The morning sun filtered through the grimy windows of the abandoned warehouse, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Dust particles danced in the beams of light, the only movement in the otherwise still space. The air smelled of rust, mildew, and forgotten industry.
Scar sat on an overturned crate, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. He took a long drag, the ember glowing bright orange in the dim light, then exhaled a slow stream of smoke that curled upward toward the corrugated metal ceiling. His eyes—cold, calculating—stared at nothing in particular, but his mind was clearly working through something.
Across from him, Blade methodically cleaned his gun. The soft *click-click* of metal parts being disassembled and reassembled created a rhythmic soundtrack to the morning. He was thorough, almost obsessive, running an oiled cloth along every surface with practiced precision.
"I found a way to drag the kid out of hiding," Scar said finally, breaking the silence.
Blade didn't look up from his work. "How? Io's already acting as our spy. Her intel's been great—detailed class schedules, friend groups, behavioral patterns, weaknesses." He clicked a magazine into place, testing the action. "What other way do you think we need?"
Scar took another drag, a slow smile spreading across his scarred face. It wasn't a pleasant expression. There was something predatory about it, something that suggested he enjoyed the planning almost as much as the execution.
"The girl," he said simply.
Blade finally looked up, his brow furrowed. "What girl?"
"According to Io's reports..." Scar flicked ash onto the concrete floor, watching it scatter. "Her name is Luna. Beast folk. White wolf. The kid's closest companion." He paused, letting the implication sink in. "Possibly more than a companion, if you read between the lines of Io's observations."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, cigarette held between two fingers.
"We get *her*..." His smile widened, showing teeth. "We get *him*."
Understanding dawned on Blade's face, and he threw his head back with a bark of laughter that echoed through the empty warehouse. "HAHAHA! I see where you're going with this! Oh, that's *good*. That's *really* good." He slapped his knee. "Hit him where it hurts. Make it personal. He'll come running straight into our trap, too blinded by emotion to think straight."
"Exactly." Scar stubbed out his cigarette on the crate. "Love makes people stupid. Makes them predictable."
"When do we move?"
"Soon." Scar stood, stretching his arms above his head. His joints popped audibly. "Let's give Io a few more days to gather intel on the girl's routine. We need to know when she's most vulnerable, when she's alone." He grinned again. "Then we make our move."
Blade reassembled his gun with swift, efficient movements and holstered it. "I'm all in. This is going to be *fun*."
The two men stood in the shaft of dusty sunlight, their shadows long and dark against the warehouse floor—predators planning an ambush, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
The biology classroom was bright and orderly, a stark contrast to the warehouse across the city. Anatomical charts hung on the walls, showing the human body's various systems in vibrant, detailed color. A skeleton stood in the corner, its empty eye sockets seeming to watch the students as they filed in.
Io stood at the front of the class, her posture perfect, her appearance immaculate. Her dark hair was pulled back in a neat bun, her teacher's outfit professional and unremarkable. To anyone watching, she was simply Ms. Io, the dedicated biology teacher who'd joined the faculty this semester.
No one knew what she really was.
"Good morning, class," she said, her voice clear and authoritative. "Please take your seats and open your textbooks to chapter seven. Today we'll be discussing the skeletal system."
Students shuffled to their desks, the usual morning chaos of backpacks being dropped, chairs scraping, whispered conversations. Io waited patiently, her hands clasped in front of her, until the room settled.
Hiro entered with his friends, laughing at something Kaede had said. Io's eyes tracked him automatically—noting his relaxed posture, the genuine smile, the way he interacted with his peers without reservation. She filed the observations away mentally, as she'd been trained to do.
But something was different this morning. Something she couldn't quite name.
"The human body," Io began, turning to write on the board, "contains 206 bones in its adult form. This number is actually lower than at birth—infants have approximately 270 bones, many of which fuse together as we grow."
She drew a quick diagram, her hand steady and sure.
"The skeletal system serves three primary functions: structure and support for the body, protection for our vital organs, and as a framework for muscle attachment to enable movement." She pointed to different parts of the diagram. "The skull protects the brain, the ribcage shields the heart and lungs, the spine houses the spinal cord."
Students dutifully took notes, pens scratching across paper. Io moved through the lesson with practiced ease, explaining the difference between the axial and appendicular skeletons, discussing bone composition, describing how bones heal after fractures.
