Chapter 16: The Decision
Champagne smiled and was surprised.
"So it was you."
Daito Greyhell didn't look surprised.
"You're late."
Aerin smirked faintly.
Champaigne walked closer, examining the corpses.
"These weren't normal."
"No," Daito replied. "They were testing."
Champagne's eyes sharpened.
"Interesting word choice."
Daito turned fully toward him.
"We need to talk."
Champagne shrugged lightly.
"Sure. Why not? You seem like an interesting fellow."
There was no hostility.
Only recognition.
Warriors recognizing patterns in each other.
STEP—STEP!
Bootsteps approached behind them.
Measured.
Authoritative.
Marcus.
"I'll need a word first."
Champagne exhaled slowly. "You really don't miss a beat, do you?"
Marcus ignored him.
His eyes locked onto Daito.
"Privately."
Aerin stepped slightly forward.
Daito lifted a hand subtly.
It was fine.
Champagne watched carefully but said nothing.
Marcus motioned toward a quiet stretch beyond the broken fence line.
When they were out of earshot, his tone dropped.
"Your file."
Daito said nothing.
"It's sealed. High clearance. NBA protection."
Wind moved between them.
Marcus' stare was direct.
"You want to tell me why an unregistered fighter in my town is protected by the system's highest authority?"
Silence lingered.
Then Daito spoke calmly.
"I didn't ask for protection."
"That's not what I asked."
Marcus stepped closer.
"If you're here on NBA business, I need to know."
"If you're running from them, I need to know."
"If you're bait for something bigger, I need to know."
Daito met his gaze evenly.
"I'm not here for your town."
Marcus' eyes narrowed.
"Then why are you here?"
"To find people who don't kneel."
The answer hung between them.
Marcus studied him carefully.
"You're not destabilizing Manswill."
It wasn't a question.
Daito's reply was steady.
"If your structure protects people, I have no reason to break it."
Marcus' jaw flexed.
"And the NBA?"
A pause.
"They protect what benefits them."
Not denial.
Not confirmation.
Just truth shaped carefully.
Behind them, Champagne stood with Aerin.
Watching.
Waiting.
Curious.
Two fighters.
One system.
One town.
And something stronger than ordinary Freakers testing the perimeter.
The calm was thinning again.
Fwoosh...
The wind moved low across the northern fence line.
Broken wood.
Freaker corpses crumbling in the dust.
And two men standing between something larger than either of them.
Sheriff Marcus' voice was no longer confrontational.
It was concerned.
"For everyone's sake," he said quietly, "I hope you didn't do anything to anger the NBA."
He held Daito's gaze.
"My town follows orders. We pay what we're told. We report what we're told."
His jaw tightened slightly.
"If we're caught in crossfire from something we didn't start… that's not a war we can survive."
Daito's reply was steady.
"There's nothing to worry about."
Marcus' eyes narrowed.
"Isn't there?"
Daito didn't blink.
"Once we get what we came for, we'll leave."
The Sheriff studied him carefully.
A beat passed.
Then his voice lowered.
"…And what exactly did you come for?"
There was hesitation in the question.
As if he already feared the answer.
"Don't tell me."
Daito didn't deny it.
"We're here for Champagne."
The air changed.
Marcus' shoulders stiffened.
For the first time, anger gave way to something more raw.
"You understand what you're saying?"
"He's the only thing stopping this town from immediate collapse."
His tone sharpened.
"He's our ace card."
He stepped closer.
"If Champagne disappears, our battle strength drops to ten percent. Ten."
"That's unacceptable."
Daito absorbed that quietly.
Ten percent.
He wasn't wrong.
STEP—STEP!
Footsteps approached quickly.
"She— Sheriff!" Sheila called from a distance.
"We're still in session."
Marcus didn't turn immediately.
"I'll join shortly," he replied, voice controlled again.
When Sheila stepped back, Daito spoke calmly.
"You can call off the spies."
Marcus' expression didn't change.
"What spies?"
Daito's eyes shifted slightly toward a distant rooftop.
Then toward an alley window.
"They blew their cover when they followed us to the east fields."
Aerin folded her arms.
"It was subtle for about five minutes."
"After that," he added flatly, "it was embarrassing."
Marcus didn't smile.
But internally, he registered the precision of that observation.
So they noticed.
Good.
Or dangerous.
"Monitoring unknown fighters inside town limits is protocol," he replied evenly.
Daito's voice remained level.
"Childish protocol."
That hit.
"Huff..."
Marcus took a breath.
Then his tone shifted completely.
Less authority.
More warning.
"If you know what's best for you, you'll stop meddling in worldly affairs."
He looked Daito up and down.
"You're still a kid."
"There are things you don't touch."
His voice lowered, not threatening — factual.
"The consequences can kill a man."
Pause.
"Imagine what they would do to a boy."
Silence stretched between them.
Daito didn't look away.
"Stop underestimating me."
Marcus' eyes hardened slightly.
