THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MILD VIOLENCE THAT MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR SOME READERS.
The streetlights cast a trembling glow against the cold air. It wasn't entirely bright enough to chase the dark away, just enough to make the road visible, like a thin strip of light cutting through the silence.
Damon's heartbeat was still slowing down from the fight. The adrenaline in him faded to a steady awareness, making him feel like he could see everything and feel the gentle breeze. He cleaned the blood from his temple with his sleeve, but the injury remained.
He walked with steady but heavy steps, with hands in his pockets as each step echoed faintly against the pavement. He didn't look back at the alley where the fight had ended. He only faced downward as if the past had locked with a tight seal.
"You can come out now," Damon said without turning his head. His voice was calm but had an edge of certainty. Two shadows stepped out from behind a parked truck.
Daiki scratched his head sheepishly. "Man, how'd you even know we were here?"
Damon glanced at Daiki, and a faint smirk tugged at his face. "This area's a no‑cat zone. But someone back there tried a meow."
Daiki sighed, "Course you would know that." Damon only chuckled at his friend's response.
Natsuki stayed quiet with lowered eyes, and her silence seemed heavier than the night itself.
"So," Daiki said, nudging Damon with forced levity, "you're Cipher now? What's that, your superhero alias or something?"
Damon sighed. His breath came like smoke in the light. "It's just a name."
In an attempt to cut through the tension, Daiki asked, "Since when did you know how to fight like that? A few years ago, you couldn't even pass the vertical jump test, so you joined the music club, remember?"
He tilted his head back, looking at the sky. The streetlights glowed, carving lines across Damon's face, and shadows deepened around his eyes. Then he told Daiki everything.
He explained the strangeness of the ring, the fight leading to Obscuron exploding, and the way he found out he could understand a dog.
Daiki's grin faltered through his dropping face. "My dad's entire research… gone."
"I'm sorry," Damon said quietly. "It wasn't my fault. It was the ring's."
"Yeah, about that," Daiki muttered, "where is this... ring?"
"Oh... It shattered when I fought," Damon replied simply.
Daiki groaned. "You're the reason I came to Japan. We were having a nice holiday!"
"I never thought I'd get blamed for international disasters, but I'll add it to my list of oddities," Damon said reluctantly, his tone dry. "Why are you saying it like coming to Japan was the worst thing ever?"
Daiki groaned again, but somehow deeper this time, "I was supposed to shadow a robotics team in California. I had a once‑in‑a‑lifetime internship lined up at Farlight 84. And instead, I get dragged across the world because my dad's research blew up, literally, and now my best friend can dodge bullets and leads a gang."
Damon smirked, "I wouldn't say dodge... but that still sounds like an upgrade to me."
"Upgrade my ass!"
"Okay, fine, jeez… I'm sorry. What else do you want me to say?"
"You owe me one, Damon. I'm not forgetting it."
Damon noticed Natsuki's silence in the corner of his eye, and he turned to her. "You're awfully quiet."
Her voice was soft, but her eyes were the opposite. "Damon… why did you stay?" she asked. "You could've walked away."
He slowly stepped closer. "There's no point in doing that, though. They'd just find someone I—"
"They're gangsters, Damon," she cut in sharply. "They're not that smart."
"But that's wayyy too risky," he said in a low yet sharpened tone.
For a moment, they stared at each other. A mirror of intensely concerned gazes from Damon's blue eyes and Natsuki's purple ones. The air was so tense, it felt like the whole street was holding its breath.
Then he looked away. "Besides, I've got a plan. I'm... gonna try to change them."
Natsuki frowned. "Change them? They're criminals."
"Exactly," Damon said. "They'll clean up the city every night for three hours. They think it's punishment, but actually redemption. Phase One. If they're going to follow me, I'll simply make sure they follow the right path."
Daiki laughed. "You sound like a motivational speaker with anger issues. Who determines the right path, goofball?"
"Shut up," they both said at once.
He snorted. "You two sound like a couple."
"Who's a couple?" Natsuki snapped. Though she was extremely and completely flustered, her cheeks blushing like the cherry on top.
They shoved him lightly, and the tension in the air cracked just enough for their laughter to slip through. Damon took off down the old streets under the darkening sky, with Daiki chasing him and Natsuki trailing behind. Daiki lunged forward, his fingers brushing the tip of Damon's shirt, but Damon flipped wildly and landed standing on top of a parked car. The momentum forced Daiki to slam face-down onto the white hood.
"Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!" an old man screamed from a window above.
Natsuki looked up, noticed the man, and instantly dashed ahead to steer clear. Damon, still wrestling with Daiki on the car's hood, was too loud in his own shouting to hear her warning.
