Her feet trembled beneath her, every ounce of effort spent just to stay upright. Each breath scraped down her throat like swallowing a fistful of needles. Her vision blurred at the edges. Crazy bastard—what a bloodlust, the thought clawed through her mind as she forced her eyes forward.
Kio strolled in from the playground entrance, hands tucked lazily into his pockets, wearing an expression far too gleeful—like a child who'd just spotted a new toy.
"Dang, you don't look so good," he taunted
She said nothing. Instead settled into an orthodox boxing stance. "Didn't think I'd have to do this," she muttered under her breath.
Kio tilted his head, thinking it over. "Huh. A boxing stance? The distance between us is too wide—she can't reach me from there." Before the thought could finish forming, a violent surge of urgency screamed through his blood.
VOOOSHHH! BOOOM!
Ishiko closed the gap in a fraction of a second, jab already firing toward his face. He barely twisted out of its path.
Swoop!
A dagger flashed into his palm. Hand blurred—vanished—reappeared inches from her throat, the blade a breath from contact—
BOOM! BOOM!
His arm froze mid-strike. Agony detonated through his torso, brutal and absolute, like a missile had torn straight through him.
"What... my body feels numb—"
Thud.
He collapsed. His mind went blank, eyes dimming, breath slowing to nothing as unconsciousness swallowed him whole.
"It's been years since someone gave me this much trouble," Ishiko murmured, staring down at Kio's motionless body—whether dead or merely unconscious, she couldn't yet tell.
She turned and walked away, body and mind wrung completely dry, though a faint, satisfied smile still touched her lips.
The sky darkened, gray clouds swallowing the sun whole until only a dim, colorless light remained over the playground. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of coming rain, pressing down against the silence Ishiko had left behind.
One drop fell.
Then two.
Then the sky broke open entirely, rain pouring down in relentless sheets, drumming against the concrete and pooling in the cracks where Kio's body lay motionless. Each drop rolled down his bruised skin, tracing paths through dried blood and grime, washing the evidence of battle from his face in slow, indifferent streaks. Steam curled faintly from the heat still trapped in his wounds, hissing softly where the cold rain met broken skin.
He didn't stir. Didn't flinch. The man who'd smiled like a child chasing a new toy now lay still beneath the storm, chest barely rising, the rain the only thing left to tend to him—cleansing what violence had carved into his body, indifferent to whether he'd wake to feel it.
The rain stopped hitting him—suddenly, unnaturally, as though some barrier had risen between the storm and his skin. Kio's eyes cracked open. Above him stood a figure, green hair damp and clinging to his shoulders, droplets tracing down strands that reached past his collar. Vertical, predatory pupils sat within sharp green irises, fixed on Kio without a flicker of concern. Dressed sharply in formal wear topped with a cap, he held an umbrella steady above them both.
It was Recardo.
"So, how was it?" he asked, flat, unreadable.
Kio struggled upright, gaze dropping to the wet dirt beneath him. A faint, breathless chuckle broke free. "Huh. Barely survived her."
"You've got something running through that head of yours, I can tell. Impossible to believe you lost that easily. Now get up—stop acting like a pampered kid."
"Ya, ya. Don't start lecturing me." The smile crept back onto Kio's face despite the pain still gnawing beneath his skin. He forced himself upright, slinging one arm over Recardo's shoulder for support as they made their way off the grounds.
Pulling out his phone, Kio opened a GPS map. A single green dot blinked steadily across the screen—Ishiko, making her way toward her hideout.
"You know, Recardo," he said, eyes still on the screen, "sometimes, to catch the bigger fish... you've gotta let a few smaller ones swim free."