Revenge Runs Deeper

The masked man stepped over Mikado's corpse like it was nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle in his path. His boots crushed shards of broken glass, the echoes of his footfalls reverberating through the bloodstained walls of the abandoned hideout. The stench of gunpowder and death thickened in the air, but he paid it no mind.

His expression, hidden beneath his mask, was unreadable.

Yet his posture?

Relaxed.

As if he hadn't just ended a man's life in cold blood.

He reached the exit, pushing open the rusted metal door, stepping into the darkened alleyway.

A single flickering streetlight cast an eerie glow over the wet pavement.

The masked woman was waiting for him.

Kairi lay slumped against a wall, her breathing steady but strained. Blood stained her clothes, her body battered and bruised. But her eyes even through her exhaustion—held a flicker of something untamed.

The masked woman glanced at him. "Took you long enough."

He rolled his shoulders. "Had to take out the trash."

She nodded, understanding.

But before either could speak further—

A distant sound.

Tires screeching.

Engines roaring.

Their heads snapped toward the source.

The Kurokawa Metropolitan Bureau had arrived.

Squad cars pulled up outside the hideout, the red and blue lights flashing against the night sky.

Doors slammed open.

Officers flooded out, their weapons drawn, their footsteps heavy against the pavement.

Leading them—

Yuriko Matsunaga.

Her eyes scanned the scene.

The bodies.

The blood.

The destruction.

Her jaw tightened.

She turned to her officers. "Secure the area. I want survivors for questioning—if there are any left."

A few of them moved forward, stepping over the remains of the Pacifist Destroyers.

Yuriko's fingers twitched near her holster.

She had been hunting the Pacifist for too long.

And now—

She could feel it.

She was close

The sirens wailed like the city itself was crying out, the red and blue lights flashing in rhythmic pulses that painted the abandoned hideout in shades of justice and violence.

Yuriko Matsunaga stood firm, her gaze sharp, scanning the wreckage of the Pacifist Destroyers. The bodies—lifeless, discarded like broken puppets—told her everything she needed to know.

Someone had done her job for her.

But who?

Her officers moved through the scene with precise efficiency. Some secured the area, some checked for survivors, and others bagged evidence. The stink of blood and gunpowder was overwhelming, yet no one flinched.

Yuriko's fingers twitched by her holster. Pacifist. She could feel it. This was her work.

She turned as Ryuji Liang approached. His usual smugness was replaced by something more measured, more tense.

"It's a goddamn massacre." He adjusted his tie, the bloodstains on the ground reflecting in his glasses. "Pacifist was here. But she wasn't alone."

Mikaela Yoon-Himura walked up beside him, arms crossed, eyes scanning the shadows like she could see ghosts.

"Two of them," she muttered. "Someone helped her."

Yuriko's gaze hardened. Two?

She exhaled through her nose. A new player. Or players.

Her mind raced, calculating the implications. Pacifist was already a nightmare—an unpredictable force of brutality and chaos. But now she had help?

That was a problem.

A big one.

A movement in the shadows.

Yuriko's eyes snapped to the alleyway.

Her hand gripped her gun.

Too slow.

A figure was already gone.

The alleyway had been occupied. Watching.

Someone had been listening.

Yuriko's lips pressed into a thin line.

She turned to her officers. "Lock this place down. Nobody gets in or out."

Her mind sharpened, calculating the next move.

If Pacifist was out there, she was injured. Weak.

And whoever had helped her—

They were ghosts.

But ghosts could still be hunted.

Kairi pushed herself up, her body aching from the battle she had just barely survived. Blood—some hers, some not—dried on her skin like war paint. Her chest rose and fell in deep, measured breaths as she finally got a good look at the two masked figures before her.

They stood still, silent, unreadable. The air between them was thick with tension.

Kairi's muscles coiled.

She had no clue whether these two were here to finish her off or if they had some other agenda. Her fingers twitched slightly, instinct begging her to grab something sharp—something she could use to end this before it even started.

"… You gonna talk, or just stare at me like you wanna put me in a coffin?" Kairi's voice was low, edged with skepticism.

The taller of the two, the man, finally moved. He reached up, pulling down his mask, revealing a face marred with old scars. His sharp, obsidian-colored eyes locked onto Kairi, assessing her. Then, he spoke.

"My name is Jin Takatora."

