The glass did not break on the first kick. It spiderwebbed. A white, frosted map of cracks bloomed outward from the point of impact.
Jin stood behind the register. The red emergency light pulsed. It made the spilled milk on the floor look like dark, drying blood.
Thud.
The second kick was heavier. The metal frame of the sliding door groaned. Cold air whistled through the gaps.
Jin's left eye was screaming. The migraine had moved from a dull ache to a rhythmic stabbing. Every pulse of the red light felt like a physical blow to his brain.
Critical energy depletion.Neural collapse: 4 minutes.Action: Consume.
The images returned. Fragmented. Flashing in the back of his retinas. He saw Asia Argento's neck. He saw the golden light vibrating under her skin.
Take it.Recover.Remember.
Jin gripped the edge of the plastic counter. He felt the rough bandage on his palm. He bit his tongue until the copper taste drowned out the smell of the freezing ozone.
"No." Jin whispered.
He reached under the counter. His hand brushed against a heavy roll of packing tape and a pair of dull scissors. He grabbed the scissors. They were small. Plastic handles. Weak.
He didn't have a kunai. He didn't have a sword.
CRACK.
The glass shattered.
It didn't fall inward. It exploded in a hail of frozen shards. They skittered across the floor like diamonds.
The man in the raincoat stepped over the threshold.
The temperature in the store dropped so fast Jin's breath came out in a thick, white cloud. The moisture on the shelves turned to rime. The bags of chips crinkled as the air inside them contracted.
The man didn't speak. He didn't have a face under the shadow of his hood. Just two points of dim, blue light where eyes should have been.
He raised his hand. The air around his fingers crystalized. A jagged blade of ice, eighteen inches long, grew from his palm.
Jin backed away. His sneakers slipped on the wet floor.
He hit the cigarette display. Packs of Marlboros tumbled down around him.
The man moved.
He wasn't fast like a shinobi. He was slow. Relentless. Each step left a frosted footprint on the linoleum.
Jin scrambled to the right, ducking into the second aisle—the snack section. The narrow space felt like a coffin.
The man followed. He swung the ice blade.
It sliced through a row of potato chip bags. The plastic popped like muffled gunfire. Salty air filled the aisle.
Jin lunged forward. He didn't aim for the chest. He aimed for the legs. He swung the scissors.
The metal blade grazed the man's heavy raincoat. It didn't cut. It felt like hitting a wall of frozen leather.
The man backhanded him.
The blow caught Jin in the ribs. He flew backward, his spine slamming into the refrigerated drinks section. The glass doors rattled.
Jin fell to his knees. He couldn't breathe. His lungs felt like they had collapsed.
Cardiac stress detected.Neural restoration required.Target: Golden Vessel.Direction: North-East. 400 meters.Consume and Live.
The System was showing him a map. A glowing trail through the rain. It was showing him exactly where Asia was. How easy it would be to run past this monster, find her, and stop the pain.
Jin coughed. A spray of red hit the white floor.
"Shut... up."
He pushed himself up. His left leg was dragging. The ice blade had missed his vitals but the cold radiating from the man was numbing his nerves.
The man stepped into the aisle. He raised the blade for a downward strike.
Jin grabbed a heavy glass jar of pickled peppers from the shelf. He didn't throw it. He waited.
The blade descended.
Jin swung the jar.
Glass met ice. The jar shattered, spraying vinegar and spicy red juice into the man's hood.
The man hissed. A sound like steam escaping a pipe. He stumbled back, clutching at his face. The ice blade shattered against the metal shelving.
Jin didn't wait to see if it worked.
He turned and ran.
He didn't run toward the door. He ran toward the back. The breakroom.
His vision was swimming. The red light was fading into black. The hypoxia was stealing his balance.
What was my mother's name.
The thought hit him like a physical blow. He searched. He reached into the dark of his mind.
Blank.
The memory was gone. Burnt as fuel to keep his heart beating for another sixty seconds.
He reached the breakroom door. He slammed it shut and threw the deadbolt.
He leaned his back against the thin wood. He slid down until he was sitting on the floor.
THUD.
The door shook. A layer of frost began to creep around the edges of the frame.
Jin looked at his hands. They were blue.
He reached into his pocket. His fingers were so numb he could barely feel the shape of the object.
The red apple.
He pulled it out. It was bruised. Cold.
Insufficient biomass.Neural death imminent.40 seconds.
The door groaned. A crack appeared in the wood. A shard of ice poked through.
Jin looked at the apple.
He didn't want to eat it. It wasn't what the System wanted. It wanted the golden light. It wanted the soul.
Jin took a bite.
The skin was tough. The flesh was sour.
He chewed. He forced himself to swallow.
THUD.
The door splintered.
The man in the raincoat leaned his head through the hole. The hood fell back.
He had no skin. His face was a mask of jagged, translucent ice. His mouth opened, revealing rows of frozen needles.
Jin stared at him. He took another bite of the apple.
"Not... her." Jin whispered.
He closed his eyes.
He didn't call for the Sharingan. He didn't ask for a transaction.
He reached for the one thing he had left. The raw, human spite that lived in the gaps of his missing memories.
He felt the parasite scream in frustration. It began to pull. It began to tear at his remaining nerves.
The door gave way.
The man stepped into the small room. He loomed over Jin. He raised a hand that was now a massive, jagged club of ice.
Jin looked up. He smiled. It was a bloody, jagged expression.
"My shift..." Jin gasped. "Ends at... nine."
The ice club swung down.
A sudden, blinding flash of blue fire incinerated the back wall of the breakroom.
The heat was instantaneous. Violent.
The man in the raincoat shrieked as his arm evaporated into steam. He was thrown forward, crashing into the lockers.
Jin squinted through the smoke.
A girl stood in the wreckage of the wall.
She wore a blue hoodie. Her hair was short, dark. She held a heavy, oversized sword that looked like it was made of a single piece of black iron.
She didn't look at the ice monster. She looked at Jin.
"You're the one." She said. Her voice was bored. "The empty one."
Jin's head hit the floor.
The last thing he saw was the half-eaten apple rolling away into the shadows.
It stayed there.
Alone.