The fall of Kenji Asakura rippled through Tōriku City like a thunderclap.
The rich shivered behind armored walls.
The powerful whispered behind closed doors.
The monsters who ruled the city realized something terrifying:
There was a ghost among them.
And ghosts were bad for business.
---
Three days after Asakura's collapse, Hiroshi sat in an abandoned planetarium, light from shattered projectors flickering over his face.
The Shadow Seven gathered around him.
Nova lounged upside-down on a broken seat, spinning a knife between her fingers.
Echo tapped away on a holo-slate.
Wraith leaned against the wall, arms folded, silent.
Hiroshi didn't smile.
Not this time.
"They're not going to stay defensive for long," he said quietly.
He projected a list of names into the air—old, powerful families and corporations, all linked by blood, money, and crime.
"Someone will move.
Someone will strike back."
He turned his eyes to the team—cold, sharp.
"When they do, we welcome them."
Geist chuckled darkly. "About time we stopped playing defense."
"But be ready," Hiroshi said. "The next ones won't be rats."
He tapped the list once more.
"They'll send wolves."
---
The attack came faster than even Hiroshi expected.
Two nights later.
A cold mist rolled across Tōriku's lower districts—thick, unnatural.
Perfect for an ambush.
Perfect for a hunt.
---
Wraith was the first to sense it.
She was escorting Yuki home from a staged charity event, both dressed in glittering high-society clothes, when her instincts screamed.
She tightened her grip on Yuki's arm.
"Stay close," she whispered.
Without warning, the driver—a trusted Specter operative—slumped forward, blood blooming on his shirt.
Sniper.
Wraith dragged Yuki down as the windshield shattered under another shot.
Glass rained like deadly snowflakes.
From the mist, figures emerged.
Not street thugs.
Not amateurs.
Professionals.
Black body armor. Silent rifles. Optical camo cloaks rippling as they moved.
A kill squad.
---
Hiroshi, watching through Nova's aerial drones, reacted instantly.
"Extraction plan Delta," he said into the comms.
"Move."
Wraith nodded once and shoved Yuki into the backseat.
She snapped open a hidden panel—revealing a secondary control system.
With a twist of the wrist, the ruined car shifted.
Wheels retracted.
Magnetic rails activated.
The vehicle became a sleek, bulletproof escape pod, shooting backward down the alley on hidden tracks.
The assassins opened fire—useless.
The mist swallowed them.
---
Meanwhile, Geist and Revenant dropped from the rooftops like reapers.
Blades flashed.
Bones crunched.
Geist moved like liquid shadow, disarming and disabling two soldiers before they could blink.
Revenant's darts flew, each tipped with a paralytic strong enough to drop a bear.
Still, more figures moved in.
"They're deploying Jägers," Nova reported grimly.
"Elite mercs.
Ex-special forces.
Cybernetics."
Hiroshi narrowed his eyes.
Good.
It had been too long since he tested their limits.
---
In the heart of the mist, Hiroshi moved alone.
Wearing nothing but a black hoodie and reinforced chopsticks tucked into his sleeves.
To the world, he looked like another lost teenager.
To the hunters, he was bait.
They didn't realize until it was too late.
The first attacker lunged—a blur with carbon fiber claws.
Hiroshi sidestepped, smooth as falling rain, and snapped his chopsticks into a lock.
CRACK.
The cybernetic arm shattered.
The merc screamed.
Another fired a smart-rifle.
Hiroshi flicked a coin midair—deflecting the shot with perfect precision.
A third dropped from above, twin daggers glinting.
Hiroshi caught one wrist, spun, and used the attacker's own momentum to slam him face-first into the ground.
In fifteen seconds, three wolves were broken at his feet.
The rest hesitated.
That was their mistake.
---
Across the district, Nova unleashed her drones—tiny wasps buzzing with sonic disruptors.
The mist shifted.
Screams echoed as mercs staggered, clutching their heads.
Zephyr pulled up in the extraction van, doors swinging open.
Yuki and Wraith dove in, Nova covering them with pinpoint drone strikes.
Geist and Revenant melted into the shadows, following.
Only Hiroshi stayed behind, standing alone as the last mercenary squad circled him.
Their leader, a massive man with silver cybernetic eyes, stepped forward.
"You think you're invincible, kid?" he growled.
"No," Hiroshi said calmly.
"I think I'm inevitable."
Then he moved.
Not as a boy.
Not as a fighter.
As a storm.
---
When the dust settled, mist curling around broken bodies, Hiroshi stood alone.
Untouched.
Unbothered.
Unseen by the world.
---
Later, in the planetarium, the team regrouped.
Minor injuries.
No casualties.
Victory.
But Hiroshi didn't relax.
He stared at the confiscated tech from the mercenaries—insignias, encrypted comms.
Something deeper was at play.
This wasn't random retaliation.
It was organized.
Funded.
Directed.
A bigger enemy moved behind the scenes.
Someone who understood the art of shadows almost as well as he did.
Almost.
He looked at his team.
"We just started a war," Hiroshi said quietly.
"And now... the real players are coming."
He smiled slightly.
A predator's smile.
"Perfect."