The nights grew longer after the docks. Tokyo seemed to whisper with unseen eyes, every alley darker, every shadow thicker. Seigi felt it on his skin — the weight of Wraith's gaze, though he knew the mercenary wasn't there. The city itself had begun to feel alive, like something waiting to test him.
Sato's words circled in his head with every cigarette, every sleepless hour. You're burning out, kid. Seigi wanted to believe it was just a grizzled man's caution. But deep down, he knew Sato wasn't wrong.
Still, quitting wasn't an option. The Guild, the Veil, the mercenaries walking between them — all of it had pulled him into a current he could no longer step out of.
---
For days, Seigi wrestled with Sato's words. But in the end, the answer was clear.
He couldn't stop. Not when he'd come this far. Not when proof of the impossible lived in his veins. He might risk losing himself, but to abandon the path now felt worse than death.
Ring. Ring.
He almost ignored it, but the caller ID froze him: Mom.
"Seigi?" Her voice carried warmth, but there was an edge to it, thinner than he remembered. "I saw the news. Something about gunfire down by the docks. They didn't say names, but… were you there?"
Seigi rubbed the bridge of his nose, searching for words that wouldn't worry her. "I'm fine. Just another night. Don't worry."
"I always worry," she said softly. Then, after a pause: "You're chasing things again, aren't you?"
The question stung. It was too close, too knowing. He forced a laugh. "I'm a detective, Mom. That's the job."
But she didn't laugh back. Her silence stretched, filled only by the faint hum of the city through the line. When she finally spoke, her words carried something different—almost like warning.
"Some truths aren't meant to be dragged into the light, Seigi. Promise me you'll be careful."
For a heartbeat, the way she said it reminded him of his grandmother's stories—heroes, villains, battles fought in shadows. But he brushed it off, chalking it up to her nerves.
"Yeah. I promise," he said, though he didn't mean it.
She exhaled, relief or resignation he couldn't tell. "Come by soon. Your father misses you."
"I will," Seigi lied, and hung up.
The phone screen dimmed, leaving him alone again in the darkened room, his reflection waiting in the cracked mirror across from him.
Late at night, he returned to the mirror. He raised his fists, breathing steady. The world shimmered faintly. His reflection blurred at the edges. For the first time, he didn't chase it—he embraced it.
And in that moment, he felt it fully. The thread. The flow. A current beneath reality, waiting for those bold—or foolish—enough to grasp it.
His fist cut through the air, trailing light. The mirror cracked, but he didn't flinch. He smiled through the blood on his knuckles.
"I am Hero Boy," he whispered. "And I'm not done yet."
The choice was made. The path set. Whether it led to glory or ruin, Seigi would follow it to the end.
---
But the city did not sleep.
Somewhere, in the depths of Tokyo, the Aetherion stirred—aware now that the detective who wouldn't stay down was walking closer to their world. And in another part of the precinct, Hana's eyes flicked up from her forensics files, as though she too had felt the shift.