[location: Hikaru's home city]
The train moved with elegant speed, its wheels humming a low, steady rhythm against the rails as they rumbled beneath its motion. Outside the windows, platforms blurred past in streaks of color, dissolving into nothingness almost as soon as they appeared.
Inside, a lady leaned toward her child, voice edged with gentle scolding.
"Hey, don't disturb aunty. It's a sign of a bad boy."
CRASH!
The window beside them shattered into a thousand pieces, glass raining across the seats. Passengers flinched, heads snapping toward the sound, and the mother instinctively pulled her child close, fear tightening her grip.
"Phew~ that was a crazy kick to my face."
Every traveler turned toward the voice. Kio sat casually in one of the seats, his body lined with fresh scratches, looking entirely too relaxed for the destruction around him. No one moved. No one dared to ask what was happening—only a thick, suffocating silence filled the carriage as he rose to his feet and stretched his arms, unbothered.
Swoop!
Kio vanished mid-stretch.
Thud!
He reappeared on the roof of the train, scythe already in hand, materializing from nowhere as though it had always been there.
"Gotta appreciate it. You look skinny, yet you're packing some insane strength," he said, eyes flicking toward Ishiko, who stood only a few inches away.
"Annoying. Like a middle school brat," she shot back, her body just as marked with scratches and cuts.
"You know, lady, you're just a raw brawler. And looking at that, you're up against your biggest weakness—a tricky opponent."
The moment the words left his lips, Ishiko felt it—a sharp, blooming pain near her abdomen. She looked down. A deep cut had opened across her side, blood spilling free, pattering against the ceiling with a dull, rhythmic tap.
Kio stood behind her now, scythe in hand, its blade dripping crimson.
"Shithead."
Ishiko turned—
BAAM!
Her fist collided with his face, sending him skidding hard across the roof.
TUNK.
Kio stabilized himself, scythe hooking into a metallic ridge along the train's roof to stop the momentum.
BANG! BANG!
A gun appeared in his hands out of nowhere, bullets tearing from the barrel—yet neither found their mark.
Ishiko was gone. A blur closed in.
BAAM!
Kio was hurled off the roof, body suspended in midair. "Fuck, I can't handle her punches," he spat, coughing blood. The scythe vanished from his grip.
Ishiko appeared above him, matching him in the air. She reared back, ready to end it in one strike—
Hook!
A thin metallic chain snapped around her collar, the other end anchored in Kio's hand.
Pull!
Shing!
He was behind her now, a knife in hand.
They hit the tracks together, exhaustion etched plainly across both their faces. Ishiko clutched her shoulder, blood soaking through her shirt from a fresh cut—Kio's blade had found her.
"He really is fast". She thought.
A few meters away, Kio doubled over, vomiting blood violently. His vision swam, thoughts fraying at the edges. "If I take a few more hits, I'm done".
"Hey, what's your favorite book?" Excitement leaked from his throat as Kio threw out the question.
"Huh. What a random question." She considered it a moment before answering. "Doesn't matter to you—"
Before she could finish, Kio closed the distance in the blink of an eye, one segment of a three-sectional staff already in hand, that felt like it appeared from thin air.
His arm whipped forward, aimed straight for her throat.
Grab!
Ishiko caught the segment just short of her neck, the blade fixed to it grazing her skin, cold and razor-thin.
Flick!
Her eyes darted right—too late. Before her body could react, the second segment cracked against her chin, sending her flying sideways.
She tore through building after building before finally skidding to a stop against the wall of an open playground.
Her breath came heavy, thoughts pressing tight against her chest. "I knew it—his weapon's are collapsible, hidden up his sleeves. So what else are you keeping in there?"