Back in Japan, the city pulsed with its usual rhythm.
Traffic flowed. Neon signs flickered to life. Crowds moved in practiced chaos as Yummo, Ryuji, Ren, and Hikaru walked together down the sidewalk, their conversation blending into the noise of the street.
Yummo let out a long sigh, ruffling her hair in frustration.
"School's almost over," she complained. "And it seriously feels like it should've ended a month ago."
Ren chuckled, reaching over to pat Yumiko on the head.
"Just be glad you're not in a sport," he said. "Track and field's already over for me, but the training never really stops."
Ryuji stretched, lacing his fingers behind his head as his eyes scanned the crowd ahead.
"I'm kinda glad there's no boxing during the summer," he admitted. "But at the same time… I'm probably gonna be bored out of my mind."
Hikaru adjusted his glasses, unconsciously quickening his pace—then suddenly stopped.
The others nearly bumped into him.
A man stood a short distance away, completely out of place.
He wore a brown cowboy hat, a white tank top, and worn jeans. One hand rested in his pocket as he stared up at a random building, studying it like it held some personal meaning.
Slowly, the man lowered his gaze.
His eyes met theirs.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"…This is Japan, correct?" he asked casually.
Hikaru blinked. "Uh… yeah?"
"Great," the man replied, nodding. "Next question."
His eyes sharpened.
"Do you know where I can find Shoto Kazami?"
The air shifted.
Yummo stiffened.
Ren straightened.
Ryuji dropped his arms, his expression hardening.
"…Alright," Ryuji said, stepping forward. "Out with it. What do you want with him?"
The man tipped his cowboy hat down slightly and began walking toward them—slow, deliberate steps that somehow felt louder than the traffic around them.
"I just wanted to test a little something," he said calmly. Then he paused, eyes flicking across their faces.
"…Wait. Now I remember."
His smile widened.
"Yummo. Ryuji. Ren. Hikaru."
A beat.
"Hina. Tetsuya. Endo."
Shock hit instantly.
"What—" Yummo started.
Hikaru stepped forward at once, instinct taking over. He pulled a small black box from his pocket. With a sharp snap, it unfolded and reconfigured into a sleek, dark bow, faint energy humming along its limbs.
"Who are you," Hikaru demanded, "and how do you know our names?"
The man didn't answer.
In the blink of an eye—
He was gone.
A sudden impact echoed behind Hikaru.
He spun around.
Ryuji. Ren. Yummo.
All three lay sprawled on the ground.
Unconscious.
Hikaru's breath caught.
He hadn't seen it.
Not the movement. Not the strikes. Not anything.
The man stood among them now, completely relaxed.
Hikaru's eyes widened as the stranger turned toward him and walked closer—unhurried, confident. He leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Name's Kyoya," he said.
"And as of today… the revolution has begun."
Hikaru leapt back instantly, drawing and releasing an arrow in one smooth motion.
The shot struck true—slamming into Kyoya's shoulder.
Kyoya staggered back a step.
Then he laughed.
"Nice shot."
In the next instant, he launched forward.
Hikaru barely had time to react before—
Tap.
Kyoya lightly flicked him on the forehead with two fingers, momentum carrying him past as he sprinted down the street.
"Tag!" Kyoya called over his shoulder, waving lazily.
"You're all it. Come catch me!"
Hikaru stumbled, blinking in disbelief.
Behind him, Ren groaned.
Ryuji pushed himself up with a curse.
Yumiko sat up slowly, clutching her head.
"…What," Ryuji muttered, "the hell was that?"
Hikaru stared down the street where Kyoya had vanished.
Twenty minutes in, the city was already far behind him.
Kyoya sprinted along the sidewalk of a quiet residential neighborhood, streetlights flickering on as dusk settled in. Houses blurred past, fences and parked cars melting into streaks of color as he ran with effortless rhythm.
He glanced over his shoulder.
Nothing.
No footsteps.
No shouting.
No lightning tearing up the pavement.
"Huh," he muttered, slowing just a fraction. "Did they already give up?"
A grin crept across his face beneath the brim of his cowboy hat.
"If I can't find Shoto, they could at least give me a cha—"
CRACK.
Lightning tore through the air.
Sparks exploded across the pavement as Ren rocketed forward, his body wrapped in crackling electricity. In less than a heartbeat, he closed the distance—hand outstretched, fingers inches from Kyoya's shoulder.
"Got—!"
Kyoya stopped dead.
Ren blasted past him.
"—you…?"
