Cold, sterile walls. Fresh white paint. The colour was supposed to represent purity, alleviate pain, yet it still persisted.
Eri sat on her bed, her hands trembling from both pain and fear.
The plate of food they called delicious and nutritious sat quietly beside her, cold and untouched.
"Urgh, I'm so tired of this," a voice rasped, irritation plain in his tone. "We spend more than 12 hours standing in front of this door like something would ever happen."
"You seem to have a death wish, Tendo," another voice answered, exasperation evident despite the deadpan tone. "As your partner I can support your decision. Just leave me out of it, okay?"
"C'mon, Suzuki, you're really acting like this here?" Tendo laughed. "I know the boss is scary, but you're not the one on the operating table."
"Tch, I don't know why I bother with you. Though you're right, my luck may be bad but at least it's not worse than hers." They both laughed, uncaring whether they were heard or not.
But Eri couldn't laugh.
She couldn't even smile.
What was a smile like again?
She couldn't remember.
All she could remember was the knife, the blood and the pain.
She curled into the blankets and squeezed her eyes shut, shutting out the pain, the torment, the world.
Her world was immediately enveloped in darkness.
She wasn't afraid.
No monsters existed in the dark.
The real monsters didn't hide in the dark. They came every day, from the light.
The light is where the real monsters hide.
She buried herself deeper, trying to sleep away the phantom pain and faint throbbing of her body.
Nothing happened. No sleep came. Only the pain remained.
Instead, she felt her body protest strongly for the desire to eat. She was hungry.
Despite the fear of opening her eyes to see the bird man standing in front of her, the hunger ultimately won out in the end.
Eri let go of the little security she told herself she had and opened her eyes, already leaning towards the food—
Her small movements froze.
Where did the food go?
No—why is there no light?
The room, previously filled with white, was now painted an abyssal black. The voices from earlier? Gone.
Eri jerked up in confusion. This was new!
New means different!
Different means unknown!
Unknown leads to danger!
She felt her heart rate spike, taking breaths to calm herself down—
"BOOM!!"
Yellow sprinted down the white hallway. Blue wisps of flame-like energy curled up her slim frame as she ran with all she had.
Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest, her lungs burned hotter than the borrowed flames encompassing her body.
Her breaths tore out of her, ragged, as she blurred through the white hallways.
Explosions rang out in the distance, causing the ground to rumble slightly.
She didn't stop. She remembered her task.
She split her consciousness. A cool feeling of exposure enveloped her being as she heard a cool voice in her head.
Purple - Time 22:49. Yellow, primary objective complete. Extract from hostile territory, immediate. Status?
_Not optimistic,_ Yellow thought back. _Two of the Eight Precepts are tailing me. Power's off, but I'm seeing backup gens in the infrastructure. White, orders?_
White - Priority: escape. Engage only if forced or if situation requi—
Yellow, half focusing on the link, barely managed to dodge the attack that came right at her.
She jumped back two meters, watching in grave fascination as the floor caved in where she had been.
Vrrrmm
A yellow barrier suddenly erupted from both ends of the hall as two figures blurred into being in front of her.
"Finally, someone strong," a burly man with long, light-brown hair said, his yellow eyes burning with battle lust.
His defining feature was a metal-beaked plague mask that covered his face.
He wore reinforced metal gauntlets for punching. He didn't do introductions — he did impact.
His attacks flew at Yellow without hesitation. Yellow, using her natural reflexes, weaved away from his first barrage.
As the man pulled back, a message entered her brain.
Purple - Target identification complete. Target name unknown, codename: Rappa.
Quirk: Strong Arm.
Purple - According to the information relayed by the leader, he should only be able to attack in short bursts and has short intervals where he is vulnerable.
Grey - Don't forget his partner. Though I can't see what's going on with you there like Purple, I remember most of the information too. The guy named Rappa has a partner with a—
_Barrier quirk! I know! Get out of my head — I need to focus!_ Yellow snapped.
She dodged another punch aiming to crush her skull before she lunged towards the man's large frame.
Her knife flew towards his neck.
Cling!
Her blade was blocked by a yellow barrier.
Toga jumped back to gain some distance.
Yellow - Confirmed. Target with barrier quirk is present and close enough to see where I was attacking.
Purple - The leader said the best way to deal with that duo is—
Yellow - To take out the shield first!
Toga, despite saying she knew, didn't cut off the link.
Communication is important, and knowing too much is better than knowing too little.
"Now where is the little guy hiding?"
Her yellow pupils swept the hallway before she noticed a figure hidden behind the large frame of Rappa.
He was a tall, slim man with short, spiky hair of a pale color.
He had straight, dark eyebrows and thin eyes, their irises and pupils barely visible. His eyes were closed.
"Little girl, can you please surrender peacefully so we don't have to continue this pointless conflict?"
Yellow smiled, sharp and wrong. The kind of smile that made heroes hesitate.
The small blue-flamed cat on her shoulder flared up and blue energy consumed her body.
