The night after the chaos was different from all the others Haruya had known. The city still looked the same—neon signs buzzing, cars rushing, the faint chatter of people wandering in the distance—but inside, something had shifted. It was no longer just about passing days, fighting gangs, or drawing sketches that carried silent stories. Now, a strange energy flowed in the air, heavier than before, like a storm waiting to break.
Haruya sat on the cold rooftop of an abandoned building, the same place where he often came to clear his mind. Beside him sat Kaito, chewing on a piece of candy as if nothing in the world could ever worry him. But his eyes, sharp and steady, betrayed something different—he was thinking hard, just like Haruya.
"Oi, Haru," Kaito finally said, his voice casual but carrying weight, "you haven't smiled since that night. You thinking about her again?"
Haruya's hand stopped midway, the sketchbook resting on his lap. He had been drawing—nothing specific, just random lines, shapes, broken faces that never really looked complete. He didn't answer right away, letting the sound of the wind carry silence between them.
"…She looked at me, Kaito," Haruya muttered at last, his tone low. "That girl… her eyes weren't normal. It was like she saw through me. Like she knew something about me I don't even know myself."
Kaito leaned back, staring at the stars that were barely visible against the glowing city. "Tch, you're overthinking. She's just some creepy girl. Don't let her mess with your head."
But even he didn't sound convinced.
The image of that mysterious girl lingered in both of their minds. The way she appeared and disappeared, the way her voice echoed, cold yet calm—it didn't fit into their usual world of street fights and broken dreams. She felt… different.
Before Haruya could reply, footsteps echoed behind them. Both boys turned quickly, ready for anything, until a familiar figure stepped into the pale moonlight. It was Riku, one of Haruya's close gang members, his face bruised but his eyes burning with anger.
"Haruya!" Riku called, his voice rough. "We've got a problem. A big one."
Kaito groaned. "When don't we have a problem?"
But Riku wasn't joking. His fists clenched as he spoke. "Miyuki… she hasn't woken up yet. And the gang that attacked her? They're spreading word across the city. They're saying they'll come after us again. Stronger. This isn't over."
The words hung in the air like a blade.
Haruya's grip tightened on his sketchbook. He thought about Miyuki, lying unconscious, her life uncertain. He thought about the girl with strange eyes. He thought about the enemies multiplying in the shadows.
He stood up slowly, his voice firm but quiet. "If they want to come, let them come. But this time, we won't let anyone fall."
Riku nodded, fire in his gaze. But Kaito only sighed, sucking the last sweetness from his candy. "Here we go again… Haru, you do realize we're digging our own grave, right?"
Haruya glanced at him, a faint smirk tugging his lips. "Then we'll make sure it's wide enough for all of them before it's for us."
---
The next day brought no peace.
At school, Haruya sat at his desk, pretending to listen to the teacher while his mind drifted far away. His notebook was filled with sketches again—faces of his friends, the shadow of Miyuki lying in silence, and that girl's piercing eyes staring back at him from the page.
"Haruya."
He looked up. A girl from his class stood there, holding a notebook. She was quiet, shy, someone he rarely spoke to. "Um… you dropped this earlier," she said softly, handing him a page that must have slipped out.
It was one of his drawings. The one where he had drawn the mysterious girl's eyes.
Haruya froze.
The girl tilted her head, her expression curious but uneasy. "…Who is she?"
Before Haruya could answer, Kaito suddenly appeared, snatching the paper out of her hands with a grin. "Ah, nothing. Just some creepy face Haru likes to draw. You know him, always lost in his doodles."
He shoved the paper back into Haruya's bag and waved the girl away. She left, still looking unsure, but she didn't press further.
When she was gone, Kaito leaned close, his voice low and sharp. "You idiot. Don't go spreading that girl's face around. You don't know what she is yet."
Haruya didn't argue. He only stared at his desk, the weight of confusion pressing harder on his chest.
---
Later that night, the streets roared with tension again. Haruya and his group gathered in their hideout, a dimly lit warehouse filled with graffiti, broken furniture, and the faint smell of smoke.
Everyone was there—Riku, Yuto, Ren, and a few others. Kaito sat in the corner, tossing a coin in his hand.
"We've got info," Riku began. "The enemy gang is planning something. They're calling it 'The Hunt.' They'll be moving across districts, wiping out anyone in their way. And they've made it clear… we're their main target."
A silence fell over the group. The words carried a promise of blood.
Yuto slammed his fist on the table. "Then we hit them first! If we sit around, they'll crush us one by one."
Ren shook his head. "That's suicide. They're bigger, stronger, and have allies we don't even know yet."
The voices clashed, heated and desperate.
But Haruya didn't say a word. He walked to the center, placed his sketchbook on the table, and flipped it open.
The page showed not just the enemy's emblem, carefully drawn from memory, but also a series of arrows, routes, and marks.
Everyone stared.
"You've been planning this?" Riku asked, shocked.
Haruya nodded, his eyes cold. "If they want a hunt, then we'll turn it into their graveyard. We won't wait. We'll strike where they least expect, and we'll protect what's ours."
For a moment, silence stretched. Then one by one, heads began to nod. Fear was still there, but so was resolve.
Kaito tossed his coin into the air, caught it, and stood. "Hah. Guess we're really doing this. Fine. But Haru, if we die, I'm haunting you first."
A small laugh broke the tension, but it quickly faded when the sound of footsteps echoed outside the warehouse.
Everyone froze.
The door creaked open.
And there she was.
The mysterious girl.
Her expression unreadable, her steps calm as if she belonged there all along. Her voice, soft but piercing, filled the air:
"…So, this is where it begins."
—