They ran.
The night swallowed them whole as they tore through the back alleys of Shinjuku. Neon lights flickered in the distance, casting fractured shadows across the rain-slick pavement. Behind them, the city burned.
Ryoji barely felt the pain in his ribs. He gritted his teeth, dragging Aiko forward. No time to stop. No time to think.
The Agency was still coming.
Miura kept pace beside them, blood trailing from a cut on her forehead. Kaito was gone—left behind in the wreckage.
But Shirow was alive. And that meant they were still being hunted.
"Where are we going?" Aiko gasped.
Ryoji didn't answer. He scanned the skyline, calculating. They needed cover. A safehouse.
Miura cursed. "They'll be scanning the entire district."
Aiko clutched the stolen gun. Her hands were still shaking. She had shot someone. She had seen Ryoji stab a man in cold blood.
Her world had shattered. And there was no going back.
Then—sirens.
Drones.
Ryoji's eyes flicked upward. A trio of black surveillance orbs swept over the rooftops, scanning everything below.
Miura shoved them into an abandoned parking structure. "Get inside!"
They ducked into the shadows as the drones passed overhead. One second too slow, and they would've been tagged.
Ryoji exhaled sharply. "We can't stay here."
Aiko's voice was small. "Where do we go?"
Miura hesitated. Then—
"I know a place."
Ryoji's eyes narrowed. "Where?"
Miura glanced at Aiko.
Then she made a decision.
"There's someone who might help us. If he's still alive."
Aiko's pulse quickened. "Who?"
Miura looked away. "An old ghost."
Ryoji didn't like it. But they had no choice.
The Agency wasn't just after Aiko now. They were after all of them.
And soon, the whole city would be a battlefield.
The streets were quieter now. Not safe—never safe—but quieter. The sirens had faded, and the city lights pulsed in the distance like dying stars. Ryoji led them through the underbelly of Tokyo, where the air smelled of rust, gasoline, and the ghosts of forgotten lives.
Miura walked ahead, leading the way to this so-called old ghost—someone she hadn't spoken of before. Aiko stayed close, her fingers clenched around the stolen gun. She hadn't spoken since the last firefight. The weight of it all pressed down on her shoulders.
"Where exactly are we going?" Ryoji finally asked.
Miura exhaled. "An old contact. Ex-Division Zero."
Ryoji's eyes darkened. "And you think we can trust him?"
"No," Miura admitted. "But right now, he's our best shot at making it through the night."
Aiko shivered. She could feel it—something shifting in the air. The city itself seemed to be holding its breath.
Then, a noise.
A faint hum.
Ryoji reacted first, pulling Aiko into an alley as a sleek black drone swept past, its red sensor blinking. It hesitated—just for a second—before vanishing into the skyline.
"Shirow's tightening the net," Miura muttered. "We need to hurry."
Meanwhile—Elsewhere in Tokyo
Shirow stood in the heart of the Agency's command center, his white suit immaculate despite the chaos unfolding below. Screens flickered around him, showing live feeds of his operatives sweeping the city.
"Have you found them?" he asked, his voice unnervingly calm.
A technician hesitated. "Not yet, sir, but—"
Shirow's gaze silenced him.
"They're heading somewhere," he murmured, mostly to himself. "Miura wouldn't lead them blindly. Which means…"
His fingers tapped against the table.
Then, a cold smile.
"Wake the sleepers."
The room went still.
"Sir?"
Shirow turned, his expression unreadable.
"Send in the Black Division."
Back on the streets, Ryoji's instincts flared. He didn't know why, but a chill ran down his spine.
Something was coming.
Something worse than anything they had faced before.
To be continued…Chapter 21....