Chapter 7 – Isolation.
The streetlights hummed, their glow trembling faintly against the cold air. Not bright enough to chase the dark away — just enough to make the road visible, a thin strip of light cutting through the silence.
Damon walked with his hands in his pockets, his steps steady but heavy, each one echoing faintly against the pavement. He didn't look back at the alley where the fight had ended — only forward, as if the past had already sealed itself shut.
"You can come out now," he said without turning his head, his voice calm but edged with certainty.
Two shadows peeled themselves from behind a parked truck.
Daiki scratched his head, sheepish. "Man, how'd you even know we were here?"
Damon glanced at him, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth. "This area's a no‑cat zone. But your meow was pretty decent."
Daiki blinked. "Wait… what?"
"Never mind."
Natsuki stayed quiet, her eyes lowered, her silence heavier than the night itself.
"So," Daiki said, nudging Damon with forced levity, "you're Cipher now? What's that, your superhero alias or something?"
Damon sighed, the sound carrying like smoke. "It's just a name."
Daiki grinned, trying to cut through the tension. "Since when did you know how to fight like that? Last year, you couldn't even pass the vertical jump test — joined the music club, remember?"
Damon didn't answer right away. He tilted his head back, looking at the sky — the streetlight's glow carving thin lines across his face, shadows deepening around his eyes. Then he told him everything.
The ring. The generator. The fight. The explosion.
Daiki's grin faltered halfway through, his face dropping. "My dad's entire research… gone."
"I'm sorry," Damon said quietly. "It wasn't my fault. It was the ring's."
"Yeah, about that," Daiki muttered, "where is the ring?"
"It blew up when I fought," Damon replied simply.
"You're the reason I came to Japan," Daiki groaned. "We were having a nice holiday!"
"Great. I get blamed for international disasters now," Damon said reluctantly, his tone dry.
"Why are you saying it like coming to Japan was the worst thing ever?" He added.
"Because I had plans, Damon!"
Damon raised an eyebrow. "What plans?"
Daiki groaned. "I was supposed to shadow a robotics team in California and hit Button Mash so I could beat my cousin at Tekken. Now I'm shadowing a gang leader who dodges bullets."
Damon smirked. "Sounds like an upgrade to me."
"Upgrade my ass!"
"Okay fine, jeez… I'm sorry. What else do you want me to say?"
"You owe me one, Damon. I'm not forgetting it."
He turned to Natsuki. "You're awfully quiet."
Her voice was soft, but her eyes weren't. "Damon… you're a gang leader now. Why didn't you just run? Why become one of them?"
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate. "If I ran, they'd just find someone I cared about and—"
"They're gangsters, Damon," she cut in sharply. "They're not that smart."
His tone sharpened, low but edged. "I can't take that chance."
For a moment, they just stared at each other — the air between them heavy, crackling, as if the street itself was holding its breath.
Then he looked away. "Besides, I've got a plan. I'm gonna change them."
Natsuki frowned. "Change them? They're criminals."
"Exactly," Damon said. "They'll clean up the city every night for three hours. They think it's punishment — it's redemption."
Daiki laughed. "You sound like a motivational speaker with anger issues."
"Shut up," they both said at once.
He snorted. "You two sound like a couple."
"Who's a couple?" Natsuki snapped, glaring.
They lunged at him, chasing him down the sidewalk as he dodged between lamp posts, laughter spilling into the night.
By the time they slowed, the streets were quieter, the night softer.
They walked Natsuki home, the night air carrying the faint smell of rain on concrete.
"You do realise that I don't need your protection," she said, crossing her arms, her tone sharp but her eyes softer than she wanted them to be.
Damon and Daiki exchanged a look — both leaning sideways, hands on their heads like idiots caught in the act.
"Oh yeah, totally," Daiki said, trying to hide his laugh.
"Strongest girl in Japan," Damon added, his smirk faint but teasing.
She turned and punched them both in the gut. They bent over in sync, groaning, their laughter breaking through the pain.
"Why are you on the basketball team again?" Daiki wheezed.
"Should've joined the judo club," Damon muttered, clutching his side.