She was in the middle of explaining bone marrow's role in blood cell production when a hand went up.
Hiro's hand.
Io felt something strange flutter in her chest. She ignored it.
"Yes, Hiro?"
"Sensei, you really know a lot about the human body," he said, his tone genuinely impressed. "I mean, more than just textbook stuff. The way you explain things, it's like you have hands-on experience. Where did you study?"
The question was innocent, curious. Just a student interested in his teacher's background.
But Io *froze*.
It was only for a split second—a barely perceptible pause that no one would notice. But inside, her mind was racing.
*He talked to me. He asked me a question. A personal question.*
And then, unbidden, unwanted, she felt it: a rush of heat spreading through her body, starting from her core and radiating outward. Her face felt warm. Her heart rate had increased—she could feel the pulse in her throat.
*What is this? What is this feeling building inside my body? It's so hot...*
Her trained assassin's mind, usually so cold and analytical, was suddenly in chaos. She was acutely aware of Hiro's eyes on her, waiting for an answer. She could see the interested expressions of other students, the normal social interaction of a classroom.
But it felt like *more*.
She clutched the edge of the desk subtly, anchoring herself.
"I..." Her voice came out slightly breathless. She cleared her throat. "I studied extensively. Medical training. Abroad. Multiple institutions."
It wasn't entirely a lie. Her organization had trained her in anatomy—how to kill efficiently, how to avoid detection, how to read a body's vulnerabilities. Just not in the way Hiro was imagining.
"That's really cool," Hiro said with a genuine smile before turning back to his notes.
Io quickly turned to the board, writing more terms with perhaps slightly more force than necessary.
*Control yourself, Io. This is pathetic. You're a trained assassin. You've killed seventeen people. You can withstand torture, infiltrate secure facilities, eliminate targets without leaving a trace. You are NOT some... some schoolgirl with a crush!*
But her hand trembled slightly as she wrote "periosteum" on the board, and she had to steady herself before continuing the lesson.
This was dangerous. This was a complication she hadn't anticipated.
She couldn't afford to feel anything for the target.
The lunch bell rang with its usual electronic chime, and students immediately began packing up their things with the universal enthusiasm of teenagers freed for a brief respite. Hiro gathered his bento box and turned to Luna, who was waiting by the door.
"Rooftop?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
Luna's tail swished happily behind her. "Obviously. It's our spot."
They walked through the crowded hallways together, navigating the stream of students heading to the cafeteria or outside to eat on the grounds. Yuki and Kaede had already peeled off to grab something from the school store.
The rooftop was their refuge—a place away from stares and whispers, where Luna didn't have to feel self-conscious about her wolf ears and tail, where Hiro didn't have to maintain his carefully constructed "normal human" facade quite so rigidly.
But when they pushed open the rooftop door, they found it already occupied.
Io sat at their usual bench, a stack of papers spread out in front of her, a red pen in hand. She looked up as they entered, her expression neutral.
"Oh." She set down her pen. "Students. This area is off-limits during lunch today. Maintenance."
Hiro glanced around the rooftop. Everything looked completely normal. No equipment, no workers, no signs indicating any kind of maintenance work.
"But there's no maintenance crew—" he started.
"Rules are rules," Io interrupted, her voice firm but not unkind. "The school administration informed the faculty this morning. Structural inspection of the railing. Safety precaution. Please eat elsewhere."
Hiro and Luna exchanged confused looks. This was the first they'd heard of any inspection, and the rooftop had been fine yesterday, and the day before that, and every day since the school year started.
"Oh... okay," Luna said quietly, her ears drooping slightly with disappointment.
They turned to leave, but Hiro glanced back once more, catching Io's expression before she looked down at her papers again. There was something in her face—conflict, maybe? Guilt?
But that didn't make any sense.
The door closed behind them with a soft click.
Alone on the rooftop, Io stared at the papers without really seeing them. Her hand clenched around the red pen until her knuckles went white.
*What am I doing? I'm supposed to be gathering intel, not... not interfering with his daily routine. Not isolating him from his comfort zones. That's not part of the mission.*
But she'd seen them heading toward the rooftop and had acted on impulse, getting there first, blocking their access.
*Why?*
She didn't want to examine that question too closely.
