Flames flickered, licking at the splintered remains of the house. Smoke curled into the air, thick and suffocating, painting the night in a haze of destruction.
And through it all—
He stood there.
Satarou.
A silhouette against the inferno, his stance relaxed, almost amused, as if the burning wreckage was nothing more than a passing inconvenience. The fire reflected in his eyes, twisting into something unreadable.
"Disappointing," he murmured, stepping forward. "I expected more from you, Ken."
I forced myself up, every nerve screaming in defiance. The blast had rattled me, but I couldn't afford to show weakness. Not in front of him.
Not in front of her.
Beside me, Ayane stirred, coughing against the thick smoke. Blood smeared her temple, her breaths uneven. But her grip was still tight around her knife.
Still ready to fight.
I exhaled sharply, leveling my gaze at Satarou. "You always did like playing with fire."
A smirk tugged at his lips. "And you always did try to put it out."
Ayane pushed herself upright, wiping blood from the corner of her mouth. "You talk too much." Her voice was steady, but I caught the edge of something colder underneath.
Satarou chuckled. "Oh? And here I thought you enjoyed our conversations." His eyes flickered toward the destruction surrounding us. "Didn't this little reunion turn out beautifully?"
Ayane's grip tightened around her knife. "You did all this just to prove a point?"
His expression didn't change. "Did I need to?"
Ayane's jaw clenched. I could see it—the flicker of doubt he was trying to force into her.
I took a step forward, ignoring the dull ache spreading through my ribs. "If you're expecting us to fall apart, you'll be disappointed."
Satarou sighed, feigning disappointment. "Oh, Ken. I'm not expecting anything. I already know." His eyes flicked toward Ayane, his smirk sharpening. "You've started to doubt, haven't you?"
Ayane didn't move.
Didn't even flinch.
Then, suddenly—
She laughed.
A short, sharp sound. "You think you know me?" she said, her tone dangerously light. "That just because you played puppet master, you understand what I want?"
Satarou's smirk didn't waver. "I don't need to understand. I just need to watch."
Ayane moved first.
Her knife flashed forward—fast, precise.
Satarou barely reacted. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist before the blade could touch his throat. Effortless.
Ayane's eyes narrowed. "Let go."
Satarou tilted his head, feigning curiosity. "You're quick." His grip tightened. "But not quick enough."
With one sharp motion, he yanked her forward, twisting her arm behind her back.
A strangled gasp left her lips.
My vision went red.
I lunged, aiming for his ribs.
Satarou released Ayane, sidestepping smoothly.
"You're both so predictable," he mused.
Ayane staggered but didn't fall. She spun, her eyes dark with fury. "And you're stalling."
Satarou grinned. "Am I?"
I moved again, feinting left before driving my fist toward his face. This time, he caught my wrist mid-air, his grip like iron.
His smile didn't waver. "Still so stubborn." He twisted my arm slightly—just enough to send pain shooting through my shoulder. "You never did learn, Ken."
I gritted my teeth. "And you never did shut up."
Ayane moved again—faster this time. Her knife cut through the air, aiming for his throat.
Satarou let the blade skim his cheek, a shallow cut forming. A single bead of blood rolled down his skin.
He laughed.
Ayane froze for half a second.
Satarou's voice was almost mocking. "Not bad."
Ayane's breathing was sharp. "I'm going to kill you."
His smile widened. "Now that's what I like to hear."
Ayane didn't hesitate this time. She lunged again, her blade a blur—
And Satarou stepped back. Just enough to let the knife miss by inches.
He wasn't even trying.
I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to stay steady. "You're playing with us."
Satarou's smirk remained. "Of course I am."
Ayane's voice was cold. "Why? If you want to kill us, do it."
Satarou tilted his head slightly, as if considering. Then he leaned forward, voice almost a whisper.
"Because it's more fun this way."
Silence.
And then—
Ayane lunged again.
This time, she almost caught him.
Almost.
Satarou's laughter echoed as he stepped back, out of reach. "Not bad, Ayane. You're getting better." His gaze flickered between us, amusement dancing in his eyes. "But you're still not ready."
I clenched my fists. "For what?"
Satarou's smirk widened. "For what comes next."
He took a step back, retreating into the shadows. "We'll be seeing each other again soon."
And then—
He was gone.
Just like that.
The fire crackled, the only sound filling the emptiness he left behind.
I exhaled, forcing myself to steady my breathing. The pain was catching up to me now, every wound screaming for attention.
Beside me, Ayane was still staring at where he had disappeared.
Her fingers curled tightly around the knife, knuckles white.
I didn't say anything.
Because I knew.
The next time we saw him—
We wouldn't be walking away so easily.
--