Naoto Kobayashi's eyes widened as he studied every contour of the boy's face, cross-checking it against the memories buried deep in his mind.
It had been too long. Most of the faces that once burned themselves into his memory had blurred with time.
Back then, he'd been fifteen years old—wielding the strongest Authority—slaughtering government Devil Hunters from China until the rivers ran red. They'd piled on their Costs, burning everything they had, and still couldn't touch him.
Now, he was nearly fifty-three. He'd lost the strength of youth and the Authority that once made him invincible...
But his ambition remained undimmed. His gaze was sharper than ever. His focus, absolute.
If I can claim more than sixty percent of 'That One's' Authority, I'll be a hundred times stronger than I was at fifteen.
As the thought crossed his mind, the boy finally spoke. "My name is…"
What's your name?
He couldn't recall the face, but there were names he would never forget.
Kobayashi swore to himself—if this boy wasn't some nameless pawn, he'd recognize the name instantly.
"My name is—oh, wait!" The boy suddenly turned around.
"…"
He called toward the fallen Black man. "My true name is Hoshino. Don't screw it up when you chant it."
Hoshino?
Kobayashi frowned, racking his brain. No such name came to mind.
Then, a sudden tightness gripped his chest.
Years of battle had taught him to trust that feeling. His body reacted before his brain did.
He dodged back instinctively.
Boom.
It felt like the wind itself had blown him away. The snow beneath him vanished, clearing a wide circle of ground.
He looked up.
A mirror had materialized in midair, a fleshy tendril snaking out of it, the end curling into the shape of a gun barrel.
"Damn, even that trick didn't work," Hoshino muttered. "Guess the Mirror's too slow to shape. Two seconds of lag only works on dumbasses like the original Muscle Devil."
He cracked his knuckles. "Let's wrap this up early."
The wind suddenly howled louder, sweeping sheets of snow like a brushstroke across the dark. And then—Hoshino was gone.
In the blink of an eye, a pale gray fist was already flying straight toward Kobayashi.
Kobayashi conjured a blade of purest snow, pressed his hand against the flat of the blade, and blocked the punch.
Bam!
The impact sent him sliding back dozens of meters, carving twin wings of snow under his feet. He swung his sword to the right.
Hoshino appeared there an instant later, two arms sprouting from his back to catch the blade, his main fists swinging upward like thunder toward Kobayashi's jaw.
Kobayashi's left hand flashed—a second snow blade took shape and hacked down toward Hoshino's arm. The half-formed edge struck Hoshino's gray "armor" with a dull, heavy clang.
A crack split open along the armor, revealing a bloodstained hand beneath.
Kobayashi retreated fast, widening the gap.
More arms shot out from Hoshino's back, but Kobayashi parried and cut them aside, moving smoother with each exchange.
"Damn, this old bastard!" Hoshino hissed, halting mid-attack to regroup.
Kobayashi stopped at what he deemed a safe distance and struck a cocky pose, smiling faintly.
After a few bouts, he'd already seen through this "Hoshino."
He had to admit—the kid's close-quarters setup was impressive. But the flaws were glaring.
[He'd never formally trained in any real martial art. His attacks were too straightforward.]
With Kobayashi's decades of combat experience, all he needed to do was watch out for that weird, slower "gun" strike. Avoid that, and the boy was dead.
"Not bad, not bad! Gendun Linzhi, still showing off your seniority at your age. Fine, I'll admit it—you've earned my respect," Hoshino said, clapping mockingly.
Kobayashi's mouth twitched. "You brat, if you don't understand idioms, don't use them!"
"Kneel!"
"Huh?"
The ice replicas lining both sides of the road all dropped to one knee.
Hoshino walked forward nine deliberate steps, like a king on parade.
Kobayashi mirrored him, stepping back nine times to maintain distance.
"Alright then! Let's have a true man's brawl—no tricks, no running!"
Hoshino adjusted his stance for maximum power, his voice full of fiery confidence.
"Old man, I'll teach you something today. The fist fears the young!"
Kobayashi said nothing, only smiled and raised his blades, already picturing Hoshino's death.
Bang!
Hoshino's speed peaked—near-instantaneous.
What's the point of that? Kobayashi smiled faintly.
They were thirty meters apart. He had more than enough time to read, dodge, and counterattack, finishing it in one fatal strike.
He started to move as planned—only to stumble.
His legs wouldn't budge. Something was gripping them tight.
He looked down.
The wind blew aside the top layer of snow, revealing two prone ice replicas beneath—one of a young boy, one of a grown man—clutching his legs.
"!!!"