The wind picked up, ruffling the papers on the bench, and Io closed her eyes against the bright afternoon sun, trying to push away the confusion that was slowly taking root in her carefully ordered mind.
After school, the courtyard was alive with activity. Clubs were recruiting, students were making plans, couples were walking hand-in-hand toward the gates. It was the golden hour, when the late afternoon sun painted everything in warm amber tones.
Hiro stood with his friend group near the school's main entrance, laughing at one of Kaede's terrible jokes. Luna was beside him, her white ears twitching with amusement, her tail swaying gently. The setting sun caught her white fur and made it almost glow.
From across the courtyard, hidden partially behind a tree, Ayaka watched them.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms hard enough to hurt. She'd been watching Hiro for years—since middle school, when he'd helped her pick up books she'd dropped in the hallway, when he'd smiled at her with such genuine kindness that her heart had stuttered in her chest.
She'd followed him to this high school. Had engineered situations to be in his class. Had perfected her appearance, her personality, everything she thought he might like.
And then *she* had appeared. That *beast*.
Ayaka watched as Hiro said something to Luna, his expression soft and warm. Watched as Luna laughed, her eyes crinkling with genuine happiness. Watched as they stood close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
The jealousy was a physical thing, burning in her chest like acid.
*She doesn't deserve him. She's not even human. How can he look at her like that? How can he smile at her that way when he never smiles at ME like that?*
Ayaka's breathing had quickened, her vision narrowing to just the two of them.
*If I don't make my move now... I'll lose him forever.*
She couldn't let that happen. Wouldn't let that happen.
She'd been patient. She'd waited. She'd hoped Hiro would eventually notice her, really *see* her.
But patience hadn't worked.
It was time for direct action.
The next morning, Hiro opened his locker with a yawn, still half-asleep from staying up too late studying for their upcoming history exam. The locker door swung open, and something fluttered out—a folded piece of paper, light pink, landing at his feet.
He bent to pick it up, curious. The paper was nice quality, the kind you'd use for something important, not just a casual note. It smelled faintly of perfume.
Unfolding it, he read the neat, feminine handwriting:
*"Please meet me at the school rooftop after classes today. There's something very important I need to tell you."*
No signature. No indication of who had written it.
Hiro turned the paper over, looking for any identifying marks, but found none. He glanced around the hallway, wondering if the person was nearby, watching for his reaction, but everyone was absorbed in their own morning routines.
*Important? What could be so important?*
He tucked the note into his pocket, a slight frown on his face. The rooftop again—the place Io had blocked off yesterday, though there had clearly been no maintenance happening.
Something felt... off.
But he pushed the feeling aside. Maybe it was one of his friends playing a prank. Maybe it was something related to student council, though he wasn't a member.
He'd find out after school.
The final bell rang, releasing students into the late afternoon. Hiro met his friends at the usual spot by the front gates, the pink note still folded in his pocket.
"You guys head home first," he said, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. "I need to check something."
Luna tilted her head, her wolf ears perking up with curiosity. "Want me to wait? We could walk back together."
Hiro shook his head, smiling. "No, it's okay. Probably just a quick thing. I'll text you later."
"Mysterious," Kaede said with a grin. "Got a secret admirer, Hiro?"
"Shut up," Hiro laughed, pushing his friend's shoulder playfully.
Luna's tail drooped slightly, but she smiled and waved. "Okay. See you tomorrow then."
The group headed toward the gates, chattering among themselves. Hiro watched them go, then turned back toward the school building. The campus was already quieting, most students eager to start their evenings. Only a few stragglers remained—club members, students on cleaning duty.
Hiro climbed the stairs to the rooftop, each step echoing in the stairwell. The note felt heavy in his pocket, though it weighed almost nothing.
He pushed open the rooftop door.
The setting sun hit him immediately, brilliant and golden, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The wind was stronger up here, carrying the distant sounds of the city below. And there, silhouetted against that beautiful sky, stood Ayaka.
She stood at the railing, the wind catching her dark hair, her posture perfect. She'd clearly planned this moment—the lighting, the positioning, the atmosphere. It was like a scene from a romantic movie.
"Ayaka?" Hiro approached cautiously. "You wanted to talk? Is something wrong?"
She turned slowly, and he saw her eyes were glistening with tears. They caught the golden light, making them shimmer.
