Wind howled. Thunder cracked. Rain slammed against the rooftop in sheets, washing away blood—only for more to spill.
Akihiro wiped the crimson from his mouth with the back of his hand, rolling his neck as it popped. His ribs ached. His muscles burned. His breathing was heavy—but his grin was wider than ever.
Takeda, panting, watched him warily. His coat was torn, his side still bleeding from the earlier knife wound. His arm twitched from the numbing impact of the pipe, but his grip on his second blade remained firm.
Despite the pain. Despite the wounds. Despite the storm around them—they moved.
Takeda struck first. Fast. Precise. Unrelenting. His blade flashed toward Akihiro's throat, but Akihiro twisted just enough for it to graze his skin, a thin red line appearing. He countered with a spinning heel kick—Takeda ducked. The moment his feet touched the ground, Takeda surged forward, driving an elbow into Akihiro's ribs with sickening force.
Akihiro barely reacted—except for a low chuckle.
Takeda's brows furrowed.
"Something funny?"
Akihiro spat blood onto the rooftop, the rain washing it away almost instantly. His grin never faltered. "Yeah. That actually hurt a little."
Takeda didn't hesitate. He lunged.
His knee crashed into Akihiro's stomach. A second later—his knife drove forward.
Akihiro let it hit.
Steel buried into his shoulder, sinking deep. A real wound. A fatal opening.
Takeda's eyes widened slightly.
Akihiro only grinned.
And then—he slammed his forehead into Takeda's face.
CRACK.
Blood splattered into the rain. Takeda staggered back, nose shattered—but before he could react, Akihiro was already moving.
A fist crashed into his ribs. The unmistakable sound of something snapping rang through the storm.
Takeda gasped—only for Akihiro to grab him by the collar and slam him into the ground with brutal force.
The impact cracked the rooftop concrete.
For the first time, Takeda coughed blood.
Akihiro tilted his head, yanking Takeda up by the hair. "Not bad. You've got skill, endurance, even a decent amount of strength—"
A knee drove into Takeda's stomach.
Another snap. Another rib breaking.
Takeda grunted but refused to fall.
Akihiro's grin sharpened. "But even if I had only one hand and one leg, you still wouldn't win. You're missing something."
Takeda's fingers twitched. Akihiro noticed—but allowed it.
"Let me guess," Takeda breathed, voice hoarse. "Power?"
Akihiro let out a sharp laugh. "No. You have no assassination technique. Maybe if you had one, you would've at least made this interesting—hell, you might've even almost escaped."
Takeda's eyes narrowed.
"You're strong, yeah. But you're retired. You weren't even part of the Umbra Division. You have no idea what we've been through, what we've seen. Only then could you hope to defeat even one of us."
He jerked Takeda's head back, forcing their eyes to meet.
"No silent movements. No misdirection. No instant kills. No true killing intent." Akihiro sighed, almost mockingly. "I gotta admit, when my brother talked about you, I was excited. Thought I'd finally meet someone who could put the fear of death in me."
Takeda's jaw clenched.
Akihiro's grin widened.
"You're fighting a Takeda—and you didn't even try to kill me properly?" He shook his head in disappointment. "Man… that's just sad."
Then—Akihiro crushed Takeda's arm beneath his foot.
BONE SNAPPED.
Takeda barely stifled the cry of pain.
Akihiro leaned in, his voice low, almost casual. "You never had a chance."
The storm howled. The rain poured.
But the fight was over.
Akihiro stood over him, breathing heavy—but completely unshaken. Takeda looking back at him with horror and fear.
He turned his gaze toward the helicopter.
"But I gotta ask, why are you so scared of the rat? You do realize who you're talking to, right? This is the Syndicate. We could do things far worse than killing you. Maybe we could even offer you protection—if you tell us who told you about us."
Takeda let out a quiet, bitter chuckle. "You can't."
Akihiro's brow twitched. "What was that?"
Takeda coughed, blood mixing with rainwater. "The Syndicate can't protect me from him. Not the Umbra Division. Not the elders. No one. You don't know what you're dealing with."
Akihiro looked irritated. "That's a pretty bold statement to make, don'tcha think?"
Takeda gave a weak, humorless smile. "That's how confident I am. Normally, the Syndicate rules the underworld easily, wiping out anyone in its way. But this time? There's something worse than the Syndicate.
"This man… his ideology… it's going to crush you."
Akihiro's expression darkened. "What's his ideology?"
Takeda's lips barely moved. "I can't say."
Akihiro clicked his tongue. "Then you're useless."
