Tokyo, Midnight. Outside the Mall.
The flashing lights of emergency vehicles painted the pavement in flickering red and blue. The rain hadn't come, but the night felt heavy—as if the city itself was mourning.
Ryker Tensai sat on the curb, elbows on knees, hands over his face. His usually sharp eyes were buried behind trembling fingers. His whole body was still… except for the subtle shake of silent rage.
Beside him, Jasmine Katsuragi stood quietly, her eyes downcast, fists clenched by her side. Behind them, other heroes from the guild gathered in awkward silence, staring at the scene before them—nine bodies lined under white sheets.
One of them... was just a little girl.
Her mother wept uncontrollably nearby, collapsing over the child's still frame, screaming at the heavens. No one dared approach her. No one dared say sorry.
Ryker's voice broke the silence.
"Why…?"
It wasn't a question. It was a breath of fire under his mask of composure.
"Why, Jasmine…?"
She looked at him, tears threatening in her eyes.
"It's… it's the guild's fault," Ryker muttered, his voice shaking with something close to madness. "They wanted to see what happens when I'm pushed."
"Ryker…" Jasmine's voice was soft, but guilt soaked through it. "It wasn't planned. This was just… a coincidence."
"Don't lie to me."
He stood up.
In one motion, he grabbed Jasmine by the collar, lifting her slightly, fury burning in his gaze.
"Jasmine Katsuragi…" he growled, eyes glowing faintly, "say it. Say it was them. Say the guild knew this would happen. Say they used me as bait."
"Ryker—" she whispered, trembling.
"Say it!" he roared, voice echoing against the glass walls of the mall.
But before she could answer—
A hand grabbed Ryker's wrist. Firm. Commanding.
"Back off, Ryker."
It was Tanaka Kai, standing tall in his officer's coat, surrounded by several agency officers.
Ryker's glare turned to him, venom in his tone.
"Oh… another puppet. Another slave."
"Watch it," Tanaka replied coldly. "You know exactly what you're doing. There's already a harassment case filed. You touch her again, I'll have no choice but to bring you in."
Ryker's eyes narrowed.
"Justice died a long time ago, Tanaka. Now you only serve paperwork."
"Let her go, Tensai."
For a moment, Ryker didn't move. The air crackled, tense. Jasmine's hand gently touched Ryker's arm.
"…Please."
And then, he released her.
She dropped to the ground, coughing, holding her chest—but not looking away from him.
The flashing lights were starting to fade. The crowd was thinning. But Ryker remained, his gaze fixed—emotionless.
Tanaka Kai stood before him, hand still at his side from where he had pushed him. Ryker slowly looked up, the dim mall lights catching the sharpness in his eyes.
No anger.
Just cold nothingness.
"You should stay out of this," Ryker said flatly. "This is between me and Jasmine."
"We're heroes, Ryker," Tanaka said, trying to steady his voice. "We don't handle things like this."
Ryker almost smiled—but it wasn't kind.
"Look who's talking…"
He tilted his head, eyes flicking toward Jasmine, who stood quietly to the side, her expression unreadable.
"She didn't seem to mind when I grabbed her," Ryker said, his voice laced with challenge. "But now you want to play savior?"
"Watch your mouth." Tanaka stepped forward again, this time with more force.
Ryker didn't move.
He didn't need to.
Tanaka shoved him back.
The tension crackled like dry leaves under fire.
Jasmine's lips parted slightly, but no words came. Just silence.
The kind of silence only grief understands.
Then Ryker's voice returned—low and sharp.
"Why, Tanaka Kai? Why did those innocent people die?"
Tanaka opened his mouth—but nothing came out.
Silence again.
Ryker turned, eyes drifting to the other heroes nearby—laughing, chatting, scrolling on their phones. Not a single one of them looked at the bodies. Not a single one seemed to care.
"Look at them…" Ryker whispered. "Laughing. Talking about other missions. Pretending this never happened."
His fists clenched.
"They were right there. That little girl… she was right there."
Tanaka lowered his gaze.
No words.
Jasmine turned quietly. Without a sound, she walked back toward the car. Ryker's eyes followed her retreating figure for a moment.
Then, slowly, he walked after her—his steps heavy, like carrying the weight of nine souls.
As the car door opened and Jasmine slid into the passenger seat, Ryker opened the driver's side.
Neither of them spoke.
But in the silence…
You could hear everything.
The rain had started lightly, just a soft mist clinging to the windshield as the city lights blurred in the background.
Inside the car, it was quiet. Too quiet.
Jasmine sat in the passenger seat, arms folded tightly, her eyes staring out at the road ahead—but she wasn't really looking at anything. Her chest rose and fell in uneven rhythms, breaths caught between holding back and breaking down.
Ryker kept his eyes on the road. Both hands on the wheel. He didn't say anything. The silence between them wasn't awkward—it was heavy, like the air itself had turned to stone.
And then…
A single tear rolled down Jasmine's cheek.
She wiped it quickly, hoping Ryker wouldn't notice.
He did. But he didn't speak.
Another tear came, and then a quiet sniffle, and soon she was trembling in her seat.
"I should've done something…" Jasmine whispered, barely audible over the hum of the car.
Ryker glanced at her, then looked back at the road. "You couldn't have stopped it."
Jasmine shook her head. "You don't know that. I felt something was off. I should've trusted it."
More tears spilled.
"I saw that little girl smile," she choked, her voice cracking. "And now… now she's just another number. Just a name on a report."
Ryker's hands tightened around the wheel. His jaw clenched.
"I wanted to protect her," Jasmine said. "I wanted to protect all of them."
A pause.
Ryker's voice came low, steady—but not cold. "We can't save everyone."
She looked at him, tears blurring her eyes. "Then what the hell are we doing, Ryker? What's the point of any of this if all we do is show up late and count the bodies?"
For a moment, he didn't answer. Just the soft sound of tires on wet asphalt.
Finally, he said, "We show up… so we don't miss the next one."
Jasmine looked away, wiping her face with her sleeve. "It doesn't feel like enough."
"It never will."
The car turned down a quiet street. The rain came harder now, washing the windows in streaks of gray.
In the backseat, silence settled like fog.
Jasmine curled slightly, her forehead resting against the cool glass. Ryker glanced at her once more, then back at the road, eyes burning—not with tears, but with something deeper. Rage. Guilt. Determination.
Neither of them spoke again.
But in that silence, they both understood:
They weren't just driving away from the crime scene.
They were driving toward the next one.