"Hiro..." Her voice was soft, trembling. "I... I..."
She took a deep breath, as if gathering courage.
"I love you."
The words hung in the air between them. A cherry blossom tree near the school roof shed its petals, sending them swirling around the rooftop in the wind—a perfect, cinematic moment.
Hiro's eyes widened, his body going still. "Ayaka...?"
"I've loved you since middle school," she continued, taking a step closer. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her vulnerability on full display. "When you helped me that day, when you smiled at me—I fell in love right then. You're kind, strong, genuine. You're the reason I came to this high school. I've watched you, admired you, for *years*."
She reached out, her fingers brushing his hand.
"Please, Hiro. Please be mine."
Hiro gently pulled his hand away, his expression pained. He'd known Ayaka liked him—you'd have to be blind not to notice—but he'd hoped she would eventually move on.
"Ayaka..." He spoke softly but firmly. "I'm sorry. I can't return those feelings. You're a good person, but I just... I'm sorry."
Ayaka's face hardened instantly, the vulnerability vanishing like a mask being ripped away. Her eyes flashed with something dark.
"Is it because of *her*?" The venom in her voice was unmistakable. "That *beast*?"
"Don't call her that." Hiro's voice dropped, taking on a warning edge.
"She's not even *human*, Hiro!" Ayaka's composure cracked, her voice rising. "How can you choose a *monster* over—?!"
She stopped herself, realizing she'd gone too far. She could see Hiro's expression closing off, see the disappointment and anger in his eyes.
*No. No, this isn't working.*
She changed tactics instantly, her face crumpling, tears spilling over. She looked young, vulnerable, desperate.
"Please..." She stepped closer, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "Please, just give me a chance. One chance to show you I could make you happy. I could love you so much more than—"
Before Hiro could respond, before he could step back, she grabbed his collar with both hands and pulled him down, pressing her lips against his.
Behind the rooftop door, which stood slightly ajar, Luna had frozen in place.
She'd come back because Hiro had left his history textbook in her bag—she'd discovered it on her walk home and had turned around immediately, knowing he'd need it to study.
She'd climbed the stairs with a smile, imagining his grateful expression, maybe planning to tease him a little about being forgetful.
She'd pushed the door open just a crack, about to call out his name.
And then she'd seen it.
Hiro and Ayaka, locked in a kiss, silhouetted against the golden sunset.
The textbook slipped from Luna's fingers, hitting the ground with a muffled thump that neither person on the rooftop heard.
Her world shattered.
Every insecurity she'd ever had about being beast folk, about being different, about not being good enough—they all came rushing back, crushing her chest until she couldn't breathe.
*Of course he'd choose a human. Of course. I was stupid to think... to hope...*
Tears streamed down her face, hot and unstoppable. Her vision blurred.
She turned and ran, her footsteps echoing in the stairwell, her heart breaking with every step.
Ayaka pulled away from the kiss, satisfaction flickering in her eyes for just a moment before she schooled her expression back to desperate vulnerability.
But Hiro was in shock, his mind trying to process what had just happened. He hadn't kissed back, hadn't responded at all—had just stood there frozen as she'd forced herself on him.
"Ayaka, what—?!" he started, his voice sharp with anger and confusion.
Then he heard it.
A sound from behind the door. A soft thump, like something dropping.
And footsteps. Running footsteps, fading fast.
His eyes went wide with horror, his stomach dropping like a stone.
"No..."
He turned and sprinted to the door, throwing it open so hard it banged against the wall. The stairwell was empty, but he could hear the footsteps below, getting farther away.
And on the ground, abandoned: his history textbook.
*Luna.*
"LUNA! WAIT!"
He raced down the stairs, taking them two at a time, his heart pounding in his chest. Behind him, Ayaka remained on the rooftop, a small smile playing at her lips before she, too, turned to leave.
Hiro burst through the school's front entrance just in time to see Luna running toward the gates, her white hair streaming behind her, her tail tucked low.
"LUNA!"
He sprinted after her, his legs burning, his breath coming hard. He was fast, but Luna was faster when she wanted to be, her beast heritage giving her speed he couldn't match.
But grief was slowing her down. Tears were blinding her. And he caught up near the gates, grabbing her hand.
