Hollow crane, Level 11-Boxing gym.
Mop in one hand, broom in the other—Gorro came swinging.
Each swipe of the mop aimed for Kaito's already invisible left arm, the broom trying to strike new targets—legs, chest, neck.
"How does it feel to lose your Nero, monk?" Gorro said, his tone half-mockery, half-madness.
Kaito ducked beneath a broom swing, the mop barely missing his shoulder.
He twisted, pivoted, and smashed his fist straight into Gorro's face.
"You talking too much for a fight," Kaito said coldly.
Another dodge—another hit.
Every time he slipped past a swing, his counter landed clean.
Gorro coughed blood leaking through the corner of his mouth making the surgical mask red.
Then—thwack—Kaito's invisible left fist landed onto Gorro's jaw.
But mid-hit, he noticed it—Gorro's grin widening beneath the mask, his mop already sliding toward Kaito's arm.
"Shit," Kaito thought, pulling back in an instant.
Gorro's mop passed through the air where Kaito's limb had been.
"Sick freak…" Kaito muttered, staring at the janitor's blood-stained smile.
They stood apart now, eyes locked.
Then Gorro sprinted forward.
Kaito didn't move.
Something felt off—four footsteps, not two. As if somebody unseen was moving as well.
"Wait—" kaito thought.
BAM!
A sudden blow landed on Kaito's back, sending him slightly airborne—pitched forward toward Gorro.
Gorro's grin widened.
"Gotcha."
He swung both weapons—mop coming down in a vertical arc toward Kaito's left side, broom horizontally swung aiming for the neck.
The broom met with the neck.
Kaito felt his neck vanish from sight.
He blinked. "Dammit, My neck!" kaito's head hovered in air as his neck became invisible.
Gorro's smirk faltered.
"…Huh? My mop didn't wipe anything…? In what unusual way did you tuck your arm, monk?" Fine—then I'll go for your head."
Saying so Gorro raised his mop aimed towards kaito's neck both of them being still midair.
Gorro raised his mop–but Kaito's legs kicked out first.
He planted both feet square against Gorro's chest and launched himself backward.
The monk flew back through the air—
—CRACK!
—headbutting an invisible boxer right in the gut, blood splattered out of boxer's mouth.
Both Kaito and the invisible boxer crashed to the ground.
Gorro landed on the far side, rolling once before stopping.
Kaito recovered first.
He grabbed hold of the invisible boxer's head — a faint shimmer in the air — and slammed it against the concrete wall.
Before kaito could catch a breathe, Gorro charged from behind, both mop and broom swinging wildly.
Kaito twisted, ducking each blow by inches—whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—until an opening flashed.
He drove his fist straight into Gorro's face.
Thud!
Gorro stumbled back, blood spilling from his mouth, panting hard.
"Dammit… what am I even doing?" he growled. "I've already marked your neck—I don't even need this anymore."
He hurled the broom aside.
Bloody footprints approached Gorro standing beside him—the invisible boxer, his mouth bleeding looking like a trail of blood in the air out of nowhere.
The two lunged at Kaito together.
Kaito didn't even flinch.
He met them head-on.
Each strike, each dodge, each counter flowed like instinct.
The boxer's ribs—cracked.
Gorro's cheek—split open again.
Kaito moved through them like a knife though butter, every punch landing clean.
Then—BAM!
A brutal kick sank into Gorro's gut, folding him in half and sending him crashing to other side of the floor.
Kaito's hand shot out, gripping the invisible boxer's neck.
He forced the man down—
—and drove his knee straight into the boxer's gut.
The breath left the man in a wheeze.
Before pulling his hand away, Kaito folded his elbow—
—and cracked the boxer's face with the point of his elbow, sending him staggering past Kaito towards the opposite direction of where Gorro landed.
Kaito turned towards the invisible boxer, eyes cold, ready to finish the job.
He stepped toward the boxer, fists tightening—
Kaito seemed to have pulled his invisible left hand back as his torso turned like that, reeling back his left arm to throw a punch onto the boxer is what it seemed like he was doing.
Behind him, Gorro rose, blood dripping from his chin.
He grinned through the pain.
"Idiot monk…" he thought.
"You've made a terrible mistake showing me your back."
He lunged, mop in hand, swinging it straight toward Kaito's neck.
"I have worked way past my shift, it time to end this now." he thought
BUT–
SHHHKKK—!
A thin, clean line cut through the air.
Gorro froze mid-motion.
The mop handle slid apart—cleanly severed, split in half
A thin red cut crept from the center of his chest to his forehead.
His mask split down the middle and so did the curved roof of his cap.
"Huh…?"
He dropped to one knee, confusion written all over his face.
He trembled. "Was… was his arm stretched out to the back in my direction—? Even if it was, how did he cut me???"
