The war was over, though the city still trembled.
North-South Tokyo, Mizunashi District — the skyline, once broken by smoke and fire, now stood under the soft veil of early dawn. For the first time in weeks, no sirens wailed, no shadows leapt from alleys, no steel clashed against steel. Instead, the streets were heavy with silence — the kind of silence that comes not from peace, but from exhaustion.
The Red Smoke Bandits had been crushed. Their schemes to awaken the Scarlet Helix thwarted, their leaders scattered or dead. But for those who survived — Akio, his companions, Mizuna, and even Kenji somewhere in the shadows — the scars they bore were not the kind that would fade with time.
The Return to the Pharmacy
Dr. Akio Murasaki Hukitaske pushed open the door to his pharmacy. It creaked louder than usual, as if echoing the burden he carried. Inside, shelves of herbal jars and glass vials waited, untouched during the chaos. The smell of antiseptic alcohol and dried lavender hung faintly in the air — familiar, grounding.
Raka Grundane was already inside, slouched on the counter, still wearing her oversized Gucci hoodie and battered Nikes, her shoulders like stone pillars. The old grandma's bruises from the battles were hidden beneath layers of stubborn pride.
"You're late," she muttered without looking at him. "Pharmacist hero or not, these shelves don't stock themselves. Kiddo..."
Akio chuckled softly — a sound more tired than amused. "We'll restock. Slowly. For now... it's enough that we're here."
Behind him, Hikata Yakasuke swaggered in with his usual grin, though even he couldn't hide the way his steps dragged. "If we're rebuilding, let me handle the PR. 'Hukitaske Pharmacy: Survived the Apocalypse and Still Delivers!' You'd get customers lined up down the street."
Rumane, ever the calm strategist, set down a thick ledger she had carried through fire and blood. She adjusted her glasses, her movements precise, steady. "You joke, Hikata. But we will need to remind the community we're still here. Trust is fragile after nights of murder and fire."
Akazuchi slipped in last, the shy fifteen-year-old coder clutching a laptop that looked too large for his arms. He had hardly spoken since the final battle. His eyes — wide, haunted — darted between the adults, then down at his shoes. But he didn't need to say anything. His presence alone was proof that Akio's chosen family had endured.
Ghosts in the Quiet
Even in the warmth of his pharmacy, Akio could not shake the weight pressing against his heart. When he closed his eyes, he still saw Yazu Murakaze's body carved open in the warehouse, the fox-shaped wound glaring back at him. He heard Mizuna's sobs when she found her father, her hands painted in blood that no cleansing ritual could erase.
He saw Kenji too — his brother's face beneath the Phantom mask, twisted in anguish, desperate to shield them all from a truth too heavy to bear.
Was he truly gone again? Or was he watching from rooftops, always on the edge of shadow?
"Akio."
Rumane's voice cut through his spiral. She stood across the counter, her calm gaze meeting his. "Don't lose yourself. The dead are gone. But we're still here. You're still here."
Akio exhaled. His hands, trembling faintly, tightened around the edge of the counter. "I know. It's just... it never ends, does it? The blades. The Helix. The blood. Every time we try to heal, something new rises from the ashes."
Riki Amade, leaning against the doorway with his sheriff's jacket half off, finally spoke. His voice was low, gravelly, the voice of a offcier who had seen too many prisons and too many graves. "That's life, Akio. We can't erase the world's scars. But we can choose how many new ones get carved. That's what you did out there. That's why people call you a hero, whether you like it or not."
Mizuna's Visit
The pharmacy bell jingled. Mizuna Murakaze stepped inside.
Her once-bright eyes carried a weight beyond her years now. She wore her university coat still stained faintly at the cuffs with dried blood. Her posture was elegant, but her grief was an anchor.
"Dr. Hukitaske," she said softly. "And all of you... thank you."
Akio shook his head. "We couldn't save him."
She walked closer, setting a hand on the counter. "No one could. My father's fate was sealed long before the Phantom, before the Bandits. The Blades... they always demanded a price. He knew that."
Her words struck the room silent.
Then she pulled out a small lacquered box. When she opened it, the dim light caught on the metal gleam of the surviving Murakaze Blades.
"My family cannot guard it anymore," she said. Her voice trembled, but her resolve did not. "The Bandits are gone, but others will rise. The Scarlet Helix will always tempt the greedy. That's why I want you to take it, Akio—you and your family. Protect it, the way my father believed only you could. At least in my eyes he would of...
Your brother trusts you with these blades too. You saw it in his eyes when he returned the sword. He could have kept it, but he didn't. For someone like him, that act was more than a gesture—it was faith. Blood or not, you can't deny him now.
And it's not just him. I trust you. Your friends trust you. We all believe you're the one who should guard these blades, not just because you can protect them, but because you carry the heart to bear their weight.
So take them, Akio. Not as weapons, not as trophies—but as the bond of everything we've fought for together. Take them, my friend."
Akio stared at the blades — at the weight of history shimmering in steel. His hand hovered above it, but he didn't touch it. Not yet.
"...These blades took too much already," he whispered. "But if this is what it means to protect those left behind, then I will bear it."
Then Mizuna spoke aloud once more in a comedic type breath of tone. "By the way, Akio. IF YOU HAD THE BLADE THE ENTIRE TIME, THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU USE IT THE WHOLE TIME! THAT COULD OF HELPED MASSIVELY, ya big moron..."
A Family Meal
Later that night, the group gathered upstairs in the modest kitchen above the pharmacy. Raka cooked, filling the air with the smell of fried rice and garlic pork. She hummed old folk tunes off-key, stomping around in her gaudy sneakers.
Hikata told ridiculous stories about their fight, pantomiming Raka suplexing a Bandit twice her size. Rumane rolled her eyes, though a faint smile tugged her lips. Riki drank quietly, his gaze faraway, but he stayed — and that was enough.
Akazuchi, for the first time in days, laughed softly at Hikata's antics. His voice was small, but real.
Akio sat at the head of the table, watching them all. His heart ached — but with something lighter than dread this time. With something like pride.
"This is why we fight," he murmured.
The Rooftop Goodbye
When the others had gone to sleep, Akio climbed onto the pharmacy's roof. The city stretched beneath him, neon lights blinking like restless stars.
A gust of wind swept past. And with it, a shadow flickered at the far edge of the roof.
"Kenji."
No answer. Only silence. But Akio felt him there — watching, listening.
"You saved me. More than once," Akio said into the night. "You saved all of us. You think you're cursed. You think you don't belong. But you're my brother. You always will be. I'll keep your secret until you're ready to return. Until then... keep surviving."
A faint scrape of footsteps. Then the shadow was gone.
Akio closed his eyes, letting the wind carry his words into the dark.
Dawn
The next morning, sunlight spilled across Mizunashi. Shops opened, children laughed again in the streets, and the world — fragile but determined — began to heal.
In the pharmacy window, Akio placed the Murakaze Blades inside reinforced cases. Not as a weapon. Not as a trophy. But as a reminder.
The past was scarred. The future uncertain. But for now, in this fragile peace, they would endure.
The screen fades to black, with the words:
"The Scarlet Helix sleeps once more."