BAM!BAM!BAM!
Each impact thundered through the room—heavy, brutal, rhythmic. Like someone trying to beat the breath out of the world itself.
Inside the empty white chamber—no windows, no markings, no mercy—Raya stood her ground.
Her fists were ruined. Knuckles swollen, skin split, blood mixed with sweat until both were indistinguishable. Each strike sent pain screaming up her arms, through her shoulders, into her spine.
She didn't slow.
Didn't stop.
The reinforced walls had endured countless outbursts like this before. Rage trained into discipline. Violence sharpened into obedience.
The iron training unit before her—towering, mechanical, inhuman—whirred as its rotating strike-pads snapped back into place after her final combination. The machine powered down with a dull, mechanical hum.
Silence.
"Tch—!"
Raya rolled her shoulders with a sharp hiss, snatching her water bottle from the floor. She drank greedily, messily, letting exhaustion sink deep into her bones. Sweat dripped from her jaw onto the tiles, staining the sterile white beneath her feet.
Strands of purple hair clung stubbornly to her forehead. She shoved them back and retied her bun with a frustrated tug.
Her tank top clung to her frame, soaked through. Her breathing was steady—but only because she forced it to be.
Then—
SHHHKKK—
The mechanical door slid open.
Raya's jaw clenched instantly.
"WHO THE HELL IS—"
She stopped.
Dead.
Because he walked in.
Long, unruly curls spilled around his face, half-obscuring eyes that always looked like they were remembering something they wished they could forget. A baggy white hoodie hung off his frame, hood drawn up. A scythe rested against his back—casual. Familiar. Lethal.
Yuta.
Raya stared.
Not blinking.
Like she'd just seen either an angel or the devil—and the kind that never bothers to explain which one it is.
"Working yourself to burnout as usual, huh… Raya," he said flatly, gaze drifting anywhere but her.
A grin tugged at her lips before she could stop it.
"Well, well, well…" she drawled. "Do my eyes deceive me? If it isn't the great one himself."
Yuta finally looked at her.
A small smirk curved his mouth—effortless. Infuriating.
"You never change, do you?"
She took another long gulp of water, smirking right back. "I'd argue I've changed quite a bit." A short laugh escaped her. "Careful. I might finally be able to kick your punk ass once and for all."
"In your dreams," he shot back without missing a beat.
Then—
Silence.
Not awkward.
Not empty.
Heavy.
Something settled between them—old, dense, breathing. A pressure that didn't belong to the room, or the machines, or the walls. It pulsed quietly in the air, thick with memory.
Raya felt it before she understood it.
That stillness.
That weight he always carried.
The machines clicked faintly. The vents hummed overhead. And somehow, the quiet screamed louder than anything else.
She exhaled sharply, breaking it.
"You gonna stand there all day?" she asked. "Why are you here, Yuta?"
Her tone dropped. Sharpened.
"I know damn well you didn't come for a friendly visit."
Yuta's smirk faded. Flattened into something colder.
He leaned back against the wall beside her, arms crossing loosely.
"I heard," he said quietly, "we finally got him. The kid—"
"I think you mean the weapon," Raya cut in immediately. Too fast. Too sharp. "And yeah. We do."
Yuta's eyes flicked to her.
Not surprised.
Not angry.
Just dark.
Unreadable.
"I see."
Raya frowned. "Wait—how the hell are you only hearing about this now? We've had him for over a year and a half."
Silence.
Not the kind that lingers.
The kind that presses.
Raya felt her heartbeat stutter—not from exhaustion, but instinct. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong.
She knew Yuta. Had for years.
She'd seen him angry.
This wasn't that.
His jaw was tight. Breath shallow. Fingers curling just slightly at his sides—small tells no one else would notice.
He wasn't just upset.
He was holding something back.
"Okay," she said slowly, lowering her bottle. Her voice turned cold. Focused. "Enough. What the hell is your connection to this weapon?"
Yuta turned toward her.
Slowly.
His eyes—
Hollow.
Empty.
"None of you," he said quietly, "have any idea… how big of a mistake you've all made."
Before Raya could respond—
WHOOSH.
The air folded.
His presence vanished like it had never been there at all.
Gone.
Raya stood frozen, breath caught halfway in her chest, pulse hammering.
"…What the hell…?" she whispered.
For the first time in years—
Raya had no words.
And for the first time in even longer—
She was afraid