The night was restless. Neon lights blinked across the city like watchful eyes, and in the alleyways, shadows gathered thicker than usual. The trio—Hikaru, Miyuki, and Kaito—stood at the edge of the abandoned warehouse district, guided only by the girl's words from before.
Kaito's sketchbook trembled in his hands. Pages fluttered as if stirred by an invisible wind. Strange symbols were etched across them, not drawn with his will but appearing on their own, twisting into shapes that almost looked like maps.
"What is this place?" Miyuki asked, scanning the silent row of warehouses. Rusted shutters hung loose, broken windows stared back like hollow sockets.
Hikaru crouched, running his fingers over a symbol spray-painted on the ground—a circle with jagged lines through it. "It's not random. This is a marker. Gangs use these to claim territory. But this one's different… almost like it's meant to ward something off."
Kaito glanced down at his book. The same symbol was sketched there, glowing faintly in the moonlight. His throat went dry. "I… I drew this yesterday. I didn't even remember doing it."
The air grew heavier. A low hum vibrated in the distance—footsteps, many of them, closing in.
"They know we're here," Hikaru said sharply. His eyes scanned the shadows, calculating every possible exit.
Figures emerged from the mist. Dozens of men, faces half-covered, bats and chains glinting in the pale light. Their leader stepped forward, his scarred jawline unmistakable—Reiji.
"Well, well," Reiji sneered. "The little troublemakers again. And you brought your precious sketchbook. That'll save me the effort."
Miyuki clenched her fists, whispering, "We beat him once. We can do it again."
Reiji chuckled, shaking his head. "You think last time was a fight? That was me being merciful. Tonight, you won't leave here standing."
The men surged forward.
Hikaru was the first to move, precise and quick, his strikes clean and ruthless. Miyuki darted in beside him, her movements sharp as she disarmed one thug after another. But there were too many. The sound of chains cracked through the air, and bats slammed against walls.
Kaito stumbled back, clutching his sketchbook. His pencil moved before his mind caught up, lines racing across the page. A circle. A burst of jagged strokes. Then, suddenly, a spark.
The warehouse lights above flickered violently, then exploded in a shower of sparks. For a heartbeat, chaos froze—the gang shielded their eyes from the sudden blaze.
"That was you?" Miyuki shouted over the noise, glancing at Kaito.
"I—I didn't mean to!" Kaito's voice shook. But even as he said it, the lines on the page shifted again, forming something new—a path, leading into the darker part of the district.
Hikaru caught it instantly. "It's showing us a way out."
The three moved as one, breaking through the stunned gang and sprinting into the shadows. Reiji's roar followed them: "You can't run forever! Reo will crush you all!"
The name sent a shiver down Kaito's spine. Reo. The one the girl had warned them about.
They didn't stop until they reached the riverbank, the city lights flickering in the distance. Breathless, bruised, but alive.
Kaito dropped to his knees, opening the sketchbook again. The path he had drawn was gone, replaced by something else: three figures, standing together against a wave of darkness. Behind them, threads stretched outward—some cut, some tangled, some glowing faintly.
Miyuki stared at the image. "It's us."
"And that darkness…" Hikaru muttered. His jaw tightened. "That's what's coming."
The wind carried a voice, faint but clear, as if whispered directly into their ears.
"Threads will tighten. Choices will sharpen. The full moon approaches."
The three exchanged a look, no words needed. The war they had stumbled into was no longer just between gangs. It was something much bigger—woven into the very fabric of reality.
And somewhere in the city, Reo smiled in the shadows, his eyes gleaming. "Good. Let the threads pull tighter. The game is only just beginning."
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