The candlelight flickered weakly between us, barely enough to keep the shadows at bay. The room was silent except for the occasional creak of the old wooden floor beneath us. The air was thick, heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts.
Ayane sat across from me, her arms folded, eyes sharp with focus. The bruises from our last battle had faded, but there was something in her expression that hadn't—something hardened, unyielding.
Determination.
"We need a plan," she said finally.
I nodded, staring at the rough map we had drawn on the wooden floor. It wasn't much—just crude lines representing the house, the surrounding area, and possible escape routes. But no amount of planning would change one simple fact.
We were up against a monster.
Satarou wasn't just strong—he was something else entirely. Something beyond human.
I had seen it firsthand.
The way he moved, the way he killed.
Fighting him head-on was suicide.
Ayane exhaled. "Let's be real—we can't win in a direct fight."
I didn't argue. She was right.
She tapped the map. "But we can control how the fight happens."
I met her gaze.
She smirked slightly. "We make him bleed first. And we make sure it hurts."
We analyzed every possible advantage we had. There weren't many.
1. Satarou is overconfident.
He thinks of us as weak. He'll play with us, just like he always does. If we can take advantage of that, we might have a window to strike.
2. He's fast, but he's still human.
His strength and reflexes were insane, but he wasn't invincible. He could be injured.
3. The terrain is ours to control.
We weren't just going to fight him. We were going to make the battlefield a trap.
I pointed at a section of the map. "We lure him here."
Ayane frowned. "Why there?"
"Because it's the only place we can use against him."
The house we were in had a few structural weaknesses—broken flooring, unstable beams, walls barely holding together. It wasn't much, but it was something.
Ayane tilted her head. "You're planning on collapsing part of the house."
I nodded. "If we can control when it happens, we can make it work in our favor."
She smirked. "Risky. But I like it."
Of course, that wasn't enough.
Satarou wouldn't go down just because we dropped a few beams on him. He would get angry.
And that's when things would get worse.
"We need to stall," I said.
Ayane raised an eyebrow. "Stall?"
I nodded. "If we fight him at full strength, we lose. If we make him waste his energy, make him bleed, exhaust him first—we stand a chance."
She considered it, then nodded slowly. "So, hit-and-run tactics?"
"More than that."
I looked at the map again. "We make him chase us. Force him into bad positions. Make him use his strength to destroy the environment around him instead of us."
Ayane's grin widened. "You want to make him wear himself down."
I nodded.
A brief silence settled between us.
Because we both knew.
Even with all of this—it still might not be enough.
Ayane leaned back, watching me carefully. "You're hiding something."
I didn't answer.
She narrowed her eyes. "Ken."
I met her gaze. "...If things go bad, I'll handle it."
A muscle twitched in her jaw. "Handle it how?"
I didn't respond.
Because I couldn't.
There was one last part of the plan.
A technique my father had once tried to teach me. A technique I had never mastered.
But this time, I had no choice.
Ayane stared at me for a long moment before exhaling sharply. "Fine. Keep your secrets."
She stood, stretching her arms. "But if you die doing something reckless, I'm going to kill you myself."
I smirked slightly.
"Deal."
--