His voice was calm, steady—controlled. The kind of voice that belonged to someone who had seen too much, done too much, and buried it deep.

Kairi's eyes flickered to the other masked individual—the woman. She had an aura that felt… colder. Less readable than Jin's. A different kind of danger.

The woman mirrored Jin's action, pulling down her mask. Sharp features. Piercing, ice-blue eyes. A jagged scar cutting through her lip.

"I'm Celeste von Richter." Her tone was smooth, almost too smooth. Like a blade before it strikes.

Kairi's gaze darted between them. She wasn't used to feeling like the one being hunted.

"… Right. Jin. Celeste." She exhaled sharply, arms crossing. "And what the hell do you two want with me?"

Jin's expression remained unreadable. "We want you to help us burn the Arakawa Household to the ground."

Silence.

For a moment, Kairi just stared. Processing.

Then—a slow, humorless laugh left her lips.

"… You two must be either completely insane or really, really stupid."

Celeste's lips curled slightly. "We're neither. But we do know an opportunity when we see one."

Jin took a step forward. Not threatening—just firm.

"Kayd Arakawa has made you his personal target. You know what that means, don't you?"

Kairi's smirk twitched. She knew.

Kayd wasn't just some spoiled rich kid with money to throw at problems. His family was an empire. He wasn't just hunting her for revenge—he was sending a message.

"You're already at war with him," Celeste added smoothly. "The difference is, we want to make sure you win."

Kairi exhaled through her nose. The idea of someone helping her felt foreign. Unnatural. She never needed help. She was the monster in the dark, the thing people feared.

But the Arakawa Household? They weren't just people.

They were something bigger. Something uglier.

And she wasn't stupid enough to pretend she could take them all down alone.

Her fingers flexed, considering. Then—her lips curled into something sharp. Something reckless.

"Alright, Jin. Celeste. I'm in."

The grand estate loomed beneath the pale glow of the moon, its towering walls casting jagged shadows over the pristine courtyard. The air was thick with tension, despite the overwhelming luxury that surrounded it. A place of wealth, power… and death.

Mariko Sarmiento strode through the opulent halls, her usual composed demeanor barely holding together. She was running on borrowed time. The echo of her heels on polished marble was the only sound filling the vast space as she approached the door to Kayd Arakawa's personal chamber.

She hesitated.

She knew what this meant.

The Pacifist Destroyers were gone. Mikado, Tomas, Yasuo, Rika—slaughtered. A gang that was supposed to be the nail in Kairi's coffin had been reduced to nothing.

Her fingers curled into a fist.

She needed to be careful with her words.

With a sharp inhale, she knocked once—twice—before pushing the heavy doors open.

Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke.

Kayd Arakawa sat reclined in an expensive leather chair, dressed in a silk robe, exuding that same arrogant, untouchable energy. But his eyes—his cold, golden eyes—flicked up to her the moment she stepped in. And they were not pleased.

Beside him, several figures stood. Higher-ups. Arakawa elites. The kind of men who didn't speak unless spoken to—because their only purpose was to obey.

Mariko didn't waste time.

"The Pacifist Destroyers are dead."

Silence.

Kayd didn't react at first.

Then—a slow exhale of smoke.

"…Excuse me?"

Mariko kept her face neutral, even as his tone sent a slow chill down her spine.

"Mikado, Tomas, Rika, Yasuo. Killed." "Their forces—eradicated. Their hideout—compromised."

Kayd remained perfectly still.

Mariko wasn't foolish enough to mistake that for calmness.

One of the men standing beside him—a tall, broad-shouldered enforcer—let out a low grunt. "Pacifist did all this?"

Mariko's jaw tensed.

"…She had help."

Now, Kayd leaned forward. Just slightly.

"Help."

"Yes."

Another pause. The weight of his gaze was unbearable.

"Who?"

"…Two masked individuals. A man and a woman."

Kayd's fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair. Slow. Calculated.

"And you don't know who they are?"

"…No."

That answer didn't satisfy him. She could tell.

But then, Kayd did something unexpected.

He laughed.

It was quiet. Controlled. But there was something in it—something dangerous.

Then, he leaned back, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair.

"So." His golden eyes glinted under the dim lighting. "She thinks she can flip the script, huh?"

The other men shifted slightly, waiting for his next move.

