Executioner's fingers clamped tight around Kazuki's wrist. His grip shook with rage and weakness. His teeth clenched, eyes filled with tears that refused to fall. His body trembled from the poison still running through his veins, but something inside him pushed back. The pain. The memories. The need for revenge.
But just when it felt like he could push forward, his legs buckled. His body gave up on him again. He collapsed to the floor with a dull thud.
Kazuki stared down at him, laughing coldly. His face didn't show pity—only cruelty. "You really think you still have the strength?" he said as he pulled out another syringe. The liquid inside gleamed clear under the lights.
Executioner's breath grew shallow. He bit down hard, trying to focus. His right hand reached up weakly. He yanked the IV tube from his arm, blood spilling onto the sheets. His whole body screamed in pain, but he forced himself to sit up.
Kazuki paused, surprised. "You're still standing?"
He stepped forward, aiming to inject him again. But Executioner wasn't done. With all the strength he had left, he grabbed Kazuki's wrist, holding it tight.
Kazuki's other hand moved fast, pulling out a small blade from his coat. He jabbed it into Executioner's arm. The pain was sharp and hot.
Executioner gritted his teeth, his vision swimming. His right arm felt numb, but he didn't let go.
He growled low and punched Kazuki across the jaw.
Kazuki stumbled back, blood spilling from his nose. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and smirked. "Who the hell are you, really?"
Executioner didn't answer with words. His fist came flying again, this time knocking Kazuki onto the bed.
Kazuki jumped up, spinning the knife in his hand. "You should've died that day."
They clashed. Punches. Kicks. Executioner's strength was leaving him fast. Blood from his arm soaked into his clothes. But he stood firm. Every time he wanted to drop, he reminded himself why he was alive.
Then he pushed Kazuki toward the window. They struggled. One wrong move, and either of them could fall.
Executioner raised his fist and slammed it into Kazuki's chest.
The glass behind him shattered with a loud crack. Kazuki's body flew out, crashing down onto a parked car below. The windshield broke under the weight. Blood splattered. His limbs twitched once… then stopped moving.
Executioner looked down from the broken window, his breath heavy. Kazuki's body lay twisted, broken. His mask had fallen off. His face was cut and bleeding.
Executioner's knees gave way, but he caught himself. The pain was still there, but his body was slowly listening again. He closed his eyes, steadying his breath.
He changed into a plain white shirt, a brown jacket, and blue jeans. The clothes clung to his aching body. He limped to the door, pushed it open, and stepped out. His steps were heavy, slow, like a man learning to walk again.
"Wooo-wooo-wooo—" Sirens echoed from the street.
"What happened?" "We saw someone fall from the top floor… but there's no one else up there."
Executioner kept walking. He passed by a food stall and snatched a donut without a word. He took a bite, chewing slowly.
A black van stopped beside him. The side door slid open. Sakura leaned out. "Master Executioner! What now?"
He climbed in, dropping into the seat beside her. "Don't call me Executioner anymore," he said, his eyes cold. "Call me Raven. I'm done with that name."
At the hideout, Sakura cleaned his wound. His arm still burned, and his whole body ached.
After resting, he sat in front of a mirror and shaved his hair down. His reflection stared back—different, but familiar.
Then, he walked to Bryce's secret weapons room. The place hadn't changed. Swords. Guns. Blades of every kind.
He looked at five massive swords lined up on the wall:
The claymore: heavy and long, meant for pure power.
The nodachi: made for destruction.
The zweihander: two hands needed, brutal in its swing.
The espada grande: wide slashes and fast cuts.
The odachi: larger than a katana, sharp and deadly.
He reached out and gripped the hilt of the odachi. His hand fit around it like it belonged there. "This one," he whispered. "This will do."
Sakura walked in. "Where are you going, Master Raven?"
He turned fast, his face dark. "Stay here. Don't follow me."
He walked to the garage, grabbed the keys to a black sports car, and opened the trunk. He loaded it with weapons, even a few bombs. The engine roared.
He drove straight to a certain house. The man who lived there—Daisuki—was a police officer. He was the one who had called Kenji. The one who said Executioner was still alive.
The door didn't stand a chance. Raven kicked it in, sending splinters flying.
Inside, Daisuki heard the noise. He grabbed his pistol and aimed toward the hallway.
Raven stormed in. Daisuki fired.
Raven dodged and slammed him to the ground, the edge of the odachi sword pressed to his throat.
"Talk," Raven growled. "Where are they?"
"I-I don't know what you mean!"
The blade pressed harder, cutting into his skin. Blood trickled down his neck.
"You were on the phone. At the hospital. You talked about a man and his son. You knew I was alive. Who told you?"
"I… I swear, I was told by someone… someone higher up…"
The sword didn't move. The pressure grew. Daisuki broke. "O-Okay! Go to Kyuho ji street! Number 224! There's a building there… a sign outside says Ongenki…"
Raven's eyes went cold. He didn't say a word.
He dragged the blade across Daisuki's neck, the sound quiet but final. Blood spilled. Daisuki's body stopped moving.
Raven stood, wiped the blade clean on a torn curtain, and walked back to his car.
He sat down, started the engine, and drove.
The sound of the engine filled the air.
"Rrrrrr-VROOM."
He had a destination. He had a name again. And he was just getting started.