The Funeral and the Vow

Two days had passed since Akira's world came crashing down.

The sterile white walls of the hospital room seemed to close in on him, the faint hum of fluorescent lights a constant reminder of the numbness that had settled in his chest. Akira lay in the bed, his body a patchwork of bandages and bruises, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the storm raging in his mind. His father was gone. His mother was gone. And he was left alone, drowning in a sea of grief and anger.

The door creaked open, pulling him from his thoughts. A woman stepped inside, her presence immediately commanding the room. She was in her early thirties, her sharp features framed by dark hair that fell just past her shoulders. Her eyes, red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears, locked onto his with an intensity that made the air feel heavier. She wore a tailored black coat, its edges frayed as if she had rushed here without a second thought. The faint scent of rain clung to her, as though she had braved a storm to reach him.

"I am Eri," she said, her voice soft but firm, like the calm before a storm. "Akira Shoto?"

Akira turned his head slowly, his movements stiff and deliberate. His eyes, hollow and shadowed, met hers. "Yes," he replied, his voice hoarse from disuse. "Who are you?"

"Eri Kashiro," she answered, stepping closer to his bed. Her hands trembled slightly as she clasped them in front of her, betraying the composure in her voice. "I was a good friend of your father. More than that, he was my mentor."

Akira's breath hitched at the mention of his father. His chest tightened, and he forced himself to sit up, wincing as the movement tugged at his injuries. A sharp pain shot through his ribs, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through it.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his tone wary but laced with a flicker of hope.

Eri took a deep breath, her gaze never leaving his.

"I came because I want to help you avenge him."

The word vengeance ignited something deep within Akira. A fire that had been smothered by grief now flickered to life, burning through the numbness. He clenched his fists, the bandages around his knuckles straining. "Why would you help me?" he asked, his voice low and edged with suspicion. "What do you want?"

Eri's expression softened, but her resolve remained unshaken. "Your father was more than a mentor to me. He believed in me when no one else did. He gave me a purpose. And now..." Her voice wavered, and she paused to steady herself.

"Now, I want to honor his memory by ensuring those responsible pay for what they've done. But I can't do it alone. I need your help."

Akira's jaw tightened as he looked away, his mind racing. "What can I do? I'm just... I'm nothing. I don't have powers. I don't have anything."

Eri shook her head, her voice firm. "You're wrong, Akira. Your father left you more than you realize. His fortune, his research, his technology—it's all yours now. And among his creations are devices capable of tracking Nightfall, the ones behind all of this. With those tools, we can find them. We can bring them to justice."

Akira's eyes widened as her words sank in. For the first time since the tragedy, he felt a glimmer of purpose. "You're saying I can make a difference? Even without powers?"

Eri nodded, her expression unwavering. "Yes. With your father's resources and my experience, we can do this. But only if you're willing to fight alongside me."

She paused, her tone shifting slightly, as if she were choosing her words carefully. "I don't know how much you know about the rankings in STAR, but... I'm an A-rank. That's... well, it's pretty high up there."

Akira blinked, caught off guard. "An A-rank?" he repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. He had heard stories about STARS, about the ranks that separated the weak from the strong, the ordinary from the extraordinary. A-rank was something reserved for the elite.

"You're... really strong, then."

Eri gave a small, almost self-conscious shrug, but there was no mistaking the confidence in her eyes.

Akira stared at her, his mind racing. An A-rank operative was standing in front of him, offering to help him. It was almost too much to process. "And you think we can do this? Take on Nightfall, I mean."

Eri's gaze hardened, and she leaned in slightly, her voice low but steady.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't believe it was possible. But it's not going to be easy. Nightfall isn't just some random group—they're dangerous, organized, and they've been operating in the shadows for years. That's why I need you, Akira. Your father's tech, your determination... and my strength. Together, we can do this."

Akira exhaled slowly, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. The thought of working with her was daunting, but it was also a lifeline—a way to channel his pain into something meaningful. He met her gaze, the fire in his eyes mirroring hers.

"Alright," he said, his voice steady. "I'll do it."

A flicker of relief crossed Eri's face, and she reached out, gently placing a hand on his. "Thank you, Akira. I know this isn't easy, but we have to move quickly. Your father was an extraordinary man, and his death won't go unpunished."

Akira nodded, the weight of her words settling on his shoulders. "Let's do this."

Eri squeezed his hand, her grip firm yet comforting. "Together," she said, her voice filled with determination. "I promise."

She hesitated for a moment, her expression darkening. "There's something else we need to discuss. The funeral... it's tomorrow."

Akira's face hardened, and he straightened in the bed. "I'm going," he said flatly. "I don't care what anyone says."

Eri sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I understand why you want to be there, Akira. But it's not that simple. Your father wasn't just a man—he was a symbol. A pillar of strength and innovation. And now, with his passing, there are people who will see you as a target. They'll try to manipulate you, to use your grief against you."

Akira's fists clenched, his knuckles turning white. "I'm not afraid of them."

"I know you're not," Eri said gently, her eyes filled with concern. "But grief makes us vulnerable, even when we don't want to admit it. These people—they'll exploit that. They'll try to sway you, to control you. And I can't let that happen."

Akira stared at her, his mind torn between his pride and the truth in her words. "So what are you saying? That I shouldn't go at all?"

Eri shook her head. "Not exactly. I'll take you somewhere you can watch the ceremony without being seen. You'll be able to say goodbye in your own way, without putting yourself in danger."

Akira's shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him. He didn't want to hide, but he knew she was right.

"Okay," he muttered, his voice heavy with resignation. "Take me there."

Eri gave him a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Akira. You're making the right choice." She stood, her presence commanding yet kind. "I'll make the arrangements. Rest for now—you'll need your strength."

As she turned to leave, Akira called out, his voice barely above a whisper. "Eri?"

She paused, glancing back at him. "Yes?"

"I should be alone. But… I'm glad I'm not.."

Eri's eyes softened, and she gave him a nod. "Always... compared to what my father did for me, this is nothing.""

Before she left, she turned back one last time, her voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. 

"Remember this, Akira the strongest flames are forged in the darkest fires. Your pain today will be your power tomorrow."