Ren skidded several meters ahead before managing to halt, boots scraping sparks across the concrete. His eyes widened as he whipped around.
Too late.
Kyoya sprang upward, flipping clean over Ren's head and landing behind him. He pivoted instantly and bolted down a side street.
Ren cursed and surged after him again, lightning flaring brighter as he pushed his speed even further. He swiped, lunged, reached—only for Kyoya to slide, duck, and twist past every attempt like he was dancing around the attacks.
Then—
Kyoya laughed.
He jumped, landed squarely on Ren's back, and used him like a springboard—launching himself forward in a clean arc before touching the ground again.
"Nice try!" Kyoya called, tipping his hat mid-run. "But hey—let's say… thirty-five minutes?"
Ren skidded to a stop, growling in frustration.
Suddenly—
From the left—
A shadow dropped from a rooftop.
"NOW!"
Yummo came down hard, boots striking concrete as she raised her Proto Sword. The weapon morphed instantly, folding and shifting until a black hand-barrel locked into place around her right arm.
She aimed.
"Don't move!"
She fired.
A compressed blast of energy roared toward Kyoya.
His eyes snapped toward her just in time.
Kyoya rolled forward, the blast screaming past where his head had been a split second earlier. He popped back up smoothly and flicked his wrist.
His cowboy hat spun through the air like a blade.
It clipped the barrel mid-aim.
Yummo yelped as her arm jerked upward—and the weapon discharged uselessly into the sky.
Kyoya laughed. "Hahaha—good one!"
He turned—
And the ground exploded.
Ryuji burst up from a crouch, his right arm encased in a massive earth-forged MMA gauntlet, stone and soil grinding together as he threw a devastating punch.
"GOT YOU!"
The fist slammed down—
—but Kyoya wasn't there.
He grabbed Ryuji's arm mid-swing, twisted sharply, and reeled him forward.
Ryuji's punch hit the ground instead.
BOOOOM.
A massive shockwave tore outward, cracking pavement, rattling nearby houses, and sending dust and debris into the air.
Kyoya patted Ryuji on the head as he dashed past.
Ryuji groaned, pushing himself up as the dust settled. He stared down the street where Kyoya was already disappearing again.
"…What the hell is even happening?!" he shouted.
Kyoya's laughter echoed down the empty street as he continued running, boots barely touching the pavement.
Then—
WHIP.
An arrow sliced past his face, close enough to ruffle the brim of his hat.
Kyoya's smile widened.
He glanced up.
On a nearby rooftop, Hikaru stood with his bow drawn, posture steady, eyes cold behind his glasses.
Another arrow flew.
Midair, it split—one becoming many.
Five.
Ten.
Twenty.
By the time they reached Kyoya, the single shot had fractured into thirty-eight glowing arrows, fanning out in a deadly spread.
Kyoya clicked his tongue. "Oh, that's cute."
He accelerated.
His body blurred as he weaved through the storm, twisting, ducking, and leaping as arrows slammed into the pavement behind him. But the arrows didn't stop.
They turned.
Homing.
Hikaru adjusted his stance and fired again, forcing the barrage tighter, faster.
Kyoya's boots slammed down.
He stomped.
The street shattered.
Chunks of asphalt tore upward as he ripped a slab of roadway free, swinging it up like a shield. The arrows struck—
And embedded themselves harmlessly into the stone.
Dust settled.
Kyoya hunched forward slightly, shadows cutting across his face as he lifted his head and locked eyes with Hikaru.
For a brief moment, his grin vanished.
"…," he said nothing.
Then he dropped the slab, turned, and ran again—vanishing down the street before Hikaru could fire another shot.
Hikaru exhaled slowly and flicked his glasses back into place.
"…This is going to be annoying."
Far away—
On the Moon—
Shoto stood trembling, Zamorak Sword clenched tightly in his grip.
"What do you mean you can't…?" he demanded, voice cracking.
Ayato turned away, walking calmly to the side as if the conversation were academic rather than life-ending.
"In life," Ayato said, "great sacrifices are inevitable. I couldn't think of any other way." He paused. "Besides… you'd probably be the sa—"
"STOP."
Shoto interrupted him.
Black scales spread further beneath his eyes, crawling across his skin like something alive. His breath grew heavier.
"There has to be another way," Shoto snarled. "You can't just erase my existence for—"
Ayato clenched his fist.
"EVERYTHING YOU WANT FROM THE RUNE GATE," he roared, turning sharply, "DEMANDS A GRAND CONSEQUENCE!"
