I gave Senior Tanaka a gentle tap on the back. "Calm down". Her side of the story remains incomplete, and only Mikazuki could complete it. While it's still early, I've made up my mind— Today I'll end their cracked relationship. As for the original plot, I have long stopped following it.
Senior Tanaka froze in place, her eyes fixed on Mikazuki, waiting for her next words.
"Tsukuyo, you don't need to know that," Mikazuki said coldly. "Just do as I say."
That was all.
I let out a low groan of frustration. "For god's sak—"
I never finished.
Because in that instant, I saw it—Something dangerous.
Without a second thought, I ripped my school bag off my shoulder and hurled it at Mikazuki with all the strength I could muster.
"Get away!" I shouted.
She stood up and dodged to the side, thinking I had thrown the bag at her—and that simple misunderstanding saved her life.
Because my bag was never meant for her.
It collided squarely with Issai's hand, the one silently gripping a gun aimed straight at her head.
The impact threw off his aim, sending the shot wide.
The sharp crack of the gunshot reverberated through the room, snapping everyone to attention.
Mikazuki's eyes widened in delayed realization—had she not dodged, that bullet would've ended her.
Without wasting a second, she stood behind her chair for cover, her movements swift and calculated.
From beneath her coat, she drew her own gun and leveled it at Issai, her gaze as cold as steel.
"Issai," she said coldly, her finger steady on the trigger. "Care to explain what the hell you're doing?"
But instead of a reply, the room erupted in chaos.
The sharp crack of multiple gunshots rang out, followed by the agonized cries of the wounded.
Mikazuki instinctively turned toward the noise—only to be met with a nightmarish sight.
Half the men who had been standing moments ago now lay sprawled across the floor, bleeding from bullet wounds or fresh blade cuts.
And the ones still standing… were the ones holding the weapons.
Her breath caught in her throat.
It wasn't just an ambush.
It was betrayal.
A coordinated betrayal.
And at the heart of it stood someone she never thought she'd see on the wrong side—her own uncle.
The man she trusted like a family.
Yet, despite the carnage unfolding before her eyes, there was no trace of pain or heartbreak on Mikazuki's face.
Her expression remained as cold and unreadable as ever—save for one thing.
Rage.
A silent, seething fury now burned in her eyes, threatening to consume everything in its path.
"…Uncle," she said, her voice low, measured, deadly. "I never expected you to do this."
The man she addressed was not her uncle by blood, but a distant relative. Once, he had been the head of this branch family—the very one they took shelter in after their main family was slaughtered and her parents were killed.
Though he was well into his later years, he had never married—a fact often dismissed as the result of his indulgence in alcohol and worldly pleasures.
Mikazuki had always known him to be a man of vice, but she hadn't realized the depth of his ambition.
What she failed to see was the greed festering beneath his easy smiles and drunken laughter.
He had once held authority here, ruling over this branch family.
But the moment she arrived, she unknowingly stripped that power from him, stepping into the role of leader as if it had always belonged to her.
"Sorry, my dear niece," he said with a mocking smile, his voice dripping with false affection. "But this young master made me an offer I simply couldn't refuse."
He cast a glance at Issai—one filled not with shame, but with gratitude, as if betraying his own family was a favor returned.
Mikazuki's gaze followed his, and in that moment, everything clicked. The true mastermind behind this treachery was now clear.
Her eyes sharpened, a predatory focus returning to them as she turned her attention fully to Issai.
"Answer me," she demanded, her voice cold and unforgiving. "Which clan do you belong to?"
Issai had been someone her uncle had recommended, a promising young man who was supposedly assigned to watch over Tsukuyo.
At least, that was the story Mikazuki had been told.
But now, the truth was undeniable.
It had all been a ploy. A carefully orchestrated scheme.
Issai wasn't there to protect Tsukuyo—he was there to keep tabs on her, to have her weaknesses on their hands all the time, for this Exact moment.
"My name is Issai Kawaguchi," he said, his tone calm—almost eerily composed.
