~~~Nagasaki, After the Battle in Shioizaki Park~~~
The evening of May 3rd lingered like a breath held too long, as a cold wind whispered from the east, brushing through the quiet trees of Shioizaki Park. Beneath a waning moon, the lights of Nagasaki shimmered brighter than the stars themselves, casting a soft glow over the weary city.
The clash had left the Field Men—alongside Itoshi and Kirashi—battered, their strength nearly spent.
As Ryujin's voice rose in the darkness, calling Kirashi back to regroup, fate conspired once more. Rest would not come easily. Another encounter, unforeseen and unwelcome, stirred in the shadows—pulling them further from peace.
A sharp cry broke the hush—a Field Man, breathless and urgent, came running through the dusk. His voice cut through the stillness, rising toward Ryujin and Kirashi like a thrown stone across water.
"Sir! Sir!"
The Field Man shouted, his boots scraping against gravel as he came to a stop before them, chest heaving with exhaustion.
The call found them standing close, side by side in the cracked parking lot of Shioizaki Park, where the wind stirred their coats and the silence between them had begun to feel almost sacred.
Their eyes met briefly—the kind of glance old comrades and something more might share—before duty pulled them back toward the storm.
They moved quickly to the park's entrance, the sound of their black, noisy shoes cutting through the night.
There, under a dim streetlight, Ayro stood firm—his shadow coiled into the shape of a sword, holding off a blow from a man in a suit.
Steel met darkness. The man's face was calm, but something in his stance promised violence yet to come.
The man spoke—his voice low, edged with menace, like gravel dragged across stone. His gaze, once fixed coldly on Ayro, shifted—drawn now to Ryujin, locking eyes with a weight that felt older than the moment.
Something unspoken passed between them. The air held still, as if the park itself waited to breathe again.
"Hoh... There's the squad's humble and lovable leader."
The Man, his tone hushed and mocking, lips curling slightly as he lowered his hand.
"Tsk."
Ryujin, his brows furrowing as he clicked his tongue in irritation, eyes narrowing with restrained fury.
[Moments Before..]
The night had settled thick and cold over Shioizaki Park.
The trees whispered faintly in the east wind, their leaves brushing together like tired voices refusing to rest. The moon hung low—waning, pale, and blurred by the drifting mist above the Nagasaki skyline. Beneath it, three figures stood near the riverbank, faint outlines against the gentle shimmer of city lights.
Itoshi's teeth clattered as he trudged along the rocky path, a towel thrown over his shoulders. Water still dripped from his hair, leaving a thin trail behind him. His skin was pale from the chill, steam rising faintly as his body fought to warm itself.
"T-t-t-t Thanks f-f-f-f for t-t-the b-bath A-Ayro s-s-san!"
He stammered through the towel, voice trembling between sarcasm and frustration.
Ayro's lips curved faintly, his tone carrying dry amusement.
"With pleasure."
Kara let out a long sigh from a few steps away, both hands folded over her chest. Her head tilted slightly, her long hair swaying with the wind. She watched Itoshi stumble closer, his expression caught somewhere between miserable and ridiculous.
As he passed her, she lifted her right hand and flicked his forehead—clean, sharp, and perfectly timed.
Itoshi yelped, flinching, his shoulders stiff. The sound echoed faintly in the quiet of the park.
Kara's lips twitched into a small smile, her tone half-teasing, half-patient.
"You did that to yourself, Koya."
Itoshi turned his head slightly, his voice still shivering between his teeth.
"I-I w-w-w-was c-c-curious a-a-about A-A-ayro's r-r-eaction."
Kara couldn't hold back her laughter this time. It burst out softly at first, then rolled into a full giggle that melted the stillness.
"Pfft... Hahaha!"
Ayro crossed his arms, looking between the two of them with a faint smirk. His voice was calm, light, and knowing.
"Sometimes he just can't help but tease everyone around him, huh?"
Kara turned toward him, nodding quickly in agreement.
"TRUE! Even Jayu-chan can't escape him!"
She glanced back at Itoshi, one brow raised and her tone dramatic.
"Sometimes I wish I could do what you just did to him."
Itoshi's voice rose weakly from under the towel.
"K-Kara... I-I'm s-s-still here, y-y-you know?"
Kara rested her hand on her belly, leaning forward just a little as she delivered her line like a teacher scolding a mischievous student.
"Yes! I am well aware! I am deliberately making you hear these words!"
Itoshi groaned and tugged the towel tighter, puffing his cheeks out. Then, with theatrical timing, he used his index finger to pull down his lower eyelid and stuck out his tongue with a "bleH".
The gesture was childish, but perfectly in character.
Kara sighed, but her lips betrayed her—curving upward into a smile she couldn't suppress.
Her tone softened, carrying both warmth and exasperation.