"Hey..."
Damon, pinning Daiki to the metal while Daiki uncomfortably pushed his own face up, suddenly caught a shadow behind him. The old man who had screamed was now standing on the pavement in worn-out briefs and a stained shirt. What stood out, however, was the massive machete raised in his hands.
As the blade came down, Damon threw himself to the side, shoving Daiki in the opposite direction. They both rolled hard onto the asphalt.
The machete struck the white car's windscreen, shattering the glass into a spray of glittering shards. The old man shielded his eyes in rage. By the time he opened them, the two boys were gone, leaving him to let out a guttural scream into the night.
Damon and Daiki sprinted down the street at full speed. They wore smiles that would look entirely mad without context, bursting into heartfelt laughter as the man's screams faded behind them. By the time they slowed, the streets were quieter, and the night was softer.
They spotted Natsuki waiting for them at a junction and slowed to a halt, gasping for air.
"You couldn't even warn us!" Daiki huffed, placing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.
Natsuki smirked, "What? I did warn you. Besides, are you saying you can't deal with an old man by yourself?"
"An old man with a machete is not old at all!"
Natsuki laughed, but her gaze drifted to Damon. He was leaning forward, chest heaving as a bead of sweat slipped down his cheek. Yet, a profound, gentle smile rested on his face—one she hadn't seen in ages. A wave of quiet relief washed over her, and she found herself smiling back.
They walked Natsuki home, the night air carrying the faint smell of rain on concrete.
"You do realise that I don't need your protection," she said, crossing her arms, her tone sharp but her eyes softer than she wanted them to be.
Damon and Daiki exchanged a look, both leaning sideways, hands on their heads like idiots caught in the act.
"Oh yeah, totally," Daiki said, trying to hide his laugh.
"Strongest girl in Japan," Damon added, his smirk faint but teasing.
She turned and punched them both in the gut. They bent over in sync, groaning, their laughter breaking through the pain.
"Why are you on the basketball team again?" Daiki wheezed.
"Should've joined the judo club," Damon muttered, clutching his side.
They all laughed, and for a brief second, the world didn't feel so heavy, the streetlights humming above them like the city itself was exhaling.
Then Daiki's tone dropped, cutting through the moment.
"You're lucky the cops weren't around when you fought that guy."
"Yeah," Damon said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of something unspoken. "I got lucky."
Daiki studied him. "Any other secrets you wanna drop on us?"
Damon's expression shifted — calm, but the kind of calm that hurt to look at.
"My mom," he said. "Before she passed, she said some things."
"What things?" Daiki asked, his grin fading.
Damon paused for a moment. Then he spoke, "She said she never wanted me, and her death was my fault… which is kinda true. It wasn't just words. She believed it. And part of me did too."
Natsuki's voice trembled. "What do you mean, kinda true?"
Damon lowered his gaze, the streetlight carving shadows across his face. He hesitated, searching for the right place to start.
"Remember Mr. Karuizawa's biology class?"
Daiki groaned. "The one who kept calling mitochondria 'power beans'?"
"Yeah. He told us about fetal microchimerism very briefly."
Natsuki blinked. "That thing where cells from a baby stay inside the mother's body? And can sometimes increase the risk of cancer?"
Damon nodded slowly. "Even after birth. Even after death. I didn't want it to be true. But, it makes sense based on the things she said. And what dad also didn't fully say. But yeah."
He paused.
"She said she could feel me, even when she didn't want to." His voice cracked slightly. "And when she got sick… she blamed me."
No one spoke. Just the hum of the streetlights, just the weight of that truth pressing down on them.
"Why didn't you tell us?" Natsuki whispered.
Damon smiled faintly, but it was the kind of smile that carried pain. "It didn't seem important."
"That's not something small," she said, her voice breaking. "If I knew—"
Her own words echoed back at her — "Kinda used to your crappy apologies."
It had been a joke then, but now it felt cruel, heavy, something she wished she could take back.
"It's fine," Damon said. "You were right anyway."
Neither of them spoke again.
When they reached her house, Natsuki hesitated at the door. Her eyes met Damon's as if searching for something he wouldn't show.
"Wait here," she said in command and went into the living room and opened a drawer. Damon and Daiki stared at each other with a bit of uncertainty. Damon raised his eyebrows as if asking a question. Daiki gently shrugged.
"Bend a bit," Natsuki asked, as she appeared in front of the door with a bandage in her hand. Damon seemed briefly baffled, but he obeyed her command like a tone.
"There's... a bit of blood on your head," she said as she used a piece of cotton to clean the wound and place a bandage over it. "Thank you for helping us today," she said gratefully, hiding a slight blush.
Now she handed Damon a folded tissue.
