It started with a name she didn't recognize.
A call from a number that wasn't in her phone.
She let it ring three times before answering.
The voice on the other end was clipped. Sharp. Too professional.
"Aara Jin? This is Mr. Ryu. I'm with the District Investigation Division for Private Youth Athletic Affairs. I'm calling in regard to your recent—shall we say—popularity."
She didn't speak.
He continued.
"We'd like to discuss an opportunity. In person. Bring your guardian or legal rep."
By the time she hung up, her hands were shaking.
Not from fear.
From the pressure building under her skin.
From the fact that even now, even after all this…
They still wanted to use her.
She texted Haru.
rooftop. now.
It was the same one as last time.
The one above the arcade. Cold and open and quiet.
When he arrived, she didn't speak.
She handed him the card the man had left in her bag — the invitation printed in gold ink, like it was a gift.
"Youth Combat League Recruitment Assessment – Confidential"
Haru read it.
Didn't speak.
Didn't blink.
He just crushed the card in his fist.
"They want you in the system," he said finally.
"They want to make it legal," she replied. "Turn me into something they can put a price on."
"You're already more dangerous than anything they've got."
"Then why does it feel like they're winning?"
He didn't answer that.
Because there wasn't one.
Not really.
"I've been fighting so long," she said, stepping closer to the edge, arms folded over her chest. "But I don't even know what I'm fighting for anymore."
"You were fighting to stay alive."
"That's not enough now."
She turned to him, eyes sharp.
"But I'm not gonna fight just because I'm good at it. I'm not going to give them my scars and let them profit off it. I won't be their monster."
"You won't," he said.
"You can't promise that."
"I can ruin them if they try."
"I don't want you to ruin the world for me."
He paused.
Then asked, almost like a whisper:
"Then what do you want?"
Aara looked up at him.
Steady.
Soft.
Unbreaking.
"I want to choose when I fight. Who I fight. Why."
"I want my story back."
The words landed like a blade.
Clean. Quiet. Final.
She wasn't asking.
She was taking it.
Haru didn't move for a long time.
Then:
"I'll follow your lead."
She stepped closer.
Close enough to feel the warmth under his cold expression.
"I don't need you to follow," she said. "I need you to stand beside me."
And that's what broke him.
Not her anger.
Not her silence.
But her trust.
He pulled her into his arms — not desperate, not possessive.
Just anchored.
"I was never here to save you," he said against her hair.
"I know."
"I just didn't want to be saved without you."
She didn't cry.
Didn't kiss him.
Just held him tighter.
Because for the first time — in years — she wasn't being claimed.
She was being chosen.
Later that night, Aara stood over her old journal.
The one she used to keep when she thought being perfect might be enough.
She opened to the first page.
And rewrote the title.
"Ashes Don't Lie"