"Luna, wait! Please! It's not what you think! It's all a misunderstanding!"
She spun around, and he'd never seen such pain on her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her eyes red and swollen, her whole body trembling.
"MISUNDERSTANDING?!" She screamed the word, her voice breaking. "You KISSED her and it's a misunderstanding?!"
"She kissed me!" Hiro's voice was desperate, pleading. "I didn't kiss her back, I didn't want—"
"I thought you were DIFFERENT!" Luna yanked her hand away from his grip, her claws emerging slightly in her distress. "I thought you saw me as more than just a beast! But you're just like everyone else! You're just a DOG, Hiro!"
The word hit him like a physical blow. In their world, being called a dog—unfaithful, disloyal—was one of the worst insults.
"Luna, please, just listen—"
"I HATE you!" Her voice cracked completely, tears streaming faster. "I hope you DIE IN A PIT!"
She turned and ran, disappearing into the darkening streets, leaving Hiro standing alone at the gates.
The world went silent.
Everything else—the distant traffic, the chirping of evening birds, the sounds of the city—faded to nothing. All Hiro could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the ragged sound of his breathing.
And Luna's words, echoing in his mind: I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
He stood there as the sun continued to set, as shadows grew longer, as the golden hour turned to twilight.
He stood there until his legs felt numb.
And he still couldn't move.
Dinner at the Hayashi household was usually a warm, comfortable affair. Hiro's mother was an excellent cook, and his father always had stories from his day at work. They'd eat together, talking and laughing, a normal family doing normal things.
But tonight was different.
Hiro sat at the table, food in front of him, chopsticks in his hand. He went through the motions—picking up food, bringing it to his mouth, chewing, swallowing. Mechanical. Automatic.
He couldn't taste any of it.
Everything tastes bitter. Like ashes.
He took another bite of rice. Nothing. Another bite of the fish his mother had prepared so carefully. Nothing.
His mother's voice seemed to come from very far away: "Hiro, dear? Are you okay? You've barely eaten."
He looked up, realizing he'd been staring at his plate for who knows how long. Both his parents were watching him with concern.
"Yeah, Mom." The lie came automatically, his voice flat and hollow. "I'm fine. Just a stomach ache. I think I might be coming down with something."
He pushed his plate away, the food mostly untouched.
"May I be excused?"
His mother exchanged a worried look with his father but nodded. "Of course, dear. Rest if you need to."
Hiro stood, his movements stiff, and walked to his room. Each step felt like moving through water. The hallway seemed longer than usual, the walls closing in.
He closed his bedroom door behind him and stood there in the darkness, not bothering to turn on the lights.
Time passed. Hiro wasn't sure how much.
He found himself sitting on his bed, staring at nothing. The room was dark except for the faint glow of streetlights through his window. Shadows moved across the walls as cars passed below.
And then the voice started.
It always started when he was at his lowest. The wolf voice—the darker part of himself, the beast blood that ran through his veins. Usually, he could control it, could push it down and lock it away. But tonight, in his grief and guilt, the walls were thin.
"It's YOUR fault," the voice whispered, dark and mocking. "You're not good for her. You're nothing but a FREAK hiding in the clothes of a human."
"Stop," Hiro whispered.
"Why would she want you? Half-breed. Mongrel. Not beast enough for her world, not human enough for theirs. You don't belong anywhere."
"Stop."
"I won't stop," the voice hissed, circling through his mind like a predator. "I'll NEVER stop. Because you know I'm speaking the truth."
Silence stretched, heavy and oppressive.
"Remember..." The voice dropped lower, more intimate, more cruel. "You're nothing but a BEAST with mixed blood, Hiro. You are NOTHING without me. NOTHING."
"STOP!!!!"
Hiro's hand flew up and he punched himself in the face.
THUD.
The pain was sharp, immediate, real. Blood started dripping from his nose.
He did it again.
THUD.
And again.
THUD.
"I'm not USELESS!" He was screaming now, tears streaming down his face, mixing with the blood. "I'm not NOTHING! I'm the one she has to love! She MUST depend on me! She has to—!"
His voice broke completely. He collapsed forward, head in his hands, sobbing.
The wolf voice laughed, dark and satisfied, before fading back into the recesses of his mind.
Hiro cried until he had no more tears left, until his voice was hoarse, until his body ached with exhaustion.