"That's not underestimation."
"It's perspective."
He stepped back.
"You think this is about heroes and villains."
"You think you're moving pieces on a board."
His voice sharpened at the end.
"This isn't a game."
He turned.
Started walking back toward town hall.
Then without looking back—
"Open your eyes."
"It's bigger than you."
And he left.
The word lingered.
Game.
Daito stood still longer than usual.
Aerin noticed immediately.
"That bothered you."
He didn't respond at first.
Then quietly—
"He's right about one thing."
She waited.
"This isn't a game."
For a long moment, Daito stared toward Manswill's rooftops.
Toward where Champaigne had stood earlier.
Toward the system that sealed his file.
Toward the forces that engineered stronger Freakers.
The scale was expanding.
And for the first time since leaving the valley, he wasn't certain who was hunting who.
Aerin stepped beside him.
"So what now?"
Daito's eyes sharpened again.
"We talk to Champaigne."
A beat.
"Before someone bigger arrives."
Because whether Marcus liked it or not—
Manswill was already on someone's radar.
And once the NBA decides to intervene—
Towns don't get warnings.
* * *
Champagne had heard enough.
Not everything.
But enough.
"…we're here for Champagne."
"…battle strength drops to ten percent…"
"…NBA…"
Wind carried fragments of the Sheriff's warning up to the clocktower where he stood.
He didn't move.
He just listened.
And when Daito finished speaking with Marcus—
Champagne was already waiting on the rooftop above the carpenter's shop.
Daito climbed up without asking permission.
Aerin stayed below this time.
This wasn't her conversation.
Champagne leaned against the chimney.
"You're subtle," he said lightly.
Daito stood a few steps away.
"You were listening."
"Only the interesting parts."
A beat.
Champagne's expression sharpened slightly.
"Is it true?"
"You're here for me?"
Daito didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
Wind moved between them.
No hostility.
Just weight.
Champagne nodded slowly.
"Then the answer's no."
Simple.
Direct.
"I'm not leaving."
Daito didn't react immediately.
"Why?"
Champagne gestured toward the town below.
"My home."
"My people."
"If I walk away, this place collapses."
His tone wasn't arrogant.
It was factual.
"I won't gamble their lives for your bigger vision."
Daito stepped closer.
"It's not a gamble."
Champagne raised an eyebrow.
"Everything is."
Daito spoke calmly.
"Pros of staying."
"You protect Manswill."
"You keep local stability."
"You remain symbol, shield, hero."
Champagne didn't interrupt.
"Cons."
"You limit yourself."
"You fight outbreaks instead of origins."
"You win battles."
"But the system still wins the war."
Silence.
Daito continued.
"Pros of leaving."
"You gain scale."
"You attack root causes."
"You become part of something that disrupts control."
"And the cons?" Champagne asked.
"You lose comfort."
"You lose certainty."
"You risk never coming back."
The rooftop fell quiet.
"Huff..."
Champagne exhaled sharply.
"Stop making me sound like a child."
"I already know all that."
Daito's voice lowered.
"Then look at the bigger picture."
He pointed toward the horizon.
"If no one fights this in our generation—"
"It becomes permanent."
"The System wins like it did to our great-grandparents."
"And it will do the same to our great-grandchildren."
His eyes sharpened.
"You're strong."
"But you're defending a corner."
"We need people who attack the board."
That landed.
Harder than before.
Champaign looked down at the streets.
At the houses.
At the children running.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"I'll think about it."
Pause.
"But until then—"
"The answer is no."
Before Daito could respond—
"AARGH!"
A scream echoed from two blocks east.
Champagne's head turned instantly.
No hesitation.
He stepped back toward the roof's edge.
"Duty calls."
Then he glanced once more at Daito.
"You're not wrong."
"But you're not fully right either."
SWOOSH!
And he vanished into the night.
Daito remained standing alone on the rooftop.
The wind felt heavier now.
Things weren't aligning.
Champagne was supposed to see it clearly.
Join.
Move.
Advance.
Instead—
He hesitated.
Daito descended slowly.
* * *
Back inside the dimly lit spare room—
He struck the wall with his fist.
Not full force.
But enough to crack plaster.
Aerin watched from the doorway.
"You're angry."
Daito looked at his hand.
"Things are getting off script."
Aerin leaned against the frame.
"When did you start believing you controlled the script?"
That made him pause.
He didn't answer.
Because the truth was uncomfortable.
He wasn't used to resistance from those who understood him.
Champagne wasn't scared.
Wasn't blind.
Wasn't weak.
He simply chose differently.
And that complicated everything.
Outside—
Fwoosh...
Somewhere in the distance—
POW!
"AARRGH!"
Champagne was already cutting down a Freaker threatening a trapped civilian.
Protecting.
Staying.
For now.
Two anomalies.
One local hero.
One protected file.
And the tension between them rising.
The board was shifting.
But not according to anyone's script.
to be continued....