"Now it's come to this..."
He paused, the words barely carried by the wind.
"There's no going back now."
The rooftop stretched quiet around him. The city below pulsed in distant hums, headlights crawling through the streets like faint traces of life he couldn't reach anymore.
Itoshi's gaze drifted past the railings as his long blue hair danced with the wind where the squad leader of 663 stood, hands tucked in his coat pockets, eyes steady.
Neither spoke. The air between them was thin, cold — the kind that made thoughts louder than sound.
[Few Moments Earlier..]
Itoshi walked down the hallway outside their apartment, long blue hair loose, hands buried in his jacket pockets.
His boots echoed against the walls, the sound sharp in the empty corridor. He spoke under his breath, eyes glued to the floor.
"I have to fix this... or else..."
His steps slowed. Then stopped.
"Wait..."
His mind caught up to his mouth.
"Where the hell are they?"
Back in the apartment, the door was still wide open. Aldrin knelt by the counter, sorting through groceries. The hum of the fridge filled the silence.
"Alright,"
He muttered, neatly stacking the vegetables into their compartments. He paused, a soft thought brushing through.
"I wonder how that kid's doing..."
Then came the echo of hurried footsteps closing in.
"Aldrin!"
He turned. By the doorframe stood Itoshi, chest rising with each breath, eyes steady and bright.
"Oh? You done already?"
Aldrin blinked, half-grinning.
"Where is Leader right now?!"
Aldrin sighed, pulling his comms from his pocket. The small hologram flickered to life.
He pressed a button, and a voice crackled through.
"Need something?"
Ryujin. Calm as always.
"Ah... when will you guys come back?"
"We're on our way,"
Ryujin said flatly.
"Okay."
The call ended.
Aldrin looked back with a faint smile.
"They're coming back. You'd better be ready."
Itoshi sank onto the couch, clutching the fabric beneath his fingers. His eyes unfocused. The room was too quiet. Aldrin sat in the kitchen, fiddling with his comms, letting him think.
Then—the door clicked.
Itoshi shot up. But it wasn't Ryujin.
Ayro stepped in, brow furrowed.
"Ah! Welcome back!"
Aldrin called out.
Ayro's eyes narrowed.
"What are you guys up to?"
Aldrin smirked.
"Itoshi's taking his first step toward maturity."
"Ah... that's one way to put it,"
Ayro said, deadpan. He looked at Itoshi, who stood frozen in the living room.
"Itoshi,"
He said firmly.
"Y-yeah?"
"He's waiting for you on the rooftop. Act professional."
Ayro pointed back using his thumb.
Itoshi nodded, bolting for the door.
"Thank you, you two!"
They watched him disappear down the hall — the sound of his boots climbing the stairs fading into the building's quiet. Aldrin leaned back, faint smile returning. Ayro exhaled through his nose, almost amused.
For once, they both hoped the kid knew what he was doing.
Itoshi forced open the metallic door to the rooftop. The cold air hit him first — sharp, dry, clean. He caught his breath for a moment, eyes narrowing at the view.
There he was.
Ryujin, standing lazily by the railings, hands stuffed deep in his coat pockets. The wind tugged at his jacket but he didn't move much. Just stood there, watching the city.
Itoshi stopped a few meters away. His shoulders stiffened — not from the cold, but from not knowing what to say.
His mind kept spinning.
"What the hell... me and Hishiki had misunderstandings before," he thought.
"But this... this feels different."
The sound of the wind filled the space between them. Ryujin didn't look up right away. He let the silence settle.
Finally, he spoke.
"You wanted to see me?"
His tone was flat, calm. The kind of calm that had weight to it.
Itoshi swallowed hard.
"Y-yes, Leader!"
Ryujin didn't move.
"For what?"
Itoshi froze halfway through his breath.
"F-for earlier—"
Ryujin's mouth twitched, barely there.
"For what, exactly? Putting us in danger? Failing to listen? Playing the martyr?"
Itoshi clenched his fists.
"For being an ass!" he said, bowing his head.
"I didn't follow my job as your member! I ignored a direct order that was supposed to keep everyone safe. I got rash..."
He paused, his voice catching.
"No... too rash."
The word hung there. Small, but heavy enough.
Ryujin's eyes didn't move for a while. Leadership was something he wore like armor — and right now, he needed to keep it on. If he let it drop too far, people would take the wrong message.
"You know apologies are cheap,"
Ryujin said finally.
"Say it and mean it, or don't bother. And don't fix things just because you feel bad. Fix it because you should."
Itoshi's voice wavered.
"H-how?"
Ryujin pushed off the railing and stood straighter. The light from the city cut shadows across his face.
"Do what a leader wants,"
he said.
"Take the hit where it matters. Make decisions that protect the team. Keep quiet until your head's clear. And act like you care more about the consequences than your pride."
Itoshi nodded slowly, still catching his breath.
"Not everything's about you, Itoshi,"
Ryujin added.
"And not every fight needs to be won just to prove something. Sometimes strength means standing down—and knowing why."
Itoshi looked down at his hands. They were still trembling.
"I'll stand down,"
He said quietly.
"But I'm not stepping out. I'll do it your way if that's what keeps the squad together."
Ryujin watched him for a bit. There was a kind of silence that said more than words could.
"Good,"
Ryujin said finally.