They all laughed, and for a brief second the world didn't feel so heavy, the streetlights humming above them like the city itself was exhaling.
Then Daiki's tone dropped, cutting through the moment.
"You're lucky the cops weren't around when you fought that guy."
"Yeah," Damon said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of something unspoken. "I got lucky."
Daiki studied him. "Any other secrets you wanna drop on us?"
Damon's expression shifted — calm, but the kind of calm that hurt to look at.
"My mom," he said. "Before she passed she said some things."
"What things?" Daiki asked, his grin fading.
Damon paused. "She said she never wanted me, and her death was my fault… which is kinda true."
Natsuki's voice trembled. "What do you mean kinda true?"
Damon lowered his gaze, the streetlight carving shadows across his face.
"Remember Mr. Karuizawa's biology class?"
Daiki groaned. "The one who kept calling mitochondria 'power beans'?"
"Yeah. He told us about fetal microchimerism."
Natsuki blinked. "That thing where cells from a baby stay inside the mother's body?"
Damon nodded slowly. "Even after birth. Even after death."
A pause.
"She said she could feel me — even when she didn't want to." His voice cracked slightly. "And when she got sick… she blamed me."
No one spoke. Just the hum of the streetlights, just the weight of that truth pressing down on them.
"Why didn't you tell us?" Natsuki whispered.
Damon smiled faintly, but it was the kind of smile that carried pain. "Didn't seem important."
"That's not something small," she said, her voice breaking. "If I knew—"
Her own words echoed back at her — Kinda used to your crappy apologies. It had been a joke then, but now it felt cruel, heavy, something she wished she could take back.
"It's fine," Damon said. "You were right anyway."
Neither of them spoke again.
When they reached her house, Natsuki hesitated at the door. Her eyes met Damon's — searching for something he wouldn't show.
"Goodnight," she said softly.
"Yeah," he answered.
The door closed.
Daiki stuffed his hands in his pockets. "So… school tomorrow?"
Damon glanced sideways. "You forgot? We're on holidays in Japan."
"Oh yeah. You graduated in America, huh?"
"Something like that."
They parted ways at the intersection. A manly high five before they did.
Damon walked on. Street quiet. Air cold.
His thoughts spilled like whispers in the dark:
I'm gonna have to change the gang's name.
I'm in charge of these men now. I've never had responsibilities like this before.
What if I fail them? Should I have just let them kill me?
Dad would've been thrilled. Mom… she'd be glad to see me in hell.
But Natsuki — I can't bear the thought of her tears. When she cries, it's painfully beautiful. Like looking at the sun with bare eyes.
Daiki would be broken too. They'd both fall — even if just for a while. I don't want that. Not now.
So yeah… I guess I made the best choice. I think I'll call them—
The wind shifted. Something felt off.
Then—
A kid stepped out from an alley. He was in strange clothes, eyes sharp, the kind of stare that cut through the night.
"Yo," Damon said, "It's not hallo—"
The punch came fast, right to the gut.
Damn, he thought, I'm getting hit there too much today—
The kid raised his leg, kick aimed at Damon's head. Damon ducked, the ground cracking behind him.
"What's up with you—"
Another hit. Blocked.
Enough. Damon moved — fast, his body snapping into instinct. A spinning kick to the kid's face.
The boy fell, rolled, and got up again like it was nothing.
Then Damon felt it — presence behind him. Another one. Two of them. Same outfits.
"What the hell…" he muttered, just before the first charged.
The fight broke loose — two on one. Damon held his own, barely, fists and kicks colliding in a blur of motion.
One hit the ground. Damon focused on the other, his grip tightening.
Damn, these kids are too strong for five‑year‑olds.
"We're not five," said the kid Damon was strangling, his voice sharp, his eyes glowing faintly.
"How… did you just read my mind? Did Kuroshi send you?"
The other woke, leaping from behind — a blur of speed. A circular shuriken like device in his hands.
A flash. Then impact. Darkness.
"Mission complete," one said.
A circle of light — no, a portal — opened in front of them. The air shimmered, folding in on itself, reality Obending like glass under pressure.
And just like that, Damon vanished.