The alley explodes into chaos. Shirasame lunges forward, dagger slashing through empty air where Yua was fractions of second before—he sneers in anger. "Playing tag are we!" He cackles manically as he dashes off in the opposite direction she went.
Yua doesn't dare stop running until she's several blocks away—and even then her legs feel like jelly as she collapses, gasping against the nearest building.
"Damnit…" She breathes, heart still racing as Mizaru materializes beside her.
Mizaru's Insight:
"You escaped," it says dryly.
Yua shoots it a sharp glare. She's in no mood for attitude right now.
"No thanks to you," she retorts, pushing off the wall with some effort.
Mizaru raises an eyebrow. "I told you to run. What more did you expect me to do?"
The alley is eerily silent, save for the distant echo of Yua's fleeing footsteps. Shirasame turns slowly, a grin stretching across his face as he spots Kyou Ren approaching with deliberate, measured steps.
"Ahhh, so the stray mutt finally shows his fangs!" Shirasame cackles, twirling his dagger in anticipation. "Tell me, do they still teach your kind to fight like rabid dogs?"
Kyou Ren doesn't answer—not at first. His expression remains unreadable as he stops a few feet away from Shirasame… and then—in one fluid motion—he moves. Faster than sight can track.
Shirasame barely has time to widen his eyes before CRACK! — A fist slams into his ribs hard enough to send him crashing through the alley wall behind him in an explosion of dust and debris…
Shirasame groans, coughing dust from lungs as he pushes himself out of splintered brick, rage flickering across his face as he glares at Kyou Ren who stands calmly amidst wreckage. "Damn you—"
Kyou Ren cuts him off with one cold look. "Shut up," he snaps, voice so icy it makes Shirasame's blood run cold in spite of himself. "You talk too much."
Shirasame spits a mouthful of blood onto the ground, shaking his head as he straightens up to face Kyou Ren again.
"You've gotten stronger," he croaks, licking his lips. "But then again… I shouldn't be surprised given your family history."
Kyou Ren says nothing. His gaze remains fixed and cold, but there's a subtle tension in the muscle of his jaw that betrays his growing impatience…
Shirasame continues, oblivious to the growing tension.
"Your clan was always one of the strongest," he muses, taking a step forward.
Kyou Ren remains still but his eyes flicker ever so slightly with warning.
"Such potential… but such wasted potential." Shirasame smiles, almost sadly, as he circles him like a shark smelling a drop of blood in the water. "Such a shame really, all that power... wasted on the undeserving…"
Silence settles around them, thick and oppressive. Shirasame's words hang heavy in the air, a taunt that only fuels Kyou Ren's growing irritation. Finally, he speaks; his voice is still deathly calm.
"Get to the point."
Shirasame stops pacing, raising an eyebrow. "Impatient as always."
He chuckles again, the sound grating on Kyou Ren's nerves—like nails scraping along a chalkboard. "Very well then. I'll be direct since you seem to be in a hurry."
Shirasame crosses his arms, fixing Kyou Ren with a smirk.
"You know," he begins, conversationally, "I always wondered: how does it feel?"
Kyou Ren glares at him in silence; waiting for the inevitable punchline...
Shirasame laughs again, a sharp, chilling sound that pierces the air. "You and those damn eyes of yours."His gaze hardens as he leans closer. "Always searching, always observing..."
Kyou Ren doesn't respond, but his expression darkens even further. He knows exactly what Shirasame is talking about; the infamous 'eyes of the clan'—an ancestral power passed down through generations. Eyes capable of seeing what others cannot; of penetrating deep beneath the surface, into the very essence of things.
Kyou Ren despises that legacy, despite his own eyes being his greatest asset. Yet even here, faced with a hunter who should be his enemy, he can't help but listen, unable to ignore the curiosity that's burned within him since childhood…
Shirasame's grin widens, savoring the moment.
"The Ametsuchi Clan," he announces with mock grandeur, as if revealing some sacred secret. "Earth and Sky—fitting for a bloodline that once shaped history itself." His laughter is grating, dripping with malice. "Your ancestors didn't just see the world… they understood it down to its atoms. Your eyes—those damned 'Mekura'—could perceive the flow of energy before it even moved!"
Kyou Ren remains silent, but his fists tighten at his sides. The name of his clan alone is enough to make his stomach churn with disgust. He doesn't need this fool spouting ancient praise like some delusional historian…
Shirasame's words cut through Kyou Ren's thoughts like a knife, stirring an old anger within him.
Shirasame continues, listing names like some twisted roll call. "Obuchi. Inoue. Akio. Shinoda." His eyes gleam with sadistic glee as he watches Kyou Ren's face darken with every name. "The list goes on, you all were destined for greatness, but your family just couldn't get past their own pride!"
Each name he reels off is one more nail in Kyou Ren's already fraying patience…
Shirasame's smirk widens as he leans in, voice dripping with poison.
"And your sister—ohhh, what was her name again? such a shame how she—"
Kyou Ren moves.
Not with speed—but with purpose. A single step forward, so deliberate it cracks the ground beneath him. The air itself seems to recoil as his Seishu energy ignites into visible flame around him for the first time in years... and Shirasame actually stops mid-sentence, eyes widening slightly at the sight of it before scoffing:
"...Tch. So you finally stopped hiding it."
Kyou Ren exhales—slow, controlled. The moment his Seishu flares, the air warps around him like heat off desert sand. Shirasame sneers, but there's a flicker of hesitation now.
"Think your little light show scares me?" He twirls his dagger again, mocking. "I've fought Ametsuchi before—your tricks don't impress—"
Kyou Ren speaks for the first time since the fight began:
"—『Earth-Carving Signet』." (地彫刻印 Jichōkoku In)
His palm slams into the ground. The earth ruptures. Jagged black lines surge beneath Shirasame's feet faster than thought—carving a grotesque glyph into stone itself before exploding upward in a spire of crushing force! Bones shatter instantly under impact; blood paints alley walls in one brutal stroke as Shirasame is impaled mid-sentence through the chest with a sickening crunch. Gurgling on own lungs now as he dangles limply from a stone spear like a discarded puppet… disbelief frozen on face even as life drains away seconds later without another word spoken between them…
But Kyou Ren shows no remorse; no mercy. His eyes burn with hatred as he stares down at the still-twitching corpse hanging before him. Even when Shirasame's final breath rattles out, shattering the silence that follows, he doesn't look away.
In fact he seems almost disappointed that this one-sided fight was over so quickly after finally getting a chance for revenge after all these years…
Kyou Ren steps forward, crushing Shirasame's discarded dagger under his boot with a sharp crack—metal snapping like a brittle bone.
"Pathetic." His voice is venomous, dripping with contempt as he glares down at the corpse. "All that talk of hunters, of clans… and you died like a dog in an alley." He scoffs, kicking dust over the pooling blood as if erasing the man's existence from memory entirely. "No better than the rest of them."
A beat passes—silence heavy in aftermath—before turning away without another glance back at carnage left behind... (because why waste breath on dead men?)
🌀 End Of Chapter Twenty Eight