The rain finally stopped by morning, but the streets still shimmered with water like veins of silver under the city lights. A thick mist rolled over the rooftops, and for once, the sky didn't look angry — just tired.
At the Reaper Agency, Daichi was sprawled across his chair with his feet on the desk, a lollipop hanging lazily from his mouth. He was supposed to be typing up a mission report, but instead, he was drawing a very detailed doodle of Arata's scowling face on the back of a requisition form.
Arata sighed as he walked in, tossing a paper file onto Daichi's desk.
"You know, for someone with four quirks and a body count higher than most squads, you act like a twelve-year-old."
Daichi grinned, not even looking up. "Jealous that my artistic talent matches my combat record?"
"I'm jealous of your ability to ignore responsibility."
"That's called experience, old man."
Arata ignored him and opened the blinds. The weak sunlight spilled across the office, cutting through the cigarette smoke that hung from last night's exhaustion. "The report from HQ came in. The cult we hit last night wasn't small-time — they were tied to something larger."
Daichi pulled the lollipop from his mouth with a soft pop. "You mean the Black Lotus?"
Arata hesitated. "It's not confirmed. But their symbol showed up again. Lower right of the sigil. Almost faded, like someone wanted it erased."
Daichi leaned back, spinning the lollipop between his fingers. "So they're hiding again. Same as before."
"Worse," Arata said. "They're recruiting Reapers now. Real ones. Level 2s, even some 3s. Someone's paying them well."
"Then we'll make them bankrupt."
"Daichi—"
"Relax, partner," Daichi interrupted with a smirk. "You worry too much. You'll get wrinkles before you hit forty."
"I'm thirty-five."
"See?" Daichi said, pretending to squint. "Already happening."
Arata threw him a dead look, but there was a faint smile hiding under it. "You're impossible."
Daichi spun his chair toward the window, his grin fading as he looked out over the city. The mist covered the streets like a burial cloth. "Still… they've been quiet for too long. Every time someone mentions the Black Lotus, it means they're about to start something ugly."
Arata nodded. "We'll get orders soon. Until then, we wait."
Daichi hated that word. Wait. It felt like rust forming in his bones.
Meanwhile — The Dojo
Eiden's mornings had changed.
He woke up before sunrise now, not because Noboru told him to — but because sleep came harder every night. Every dream was fragments of sound — the clang of metal, the roar of wind, a voice whispering his name like a memory he couldn't reach.
Noboru noticed it too. "You're distracted," he said during sparring, stepping aside as Eiden swung clumsily.
"I'm trying," Eiden muttered, breathing hard.
"Trying isn't enough when you face death."
The words stung. He wanted to ask if Noboru meant that literally, but one look at the older man's eyes said it all — he did.
Jin was at the far end of the room, watching quietly as the twins, Renji and Kendo, trained. The brothers were getting better. Their synchronization was unnatural now — Renji's spear flame blending perfectly with Kendo's sword fire.
They were loud, brash, but they fought with purpose. Eiden envied that.
Noboru adjusted his stance, his voice steady. "Eiden, focus on what you felt last night. The pulse in your hands. Don't force it — let it rise naturally."
Eiden took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
He thought of the rain.
He thought of his father.
And then, of the silence that followed after.
When his eyes opened again, faint silver light flickered from his fingertips — steady this time, controlled.
Renji turned mid-swing, nearly dropping his spear. "He did it again!"
Jin's eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing. Noboru, however, stepped forward, the corners of his mouth curving in approval.
"That's it," he said. "That's your soul responding."
Eiden looked at his hands, awestruck. "What… is it?"
"Not a quirk," Noboru said softly. "Not yet. This is something deeper. You're close to awakening."
Eiden's heart pounded. For the first time in his life, he felt a spark of something close to belonging — but it was tangled with fear. If this was power… it felt alive. Watching him.
The Agency's Call
The door to Daichi's office slammed open. Arata barely had time to look up before Daichi was already on his feet.
"New job?"
Arata handed him a folder. "Yeah. Small-time group in the southern docks. Soul trafficking again."
