Chapter 50 :Tears, Blood, and the Ocean
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The storm outside had passed, but a new one was raging inside John's soul.
When he reached the abandoned, graffiti-covered building on the outskirts of town, something deep in his gut told him what he was about to find. The wind had stopped. The birds had fallen silent. Even the air felt frozen—like grief itself had gripped the walls.
And there he was—
Kento.
Lifeless.
His body lay cold on the cracked cement floor, a single bullet wound piercing clean through his chest. Blood had dried beneath him, forming a dark halo, a permanent shadow he would never escape.
John dropped to his knees.
His hands trembled as he reached out, gently brushing the side of Kento's face. His skin was pale. His lips slightly parted. But his eyes… closed forever.
> "No… Kento… not you..."
The cry that erupted from John's chest was primal, ripped from somewhere deeper than pain. He collapsed over Kento's body, clutching him tightly—as if his arms alone could reverse death, as if love could pull him back.
> "You were all I had left! Why did you go after him alone?! You foolish, brave, stupid boy!"
He stayed like that for hours, as the sun crept across the sky. The city moved on. But John remained, grieving like the world had ended.
Because, for him—it had.
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Later that night, John searched Kento's coat and found his phone, cracked but still working. His thumb hesitated over the screen before he scrolled through the contacts.
Akira Toizawa.
He stared at the name, rage boiling in his veins.
> "No more waiting. No more hiding."
He called a contact.
> "I need a national broadcast. Tomorrow morning. Make it happen."
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The Next Morning – 8:00 AM – National Broadcast
John stood before the nation.
His eyes were bloodshot, his face gaunt with grief, but his voice was steady. Behind him, a framed photograph of Kento stood on a black-draped pedestal.
> "This is no longer a police matter," John announced to the camera. "This is personal. Akira Toizawa—wherever you are—I will find you. And I will end this myself."
He held up a printed photo of Akira, the image slightly faded but unmistakable.
> "This boy has killed thousands. Men. Women. Children. He is not just a criminal—he is a monster hiding among us. If you see him, do not approach. Call us immediately. Help us end this nightmare."
The country watched in silence. Some were afraid. Others were enraged. But one thing was certain—
The hunt for Akira had begun.
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Far away, hidden in a dark apartment, Akira watched the broadcast on a flickering TV.
> "Thousands?" he muttered. "I think I'm officially a national criminal now."
He smiled bitterly, then winced as pain surged through his wounded side.
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Tsu Station – 12:44 PM
Transportation had resumed after the storm. Trains returned to their normal schedules. People moved again. The country exhaled.
Among the arrivals—
Hinata.
She stepped off the train platform, suitcase in hand, the scent of wet concrete and blooming flowers filling the air.
> "I'm back in Tsu," she whispered to herself, unaware of the war already unfolding around her.
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5:11 PM – Tsu Safe House
John found Akira.
He tracked the last ping from Kento's phone and followed it to the very place he feared—a so-called "safe house" that wasn't safe at all.
He kicked the door open.
> BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Four gunshots echoed through the narrow halls.
Akira stumbled backward, blood spraying across the floor. A bullet struck his thigh. Another tore through his shoulder. One hit near his ribs, and a fourth grazed his side.
He collapsed behind the back exit, coughing, breath short, hoodie soaked in crimson.
> "I… can't stay here… not anymore…"
Somehow, he forced himself to move—crawling, limping, surviving.
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5:45 PM – Downtown Dealership
Akira burst into a high-end car showroom, broken glass crunching under his boots. The alarms screamed. Security nowhere in sight.
He stole a black McLaren, engine roaring like a beast.
> "If I want to live… I have to leave Japan."
He slammed the pedal and vanished into the streets, blood dripping on the steering wheel, pain making his vision blur.
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Highway Out of Tsu – 6:10 PM
Rain had stopped, but the roads were slick with water and oil.
In his rear-view mirror—John.
Driving a black Dodge Charger.
Their engines roared like thunder.
Their tires tore through the wet highway.
Their war was now a race to the death.
Side by side they flew down the coastal road, wind howling through broken glass. Akira's vision blurred. His breath came in short, ragged gasps.
> "You killed my son!" John shouted, aiming again with shaking hands.
Akira didn't respond. He just drove faster.
They drifted around sharp curves, barely missing trucks, smashing through road signs. Sparks flew. Metal screamed.
The road was ending.
A broken bridge lay ahead—half-collapsed, crumbling into the sea.
John rammed into Akira's side.
> CRASH!
The McLaren spun out of control, flying off the edge like a black bullet fired into the sky.
Akira's silhouette twisted in mid-air, a splash of red against the setting sun.
> SPLASH!
The ocean swallowed him.
Gone.
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John stood at the edge of the bridge, gun still in hand. His chest heaved with exhaustion, rage, and a strange emptiness.
> "Akira Toizawa… is dead."
But he didn't feel like he had won.
He felt... hollow.
The wind howled. The sea rolled below.
There was no glory in this ending.
Only silence.
Only loss.
And the chapter closed, not with a scream—
But with water washing away the last of a broken soul.
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