Damon took the tissue slowly and calmly. Almost reverently, "You're welcome."
"Goodnight, D." Natsuki said softly.
"Yeah," he answered. "Goodnight."
She closed the door gently. Daiki, standing behind Damon and staring at the door, smirked knowingly.
'These lovebirds... Wouldn't it be easier to fess up to your feelings?'
Damon turned around as if he could smell his best friend's thoughts, and Daiki gave him a teasing glance and stuffed his hands in his pockets; even the way he walked seemed suspicious.
"How's the tissue, Damon?" he asked.
Damon sighed in frustration, "Daiki, please don't start."
"I'm not starting anything. It already began, you know what Damon... you might just be blind."
Damon's tone turned comedically annoyed now, "Nothing's started."
Daiki only laughed, "So… school tomorrow?"
Damon glanced sideways, "You forgot? We're on holiday in Japan."
"Oh yeah. That's true."
"You graduated in America, huh?"
"Something like that."
They parted ways at the intersection but gave a manly high five before fully splitting. The road home felt chilling for Damon, but the warmth of his friends grounded him and seemed to momentarily free his mind. Sooner than later, his thoughts spilled like whispers in the dark:
'I'm gonna have to change the gang's name. I'm in charge of these men now. I've never had responsibilities like this before. What if I fail them? Should I have just let them kill me? Dad would've been thrilled. Mom… she'd be glad. But Natsuki, I can't bear the thought of her tears. When she cries, it's painfully beautiful. Like looking at the sun with bare eyes. Daiki would be broken, too. They'd both be unhappy, even if just for a while. I don't want that. So yeah… I guess I made the best choice. I think I'll call them—'
The wind shifted. Something felt off. A faint pressure pressed against his senses, the same instinct that warned him before the explosion.
Then—
A kid stepped out from an alley. He was in strange clothes and sharp eyes, the kind of stare that cut through the night.
"Hello?" Damon said, "It's not hallowe—"
The punch came fast, right on his gut, but the boy seemed to twist his hand into the punch on impact.
'Damn,' he thought, 'I'm getting hit there too much today.'
The kid raised his leg, a kick aimed at Damon's head. Damon barely dodged, the ground cracking where his head would've been. He wheezed from the young boy's blow and coughed twice.
"What's up with—"
Another hit lunged towards his face, but Damon blocked it. He moved fast, as if his body snapped into instinct and lunged a spinning kick to the kid's face.
The boy fell, rolled, and got up again like it was nothing.
Then Damon felt it, a presence behind him. Another one, so now there were two of them in the same outfits.
The second kid didn't just appear — he slid into Damon's blind spot with a low, practiced glide, the kind that came from drilling the same movement a thousand times.
"What the hell…" he muttered, just before the first charged.
Their movements were sharp and trained, nothing like kids of any kind.
The fight broke loose, a two-on-one. Damon held his own, barely, fists and kicks colliding in a blur of motion.
One kid ducked under Damon's punch with a sharp, angular drop. It was too clean and too efficient. The other pivoted around him in a tight arc, their footwork synchronized like choreography.
One hit the ground. Damon focused on the other, his grip tightening.
The kid twisted in Damon's grip with a snake‑like motion, joints bending at angles that felt wrong — not superhuman or non-sapien, just unnervingly flexible.
'Damn, these kids are too strong for kids.'
"We're not kids," said the kid Damon was strangling, his voice sharp, his eyes glowing faintly.
"How… what did you—Did you just read my mind?! Did Kuroshi send you?!"
The other woke, leaping from behind in a blur of speed. A circular shuriken-like device in his hands. He threw it at Damon.
The device didn't spin wildly. It cut through the air in a perfect, silent arc, guided by a wrist flick too precise for a child.
It hit and attached to Damon's neck. A couple of flashes formed in his dark blue eyes. Then... Darkness.
"Mission complete. Essential target acquired," one said.
"Incredible, isn't it? We technically just fought the King at an age definitely beyond ours," the other replied.
The first one spat blood, "He's not the King. Oh... you mean his core?" The other nodded.
The first one sighed and continued, "We should get going. If he ever does ascend that throne, we can only hope he forgets our faces." He lifted Damon to his shoulder.
"Or he lacks a lust for revenge. Who knows?" he said as he detached the device from Damon's neck.
The first one paused, then calmly looked back with Damon on his shoulder, "He's a Vale... think. This is crucial." He clicked a device button on his bracers.
The air thickened, vibrating like the moment before the ring shattered.
A circle of light, no, a portal opened in front of them. The air shimmered, folding in on itself, reality bending like glass under pressure. The air folded inward, like the world was inhaling
And just like that, Damon vanished.