He stepped closer.
"Don't you want your sister back, Shoto?"
Shoto hesitated.
His grip loosened slightly.
"…I thought," he said quietly, "if I reached it… if I just revived her… everything would be okay."
Ayato's lips curled into a devilish smile.
Shoto looked up, resolve hardening.
"But now that I hear you…"
He shook his head.
"…There's no chance in hell I'm using that gate."
Ayato's eyes closed.
In the next instant, he vanished.
Shoto barely had time to react before—
CRACK.
Ayato dropped his greatsword mid-dash and drove his fist straight into Shoto's gut.
Shoto's eyes went wide.
Blood sprayed from his mouth as his body launched backward, slamming into a nearby robot. The machine exploded on impact, flames and debris hurling Shoto across the platform.
He hit the ground hard, skidding across lunar dust.
"Argh—!"
Ayato walked toward him slowly, footsteps heavy in the silence.
"You really don't know what's good for you," Ayato said coldly. "If you get sacrificed to the gate, I can use it for power."
He looked down at Shoto.
"To revive those who've been lost. To fix everything."
His voice rose with fury.
"How stupid can you be?! Don't you want everyone to live happy lives?!"
Shoto coughed, blood staining the Moon's surface beneath him—
But his eyes burned brighter than ever.
And he still hadn't let go of his sword.
Ayato's presence loomed over Shoto, his gaze cold and unyielding.
With a swift motion, Ayato reached down, grabbing Shoto by the collar and lifting him off the ground. Shoto's legs dangled, his body bruised and battered, but his eyes remained defiant.
"You still don't understand," Ayato said, his voice low and menacing. "This is not just about you. It's about everyone."
He threw Shoto against the lunar surface, the impact sending a shudder through the ground. Shoto grunted, pain surging through him, but he pushed himself back up, teeth gritted.
Ayato didn't give him a moment's respite. He closed the distance and delivered a series of rapid, precise strikes. Each blow landed with brutal force, forcing Shoto to stagger and fall again.
"You can't win this," Ayato hissed, grabbing Shoto's arm and twisting it painfully. "The Rune Gate is the key, and you will serve that purpose, whether you like it or not."
Shoto screamed.
Not in pain—
but in fury.
He surged upward, power erupting from his core as the Zamorak Sword dissolved in his grip, black metal flowing like liquid back into his arms. The blade reshaped itself into brutal gauntlets, veins of crimson light pulsing as black fire roared through his forearms.
The heat scorched the air.
Shoto dove downward, momentum and rage carrying him like a meteor as he cocked his fist back.
"RAAAAAAH—!"
He swung straight for his father's face.
Ayato caught it.
His right hand closed around Shoto's burning fist with effortless precision.
The impact sent a shockwave rippling across the Moon's surface, dust lifting into the air—but Ayato didn't move. Black flames crawled over his arm, searing into his skin, leaving burn scars etched deep into his flesh.
He didn't even flinch.
His grip tightened.
"I haven't seen you since you were four," Ayato said quietly, studying Shoto's face. "Hard to believe it's been ten years."
Shoto struggled, teeth clenched, power roaring uselessly against Ayato's hold.
"L-Let—go—!"
Ayato released him suddenly—only to pull a small circular device from his coat. With a precise motion, he pressed it flat against Shoto's chest.
Click.
"What—no—WAIT—!"
The device activated instantly.
Metallic panels burst outward, unfolding and wrapping around Shoto's body in seconds. A space evacuation suit formed layer by layer—locking around his limbs, sealing at the neck, constricting his movement.
Ayato stepped back, eyes calm. Calculating.
"The next time we meet," he said evenly, "it won't be as father and son."
Shoto's breath came fast, panic rising as the suit finished assembling.
"It'll be as enemies."
Small rocket boosters extended from each corner of the suit, humming to life.
"And it will be the last time you stand on Earth."
"NO—!" Shoto shouted, reaching out. "DON'T—!"
The boosters ignited.
Shoto was ripped off the Moon's surface, launched violently into space as the suit's navigation systems locked onto a return trajectory toward Earth.
He twisted helplessly, staring back.
Ayato stood there—alone—silhouetted against the endless stars.
The black scales beneath Shoto's eyes faded, dissolving into nothing as the rage drained from him. His wild pupils softened.
A tear escaped.
"F—FATHERRRRR—!!!"
His scream echoed into the void as the distance between them grew—
until Ayato was nothing more than a speck of shadow on the Moon.
And Shoto Kazami was getting sent back to Earth.