The bathroom mirror barely recognized them.
Itsuki ran a towel through his hair, water dripping down his face, tracing the bruises that hadn't fully healed. The faint white glow in his eyes had faded, but something colder lingered behind them a quiet resolve.
Ken stood beside him, buttoning up the black formal suit Nifumi had tossed at him that morning. The sleeves were a little long, but somehow it fit. He smirked at his reflection, though his hands still trembled faintly.
Nifumi leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, cigarette between his lips. He looked them over with that crooked grin.
"Well," he said, "you two don't look like corpses anymore.
Itsuki adjusted his collar, silent.
Ken straightened his tie.
Nifumi chuckled, blowing out smoke.
He turned, flicked his cigarette into the sink, and said, "Let's move. Brother's waiting."
Outside, a black car idled under the pale morning sun. The forest behind them was quiet almost pretending the last seven days hadn't happened.
Nifumi opened the door, and the three of them got in without a word.
No music. No chatter. Just the steady hum of the engine as they drove down the empty road, the air heavy with something unspoken.
Itsuki glanced at his reflection in the car window the same face, but not the same person.
Ken leaned back, one hand on his chest where the bruises still ached, whispering to himself, "One week in hell… and it still doesn't feel real."
Nifumi drove, calm as ever, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses. The cigarette in his mouth glowed faintly as he muttered,
"Time to see how far the ghosts have come."
The car rolled to a stop in front of Hayato's house the same one Itsuki had last seen under very different circumstances.
The air was still. The sound of the engine died, leaving only silence and the faint rustle of trees.
Nifumi stepped out first, adjusting his coat. Ken and Itsuki followed, their suits neat but their bodies still aching.
Hayato stood at the front door, waiting. He smiled when he saw them a real one this time, the kind that softened his face.
"Welcome back," he said quietly. "Come inside. Everyone's waiting."
Itsuki bowed slightly. Ken nodded. Nifumi, of course, grinned wide.
"Oi, where's the thanks for me, brother?" he said, tapping Hayato's shoulder.
Hayato's smile didn't fade as he muttered, "Fuck off," and turned inside.
Nifumi laughed under his breath. "Still the same as ever."
Inside, the house smelled faintly of coffee and medicine. The sound of quiet conversation came from upstairs Miyu's room.
When they entered, Miri and Aya were tending to Miyu, who was still asleep, her breathing calm. Miri turned and froze.
Itsuki stood by the doorway pale, thin, bruised, but alive.
Miri's eyes widened, and before he could say a word, she ran straight into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Hey it hurts!" Itsuki winced, but smiled faintly.
"Shut up," she said, her voice trembling. "We missed you so much."
She stepped back, wiping her eyes quickly, then stomped toward the door.
Itsuki blinked. "Uh oh…"
A moment later, Nifumi was in the hallway, just lighting a cigarette, when Miri's voice echoed behind him.
"NIFUMI!"
He turned, and before he could react, she grabbed him by the ear.
"OW—OW—HEY HEY!"
"You said you needed them for something that required manpower! Look at them! They're covered in bruises!"
Nifumi flailed like a scolded child. "Miri-chan, calm down! I didn't do anything! Some things just… happened! I swear! I'm sorry—pwease forgive me!"
Miri tugged harder. "You what?"
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll buy you sweets!"
Aya peeked from the room, trying not to laugh. Ken and Itsuki were leaning on the doorframe, watching the scene.
Ken muttered under his breath, "This bastard it totally the opposite with them."
Nifumi looked at him with one eye half-shut from the pain and grinned, "Watch your mouth, brat, or you're next."
Itsuki steps out of Miyu's room, his face shadowed but steady. The air in the hallway feels heavy — the kind of silence before a storm. Downstairs, Hayato, Nifumi, and Ken wait in the living room.
Hayato's eyes meet Itsuki's.
"You done?" he asks quietly.
Itsuki nods once. "Yeah. It's time."
Without another word, Hayato stands and heads upstairs. The sound of his footsteps fades for a moment, then returns — heavier, sharper.
He appears at the staircase fully suited in black: a tailored blazer, gloves, tie, pants everything sleek, formal, and deadly. Two pistols strapped to his sides.
Nifumi whistles low.
"Well, well… you don't know how much I missed Kurogami," he says with a crooked grin.
Hayato smirks faintly, adjusting his gloves. "Don't get sentimental now."
The butler stands by the door, watching. "I'll guard the house," he says firmly. "No one touches the girls."
Hayato nods once. "You have my trust, Hiroshi san ."
Then, without another word, they head out into the night black coats fluttering under the pale glow of the city.