And still, Luna's words echoed: I hate you.
Luna walked through the darkening streets alone, her vision still blurred with tears. She'd been walking for over an hour, not really paying attention to where she was going, just needing to move, to escape, to put distance between herself and the school, and Hiro, and that kiss.
She kept seeing it, playing over and over in her mind. The way they'd stood close. The sunset behind them. The perfect romantic scene.
I was so stupid. Thinking he could actually... that someone like him could love someone like me.
She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, smearing them across her face. Her ears were pinned back against her head, her tail dragging on the ground. She probably looked pathetic, but she didn't care.
The streets around her were growing quieter. She realized with a start that she'd walked farther than intended—this was the edge of the Demi-human district, where fewer humans ventured after dark. The street lights were spaced farther apart here, pools of illumination separated by stretches of shadow.
She should turn back. Head home. Her parents would be worried.
But she couldn't face them yet. Couldn't face the questions, the concern, having to explain what happened.
She turned down a side street, one lined with old warehouses and closed shops.
That's when she heard it—a soft sound behind her. The scrape of a shoe on pavement.
Luna's ears twitched, swiveling backward. Her instincts, dulled by grief, suddenly sharpened.
She wasn't alone.
Before she could turn, before she could react, figures dropped from above—one in front, one behind, cutting off both escape routes.
Two men. One with a scarred face and cruel smile. One larger, built like a fighter.
"Who—?!" Luna's voice came out strangled with sudden fear.
Blade moved fast, grabbing her from behind, his arms locking around her like steel bands.
"LET GO!" Luna struggled, her beast strength kicking in. Her claws extended and she raked them backward, catching Blade's arm. He grunted but didn't release her.
"Feisty!" Blade laughed, dodging another swipe. "I like that!"
Luna opened her mouth to scream, to call for help, but Scar was already moving. He pulled a white cloth from his pocket—reeking of chemicals—and pressed it firmly over Luna's mouth and nose.
"Goodnight, little wolf," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
Luna's eyes went wide. She tried to hold her breath, tried to fight harder, but Blade's grip was unbreakable. She had to breathe eventually, and when she did, the chloroform flooded her system.
No. No no no. Hiro—
Her struggles weakened. Her vision blurred, darkened at the edges. Her legs gave out.
The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was Scar's smiling face.
Then nothing. Luna woke to cold.
Cold concrete beneath her. Cold air against her skin. Cold metal biting into her wrists and ankles.
Her head pounded, her mouth tasted like chemicals, and her stomach rolled with nausea. She blinked, trying to focus, trying to remember.
The street. The men. The cloth.
Panic flooded through her, sharp and immediate. She tried to move and found herself bound to a chair—thick ropes around her wrists and ankles, another across her chest. A gag in her mouth prevented her from speaking.
The warehouse around her was dim, lit only by a few hanging bulbs that cast harsh shadows. Water dripped somewhere in the darkness. The walls were concrete, stained with rust and grime. Old machinery sat abandoned in corners, skeletal and forgotten.
And sitting in front of her, in a chair of his own, was the scarred man. Scar. He was watching her with an expression of amused interest, like she was an entertaining puzzle he was solving.
"Hi there, little missy!" His voice was cheerful, grotesquely casual. "You're finally awake! You've been out for a few hours. Chloroform works fast, but the hangover's a bitch, isn't it?"
Luna tried to speak, but the gag muffled everything to unintelligible sounds. She pulled against the ropes, but they didn't budge. They'd tied her expertly—no slack, no weak points.
"Don't bother struggling," Scar said, leaning back in his chair. "Blade knows his knots. You're not getting out of those without help."
Terror was building in Luna's chest, threatening to overwhelm her. Her heart raced, her breathing came fast through her nose. Where was she? What did they want? How long had she been unconscious?
Scar seemed to read her thoughts. He smiled wider.
"Don't worry. Your wolf friend will come to save you." He said it so casually, so matter-of-factly. "Then we'll let you go..."
He leaned forward, his eyes glinting in the dim light, his smile turning predatory.
"...and KILL that little bastard."
Luna's blood turned to ice. Her body went rigid with fear.
Hiro. This is about Hiro. They're using me to trap Hiro.
Fresh tears spilled down her face, different from the heartbreak tears earlier. These were tears of pure terror.
