The alley was far behind him now.
His footsteps echoed in the stillness of the early evening, fast and deliberate. The man in black moved like a shadow, slipping through narrow backstreets where no light dared to follow. His masked face was unreadable, but behind it, his thoughts churned restlessly.
Someone else is watching her...
But why? What do they want from Yukimura Kira?
He recalled the glint of the knife, the crazed look in the attacker's eyes, and Kira's trembling voice.
Tch... I wasn't the only one.
He clenched his wounded hand, now wrapped in a blood-soaked handkerchief.
Looks like I have competition.
---
Back in the alley, Hanae was still in Kira's arms.
The younger girl clung tightly to her, sobbing softly against her shoulder.
"Nee-chan... hontou ni daijoubu?" (Are you really okay?)
Kira gave her a faint smile, brushing a tear from Hanae's cheek.
"I'm fine, Hanae, so don't cry."
She lifted her eyes to Ryujin, who stood beside them, catching his breath.
"What are you doing here with her?" she asked, her voice calm but curious.
Ryujin scratched his head.
"I was in the area, looking for... something. Then I saw her running towards me—crying and shouting something about saving her sister. I didn't know she meant you, Kira."
He blinked, turning to Hanae.
"She's your sister...? Wait, her name is... Hanae?"
He leaned in slightly. "Really" "Are you that Hanae-chan?"
Hanae looked up at him, confused.
"You... know me?"
He grinned. "Of course I do! We used to play together all the time! You were so tiny back then—now look at you."
Hanae's eyes widened, a flicker of recognition blooming in her gaze.
Kira tried to rise, wincing slightly from her ankle, and Ryujin immediately supported her. Hanae took the other side, gently helping her up.
As they moved slowly together, Kira turned to Hanae, curious.
"Why did you ask Ryujin for help...?"
She paused. A flash of memory struck her—
Today at the park.
'Is he your boyfriend, onee-chan?'
Her lips curled into a small, tired laugh.
"Ohhh. So that's why you asked that question."
She looked at Hanae, teasing.
"You thought I was dating him because you saw us together."
Hanae flushed. "I didn't mean to spy or anything! I just... got worried. I'm sorry."
Kira chuckled. "We're just childhood friends, Hanae. Sore dake da yo." (That's all.)"I should've told you sooner."
Hanae nodded. "Gomen ne, onee-chan." (I'm sorry, sister.)
Ryujin, watching their exchange with a bewildered smile, finally chimed in.
"Um... should I still be here? Or should I just... quietly vanish?"
Both girls laughed softly.
Kira turned to him. "Thank you, Ryujin. Really."
He gave a small smile, though something in his expression flickered.
He hadn't been the one to save her.
Still... she was safe. That was what mattered.
---
Suddenly, a voice interrupted them.
"Ma'am," the suited man said to Hanae with a stern tone, "you were very late today. After school ended, I tracked your phone and found you here. Let's return home. Your mother is worried."
Kira flinched slightly at the mention of her.
Hanae turned to Kira and gave her a tight hug.
"I'll see you again, nee-chan."
"Hm. Take care, Hanae."
Ryujin watched them part, then turned to Kira.
"That guy... who attacked you. Was it... Kairos?"
Kira shook her head immediately. "No... I don't think it was him. Kairos would never attack me directly. I'm sure of that."
But her eyes darkened with worry.
That man knew who I was. He called me Luna.
How...?
My mask is slipping. I have to be more careful.*
Who can I trust anymore...?
And with that, the night swallowed the last of their shadows.
---
The scene shifted to that attacker.
Far from the alley, in a quiet suburb on the edge of the city, a man stumbled through the door of a modest home. His clothes were dirty, bloodied at the sleeves, and his face twisted with fury.
A beautiful woman in an apron froze in the hallway as he entered. She had been folding laundry when she heard the door slam. Her lips parted slightly—she wanted to ask what happened, why he looked so enraged—but the fear in her chest kept her silent.
She stepped aside, lowering her eyes.
The man brushed past her without a word. His shoes clattered on the wooden stairs as he stormed up to the second floor and slammed his bedroom door shut.
Then came the chaos.
Crashing. Smashing. The sound of something fragile shattering.
Inside, the attacker—the man who had tried to hurt Kira—was a whirlwind of rage. He ripped a laptop from the desk and hurled it into the wall. Picture frames shattered, glass spraying the floor. His breath was ragged, heavy with hatred.
"Koroshite yaru," (I'll kill you,) he muttered, again and again, his voice trembling with obsession."Koroshite yaru..." (I'll kill you...)"How dare you..."
His eyes were wide, unfocused, the pupils twitching like static.
"How dare you come between me and Kira... She's mine. MINE. I'll never forgive you. You'll die by my hands... you'll die..."
He sunk to the floor, surrounded by the wreckage of his room, whispering her name like a curse—and a prayer.
"Kira..."
He pulled something from his pocket—a worn photograph, its edges frayed from constant handling. In it, a younger Kira smiled innocently at the camera, unaware she was being watched.
His fingers trembled as they traced her face.
"You are mine, Kira," he whispered, his voice dropping to something primal and possessive. "You've always been mine. And I'll eliminate anyone who tries to keep us apart."
A slow, unsettling smile spread across his face as darkness crept through the window.
"Soon, my kira. Soon we'll be together again."
---