Rain still whispered through the shattered vents of the underground, threading through the broken ceiling like silver veins. The echoes of the battle lingered — not in the air, but in the heart.
Hours had passed since Dr. Akanuki's fall. The tunnels, once roaring with light and violence, had gone silent. The only sound now was the faint dripping of water and the scrape of steel against cloth.
Akio Hukitaske sat on the concrete steps leading back up to the surface. A single flickering bulb cast uneven light over him. The Black Poison Blade and the Emerald Healing Blade lay across his knees, coated in dried ash, faint crimson, and grime.
He exhaled slowly, eyes distant.
The air smelled of rust, blood, and the faint sweetness of chemical residue — the lingering scent of the Yaka Lab's toxins, burnt away but never gone.
Rumane and Hikata had gone ahead to secure the van. Detective Mizuhashi was making calls to headquarters. For the first time since the night began, Akio was alone.
He dipped a rag into a small vial of clear alcohol, its surface reflecting his weary face. His fingers moved methodically, cleaning the twin blades with reverence. The black one shimmered like obsidian under the dim light, the emerald one catching even the faintest glint, almost alive.
As he wiped the blood away, faint sparks of color rippled through the steel — like the blades themselves still remembered the fight.
"...You've drunk too much blood again," Akio whispered to them, half-joking, half-praying. "You'll get sick."
It was a foolish thing to say to weapons, yet the words came naturally. These blades weren't just steel — they were the last living relics of a world that refused to die. He'd inherited them from the fallen Murakaze family, entrusted to him as the "Pharmacist-Hero." But to Akio, they were burdens — tools of life and death intertwined, much like himself.
The alcohol hissed softly as he wiped the last of the blood away. He paused, staring at his reflection on the emerald blade's surface. His own eyes stared back at him — tired, unfocused, flickering with faint remorse.
"Do you ever feel," he murmured, "that no matter how many monsters you stop… there's always one waiting beneath your own reflection?"
The water dripped, as if answering him.
Footsteps echoed behind him. Hikata Yakasuke's voice called from the tunnel mouth — that familiar blend of humor and concern.
"Oi, Akio… you're still brooding over there? You know if you stare at those swords long enough, they might start charging rent."
Akio didn't turn, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Someone has to clean them. You're too busy making jokes."
"Hey," Hikata limped closer, still walking on his healing leg from the previous fight. "If I don't make jokes, who's gonna keep this gloomy world from turning into a funeral procession every ten minutes?"
He leaned against the wall beside Akio, the shadows making his face look older for once. His usually bright grin softened into something more genuine. "You did good back there, alright. Real good."
Akio sighed. "We all barely made it out. If you hadn't thrown that last vial, we'd still be down there— or worse."
"Eh, maybe." Hikata shrugged. "But that's what partners do, right? You mix the magic, I toss it, we both hope it doesn't explode. Teamwork."
Akio chuckled faintly. "That's one way to put it."
Silence settled again — comfortable this time. Rain dripped from above, tapping against the swords.
Then Hikata's voice grew quieter. "That guy… Akanuki. The way he talked. You think he was lying? About the lab still being alive?"
Akio hesitated. His hand froze mid-wipe. "No. I don't think he was."
Hikata frowned. "Then… that means…"
"It means the Helix isn't gone," Akio finished for him. "Not completely. Maybe it never was."
For a long time, neither of them spoke. The tunnel light flickered once, and Hikata kicked the base of the lamp gently.
Finally, he said, "You remember what you said, back during the first Helix fight? 'A world without scars doesn't remember where it's healed.'"
Akio blinked, glancing up. "You remember that?"
"Course I do. It sounded so deep I had to write it on my fridge." Hikata smiled faintly. "But I think it's true, pal. You're not just carrying scars — you're carrying proof that we survived. Proof that you survived."
Akio looked down at the blades again. "Maybe. But surviving isn't the same as living."
"Try telling that to Rumane."
They both looked up as Rumane appeared from the far end of the tunnel, her calm and steady steps echoing softly. She wore her usual composed expression — serene but edged with exhaustion. The soft light made her seem almost mysterious against the grime.
She stopped near them, crossing her arms. "You two are still down here. Typical."
Hikata grinned. "We were bonding."
"Bonding," she repeated dryly. "You mean you were distracting Akio from thinking too hard."
Akio smirked slightly. "And failing."
Rumane sat down beside them anyway, taking a slow breath. "The van's ready. Mizuhashi said cleanup teams will be here by morning. He also wants us to rest for once."
