—
Sector 7 was a maze of old rooftops, neon signs, and echoing wind. Rain hammered the city like nails on steel, masking the sound of approaching footsteps.
But Hoshiro felt it—the disturbance in the air, like a blade slicing through silence.
"Split up," he said, crouched beside Ayame and Kazuki behind a crumbling billboard. "They're here. And they're fast."
Without a word, Ayame vanished into the mist. Kazuki zipped toward the fire escape. Hoshiro leapt to the rooftops.
Lightning flashed.
Then he saw him.
A tall figure cloaked in a dark cloak stood alone on the rooftop opposite. No mask. No hesitation. His white hair shimmered like moonlight, and across his bare arms were crimson chakra threads—woven into his veins.
"Hoshiro Kurogane," the hunter said. His voice was calm. Cold. "The Masked Flame. I've waited a long time to meet you."
"Too bad you'll only meet me once," Hoshiro replied, activating his aura. Blue light burst from his body, heating the rain into steam.
The hunter extended his hand, and a blade unfolded from his wrist—red, serrated, and humming.
They rushed each other.
Clash.
The rooftop trembled under the force. Hoshiro's masked eyes narrowed. This wasn't just any hunter.This was Reiji—once the top assassin of the Syndicate. Presumed dead.
"You were a hero once," Hoshiro growled mid-clash.
"I still am," Reiji said with a grin. "Just not yours."
Their blades sparked again—and this time, the sky cracked open with fire.
—