He snapped his head up. Hoshino's face was twisted into a feral grin right in front of him.
Kobayashi barely had time to raise his sword before shouting, "fuckk your mother!"
"Keheheh—say it again!" Hoshino's fist smashed into his face. The crack of a broken nose echoed through the air.
"Tell me! Who's afraid of the young now?!"
The words rattled in Kobayashi's dazed mind, followed by a flurry of blows.
Eight arms pummeled him at once. Fists flashed like a storm, the air bursting with each strike.
Before long, Kobayashi was on the brink of death.
But Hoshino didn't kill him.
"Say it. Give me everything. Form a Contract with me!"
"…Form…a…Contract…with…you…"
The Contract sealed.
"Good. Now I've got a question. Answer if you can."
Hoshino spun out a cocoon of silken thread, wrapping Kobayashi up.
"After you split from Go Fujiwara, where'd you go?"
"March second was my father's birthday. Like every year, I called him. But he said I'd already called a few days ago—that today was March seventh."
"Keep going."
"…"
"Alright, forget it."
Hoshino grabbed the cocoon and started dragging it back toward Zao Inn, swiping the Black man's wallet on the way.
In the main hall, Kobeni stood trembling in the center of a crowd thanking her profusely.
"I-I'm an official Devil Hunter from Tokyo," she stammered.
"It—it was just my duty!"
"N-no need to thank me…"
"It's my job, really!"
When Hoshino entered, she looked as if she'd just been pardoned from execution and darted behind him like lightning.
The crowd turned their attention to him immediately.
"Come on! Come on!"
Hoshino spread his arms wide, chest puffed out.
"Thank me with all the sincerity you've got! I'm not afraid of gratitude!"
"…"
Somehow, that made everyone freeze.
"I want a cup of hot coffee," Hoshino said.
"Right away!"
The innkeeper's wife—wearing a navy-dyed kimono—bowed and hurried off.
"Vending machine coffee's fine. I'm in a hurry."
She glanced back. "You want anything?"
Kobeni shook her head quickly. "N-no, I'm good."
"She'll take a cup of hot water," Hoshino said.
"I understand."
The woman went upstairs and soon returned, carrying a pink thermos.
She shuffled over, bowed deeply, and held it out with both hands.
"This thermos was meant as a gift for my daughter, who's entering middle school. But after meeting you… if my girl could grow up as brave and gallant as you, it would be my greatest joy. Please, I insist—accept it."
"Eh? N-no, I can't—it's way too much…" Kobeni's hands flailed in front of her blushing face like windshield wipers.
"Kobeni."
"Huh?"
"Didn't know you were that kind of person," Hoshino said, downing a gulp of hot coffee. His cold hands were finally warming up.
"Wh-what kind?"
"You won't take the gift because you think her daughter can't become as brave and adorable as you, right?"
"Wha—n-no! Of course not!!"
"Then take it."
"I—I can't, it's too expensive—"
"So you do think that."
"I-I don't! I just—"
"Too proud, huh?"
"Ah! No! It's just, I've got work later—I might break it."
"I'll protect you."
"Eh? Ah—th-thank you! But I really can't—"
"Mhm. Keep refusing. I'm curious—how long do you plan on punishing the lady by making her stay bowed like that?"
"Eh? Eh—eh?!" Kobeni finally noticed the innkeeper's wife was still frozen in her original posture, waiting patiently, as if she wouldn't move until the gift was accepted.
"Take it and apologize," Hoshino ordered.
Kobeni snatched the thermos in a panic and bowed ninety degrees.
"I-I-I'm so, so sorry!! I didn't realize!"
"And? She complimented you—you should return the favor. Reciprocity's an important East Asian custom."
The Devil in Hoshino's voice whispered teasingly, "You could praise her daughter. Say something like, 'Your daughter will definitely…'"
Kobeni, red as a beet and barely conscious, blurted out exactly what he fed her.
"Y-your daughter will definitely grow up to be as brave and cute as me…"
Silence.
Then, realizing what she'd said, she slapped her hands over her face, steam practically hissing off her head.
"I'm sorryyyyy!!!"
"Hahahahahahaha!" Laughter filled the room—warm, harmless, genuine.
Hoshino grinned, satisfied, tossing his empty can into the trash and slipping the thermos strap around Kobeni's flushed neck.
"Let's go."
The two stepped back into the storm, cocoon in tow.
Ten minutes later, Hoshino arrived at Okura-kun IV.
Just as he expected, everyone had gathered there.
Like the final rally before a hero's last stand.
Or maybe, just a perfect lineup—waiting for the boss to wipe them all out in one sweep.