"Koyaaa... You just never learn, huh?"
Itoshi took in a deep breath that came out as a visible puff of mist, then shouted with exaggerated drama,
"It's so dang cold!!"
Ayro chuckled under his breath, crossing his arms as the faintest smirk touched his face.
"You might want to warm up before you catch a cold, Koya. You're a flame user after all, right?"
"Wait... R-right!"
Itoshi quickly raised his palm. His fingers trembled slightly, but focus settled over his eyes. A faint red glow formed at the center of his hand, pulsing once before shifting into a calm, flickering blue flame. Its light danced softly across their faces, painting them in warm shades of cobalt.
He exhaled, his voice trailing with relief.
"W-Warm~~"
Kara immediately extended her arms toward the flame like a cat finding sunlight. Her eyes half-closed, her voice lazy and content.
"Comfyy~~~"
Ayro stepped closer, his eyes steady on the small flame. He extended his gloved hand toward it, feeling the warmth spread against his skin.
Itoshi narrowed his eyes, his expression returning to its usual mischievous spark.
"Hey! What are you tryna do?!"
Ayro blinked, raising a single brow.
"Getting warmth?"
"HA?!"
Itoshi barked, his voice carrying the rough edge of a delinquent trying to sound tough through chattering teeth.
Ayro leaned closer, his calm gaze sharpening like a blade.
"You want me to throw you into the lake again?"
Itoshi immediately froze, eyes darting upward to meet Ayro's glare.
"I-I was just asking..." he said quickly, then muttered under his breath, "Couldn't tell you were cold with that stone-ass face of yours."
Ayro didn't even reply. In one smooth motion, he grabbed Itoshi by the collar of his hoodie and lifted him clean off the ground.
Itoshi's legs dangled helplessly, his eyes wide and frantic.
"It was a joke! It was a joke!! Sorry!!!"
Kara groaned loudly, throwing her hands up into the air.
"Koyaaa!!! We were already getting comfortable—why'd you ruin it?!"
Ayro held him suspended for a moment longer before sighing, letting him down. The momentary calm returned—but thinner, quieter, like glass before it cracks.
Ayro's expression shifted. His head turned toward the road that stretched above the park entrance. His eyes narrowed.
The flame between them flickered once, as if sensing it too. The wind died. The quiet thickened.
"Itoshi. Get yourself together. Something's coming."
"Seele's?"
Itoshi asked quietly, his tone changing at once.
Ayro shook his head, gaze locked on the upper road.
"No... something a little harder to deal with."
The distant hum of engines began to bleed through the silence. It grew louder, smoother—electric and precise.
From the slope above, a convoy of black electric SUVs appeared, their lights slicing through the mist. Their bodies gleamed under the moonlight, each vehicle stamped with a familiar white insignia: W.E.S.C.U.
Kara's laughter from before faded completely. She straightened, the faint warmth of the flame reflecting in her eyes as she whispered,
"Special Control Unit..."
The first SUV rolled to a halt just under the streetlight. The park, moments ago soft and lively, now felt like the edge of a battlefield—quiet, still, watching.
Ayro and Itoshi stood side by side. The blue flame burned low between them, barely keeping its shape against the tension that gripped the air.
A metallic click broke the silence as the SUV's door opened. Ayro leaned forward slightly, expecting the usual crisp order of officials.
But what came next wasn't procedure—it was chaos.
From the back seat, a man in a sleek black suit lunged forward, his arm whipping across the driver's face with a resounding smack. The sharp crack echoed through the night.
"THE BATTLE IS ALREADY OVER, YOU FOOL! YOU DRIVE SO FUCKING SLOW! HOW DID YOU EVEN MANAGE TO GET LOST IN THESE ROADS?!"
The thick British accent tore through the park, followed by a stunned, stammering silence.
Itoshi and Ayro turned to each other, their faces frozen in shared disbelief. Neither spoke. They didn't have to.
The suited man stepped out, straightening his jacket and brushing a bit of dust from his sleeve as though nothing had happened. He cleared his throat—sharp, deliberate, and oddly professional.
"Ehem," he said smoothly, his voice carrying that unnerving mix of composure and arrogance.
"I guess we were a bit late to show off."
The outburst from moments earlier vanished behind his polished smirk. Every motion was suddenly refined, precise, like an actor slipping seamlessly into character.
Under the pale glow of the streetlight, his crimson tie caught the wind, fluttering faintly as he turned toward them.
Itoshi blinked, whispering quietly under his breath,
"What... the hell is with this guy?"
Ayro didn't answer. His hand subtly tightened at his side as the breeze carried the faint scent of smoke and electricity.
Something told him—this man wasn't here for greetings.
And the night was only beginning to turn.
~~~To be Continued~~~