Kayd exhaled another stream of smoke before crushing the cigarette into the tray beside him.

"…Fine."

His voice was eerily casual. But Mariko knew better.

Kayd Arakawa wasn't the kind of man who simply let things go.

He was the kind of man who made examples.

And right now—Kairi Saigeru was a lesson waiting to be taught.

Kayd's golden eyes gleamed with something unreadable as he crushed the cigarette into the ashtray beside him, his lips curling into something that wasn't quite a smile. More like the beginning of a storm.

The room was silent, save for the soft ticking of an antique clock mounted on the wall. The enforcers standing around him remained motionless, waiting—watching.

Then, he spoke.

"Mariko."

Her spine straightened.

"Tell the others."

A pause.

"We go to war."

Mariko's breath remained steady, but she felt the weight of his words settle like a blade against her throat.

The other maids.

The ones who weren't just maids.

Kayd Arakawa's household was more than just a sanctuary of wealth and power—it was a fortress, and within its walls were assassins disguised as servants. Women trained from birth to be as deadly as they were graceful, their every movement laced with purpose.

Mariko was among them. One of the best.

But even she knew that the fight against Pacifist would be unlike any other.

She gave a small nod, expression unreadable. "Understood."

Kayd's smirk didn't waver, but there was something cold in his amusement.

"Good." He leaned back, his fingers drumming lazily against the chair's armrest. "Tell them to prepare for something special. Something personal."

Mariko didn't need further clarification.

They weren't just going to kill Pacifist. They were going to make an example out of her.

Kayd exhaled slowly, eyes flickering to the side. "And Mariko."

She stopped mid-turn, waiting.

Kayd's gaze burned into her. "Don't fail me again."

The unspoken threat hung in the air.

Mariko nodded once, then turned, walking out of the chamber with purpose in her stride.

The moment the doors closed behind her, Kayd let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

"Kairi Saigeru…" He whispered the name like it was a puzzle he was slowly piecing together.

Then, he smirked. "Let's see how long you last."

Kairi followed Jin and Celeste through the winding alleys of Kurokawa, her instincts sharp, scanning every rooftop and shadowed corner. The city at night was a beast of its own—alive, breathing, restless. Neon signs buzzed, casting fragmented colors onto wet pavement, and distant sirens howled like ghosts in the wind.

She wasn't sure why she was even following them. Maybe curiosity. Maybe because they saved her. Or maybe because she wanted something bigger to burn.

Jin walked ahead, his movements efficient but relaxed, like someone who had nothing to prove but everything calculated. Celeste followed closely beside him, quiet but aware, the way a predator watches its surroundings.

Kairi? She just kept her hands ready to draw blood if needed.

"You two planning to lead me into some trap?" Kairi finally broke the silence, her voice carrying a mix of amusement and suspicion.

Jin let out a low chuckle. "If we wanted you dead, you wouldn't be walking right now."

Celeste glanced over her shoulder, her voice smooth and playful. "Unless you like being blindfolded before a surprise."

Kairi rolled her eyes. "Cute."

They turned a corner and reached a seemingly abandoned building—a forgotten piece of the city, drowning in rust and decay. The entrance was hidden behind a half-collapsed steel gate, graffiti covering the walls with old warnings and symbols of long-dead gangs.

Jin walked in first, motioning for Kairi to follow. "Welcome to our little hideout."

Kairi stepped in, expecting a mess—but instead, she found something different.

The inside was functional. Dimly lit with old lamps, the floor was reinforced with steel panels, and a large table at the center was littered with blueprints, maps, and ammunition. Shelves stocked with weapons lined the walls, alongside crates filled with God-knows-what.

It was a war room. A base of operations.

Celeste smirked at Kairi's wandering gaze. "Not bad for a bunch of ghosts, huh?"

Kairi scoffed, crossing her arms. "You got an armory, but can you fight?"

Jin leaned against the table, studying her. "We wouldn't be here if we couldn't."

Kairi met his gaze. "Then why do you need me?"

Celeste twirled a knife in her hand, watching the light glint off the blade. "Because you're the kind of chaos that can't be controlled. And that's exactly what we need to burn the Arakawa Household to the ground."

The air in the room shifted. The lightheartedness faded—replaced by something heavier.

Kairi exhaled, feeling a familiar itch in her blood.

"Then let's get started."

{Episode End}