Hinata fell to her knees. Her arms suddenly refused to support Mayohi's weight, as if her own body was collapsing with her. She gently placed her friend on the ground, almost reverently, as if any rough movement could worsen something already irreversible.
— Mayohi… please… wake up…
Her voice broke. She shook her friend's inert shoulders, first softly… then with wild desperation.
— Mayohi!! Stop sleeping! I beg you! It's okay, the game is over! You can get up now!
Nothing. Just snow falling on her friend's still hair.
— Don't leave me!! she screamed, her throat shattered.
Hinata began breathing in a ragged, disordered way. Her hands trembled, covered in Mayohi's blood. She tried to wipe her friend's motionless face, as if erasing the blood could bring back life.
— You're cold, isn't that it? she murmured, teeth clenched. Don't worry… I'm… I'm going to warm you up…
She took her in her arms, holding her, pressing her cheek against skin already cooling.
Then something broke inside her — a broken dam. Hinata let out a raw, animal scream, a cry no one would ever forget.
She stood up abruptly, staggered, then ran to the alley's opening.
— HELP!!! HELP!! Someone!! PLEASE!!
Her voice tore through the icy air.
— SHE'S NOT BREATHING!! MY FRIEND… SHE'S NOT BREATHING!! I BEG YOU!!
Passersby stopped. One at first. Then two. Then a whole crowd began gathering at the alley's entrance.
Hinata led them, stumbling, face wet with tears, hands stained red. Some stepped back at the sight; others pressed hands to their mouths.
— Oh my God…
— A child…
— Call emergency services!!
— Who did this?!
Already, several people were pulling out their phones. Others ran into the street to stop passing cars. A woman put a jacket over Mayohi's lifeless body to cover her wounds. But nothing changed.
Hinata had collapsed beside her friend. She kept repeating, emptied:
— I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… I should've held you… I should've…
A hand tried to touch her; she pushed it away violently.
— DON'T TOUCH HER!! she shouted, wild-eyed.
— I… I just wanted to help you…
Hinata broke down again, sobbing until she couldn't breathe.
When sirens approached, she no longer heard them. She remained frozen there, heart shattered in pieces.
That very evening.
The television faintly lit the dark living room. Melokosa sat on the couch, hands clasped, elbows resting on his knees. On screen, journalists spoke in grave voices.
> "The police are currently working to identify the driver involved in the hit-and-run. Surveillance cameras in the Bel-Air district captured the scene: a sixteen-year-old girl was violently struck by a black vehicle, which fled without stopping."
Melokosa clenched his teeth. He looked away when the blurred video of the alley appeared.
He didn't even need to see the face: the mass of hair, the size, the clothes… He had known immediately.
The television continued:
> "The license plate was covered. Police request any witnesses to come forward..."
He muted the TV.
The silence that followed was even heavier.
Since returning from the hospital, Hinata had locked herself in her room. No words. No sounds. Just shock.
He stood up slowly, as if afraid to make noise in a fragile house.
He walked to the closed door of Hinata's room.
On the other side… crying. Not normal crying. Crying muffled into a pillow. Crying not willing to be seen. Crying that breaks a heart.
Melokosa placed his hand on the doorknob. He hesitated.
He knew if he entered, he would see something he could never forget: his little sister crushed by grief no child should know.
But he opened anyway. Slowly.
The room was barely lit by the desk lamp. Hinata was curled up on her bed, head buried in the pillow, shoulders trembling. Her fingers clenched the fabric convulsively. Her breathing was irregular — almost painful.
— Hina… he murmured.
She did not reply. As if her pain formed an impassable wall.
He approached, sat on the bed's edge. He gently placed a hand on her back.
Hinata froze. Then hiccupped. Suddenly, she turned and clung to him as if drowning.
— It's… it's my fault… she whimpered, voice strangled.
— No. No, Hina… it's not your fault.
— YES!! she shouted, weakly hitting him with trembling fists. — I should've… held her… I should've… walked with her longer! I should've… been… stronger… faster… I…
Her words were lost in another wave of sobs.
Melokosa hugged her tightly, as if to prevent her heart from falling apart.
— It hurts… sobbed Hinata.
— I know.
— It hurts so much… big brother…
— I know, little sister… I know…
He placed his hand on Hinata's head, slowly stroking her tears-soaked hair.
— I'm here, he murmured. You're not alone.
— She was… everything to me…
— And she loved you. That… doesn't disappear.
Hinata clung to him even tighter, like a child seeking refuge in the storm.
The snow kept falling outside.
Inside the house… the pain did not stop.
But Hinata was no longer alone to carry it.
_____
Three weeks passed like a cold breath.
Three weeks without Mayohi. Three weeks where Hinata moved forward with a broken heart, but a duty forcing her to stay standing. She had resumed training mechanically, almost coldly. Her laughter had disappeared. Her softness too. She was no longer the same.
The hit-and-run driver had never been found. The car seemed to have evaporated into the city's shadows. The investigation went in circles, unable to find any trace, as if the event itself refused to exist.
Elsewhere, in a park.
On a bench under bare trees, a man sat still. White hair falling over piercing green eyes, teeth too sharp to be human… Zar'Khan looked like a predator brooding his frustration.
He passed a hand over his face and sighed loudly.
— Three weeks… Three weeks looking for that kid… and still nothing…
Children ran nearby, laughing as if the world had never known sorrow. Zar'Khan watched absentmindedly, then his fingers clenched.
— With Lucifer's Ascension shadow… I should've guessed, he muttered. — I planted it in that girl, and to finish her, I used this car… now she's undetectable.
He began to smile, revealing blade-sharp teeth.
— But if I can't find her, it's precisely because the shadow has perfectly taken root in her… Hehe… When I find her again, I'll just have to rip it out and swallow it…
A voice interrupted his thought.
— Sir? … Sir?
He turned his head, irritated.
— What now?
A man dressed completely in black, beanie pulled down to his eyebrows, held out a folded newspaper.
— Please… buy a paper? I've been selling since this morning and… I really need money…
Zar'Khan sighed inwardly.
A newspaper? What the hell would I do with that? It's good for—
He stopped abruptly.
The newspaper front page caught his gaze.
> "A young girl dead for three weeks becomes a scientific mystery: Unexplained resistance to decay."
Zar'Khan blinked. Then murmured:
— …It's her.
His heart beat faster. He literally snatched the paper from the seller's hands.
— Give me that.
— Hey! If you leave without paying I'll call the police! protested the man.
But Zar'Khan no longer listened. He read the lines feverishly.
> Identity withheld for security reasons.
No signs of decomposition.
Body impossible to incise or alter.
*Researchers speak of an "unprecedented case."*
Zar'Khan burst into a low, almost hysterical laugh.
— Of course… Of course her body doesn't rot. She carries Lucifer's Ascension shadow… It's a power that sits above all laws, even death… hehe…
— Sir! If you want to read, you must pay! insisted the seller.
Zar'Khan shot a cold glance at him. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a thick wad of bills, and slapped it against the man's chest.
— Here. Now get lost.
The seller was speechless.
— But… that's way too much! My papers cost three coins, not—
— You got your money, cut Zar'Khan, frowning. — Stop bothering me, got it?
The seller immediately stepped back.
Zar'Khan folded the newspaper with almost ritual slowness, his smile returning little by little. A predatory smile.
— That's it… I found you.
— Little shadow bearer… I'm coming for you.
And as he stood, his shadow seemed to stretch behind him — far too long to belong to a mere man.