[1 Week Later: Graveyard]
The sky hung heavy and gray, a thick shroud that seemed to choke the light, the stillness pressing down like the world was holding its breath. The cemetery stretched out in muted tones—pale stones jutting from damp grass, the air thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth and wilted flowers. A few crows perched on a leaning oak, their black feathers ruffled, silent sentinels watching with unblinking eyes. The quiet was oppressive, amplifying the thud of Taro's heartbeat in his ears.
Taro stood at the edge of the gravel path, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his full black attire—a worn jacket and pants that clung to his frame, the fabric creased from the weight of the day. His green eyes, shadowed with fatigue, drifted across the rows of graves until they settled on two new mounds, the dark soil still raw and unclaimed by time. Simple markers stood atop them—carved names and dates, stark and final, etched into stone that felt too cold to hold the memory of lives so vivid.
A few steps ahead, Nodoka knelt before the graves, her black hair swaying gently in the breeze, strands catching the dim light like threads of midnight silk. She moved with a grace that seemed detached from the bitterness around her, laying down a bundle of wilted flowers with trembling fingers, pressing them into the soil as if imprinting a silent message. Her voice, when it emerged, was steady—low, sure, and laced with a depth that transcended grief.
"Mother… Father… it's been a week now since you left me," she said, her tone a quiet anchor. "But I'm grateful I wasn't left alone. I have friends—real people—with me at this time." She rose, her spine straightening, her dark eyes red but fierce. "I think the reason I'm here is because you wanted me to be… and my friends… Taro in particular."
Taro watched from behind, her words sinking into him like roots breaking stone. She didn't tremble. Didn't break. *Wow, she's not breaking, not trembling at all,* he thought, a strange twist of admiration, guilt, and something warmer curling in his chest. If anything, she looked stronger, her resolve a quiet flame against the gray.
Other friends of Nodoka's parents approached, their black-clad figures moving with solemn grace. They paid their respects—whispers of prayers, hands brushing the markers, tears streaking weathered faces—enough to make grown men sob openly. The scene swelled with raw emotion, a communal ache that hung in the air.
Taro's lips curved into a faint smile, his green hair shifting as he tilted his head. *This is kind of nice. I don't know what kind of people Nodoka's parents were, but I think they were pretty great to have caused this. I hope I get a funeral like this when I die one day—it doesn't have to be a full community, but at least all the people that I cared about there—the people that matter—with me.*
But then that feeling crept back, a cold shadow over his thoughts. He stared down at his hands, flexing them slowly, the knuckles still faintly scarred from the fire. *But then again, this wasn't some sort of home accident. It was intentional. It was murder. And I'll be damned if I don't find the bastard who did this and return the favor. Well, I'll be damned to hell.*
**[After]**
A small crowd of mourners, cloaked in black, formed a semicircle around the two adjacent graves. The priest's final prayers lingered in the air, a soft chant fading into the wind. As the crowd began to break apart, people bowed silently to Nodoka, their faces etched with sympathy.
But then, something odd. Nodoka's best friends, Tsubaki and Yui, appeared—late, their arrival jarring against the ceremony's end. Tsubaki's sleek black bob framed a sharp, painted face, her designer dress hugging her lithe frame, a faint shimmer of glitter on her cheeks. Yui's long, wavy hair cascaded over a tailored coat, her eyes wide with feigned concern, a bracelet dangling from her wrist.
They rushed to Nodoka, enveloping her in a tight hug. "Nodoka, oh my God, are you alright?" Yui asked, her voice thick with worry.
"I'm alright, guys… really," Nodoka replied, a wary smile flickering across her pale face.
"Oh, poor you," Tsubaki cooed, pulling her into a stronger embrace, her voice syrupy. "Come with us, Nodoka. We'll get you something to eat and have a chat."
As Yui and Tsubaki tugged Nodoka along, she didn't resist, her expression a mix of relief and exhaustion—glad her friends were there, yet silent. But Taro's voice cut through, nervous yet sharp. "Before you two leave… Nodoka deserves to know why you showed up late today."
He exchanged a quick, uneasy glance with Yui, her eyes narrowing. "Taro, not now, you freak—the traffic was insane near the bridge."
A cold smile spread across Taro's face, his green eyes glinting with disdain. "Traffic, eh? Funny. 'Cause I know you live on the west side. The cemetery's south. No bridges between you and here."
"We… we took the long way. We were upset!" Yui stammered, her hands fidgeting with the bracelet.
"Oh, oh, upset? Is that what you call it?" Taro turned to Nodoka, his tone softening but firm. "While the two of us were in the hospital all week, these two 'friends' of yours didn't visit once. Not even one goddamn time. Why's that so?"
"Okay, first of all, we were extremely busy! We had… family stuff… not that you can relate," Tsubaki mocked, her voice dripping with confidence, chin lifted defiantly.