"The elder brother of the guy you killed years ago. The son of the one who took your parents' lives. And the child of the woman your family killed at the same time."
His eyes locked onto Mikazuki's, burning not with hatred, but with a chilling sense of purpose.
"I'm here to settle the score today."
The Kawaguchi family—of course it was them. The age-old rival clan her family had clashed with for generations.
It was the Kawaguchi who waged war for dominion over the K District, who refused to share influence, who craved absolute control. And it was during that brutal war that Mikazuki's parents were taken from her.
The same clan. The same blood-soaked feud.
The boy she killed all those years ago—the one Tsukuyo had called her very first friend—had been one of them. A Kawaguchi.
At the time, Mikazuki had received intel from a trusted informant. The enemy had found their location. They had sent their youngest son to infiltrate Tsukuyo's life under the guise of friendship, enrolling in the same school to gain her trust.
But it had all been a trap.
On the day she took his life, he had planned to lure Tsukuyo to a scheduled location, planning to eliminate her.
Mikazuki arrived just in time. She never explained the truth—not wanting to shatter Tsukuyo's heart or scar her with the weight of betrayal.
Let her hate me, she had thought. If her hatred is the price for her safety, then so be it.
From that day on, she watched over Tsukuyo in silence, guarding her from the shadows.
To the world, she wore a mask—cold, indifferent, even hostile toward Tsukuyo. A facade she maintained to mislead potential threats.
But now, she realized that mask had been worthless. Because the enemy had already made their way inside.
Issai barely spared Mikazuki another glance as his eyes shifted to Hayato, narrowing with thinly veiled irritation.
A frown tugged at the corners of his lips as he addressed him with disdain.
"I knew you'd be a thorn in my side," he muttered, voice laced with venom. "I don't know who you are, and frankly, I don't care. But don't even dream of walking out of here alive."
I listened to every word Issai spat, my gaze fixed on him without a single twitch of emotion. I didn't speak—I couldn't afford to.
Not yet.
Acting rashly would only get us all killed sooner.
Mikazuki knew that too. Her silence wasn't hesitation—it was calculation.
Around us, the air was thick with tension. The men flanking me and Senior Tanaka had their weapons trained on us, fingers itching on triggers.
And Tsukuyo... she was Mikazuki's greatest weakness.
As long as Tsukuyo remained in danger, Mikazuki's hands were tied. She couldn't make a move.
Suddenly, more gunfire and frantic shouting erupted from outside the hall, followed by the thunderous rhythm of approaching footsteps.
Then—with a deafening **bam**—the doors burst open.
A flood of armed men poured in, moving with swift precision as they fanned out and took positions.
But they weren't here to stop the chaos—they were here to join it.
A path was quickly cleared, and through it strode a middle-aged man with a commanding presence and an unmistakable air of authority.
He scanned the room, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at the scene unfolding before him.
Then, with a booming voice and a proud, guttural laugh, he declared,
"I knew you had it in you, my son. Your father is proud."
His gaze turned cold as steel as it swept across the room.
"Tonight," he growled, "we settle the score with the Tanakas—once and for all."
The timing and everything of this turn of events was completely off from the original plot, throwing me off balance.
I wasn't prepared for this.
But now that I was here, face-to-face with the chaos, one thing was painfully clear: we were in a dire situation.
There were only three of us standing against a room full of armed men, each one trained and ready.
The odds were against us—heavily. Surviving this felt like a dream. A distant, impossible one.
But giving up here… isn't an option.
Not after I came to understand something about myself recently—something I hadn't noticed until now.
I don't know if I was always like this, or if this world changed me… twisted something inside me… or maybe revealed who I really am.
But one truth is clear:
I can endure pain. I can take loss. If it's just me, I don't care what happens.
But seeing someone I care about—someone I've come to deem important—suffer or die…
That breaks me.
It tears through my mind like wildfire, fills my chest with a pain so raw, so consuming, that I wouldn't even feel it if it were my own blood spilling.
And I don't want to go through that again. That's why I need to think. To find a way. Any way.