It was Kouji's first solo mission.
He stood outside the briefing room longer than he meant to — fingers brushing the mission file, eyes tracing the printed lines over and over.
Target Class: Humare
Level: Active
Threat Type: Human-thread
Instructions: Cleane and Report
He hadn't asked for this.
But someone had signed off.
The doors hissed open behind him.
Kouji turned slightly — and froze.
Akechi entered the hall, surrounded by three mid-level Hunters, casually speaking as they passed. White coat. Red bangs. That same unreadable calm.
He barely glanced Kouji's way.
Barely.
But he did.
A split-second shift of yellow eyes — like he was confirming something he'd already suspected.
Kouji straightened unconsciously. By the time he could say anything, Akechi was already gone.
An hour later, Kouji stood alone at the site — a half-buried warehouse surrounded by collapsed walkways and tilted lampposts. It felt like the skeleton of a city that had forgotten how to breathe.
He crouched low, running his hand along the concrete. Traces of Kyokai lingered — weak but feral. It matched the Humare report.
"Show yourself," he muttered.
"Wait, do they even understand?"
He didn't have to wait long.
From the far side of the lot, something burst through the dust — all bone, tendons, and human skin wrapped too tight over muscle.
The Humare moved like instinct wrapped in muscle memory.
Kouji didn't flinch.
He moved with fluid certainty — his Plus shaping tools as he stepped: a short-edged blade. Then a bracer. Then a heavy club-like weight from a rusted pipe.
He fought without hesitation.
The Humare struck fast — Kouji was faster.
His old Blessing would've warned him of patterns, told him when to dodge, when to parry.
But he didn't hear that voice anymore.
Only his hands.
He smashed the weight into the Humare's side, grabbed its neck, and drove a spike through its throat.
It fell.
Hard.
Kouji stood over the body, chest rising — not from exhaustion. From something else.
A buzzing.
A burn.
Then the world cracked.
He turned — far too late to stop it.
One of the building's supports near the wall split down the middle, metal peeled from inside like something had been ripped out by force.
The entire corner sagged — beams groaned.
And then, part of the structure collapsed, dragging itself downward in a thunderous, choking wave of dust and stone.
Kouji backed away, breath caught.
He hadn't touched that wall.
But he knew what caused it.
He looked at it still in his hand — and saw the faint shimmer of aura still leaking from it.
Like it had pulled its strength from somewhere else.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
Kouji didn't turn.
He didn't have to.
Ryo stood near the edge of the debris, eyes scanning the wreckage, the weapon, then Kouji.
A long silence passed.
Then:
"Did you mean to do this?"
Kouji didn't answer right away.
"No."
Ryo's voice was quiet. Not angry. But sharp.
"That's what worries me."
He exhaled slowly. The dust began to settle.
"No one was hurt. But they could've been. And right now... I don't even think you know what you're carrying."
Kouji said nothing.
Ryo stepped forward once, then turned.
"Follow me back and also —"
"You're excluded from upcoming missions until further notice."