On the battlefield, sometimes what proves useful isn't your fists.
In the Dark Side—a place full of deceit, blood, and fire—Kinuhata Saiai had long since learned that words could sometimes be an even more effective weapon.
But… it doesn't seem to be working this time.
Mechanically swinging her fists through the air, each blow meeting nothing but empty space, Kinuhata's attacks produced a constant rhythm of whiffs.
Opposite her, Harumura Makoto moved exactly as before—precisely and flawlessly slipping past every single punch.
"Kinuhata!"
Suddenly, Frenda's shout rang across the entire battlefield.
As if they had planned it beforehand, Kinuhata abruptly ducked down mid-combo.
From behind, several portable anti-armor missiles roared toward Makoto from point-blank range.
Whoosh—
Three warheads collided midair, detonating into a violent blaze that completely swallowed Makoto's figure.
Even Kinuhata, hardened by countless fights, instinctively stepped back several paces from the force of the shockwave.
Boom—
Taking a heavy step forward, she drove her nitrogen-clad fist forward at the same angle as before.
The gust from her Nitrogen Armor blew away the lingering flames and smoke.
Pa—
That familiar sound again—the sound of hitting nothing. That hollow sensation of striking empty air.
But this time, something was different.
Where her target had been swept away by the wind, there was no longer anyone there.
"…Frenda!"
Kinuhata's instincts screamed at her. She spun around—
Only to see Frenda crouched on the ground, face pale, not daring to move an inch.
"Kinuhata…"
…
"So it still ended like this."
The blaze reflected in Frenda's ocean-blue eyes as a hint of boredom flickered in their depths.
"No matter how much you train, against someone like Kinuhata, you're helpless."
She knew this firsthand.
Like her, Makoto was a Level 0—someone who had trained their body and skills to survive in the Dark Side.
Frenda's skill alone was proof of her lethality—she could live as a powerless human in the most cutthroat underbelly of Academy City.
But against Kinuhata Saiai, even she was powerless.
No matter how intricate her bombs were, no matter where she attacked from, no matter the timing—nothing could penetrate Kinuhata's defenses.
"…Is that so?"
A deep male voice spoke behind her.
At the same time, something cold and cylindrical pressed against the back of her head.
"Beating her in a fight is another matter, but you? You're done."
"Frenda…"
Kinuhata, who moments ago had thought they had victory in hand, now turned to see Harumura Makoto standing behind Frenda, a gun aimed squarely at her head.
"Kinuhata…"
Frenda's expression was almost comically pitiful.
With her life in someone else's hands, she didn't dare move, and could only whimper her partner's name.
This sudden reversal was beyond anything either of them had expected.
"How did you do that?"
Rather than rushing forward to save her partner, Kinuhata first demanded answers.
Makoto didn't speak. He simply tilted his chin upward.
On the walls flanking the street—about four to five meters high—several deep gouges could be seen, like the claw marks of some wild beast.
Looking closely, there were four or five such marks on each wall.
In an instant, Kinuhata understood.
She saw exactly how Makoto had moved from right in front of her to directly behind Frenda.
When the explosion's smoke had obscured her vision, he had already anticipated his move, firing a grappling hook—just like she'd seen earlier.
Then, moving along a path about four or five meters above ground—right in her blind spot—he had closed in on Frenda in the shortest possible time.
"I'll say it again—this thing's dangerous, you know. We were getting along pretty well just now, weren't we? No need to point something like that at me."
How exactly had Makoto gotten behind her?
Frenda, forced into a crouch with her hands on her head, couldn't care less right now. All she wanted was for that dangerous object to get away from her skull.
"You sure surrendered quickly. I liked you better when you were throwing bombs at me all defiant and smug."
Makoto paused for a moment, then let out a cold laugh.
He had thought that people in the Dark Side all lived with their heads metaphorically tied to their belts—long prepared to die at any moment.
But apparently, this particular operative was a lot more soft-boned than expected.
"I'll apologize, okay? How about you just forgive me?"
Frenda's tone was obsequious now, her voice practically groveling.
She knew her life was entirely in his hands.
Count on Kinuhata to save her?
Forget it. Kinuhata wasn't Mugino Shizuri—her ability was purely close-range. At this distance, there was no way she could intervene in time.
Heh.
With a swift motion, Makoto brought the gun down, striking the back of her neck.
In an instant, Frenda collapsed, completely unconscious.
"So, you're planning to take us alive and interrogate us for intel?"
Kinuhata exhaled slowly, almost relieved.
At first, she'd thought Makoto either intended to use Frenda as leverage against her, or kill her outright.
But the gun hadn't fired—Frenda had simply been knocked out by a blow that cut off blood flow to the brain.
That left only one possibility.
"Mm. Maybe I just want to capture you two and use you to convince your boss to let me go. After all, your boss is a famous Level 5."
He bent down, grabbed Frenda, and casually tossed her onto the ground, not caring at all about her delicate frame.
"If that's your plan, then you're super wrong."
Kinuhata replied seriously, not picking up on his mocking tone at all.
"Mugino's cruel. If you think you can use us as hostages to threaten her, you're super mistaken. If the situation's hopeless, Mugino won't care about our lives."
"And just so you know—" she added flatly, "I already sent our location to Mugino."