullets by mere inches.
One of the cars ahead explodes in a ball of fire. I push my body up, flipping off the bike in mid-air — the flames reflecting on my mask — and land back on the seat like I'm just stepping down a staircase.
I glance over my shoulder.
"Sons of bitches…"
I rev the engine harder, tires screaming against the asphalt.