"Another day, another cleanup." Daichi popped a fresh lollipop into his mouth and grabbed his coat. "You coming?"
"You're not even going to read the file?"
"I'll read it after I break their legs."
Arata sighed, following him out. "You know, one of these days, your impatience will kill you."
"Then I'll haunt you," Daichi said, grinning.
The Southern Docks
By the time they reached the docks, the fog was thick enough to choke on. Ships creaked against the current, and faint whispers of soul energy drifted through the air like smoke.
Daichi crouched beside a broken crate, tracing his fingers through a faint scorch mark on the ground.
"Someone fought here," he said. "Recently."
Arata nodded, scanning the area with his device. "Multiple signatures. And one strong enough to mask the rest."
Daichi straightened. "So not just smugglers."
Before Arata could respond, something hit the ground a few meters away — a body. It hit hard, sliding across the wet concrete before stopping.
The man was wearing the insignia of the Black Lotus.
Daichi's grin vanished. "Guess we found our rats."
Figures emerged from the mist — six of them, all in black coats, their faces hidden behind white bone masks.
The one in front stepped forward, voice distorted. "The Agency dogs finally came. How many more of you have to die before you learn?"
Arata raised his gun, soul energy humming through it. "You first."
The masked reaper raised his hand, and the air rippled. Dark tendrils of energy burst outward, coiling through the fog.
Daichi smirked, unwrapping his lollipop and flicking it aside. "Alright," he said softly. "No holding back."
The ground cracked beneath his feet as his soul energy erupted. His eyes glowed faintly — the look of death in motion.
Arata fired, the gun twisting mid-shot into a spiraling blade of light. It sliced through two of the masked men instantly. The others surged forward.
Daichi moved through them like a storm. He didn't draw weapons — he didn't need to. Every movement was clean, brutal, efficient. His palm brushed one man's shoulder — and the man fell, lifeless, before he hit the ground.
Arata called out, "You're enjoying this too much!"
"Not enough candy to make it boring!" Daichi shouted back.
A massive shadow appeared from the fog — the "small boss," a hulking reaper with four arms and black soul fire leaking from his skin. His presence alone made the air heavy.
Arata cursed. "Level 2. Strong one."
Daichi cracked his neck, smiling faintly. "Good. Been too quiet lately."
The monster lunged, swinging all four arms in a blur. Daichi met the attack head-on, blocking two strikes with his bare forearms while twisting aside from the third. The fourth clipped his shoulder, sending him skidding back.
He spat out his lollipop, grinning. "Finally — someone who hits like they mean it."
Arata fired again, his gun morphing into a massive cannon. The blast tore through the docks, shaking the water and hurling crates into the air. When the smoke cleared, the monster was still standing — burned, bleeding, but laughing.
Daichi's grin faded. "Arata, cover me."
"You have a plan?"
"Not really."
"Of course not."
Daichi vanished in a burst of motion, reappearing right in front of the creature. He pressed his hand to the monster's chest, soul energy flaring violently.
"Second Stage — Touch of Death."
The world went silent.
Then the creature's body cracked apart like stone under pressure, collapsing into ash.
Daichi exhaled, rolling his shoulder. "And that's that."
Arata lowered his weapon. "You're bleeding."
Daichi glanced at his shoulder, saw blood, and shrugged. "Adds character."
Arata pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're insufferable."
"Hey, someone's gotta keep you entertained."
Nightfall
As Daichi and Arata walked away from the burning docks, Daichi's phone buzzed. He didn't answer it, just glanced at the screen. Noboru.
He smiled faintly, the childish glint back in his eyes. "Guess the old man's still alive."
Arata raised a brow. "You two close?"
"Not really," Daichi said. "But he's family."
He popped a fresh lollipop into his mouth, the candy catching the glow of the fire behind them. "We all are, in one way or another."
Far away, under the same moonlight, Eiden was training — his hands glowing faintly, the silver light growing stronger.
Two brothers, bound by blood and death, walking different paths toward the same fate.