Her bones creaked under the weight and her expression turned feral.
Roooar!
Natsuki ran the hallway, checking doors as he passed.
Third. Fourth.
His footsteps were too damn loud against the tile. No map, no layout. Blind was the whole plan, but that didn't make it less stupid.
_Purple. Going in dark. No visual, no backup. If I'm quiet for ten, assume the worst._
He pushed the thought into the link. No response. Tsuna's range was shot this deep in the compound, and she couldn't map what they'd never seen. Didn't matter. She'd catch the echo if he didn't make it out.
He eased the next door open—
—and found her.
Not darkness. Not shadow. Black. The kind that swallowed light and never gave it back.
Red eyes fixed on him the second the hallway glow hit them. Silver-blue hair stuck to her cheek, matted and dull. The horn on her forehead caught what little light there was, small, curved, wrong on a kid.
She didn't move. Didn't flinch. Just existed, like she'd been practicing how to not be noticed.
"Eri," he said. Quiet. No softness, no false promises. Just fact. "I'm getting you out."
_Click._
The sound was tiny. Almost polite. The floor beneath the bed hairlined, cracks racing outward like veins.
Natsuki moved before his brain caught up.
Arm around her ribs—"Sorry"—foot on the mattress—
—and he was on the ceiling.
Kikyo's chakra dug into the plaster, anchoring him flat against it. Eri was pressed to his chest, her heartbeat fast as a trapped bird.
Below, the bed didn't just break. It exploded. Stone spikes replaced the smooth surface, tearing through blankets and frame and air. One of them kissed his heel on the way up, hot and sharp.
A man stepped through the doorway.
Plague mask. Purple fur coat that cost more than this whole compound. Gloves so clean they looked surgical. He didn't kick up dust. He didn't need to.
"Put her down."
Yellow eyes flicked to Eri for half a second, assessing, claiming. Then back to Natsuki. Cold. Clinical.
"You're already bleeding internally," Chisaki said, like he was reading a chart. "Three ribs. Hairline fractures. You'll feel it in—"
Natsuki didn't let him finish. Two fingers to her forehead, gentle as he could manage. "Sleep."
Her body went slack instantly. No fight, no trust. Just exhaustion winning.
He swung her onto his back in one motion. Two chakra arms ripped out of his shoulders, translucent gold, wrapping around her chest and thighs. Tight. No sway. No chance she'd slip if he had to flip, dive, or die.
No movement. No risk.
He let go of the ceiling.
Fell—
A Rasengan was already spinning in his palm by the time he dropped three feet, compressed so tight it hummed.
He drove it into the wall instead of the floor.
For a split second, the surface resisted—then warped under the force.
The backlash hurled him sideways as the ceiling slammed shut where he'd been hanging, stone teeth grinding together. He hit the ground low, boots sliding, one knee almost buckling before Kikyo's chakra locked it.
Chisaki didn't chase. Why would he? This was his house.
He touched the wall with two fingers.
The hallway took a breath. Then the floor vanished.
Spikes surged upward, a forest of them, each one aimed at the space Natsuki occupied.
Natsuki planted another Rasengan beneath him and let it rip.
The recoil launched him over the field of spears. One still managed to open his thigh on the way past, a hot line of pain he filed away for later.
He didn't slow. Couldn't afford to.
Chisaki watched him land, head tilting a fraction. "Adaptable."
It wasn't a compliment. It was a note.
Natsuki went in fast.
Low feint to the right—
The floor rose like a fist and clipped his shoulder, sending him spinning. He used the spin, turning pain into momentum, and closed the distance with a Rasengan burning in his palm.
He drove it forward, aiming center mass.
For a heartbeat, there was contact—then the force bit in.
Chisaki twisted. The sphere didn't hit clean, but it grazed his side, tearing purple fabric and chewing through skin and muscle underneath. The sound was wet.
For the first time since Natsuki crashed through the roof, Chisaki stepped back.
Not far. Half a step. But it was a step.
"…You're damaging the structure," Chisaki said. His voice was thinner now, the clinical detachment fraying at the edges.
Natsuki didn't answer. Talking was a waste of air.
He pressed. Footwork tight, every step calculated. No wide swings, no Bakugo-style howling. This wasn't a schoolyard brawl. This was surgery.
Another Rasengan, smaller, faster, driven upward at Chisaki's jaw—
Chisaki blocked. Then his fingers brushed Natsuki's forearm.
Pain detonated.
Natsuki actually saw his arm come apart. Bone from muscle from tendon, separating like someone pulled a diagram into three dimensions. Then Kikyo's chakra slammed it all back together, violent and wrong and necessary.
His breath hitched. For a second.
But his other hand was already moving.
Rasengan—point-blank—
It slammed into Chisaki's guard and forced him back a full step. Boots skidding on tile. Dust hung in the air, unwilling to settle.
Silence cracked.
"You—" Chisaki's voice was tight now, strained. "—should not be able to sustain that."