"Rest," Hikata groaned. "That word doesn't exist in our dictionary."
Rumane's lips curved faintly. "Then it's time to learn it."
They sat there for a while, listening to the rhythm of the rain. No chaos. No enemies. Just the echo of what had been.
After a time, Rumane spoke again, quietly. "When you fought Akanuki… what did he say to you?"
Akio hesitated, then answered. "That he built monsters to forget his own face."
Rumane nodded slowly, her eyes thoughtful. "Maybe that's what happens when people lose purpose. They build something terrible to fill the silence."
Akio ran a thumb along the emerald blade's spine. "And I keep destroying them to fill mine."
Her gaze softened. "That's not true. You destroy them to protect what's still good."
The silence that followed was heavy, but not hopeless.
By the time they emerged from the tunnels, dawn had begun to break over Tokyo's Grand Line. The storm was clearing, leaving only a soft mist over the amusement park's empty rides.
The Ferris wheel stood motionless against the pale pink sky. Its cars swayed gently in the breeze, creaking like an old clock.
Akio, Rumane, and Hikata walked toward the hotel. The ground was still wet, reflecting the weak sunlight like shards of glass.
At the entrance, Mizuhashi stood smoking, his coat draped over one shoulder. He looked up at them with tired eyes.
"You all look like you've been through a furnace."
"Underground furnace," Hikata muttered. "Full of chains, smoke, and some psycho scientist who needed a therapist."
Mizuhashi's eyebrow lifted slightly. "You mean Akanuki."
Akio stopped mid-step. "You knew?"
"Of course." Mizuhashi exhaled smoke. "He used to work under my department. Before the Helix went rogue. He was brilliant, even kind once. Then he disappeared with the Yaka Lab remnants."
He tossed the cigarette aside. "We never found his body after the Helix fell. Now we know why."
Rumane frowned. "You kept that from us."
"I had to," Mizuhashi said simply. "If I told you everything I knew, you would've gone in without restraint. And I couldn't risk that."
Akio met his eyes. "Then you should have trusted us to decide that for ourselves."
Mizuhashi sighed deeply. "Maybe you're right."
He glanced at the swords in Akio's hands. "Those aren't just weapons anymore. They're keys — to history, to knowledge, to whatever the Helix left behind. Keep them close."
Akio nodded once, quietly. "I always do."
Hours later, inside the hotel room, the group finally rested.
Hikata was sprawled across one bed, snoring softly, a half-eaten sandwich on the nightstand beside him. Rumane sat near the window, sipping coffee as she read through a police file.
Akio stood at the sink, washing the last of the grime from his hands. He caught his reflection in the mirror — tired eyes, faint scars, hair still damp from the rain.
Behind him, the twin blades rested in their case on the desk, spotless now, gleaming faintly under the morning light.
He stared at them for a long moment before whispering to his reflection: "You always take, and I always clean. Maybe one day, we'll both stop bleeding."
Rumane looked up from her chair. "Talking to your weapons again?"
Akio smirked faintly. "Better them than myself."
"Don't be so sure," she said gently. "They're mirrors, not monsters. They show you what you're afraid to see."
He met her gaze through the reflection — her calm, steady presence grounding him in a way he couldn't quite describe.
Then Hikata mumbled in his sleep. "Don't touch my vials, Akio… those are expensive…"
They both glanced at him. Rumane exhaled a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Even in dreams, he's ridiculous."
"Yeah," Akio said, smiling faintly. "But he keeps the world from being too heavy."
She nodded. "That's what makes you three work. Balance."
Akio turned back to the window. The storm had fully cleared now, the park glimmering with morning dew. In the distance, the Ferris wheel creaked to life again — slow, steady, and bright.
A new day. A temporary peace.
Later, as everyone slept or rested, Akio opened his notebook — the one where he recorded all Helix-related cases.
He wrote quietly:
"Case 0764 – Akanuki Valda Dezalkei. Confirmed deceased. Possible reactivation of Yaka 8056 resonance network. Emotional state: conflicted. Purpose remains uncertain. Rumane says the mirror shows what I fear to see. Maybe she's right. Maybe I'm still afraid of the stranger in the reflection."
He paused, looking at the final line. Then, slowly, he closed the notebook and set it aside.
The swords gleamed faintly beside him. The hum of the hotel AC blended with the distant sound of laughter from early park visitors — the first signs of normal life returning.
Akio leaned back in the chair, exhaling deeply. For a moment, just one fragile, fleeting moment, the world outside of battle felt real again.
He whispered to the air:"For now… this is enough."
TO BE CONTINUED...