His trembling hand clutched the torn mask, holding it from sliding apart.
"The broom makes things invisible." kaito said.
Gorro lifted his head upon hearing that line to see Kaito's back facing him.
"The mop erases them." Kaito continued.
Kaito moved his body in swift and fast motions and as he did that multiple slashes appeared on the invisible boxer's body, blood pouring out like fountains.
Then kaito turned back towards Gorro
"But what good's that kind of power, if you can't even see what you're supposed to erase?"
Gorro's eyes widened.
He could see it.
A faint trail of blood—hovering midair along the outline of something long, curved.
A BLADE.
"Impossible…" he thought.
"Then what did I eras—?"he said out loud.
"What you erased back then...was just the sheath of my sword." said kaito as he wiped the blood off of his sword, effectively making it invisible again.
Gorro's eyes went wide as realization hit.
He slumped forward, clutching his torn mask, whispering through a breath that barely held together—
"…shit…"
Kaito stepped back, taking a stance again.
"With your mop gone…"
He raised his unseen sword.
"…this'll be over soon." Kaito said, as Gorro stared at his mop on the ground split in two.
Gorro steadied himself, still bleeding.
He reached down, grabbed the two broken halves of his mop—one in each hand—and straightened up.
"This fool thinks my mop doesn't work anymore," he muttered, tightening his grip.
"What does he think it is? A toy?"
"I still can't see his sword but i'd like to take the risk."
They stood across from each other.
Both wounded. Both breathing heavy.
And as the silence thickened, both men thought the same word—
the same single word that crashed through their minds before they made their next strike—
"TIME TO WRAP THINGS UP."
Hollow crane, Level 15.
Ayame hurled the coat and idol toward a paper man closing in on Rika, then pivoted toward another attacker.
No weapon this time—just her bare fist slamming into its gut.
Paper Cut's head tilted, the spirals on his mask shifting in the dim light.
"…What is she thinking, hitting it with her hands?"he thought.
A sudden fwssh of orange flame bloomed from the paper man's gut, racing up its torso.
In Ayame's hand, the lighter gleamed.
"A lighter?" Paper Cut's voice almost curled into a chuckle. "Adorable. How many of them are you planning to burn with that tiny thing?" He said as other paper men were all around ayame approaching her.
She met his gaze. "That's not my plan to begin with."
Smoke curled into the ceiling vents.
A sharp beep-beep-beep broke through the fight—
—then the sprinkler system exploded into life.
Water poured in heavy sheets, soaking the room.
The paper men staggered, their limbs sagging as folds turned to mush.
Paper Cut's masked face tilted toward her, the spirals almost seeming to tighten.
From the corner, Gaku's grin slipped a little.
Ayame took a fierce stance, as water ran down her face.
"And who said I'm trying to get out?" Her eyes narrowed. "I just need to stay alive long enough." she said.
"Kaito, where are you" she thought while putting out a tough demeanor.
Hollow crane, Level 14– Grand kitchen.
"Inteha ho gayi intezaar ki"
"Aayi na kuch khabar mere yaar ki"
The floor was filled with
The hiss of oil.
The rhythm of knives.
Sanjay, head cook of the floor, hummed softly while flipping a pan.
Beside him, Zaffer and Paatil diced vegetables, each motion sharp.
A small radio sat on the counter — its speaker crackling, half-broken — playing the old Bollywood tune.
"Yeh hum mein hai yakeen, bewafa woh nahin"
The melody swayed through the steam and clangs, soft and distant, like a ghost from a gentler world.
Zaffer caught the beat, smiling faintly.
"Hey sanjay…increase the volume this one's a classic."
Sanjay turned the knob, letting the song fill the air.
"Phir wajah kya hui intezaar ki"[in a higher volume.]
He stirred his chai, saying quietly,
"Guess that monk didn't make it past the drop, huh?"
Zaffer chuckled.
"Nobody falls that far and climbs back up. The man's a stain on the shaft by now."
The song kept playing in the background["Inteha ho gayi intezaar ki"]
Sanjay didn't respond. [ "Aayi na kuch khabar mere yaar ki"]
He just kept stirring.
The spoon clinked against the steel. [ "Yeh hum mein hai yakeen…..]
Slow footsteps could be heard climbing up the 14th floor stairs
[...bewafa woh nahin"]
The three cooks, curious looked over towards the 14th floor stair entrance in anticipation, and curious of who was coming up.
The footsteps got closer now.
The radio kept playing, unbothered.
["Phir wajah kya hui intezaar ki" ] just as that line played
—a figure emerged from the stairwell shadows.
Kaito.
Beaten up, tired, neck and arm visible now, Jinta, still tied up taken hostage in one arm and other arm placed sword against Jinta's neck
The three cooks froze, eyes wide, knives still in their hands.