His gaze flicked past Natsuki's shoulder. To Eri. Still there. Still not his.
Something in Chisaki's posture changed. Sharper. Tighter. The scientist was gone. The owner was left.
He touched the ground.
The room erupted.
Walls folded inward. Spikes from every direction, ceiling, floor, sides, all of them trying to impale, to trap, to _reclaim_.
Natsuki moved through it like he was born in it. Rasengans tore through incoming structures half a second before they could reach him. The chakra arms shielding Eri took the brunt of it, debris hammering against them, but she didn't so much as twitch.
A spike pierced his calf. Another opened his cheek.
They closed, but slower this time. Kikyo was burning chakra faster than he could think.
Chisaki stepped forward now. Closing distance. Faster. More aggressive. The mask was cracking, and so was his composure.
"You will return her."
He touched the floor—
Natsuki's leg snapped mid-step.
He dropped, caught himself with a palm, and slammed a Rasengan into the ground. The recoil spun him out of range as his tibia reset mid-motion, Kikyo screaming in his head.
He landed hard. Skidded.
Chisaki was already there.
Hand outstretched—
Fingers brushed Natsuki's chest.
His heart stopped.
Once.
Twice—
There was nothing. No sound. No breath. Just a hollow, crushing absence where it should have been.
Kikyo forced it back with a surge that made his vision white out. He coughed, choking on blood and air, but his hand was already forming another Rasengan. No thought. Just reflex.
He drove it forward blindly.
It connected.
For a fraction of a second, there was resistance—then it gave.
Chisaki was thrown back through the wall like he'd been fired from a cannon. Concrete shattered. Rebar screamed.
For a moment—
Silence.
Then Chisaki stood again.
Mask cracked down the beak. Breathing uneven. Not gasping, but not controlled.
"You—" his voice wavered, then sharpened into something ugly, "—are interfering with a perfected process."
His eyes flicked to Eri again. Still there. Still not his.
The calm was gone now. Burned away.
"You don't understand what she is."
Natsuki stepped forward. Didn't answer. What was there to say?
Chisaki moved first this time.
Faster.
He slammed his hand into the wall—
The entire corridor lunged like a living thing, floor and ceiling and walls all trying to crush Natsuki in the middle.
Natsuki ran straight at him.
Rasengan in both hands now, Kikyo's chakra pouring out so fast his skin felt like it was steaming. He tore through the rising structures, forcing a path open with pure, stupid force.
Too direct. Too reckless. The old Natsuki—Bakugo blood screaming.
Chisaki saw it. Adjusted.
The floor split—
Natsuki fell into it—
Chisaki stepped in, hand ready, voice breaking into something almost human: "Give her back—"
Natsuki twisted mid-air.
A Rasengan slammed into the wall—
The recoil launched him upward, past Chisaki, over him—
He landed behind. Spun.
Drove the Rasengan into Chisaki's back.
The impact blasted him forward through one wall—then the next—dust and stone and the sound of the building dying.
This time Chisaki didn't stand immediately.
Debris shifted. His hand slammed into the ground—
He rose, breathing harder now. Controlled—barely. Like a man holding a scalpel with a tremor.
"You're damaging her environment."
A pause.
Then, lower, uglier:
"You're damaging her."
The words came faster. Sharper. Wrong. The mask of the doctor was off. This was just a man who'd lost what he thought he owned.
The building groaned.
A deep, crushing WHUMP rolled through the structure, from the bones outward. Both of them felt it in their teeth.
_Right on time, Shukaku._
Chisaki looked up.
Just for a second.
That was enough.
Natsuki moved.
Rasengan into the floor—
The structure collapsed beneath him.
He fell, caught a steel beam with both chakra arms, swung, and burst through the outer wall as the Hassaikai compound started to fold in on itself like a dying star.
Wind hit hard. Cold. Real.
Eri's weight was steady against his back, her hair whipping his neck.
Below—sirens. Red and blue flashing.
Behind him—the compound groaned, then collapsed, floor by floor.
Chisaki stepped into the open ruin, dust swirling around him like a cloak. He didn't follow. Didn't blink. Just watched.
"Defective things," he said, voice thin with strain, with something that might've been rage or grief, "always return."
Natsuki landed, staggered—
kept moving.
His legs shook with every step. Chakra burned low, Kikyo's voice in his head reduced to a exhausted growl. Ribs grinding as they set, each breath a negotiation.
_Purple. I'm out. Package secure. I'm running on fumes. Tell Yellow to prep the exit._
The thought came ragged, bleeding at the edges. But he felt Tsuna catch it. A flicker of relief, sharp and immediate, cut through the link before it steadied.
_Copy. Moving. Grey's got Yellow. He'll make sure she escapes into the night._
Natsuki didn't look back.
Because if Chisaki had held it together—just a little longer, just one more second of that cold, perfect control—
Natsuki knew exactly how that fight ended.
With him in pieces. And Eri back in the dark.
End of chapter 3