"Then show it. Don't tell me."
They stood there for a while — just the two of them, the city breathing below, wind brushing past the rails.
Ryujin finally moved. A small smirk broke through as he walked closer, placing a firm hand on Itoshi's shoulder.
"Raise your head, kid."
Itoshi did. Their eyes met — steady, purple against red. For the first time that day, the tension between them didn't feel like a wall.
"Let's take dinner with the others, shall we?"
Ryujin said, voice lighter now.
Itoshi blinked.
"W-Wait... that's it?"
Ryujin turned his head slightly, his gaze sharpening again.
"You still want more? I'm already going soft on you. Don't push it."
"N-no, sir!"
That earned a small, satisfied grin.
"Good."
He turned for the door, pushing it open as the wind slipped out behind him. Itoshi stood there for a moment longer, watching him go — still trying to catch up to the pace of what just happened — before following after.
BANGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!
"UUWAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The apartment door blasted open, shaking the silence apart.
Itoshi stood in the doorway, hands raised, energy flaring brighter than the ceiling lights.
"LET'S EAT DINNER!!"
Ayro pressed his forehead against the table, ears covered.
"Ah... he's back..."
Aldrin laughed nervously.
"Haha... yeah, things are back."
Behind Itoshi, Ryujin stepped in and gave him a light bonk on the head.
"You're too loud."
Itoshi immediately bowed.
"Yes, sir!"
From the dark corner, a low chuckle rolled out.
"Hehe~"
Itoshi snapped toward it.
"Oi!"
He pointed sharply as Ryujin quietly closed the door behind them.
"Itoshi's gotten weak~"
The voice teased.
"What the hell did you say?! Wind freak?!"
Kirashi sat in the corner like a smug king, legs crossed, chin resting on his fist. His smirk didn't budge.
"Hehe~"
Itoshi pointed back,
"You look like a homeless guy squatting in our living room!"
Silence. Then Aldrin muttered,
"Ah... here we go..."
He scraped his chair back, stood, and casually opened the door behind Itoshi.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"
Kirashi roared.
"Homeless!"
Itoshi shouted again, tugging at his cheeks and sticking his tongue out.
"BLEH!"
Kirashi shot up, wind bursting under his feet.
"You bastard!"
The next second, he launched across the room.
Itoshi's eyes went wide.
"Ah shAit!"
The couches, lamps, papers — everything flew as the two crashed together.
CLASH!
They tumbled straight out the door.
Aldrin shut it behind them and sighed.
"Forgive me for helping him."
Ayro didn't even look up.
"Tch. Idiots."
Ryujin, completely unfazed, walked to the counter.
"Did Kara and Jayu get home yet?"
"N-not yet,"
Aldrin said, listening to the distant thuds and yelling outside.
"Want me to check?"
"Nah,"
Ryujin muttered, pulling out his comms.
"I'll call them."
After a few beeps—
"Yes? Ryujin-sama?"
Ryujin clicked his tongue.
"I told you not to call me that."
Kara laughed awkwardly through the line.
"Have you guys eaten?"
He asked.
"Ah—oh yeah! Not yet!"
"Alright. We're setting up here. Come eat with us. Bring some for Hoshizaki too."
"Oke! Copy!"
The line cut.
Silence again. Then Ayro spoke, still slouched at the table.
"Sometimes I can't believe the girl you just called is related to the demon outside."
Aldrin exhaled. Ryujin did too. The building shook again from another thud in the hallway.
They didn't even flinch.
"PLEASE JAYU-SAMA!!"
"PLEASE HEAL US!"
Kirashi and Itoshi were a mess—faces swollen, bruises scattered across their bodies, the aftermath of their latest stupid argument. Both knelt in front of the self-proclaimed goddess, Jayu, who stood by the door, arms crossed, pouting.
"Oh holy great goddess, please bless us with your healing!"
They begged in unison.
"Hmpp!"
Jayu huffed, shaking her head from side to side.
Behind them, Kara watched, eyes half-open, dead inside.
"Please! Healing!"
Itoshi crawled closer, reaching toward Jayu's feet.
"No!" she snapped.
Then Kirashi joined in.
"Jayu-chan! Pleaseee!!!"
"No!"
Jayu barked again, the pink-haired child visibly done with patching up these two every damn time they fought.
The two men froze, staring at her. Silence filled the room.
Then suddenly—
"WAHHHH!!!!"
Both burst into tears.
"Eh!?"
Jayu panicked, flailing her arms.
"W-wait! Don't cry!"
They got her.
Kara let out a deep sigh, resting her chin on her fist as she muttered,
"They'll even go out of their way to fool a child..."
Across the table, Ayro, Aldrin, and Ryujin all replied in sync.
"That's just how they are..."
A few minutes later, Jayu lay passed out on the floor, the apartment door now closed. Kirashi and Itoshi, completely healed, stood tall and smug.
"Yes!"
"I'm back, baby!"
Kara snapped.
"Jeez! You guys don't even feel bad doing that to the poor kid!"
Two loud bonks followed.
In a blink, Kirashi and Itoshi were both out cold on the floor, while Kara held Jayu in her arms pouting, not even trying to look back.
The three men at the table sighed, mimicking Kara's earlier pose.
"That's just how they are..."
~~~To be Continued~~~