The safehouse air was thick enough to chew on. Rain methodically cleaned Cadris, each swipe of the cloth a metronome of contained fury. Genrou stood by the window, a granite statue whose silence was louder than any alarm. Ren sat on the worn couch, trying to ignore the Hunger's faint, whispering itch beneath his skin—like a song he couldn't quite stop humming.
Thwack.
The silence shattered. A monomolecular-edged throwing knife now vibrated in the center of their wooden table, pinning a small data drive like a butterfly specimen.
Before anyone could move, a voice, smooth and utterly bored, drifted from the doorway. "Knock, knock."
Rain had his weapon up in a flash, but the figure in the doorway didn't flinch. He was lean, dressed in sleek black tactical gear that looked more expensive than their entire safehouse. His hair was silver-white, and his sharp amber eyes scanned the room, cataloging each of them with the detached interest of a tourist at a zoo.
"Kaito Shiranui," he introduced himself, strolling in as if he owned the place. He nodded at the knife. "Consider that my resume. And my doorbell."
Ren shot to his feet. "Who the hell are you?"
"The guy who's going to keep you from getting turned into a Hive paperweight," Kaito replied, his gaze lingering on Ren. He reached out and poked the air near Ren's shoulder, where a wisp of shadow had instinctively curled. "Huh. It really does do that. The files made it look... bigger."
Rain's voice was a low growl. "Give me one reason not to test your intangibility right now."
"Because the 'Lily of the Valley' facility has a six-hour lockdown timer, and you need the decryption key on that drive to get what you want," Kaito said, plucking an apple from their fruit bowl without asking. He took a loud, crisp bite. "Also, I'm very charming."
"We don't know you," Genrou rumbled, not turning from the window.
"And I don't know you," Kaito countered with a shrug. "But I know you're all that's standing between Rei and a city full of customized nightmare hybrids. I'm a freelancer. You trust me, you might survive. You don't, you'll definitely fail. It's simple math."
As if on cue to defuse the standoff, the rooftop door creaked open. Aoi padded in, barefoot and wrapped in an oversized, soft sweater. She blinked at the scene—the knife in the table, the armed stranger, the palpable tension.
"Oh," she said softly. "I brought tea. It seemed... tense down here." She held up a tray with a steaming pot, her presence immediately softening the sharp, metallic energy in the room. The air itself seemed to grow easier to breathe.
Kaito stopped chewing, his analytical eyes narrowing at her. "Huh. A Soporific. Rare." He tilted his head. "You know, if you stopped suppressing your output, you could probably put an entire city block to sleep.
Just a fun fact."
Aoi offered him a gentle, unimpressed smile. "And if you stopped talking with your mouth full, you could probably avoid sounding quite so rude. Just a practical observation." She turned to Ren, her expression softening. "I heard we might have company. I thought you could use a friendly face."
Ren felt a knot in his chest loosen. "Aoi, you shouldn't—"
"Don't 'shouldn't' me, Soji-boy," she chided gently, using the old childhood nickname. "I'm not the one who turns into a shadowy Oni when I get hangry. Besides," she added, looking at Kaito, "if he tries anything, I'll just make him take a very sudden, very deep nap."
Kaito actually smirked, a flicker of genuine amusement in his eyes. "I like her. She's spicy. Keep her close, Soji. She's the only one in this room with a functional emotional processor."
Rain finally lowered Cadris, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Shiranui, you have until the mission starts to prove you're not going to sell us out. Aoi, the tea is... appreciated." He looked at the motley crew assembled in his safehouse: a legendary grandfather, a hybrid bomb, a sassy spore-user, and a mercenary who apparently thought breaking and entering was a valid greeting.
"Alright," Rain sighed. "Kaito, you're on intel and field tactics. But one wrong move..."
"You'll feed me to the shadow monster. Understood," Kaito finished, tossing his apple core perfectly into the trash can across the room.
Aoi stepped over to Ren and pressed a single, dormant spore into his palm. It glowed with a soft, reassuring light. "For luck," she whispered. "And to remind you that not everything that grows from the dark is dangerous. Some things are just quiet."
Ren looked around the room—at his stern uncle, his formidable grandfather, the infuriating new ally, and the adopted sister who had always seen the boy behind the monster. His shadow, which had been restless at his feet, settled into a calm, dark pool.
A chill ran down his spine. For a moment, the room felt smaller, the shadows heavier. The thought of Rei, of Silas Vex, and their twisted experiments lingered at the edges of his mind like a cold fog.
Kaito's amber eyes caught it. "Oh, by the way," he said lightly, voice slipping into serious edge, "the Hive isn't your biggest problem. There's a scientist involved. Cold, precise, genius-level dangerous. Silas Vex. He's orchestrating the chaos behind Rei. If you think fighting shadows is hard, try outsmarting a man who treats you like a specimen."
Ren's jaw tightened. "Figures. Nothing about this is ever simple."
Kaito grinned, sharp and predatory. "Exactly why I like it."
The board was set. The pieces were a mess, but they were his mess. And now, he had people he could trust—or at least rely on—to survive it.
"Okay," Ren said, his voice firm for the first time all night. "Let's go save the world. Or at least, ruin the Hive's day."
Kaito's smirk deepened. "Now you're talking my language."