In the smoke, the girl's scarlet eyes were unmistakable—cold, predatory, locking onto her target like a beast.
She moved fast and clean, agile as she flowed through the cluttered space. The firearm in her hands kept spitting sparks and thunder, harvesting lives one by one. She stepped past bodies without so much as a flicker of emotion, expression blank as she continued the pursuit—until every last target was eliminated.
Only after the fighting had been quiet for a while did her teammates catch up to help clean up the scene.
As the smoke slowly thinned, the girl and her companions came into view—all of them small and young, with childlike faces and slight builds. They looked like they were elementary school age.
A group of elementary schoolers chasing people down with guns—if the public ever found out, it would cause an uproar. But the organization that raised them had airtight secrecy. Even if something felt "off," their PR department could bury it. Ordinary people would never discover what these girls really were.
They were Lycoris—a unit of female agents under the secret organization Direct Attack, or DA.
Lycoris operated with "permission to kill," eliminating criminals and terrorists before incidents could unfold. Their existence was hidden from society—never publicly acknowledged.
Letting little girls serve as an anti-terror squad… any normal person would say the people running that organization were insane.
But for DA, these girls were "perfect."
They were all orphans—no family, no official identity. DA raised them, and it wasn't charity. It was a transaction: upbringing in exchange for service.
And sending them out early had an obvious advantage: nobody suspects a little girl is an elite operative—not civilians, not criminals. Their appearance made it easy to move through the world with people's guard down.
It worked, again and again.
Of course, the strategy only worked because the girls were genuinely skilled.
The red-eyed girl wore a red uniform, distinct from the blue-gray uniforms of the others. Even without the color, you could tell she was the standout—the leader. Compared to her, the others might as well have been worlds apart.
The other girls were already terrifyingly capable for their age. But this red-eyed girl was beyond that—almost inhuman.
And the most frightening part?
She hadn't taken a single hit. Even when bullets surrounded her, she slipped through them like it was nothing.
That wasn't just "good reflexes." Her dynamic vision and motion reading were so absurd it might as well have been a superpower.
Shichen knew exactly who she was.
Chisato Nishikigi.
Even though it was seven years ago, kid Chisato didn't look that different—same delicate face, same sharp features, like someone had simply shrunk her down.
The real difference was her expression: emotionless, eyes merciless.
In a world where guns were the main threat, Chisato should've had a smooth path—winning every mission, staying DA's top Lycoris forever.
But talent attracts envy, and she had a fatal weakness:
a heart condition.
That level of physical intensity was never something a fragile heart could sustain.
"Chisato, you good?" A boyish-looking girl walked up, half-lidded eyes and a careless tone.
"Mm." Chisato answered flatly, not even looking at her.
"Tch. If you're fine, let's go. We can turn in the mission." The girl turned to leave.
"Okay—"
"—ngh!"
Chisato froze mid-step. Her small face went ghost-white.
She clutched her chest, eyes wide, teeth clenched. Cold sweat poured off her, soaking the clothes beneath her uniform in seconds.
"Chisato?"
The boyish girl—Harukawa Fuki—had caught the faint sound, but when she looked back, she only saw Chisato's back, seemingly normal.
Chisato had already turned away, hiding the tremor.
"I just remembered something," Chisato said evenly. "Fuki, you guys head back first."
"What are you scheming now? If you're late, you'll get punished." Fuki warned.
"I know. I'll be back on time."
"Hmph. Do whatever."
Fuki didn't think too hard about it and led the others away.
As soon as they were gone, Chisato's legs gave out. She dropped to her knees, then collapsed fully, curling into herself—silent, shaking, face twisted in pain.
She bit down hard and made no sound, enduring it alone.
Heart pain like that wasn't something most adults could endure—let alone a child. And yet she didn't let out a single cry.
But Shichen, watching from the shadows, couldn't stand it.
With a flicker, he appeared in front of her, eyes full of pity.
Chisato noticed him—barely. The pain pinned her down. She could only narrow her eyes at this man who had appeared out of nowhere.
She didn't know who he was, but her guard went straight to maximum.
Too bad—right now, she couldn't move. She was completely at someone else's mercy.
Am I going to die here? the thought suddenly surfaced.
She'd never seriously considered it. She'd never really considered her life at all—only missions, orders, execution. DA raised her, so working for them was "natural."
But now… death felt close.
She'd killed many people. If she died, maybe that was only fair. No resentment.
Still…
Dying like this—collapsed and discarded—felt like a broken robot thrown away.
A meaningless life.
Why was I even born into this world?
Thinking that now felt too late…
…No. Maybe it wasn't too late.
Because Chisato realized the man hadn't attacked her. Instead, he lifted her gently into his arms—his gaze full of genuine concern.
This man wasn't here to kill her.
And what was that light?
A soft green glow shimmered from his hand.
Warm.
The crushing pain in her chest began to fade.
He's… saving me?
"Chisato… are you okay?" Shichen asked softly as he treated her.
"…You know my name?" Chisato could finally speak again, staring at him in disbelief.
"Yeah." Shichen smiled and nodded.
Kid Chisato really was adorable—too bad her face was always so cold.
"How can a little girl this cute even exist…?" he thought, then kept his expression gentle.
"…Are you with DA?" Chisato asked.
Only DA would know her.
"No," Shichen said, shaking his head.
"Not?"
"I'm just here to save you."
"Save me…?"
"You've got a heart condition, right? If it isn't treated, you'll die soon."
"…How do you know all of that?" Chisato asked.
Her suspicion had eased—despite the fact that this stranger somehow knew all her secrets.
Because he hadn't taken advantage of her weakness. He'd saved her. And if he'd wanted to kill her, she'd already be dead ten times over.
She wasn't someone who killed casually, either. No one had ordered her to kill this man.
"Because I came to save you," Shichen said, answering like a riddle. "Of course I'd know everything about you."
"…Someone like me… is worth saving?" Chisato asked, voice faintly skeptical.
"Why wouldn't you be?"
"Because I… killed so many people."
"So what?" Shichen said calmly. "They were people who needed to die. If you didn't stop them, more innocent people would've died because of them."
"But—"
"No 'but.' You're doing good," Shichen cut in. "Even if you died, you'd go to heaven… but you're not going to die."
She was just a kid—why was she suddenly getting sentimental now?
…Then again, even if she was young, what she'd lived through was more complicated than most adults. Of course she'd have thoughts like this. She'd just buried them.
"…Who are you?" Chisato stared at him.
"My name's Shichen," he said. "As for where I'm from… you'll find out later."
"Later…? Do I even have a 'later'?"
"You do," Shichen said firmly. "You've got a beautiful future. A future where you can do what you want—live like a normal girl, carefree… even fall in love."
He finished the immediate treatment and ruffled her hair gently.
The pain had stopped—but the root problem wasn't gone yet.
Chisato knew that. She shook her head. "Impossible. My heart can't be fixed."
"That's true for normal doctors. But with me here, it can be fixed," Shichen said. "I told you—I came to save you."
"…Shichen…"
"Don't call me that," he said with a grin. "Call me Shichen-nii instead."