Tokyo, Japan.
At Tokyo University, Gakuen-sai's night.
June 18th, 2026
9:54 PM 21° Celsius/69.8° Fahrenheit
The thick smoke still blanketed the battlefield, a choking, smothering veil that refused to lift. Bodies lay everywhere. Blood painted the floor. Screams still echoed, but fewer now. Less chaotic. More… surgical.
Too precise.
Ray was pushing forward, still fighting with rage and instinct, sensing the change in rhythm. Somewhere deep in his core, his breath calmed.
Because someone had arrived.
And he knew who.
Above, Kojima gritted his teeth, watching shadows fall in the fog below.
"Who the hell is that?!" he barked, slamming his palm on the balcony's rail.
"Who's interfering now?!" He added, his voice hinting tense..
The masked woman didn't answer at first.
But her eyes, behind the fox mask, narrowed in realization.
The way the new figure moved — not brute force, not savage like Ray or arrogant like Ryuji — but graceful. Purposeful. Deadly.
The masked woman whispered:
"…Izanami."
"Izanami? Who-?" Kojima stiffened.
"You don't know her, but she's deadly as this man. When they fight together, nothing could stop them. Even God."The masked woman cut him off coldly.
"Stop blabbering. The Mistress doesn't pay you to blabber!." Kojima said, his voice rising.
But the woman ignored him. Her concern is Izanami.
She looked into the smoke and clenched her fists.
"Shit." she whispered to herself.
Then she turned her comms on and screamed:
"Takahashi-kun! Tachibana-chan! Beware! The Devil has backup!"
Ryuji's head snapped up.
He just dodged another strike from Ray when the message hit.
"What the fuck?!" he snarled, barely able to catch his breath.
Maria stopped mid-step, holding her katana tight, tense.
"Another one?" she hissed.
Then the screams returned, this time, short, final, and closer. Yakuza men screamed for only a second before going silent. Over and over.
One.
Two.
Five.
Ten.
And they couldn't see a damn thing.
Only fog. Blood. And silence.
Izanami danced like death itself.
Two daggers — curved, black, and forged in the freezing winds of the Scottish Highlands — sliced through flesh like air. Her steps were light, almost silent, even on broken bones.
Her enhanced sight pierced the smoke.
Her hearing caught every breath, every whisper of steel.
She moved between the screams like a ghost, leaving behind only dead men who never saw her coming.
One Yakuza swung blindly.
She ducked, slashed his throat, and used his collapsing body to leap into the next man's chest, dagger-first.
Two others tried to trap her.
She vanished between them.
They fell without understanding how.
Her body twisted like wind through bamboo , elegant, ruthless.
And every movement was controlled.
No wasted effort. No mercy.
Ray paused. He felt it.
That distinct presence behind him. Not an enemy.
He didn't look back. Didn't need to.
"I told you not to go." he muttered.
Somewhere behind him in the smoke, Izanami's faint voice answered, deadly calm:
"And I told you I wanted to go."
Ray almost smirked — but ducked under Ryuji's incoming slash instead.
"Just fucking die already," he grunted, countering with a punch that knocked Ryuji back.
From above, Kojima cursed.
"Two monsters against us now?!"
He grabbed his pistol and screamed orders to what was left of his men, but the truth was sinking in.
This wasn't a battle anymore.
It was a purge.
The woman, still silent, didn't speak, but her shoulders tensed.
She whispered beneath her breath:
"You came for him, didn't you… Izanami?"
She watched as shadows twisted in the fog , her voice barely audible.
"And yet… he still doesn't know the truth about you."
Maria braced herself. Her instincts screamed that whatever was in the smoke now, it wasn't just another fighter.
It was someone trained, conditioned, engineered to kill quietly. Someone like her… but with no leash.
Izanami stopped.
Covered in blood, but none of it hers.
She knelt briefly beside one fallen Yakuza, ran her dagger across the ground, and stood again, face hidden beneath her hood, voice as cold as her steel.