Scar watched her reaction with satisfaction. "That's right. You're bait, little wolf. Nothing personal. Well..." He chuckled. "Maybe a little personal. That kid's been a thorn in our side. Time to remove him permanently."
He stood, stretching. "Blade's going to make the call soon. Then we just sit back and wait. Your boyfriend's the hero type, right? He'll come running. They always do."
No. No, please. Not Hiro. Not because of me.
But she couldn't say any of it. Could only sit there bound and gagged, helpless, as Scar walked away into the shadows of the warehouse, whistling a cheerful tune.
Hiro's room was dark and silent. He lay on his bed, still in his school clothes, staring at the ceiling. He'd been lying there for hours, ever since dinner, watching shadows move across the plaster, not thinking, not feeling, just... existing.
His phone sat on the nightstand, face down. He'd turned off notifications. He couldn't handle seeing messages from his friends, seeing Luna's name and remembering her tear-stained face, her words cutting through him like knives.
The house was quiet. His parents had gone to bed an hour ago, probably worried but giving him space.
Then his phone rang.
Not a text notification. A call. A video call.
From Luna.
Hiro bolted upright, his heart suddenly pounding. His hands shook as he grabbed the phone. Maybe she'd cooled down. Maybe she was willing to listen, to let him explain.
"Luna?!"
He answered the call, hope and desperation flooding through him.
But the face that appeared on screen wasn't Luna's.
It was a man he'd never seen before—scarred, middle-aged, with cold eyes and a cruel smile.
"Hi hi hi!" the man said cheerfully, waving at the camera. "What's up, brother?"
Hiro's blood froze in his veins. His grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles went white.
"Who are you? Where's Luna? What have you done—?"
"Whoa, whoa, slow down!" Scar laughed. "So many questions! Let's start with introductions. Name's Scar. And before you yell, 'How did youget her phone?'—well, she's right here!"
The camera flipped around, and Hiro's heart stopped.
Luna.
Tied to a chair in what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Ropes cutting into her wrists and ankles. A gag in her mouth. Her white hair was disheveled, her eyes red and swollen—from crying earlier, from fear now, he couldn't tell. But when she saw the camera, saw that it was showing her to Hiro, fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
She was shaking. Terrified.
"Luna..." Hiro's voice came out broken, barely a whisper.
The rage that followed was immediate and all-consuming. It rose from somewhere deep inside him, primal and fierce, burning away everything else—the self-loathing, the depression, the wolf voice's mockery. None of that mattered now.
They had touched her.
They had hurt her.
"What do you want?" His voice was low, dangerous, barely controlled. "What's your GOAL?"
The camera flipped back to Scar's grinning face. "Straight to business! I like that. No time wasted on threats or posturing."
Another face appeared beside Scar's—larger, more brutish. Blade.
"Simple!" Blade said, his voice rough and amused. "Come meet us!"
"Where." It wasn't a question. It was a demand.
Scar's smile widened. "Abandoned warehouse in the Demi-human district. East side, near the old factory complex. You know the area, right? Of course you do. You beast folk always know your territories."
He leaned closer to the camera, his scarred face filling the screen.
"Oh, and Hiro?" His voice dropped, becoming almost intimate. "Don't be LATE. Every minute you waste is another minute this pretty little wolf sits here, scared and alone, wondering if her precious friend is going to abandon her."
He paused, then added with mock sympathy: "Though after that scene on the rooftop today, maybe she's not so sure you'll come at all. Love troubles, am I right?"
Hiro's eyes flashed gold for just a moment.
"If you hurt her—"
"You'll what?" Scar laughed. "You're in no position to make threats, kid. You want her alive? You come alone. No police. No backup. No heroes. Just you. Understood?"
Silence.
"UNDERSTOOD?"
"...Yes."
"Good boy." Scar's expression turned mockingly sweet. "See you soon!"
The screen went black.
Hiro sat there, phone still clutched in his hand, staring at the dark screen. For a long moment, he didn't move. Didn't breathe.
Then something inside him snapped.
The phone clattered to the floor as Hiro stood. His eyes glowed bright gold in the darkness of his room, not flickering, not fading—steady and burning.
"You hurt her," he whispered to the empty room.