Taro chuckled darkly, the sound cutting. "Haha, very clever. Family stuff, right? By 'family stuff,' do you mean the Starline KPOP Concert—three nights plus in a row? The one you posted about all over Insta and TikTok? In those lightstick videos, you're screaming your lungs out in the front row."
He pulled out his phone, the screen glowing, but didn't need to show it—their faces drained of color, guilt etched into Tsubaki's sharp features and Yui's wide eyes.
Tsubaki stammered, "Th-that was before! That was before the weekend!"
"No, no, that's a lie. The concert started the day right after the accident. You were tagged in stories every night. While Nodoka was fighting…" His voice rose, raw with disdain. "…struggling just to breathe and stay alive, you were dressing up like some kind of Barbie doll, dancing like an idol, and taking selfies with the hashtag #BestNightEver."
Nodoka's eyes widened, shock rippling through her. She hadn't known—she'd been off her phone, lost in sleep and pain. She looked at Yui, then Tsubaki, her voice trembling. "Guys, please say what he's saying isn't true."
They nodded slowly, a weak "no," but the evidence and Taro's claims hung heavy, impossible to dismiss.
Taro's voice surged, anger simmering. "And let's not forget today… today you were late to her parents' funeral—not because of traffic…" His tone grew cold, icy. "…but because you were at the Starline VIP Fan Meet this morning—downtown. I saw your Snap locations. You rushed here straight from there, still wearing the wristbands."
He lunged forward, grabbing their wrists before they could hide them, the concert bands glaring under the gray sky. "Sick lying scum."
"We… we thought we could make it in time…" they mumbled, their voices deep with a plea for forgiveness.
Taro's fury didn't waver. "Shut your goddamn asses up—you didn't even try. You two chose a concert over being there when she needed you the most. You chose a fan meet over standing beside her when they lowered her parents into the ground."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper, each word a stone. Taro's green eyes burned with unfiltered disdain and disappointment. "You two weren't her friends. You were never. You… you were just… around."
Silence fell, thick and suffocating. Nodoka looked at Yui and Tsubaki—really looked at them—their designer black dresses, fresh makeup, concert bracelets peeking out like badges of shame. She turned away, toward her parents' graves, her silence louder than words.
They bowed their heads, shame weighing them down, and slipped away into the crowd.
Taro moved to Nodoka's side, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. "I'm sorry they weren't real," he said, his voice soft but steady, the weight of the moment binding them.
[Elsewhere: Sewer Lair]
Deep beneath the city, a sewer lair pulsed with a damp, oppressive gloom. The air reeked of mold and stagnant water, the faint drip of leaks echoing off moss-slicked walls. Dim, flickering lights cast jagged shadows across a cluster of screens, their glow illuminating a trio of figures hunched over a makeshift control panel. The screens displayed Taro from multiple angles—graveside, hospital bed, confrontation with Tsubaki and Yui—his green hair and fierce eyes captured in every frame, a silent prey under scrutiny.
The Rooftop Watcher loomed at the center, his tattered cloak blending with the darkness, the brim of his hood shadowing a face twisted with a manic grin. His eyes glowed a malevolent amber, glinting like embers as he threw his head back, laughing insanely. "I don't know what's funnier—the fact that the girl's parents are dead now and the boy just had to go tell her that her friends were fucking fakes, or how damn bloodlusted he is to come for us!" His voice rasped, a jagged edge to the mirth, the sound bouncing off the walls like a caged beast.
Beside him, a Rune-Masked Figure shifted, its face obscured by a carved rune mask etched with glowing sigils that pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat trapped in stone. The figure's laugh started low—a slow, creeping chuckle—before swelling into a harder, guttural burst. "Hehehe… they are interesting, quite interesting. But I wonder how he'll react when he finds—or well, more like when we get him—and he learns…" The mask tilted, the sigils flaring as the figure's smile deepened, a sinister curve that promised ruin. "…he's completely powerless."
The Rooftop Watcher's grin widened, sharp as a knife's edge, his amber eyes locking onto the Rune-Masked Figure with a predatory glint. The void between them seemed to thicken, charged with unspoken malice. Nearby, the Void-Masked Figure stood silent, its mask a featureless black abyss, the surface swallowing light. Its head tilted slightly, skeletal fingers clutching an unseen object—a faint shimmer in the air suggesting something intangible, a weapon or relic of shadow.
"Yeah," the Rooftop Watcher agreed slowly, his voice dropping to a low, venomous drawl, the laughter fading into a cold promise. He leaned closer to the screens, one claw-like hand tracing Taro's image, the glow reflecting off his jagged nails. "Let him come. Let him rage. We'll strip that fire from him and watch it burn out."
The Rune-Masked Figure nodded, the sigils on its mask flaring brighter, a low hum vibrating through the lair. "His heart's his weakness. We'll turn it against him—make him beg for the power he thinks he has."
The Void-Masked Figure remained still, its grip tightening on the unseen object, a ripple of darkness pulsing from its form. The screens flickered, Taro's determined face looping in silent defiance, unaware of the trap tightening around him.