After school, Kuroha couldn't resist his bros' enthusiasm and headed to Matsuda's place to check out his prized collection.
Time flew by unnoticed.
They were ogling stuff that should've had them pumped and throbbing, but somehow the trio grew quieter, sinking into melancholy over "why don't I have a girlfriend?"
Especially when Motohama dropped:
"...Some girl called me behind the gym once... my first time in life... getting blackmailed..."
Kuroha nearly burst into tears.
Three unloved high schoolers, fantasizing about others' lovey-dovey bliss—Kuroha ground his teeth.
This damn world—why hasn't it ended yet!
Glancing at the wall clock, it was already 10 PM. He'd told his family he'd be at Matsuda's, but staying out too late would worry them.
"I gotta head out..."
Motohama chimed in.
"Me too."
Minutes after splitting from Motohama, Kuroha couldn't take the tearing sensation from the power bursting in his body. He squatted on the road, panting heavily, lost.
Something's wrong with my body. His senses had sharpened insanely.
Hearing and sight boosted big-time. The night street was crystal-clear; even faint moans from a distant house rang loud.
"Fuck... starting this early? Damn..."
And it got sharper daily.
Kuroha shivered without reason, icy dread crawling through him.
No... not imagination. This targeted chill was real!
He whipped around. Far off, a black-clad man glared murderously.
Normally, that distance made eye contact impossible, but Kuroha felt those eyes on him.
Just locking gazes chilled him to the bone.
What is this... killing intent?
He watched the man close in, his own trembling worsening.
Can't stay still—this guy's vibe is too intense. Standing here spells trouble.
Before the man got close, Kuroha's power erupted. He bolted, wind howling in his ears, stinging his face.
This speed... no normal human could match it.
Kuroha realized it clearly.
"Running? Who owns you anyway? Picking a spot this far from downtown—either low-class or into kinks..."
The black-clad man muttered, then vanished.
Kuroha sprinted hard, convinced no one could catch him. Scenery blurred—road to street, street to park.
Unknowingly, he'd covered serious distance.
He stopped, not even winded, scanning warily.
"Should be safe here?"
Kuroha exhaled.
But...
That familiar chill hit. He spun.
Black feathers scattered on the ground.
His pupils dilated, terror plain.
The black-clad man hovered midair, massive black wings—just like Yuma's—spread wide.
"Your master's name? You here messes with my plans—what if you interfere? Wait... that look... are you a 'Stray'? Makes sense with that dumbstruck face—no master explains it..."
Spotting Kuroha, the man muttered like a creep, drawing conclusions.
Kuroha understood zilch.
The man closed his eyes briefly, then opened them.
"Yeah, no master or ally aura. You're a Stray, so killing you's no issue."
A vicious grin split his face.
That familiar screech rang out. Kuroha froze, pupils quaking from fear—then focused.
Light gathered in the man's hand, forming something Kuroha knew too well.
A gleaming black spear.
The spear Yuma killed me with!
Gonna die again!
Again?
The thought flashed—then the spear launched, punching through his gut.
"Grk! Cough..."
Ripping agony shredded his nerves; blood gushed from his mouth.
Fuck, that hurts.
Knees buckled; he hit the ground, hands clawing for the spear in his abdomen.
Sizzle.
Touching it sparked meat-roasting sounds, oil popping.
Scalding—exaggeratedly so. His hands blistered red instantly.
"Aaahhh..."
Kuroha groaned. Just a touch did that—his gut must be charred.
Footsteps approached.
Gritting through pain, he looked up. The man loomed, gripping an identical spear.
The black-clad man cackled eerily.
"Stings, huh? Light's pure poison to you lot—like venom to snakes. You're tough, though—I figured low power would do. Not my sadism if one spear doesn't kill; this time, more light power. You're done."
He raised his arm high, poised to thrust.
Finishing blow? Dead for real...
One stab, and it'd be instant—no suffering.
The deja vu dragged him back to the dream's end.
That crimson...
Did she save me?
Was it a dream?
If that was, is this one too?
Whatever—save me! I don't wanna die!
Whoosh!
The thought barely formed when wind pierced his ears—then exploded.
Smoke rose from the man's hand, blood dripping.
"My pawn, and you touch him?"
A woman's proud, icy voice passed by Kuroha.
He couldn't see her face—just that vivid red hair.