Then—Takeda started to sob.
"No, no, no, please—"
Akihiro sighed. "Oh, come on, don't do that."
Takeda's voice cracked. "My wife and daughter. He threatened to kill them if I talked. If I expose him." He swallowed thickly. "He guaranteed their safety if I stayed quiet. If I died for his cause."
Akihiro raised an eyebrow. "You really believe that?"
Takeda's eyes were hollow. "He's a man of his word. At least now I can die peacefully."
Akihiro exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sheesh. Almost feel bad for you." His voice softened slightly. "Sorry. Nothing personal. Just business."
He tore the knife free from the helicopter's hull.
And, without a look of remorse on his face, he took the bloodied blade and slit Takeda's throat clean open.
"You should've aimed for my throat."
Then—he walked away.
BACK IN TOKYO
The lab was a graveyard of horrors.
Rows of steel tables lined the room, each occupied by something that shouldn't exist. Glass cylinders filled with sickly green liquid lined the walls, and within them—twisted, half-formed things twitched and spasmed. Some were barely human anymore—limbs fused at odd angles, eyes where there shouldn't be any, ribcages left grotesquely open, pulsing like exposed, beating hearts.
The stench of chemicals and rot was suffocating.
Ren's gaze swept across the room, taking in the details—the bloodstained notes scattered across the floor, the jagged surgical instruments still coated in dried viscera, the discarded remnants of failed experiments tossed carelessly into bins like meat.
He exhaled sharply. "What the fuck do you mean you found him dead?"
Kaede crossed her arms. "I mean exactly that."
Ren looked at the mutilated corpse of Dr. Yusuke. His fingers were severed. His teeth were missing. Whoever did this was careful. And they had outplayed them.
Kaede's voice was grim. "…We may be fucked."
Ren remembered the man in the mask and hood. But he wasn't sure if he was hallucinating because of the poison, but he believed that was most likely it so he decided not to talk about it.
"I'm about as clueless as you"
Kaede took a proper glance at Doctor Yusuf's again. His teeth were missing.
"Shit the fucker also took Yusuke's teeth" she growled
"They didn't want the police or anyone to find out who he was so he got rid of his prints by cutting his fingers and then his teeth"
The guy they who did this was definitely no joke. He was careful and outplayed them. They fucked with the syndicate. Do they know that means death for them and their loved ones?
Ren took another glance at the room
"…What the hell was Yusuke working on?"
Kaede didn't answer. She was staring at one of the glass cylinders, eyes narrowing at the malformed creature inside. Its skin was translucent, veins pulsing with something black. A mouth stretched far too wide twitched at random intervals, but its eyes—lifeless, yet aware—never moved.
She turned back to the body slumped over the desk, her expression unreadable. "How did he even get access to all this?"
Ren didn't respond immediately. He stepped past her, crouching beside Yusuke's corpse once again. His fingers hovered over the scientist's mutilated throat, then shifted to the cleanly severed knuckles. The precision was unsettling.
"This kind of setup…" Ren muttered, voice low. "This isn't just some back-alley operation. The equipment, the specimens… the funding."
Kaede's eyes darkened as realization settled in. "Someone was helping him."
Ren's jaw clenched. It wasn't just the experiments—it was the secrecy. This facility had been hidden deep beneath Tokyo, its existence completely off the grid. Someone had gone to great lengths to ensure no one found out about it.
And yet, someone else had gotten here before them. Whoever did this was no ordinary person.
Ren rose to his feet, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. The antidote had to be here. If Yusuke had been working on this level of biological warfare, he would have definitely created an antidote for the poison earlier.
He had to.
Ren exhaled, the pain in his body becoming harder to ignore. He had lost too much blood. The poison was already working its way deeper.
Kaede must have noticed the shift in his stance because she took a step closer, her voice quieter. "…You're still poisoned?"
Ren didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached for the closest set of research notes, flipping through the bloodstained pages. His eyes scanned rapidly over Yusuke's twisted formulas and clinical observations. Test subjects. Mutations. Fatality rates.
No mention of an antidote.
His grip tightened on the paper. Damn it.
Kaede exhaled sharply. "You should've said something earlier."
Ren shook his head. "Wouldn't have changed anything." His voice was even, but the weight behind it was clear. He didn't have time.
His fingers curled into a fist. If the antidote isn't here, he was as good as dead.
Kaede glanced at Yusuke's corpse one last time, then toward the monstrous experiments lining the lab. Her expression hardened.
"…No it's here." Then she pointed at something