His body began to change. Bones shifting, muscles expanding, fur rippling across his skin. The transformation that he usually fought, that he usually suppressed, that he usually hated—he embraced it now. Let it consume him. Let it take control.
"YOU HURT HER!!!"
The roar that tore from his throat was inhuman, bestial, filled with rage and promise. His full wolf form erupted in a surge of power—larger than a normal wolf, more powerful, his mixed blood giving him strength that pure beast folk didn't possess.
He turned to his window and in one fluid motion, smashed through it. Glass shattered, falling like rain to the street below. Hiro leaped out into the night, landing on all fours on the street three stories down. The impact would have shattered a normal person's legs. He barely felt it.
Behind him, lights turned on in his apartment building. His parents' voices, confused and alarmed. But he was already moving.
Running. A white and grey blur through the darkened streets, moving faster than any car, faster than thought. Pure predatory grace and purpose.
People on the sidewalks jumped out of the way, screaming. Cars swerved. Someone took a photo, but Hiro didn't care. None of it mattered.
The only thing that mattered was getting to that warehouse.
Getting to Luna.
And tearing apart anyone who stood in his way.
In the warehouse, Blade lowered his phone with a satisfied grin.
"Message delivered. He sounded pissed."
"Good." Scar lit another cigarette, the flame illuminating his face in the darkness. "Angry enemies make mistakes. They rush in without thinking, without planning. They expose themselves."
He took a long drag, exhaling smoke that curled upward toward the warehouse's ceiling.
"Position yourself near the entrance. Hidden. When he comes through—and he will come through like a battering ram—you take the first shot. Aim for the legs. We want him alive long enough to suffer."
"What about the girl?" Blade glanced at Luna, who was still tied to the chair, her eyes wide with terror as she'd watched them make the call.
"She stays exactly where she is." Scar walked over to Luna, running a finger along her jaw. She flinched away, whimpering behind the gag. "Right in his line of sight. So he sees her, sees us standing between them. So his last thoughts before we kill him are of failing to save her."
He bent down, looking directly into Luna's frightened eyes.
"Don't worry, little wolf. This will all be over soon. One way or another."
Luna closed her eyes, fresh tears streaming down her face.
Hiro, please. Please don't come. It's a trap. They'll kill you. Please.
But she knew he would come.
Despite everything—despite the kiss, despite their fight, despite her cruel words—he would come.
Because that's who Hiro was.
And that knowledge filled her with equal parts hope and horror.
Io sat in her small apartment, a modest single room that matched her cover as a young teacher. She'd prepared a simple dinner—rice, miso soup, grilled fish. It sat cooling on the table, untouched.
She couldn't eat.
Her laptop was open in front of her, displaying the report she was supposed to submit to her handlers. Details on Hiro's movements, his relationships, his routines. Intelligence gathering for the eventual elimination.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but she hadn't typed a word in over an hour.
Something was wrong. She could feel it—an instinct honed by years of training, a sixth sense that had kept her alive through countless missions.
She opened her encrypted communication channel to Scar, her supposed partner in this operation.
Status report?
The response came quickly: In position. Bait secured. Target inbound.
Io's blood ran cold.
Bait? What bait? This wasn't part of the plan.
Change of plans. Decided to accelerate the timeline. Will eliminate target tonight.
Her hands clenched into fists.
You didn't get authorization for this. Stand down. We need more intel before—
Don't need authorization. I'm senior operative. You're just the infiltrator. Stay in your lane.
Io stared at the screen, rage and panic warring inside her.
They'd gone rogue. Scar and Blade had deviated from the mission parameters. And if they'd taken bait, that meant they'd taken someone close to Hiro. Someone he cared about.
Luna. It had to be Luna. She was the obvious target, the one Hiro was closest to.
What bait? WHO did you take?
No response.
Io grabbed her jacket and was out the door in seconds, her teacher persona abandoned completely. As she ran down the stairs, she pulled out a burner phone and dialed a number she'd memorized but never used.
Her handler. Her direct superior in the organization.
"Io? This is an unsecured line. What are you—"
"Scar and Blade have gone rogue," she said, her voice sharp and cold. "They've kidnapped a civilian to lure out the target. They're planning an unsanctioned elimination."
Silence on the other end. Then: "Location?"
"East side Demi-human district. Old warehouse complex. I'm heading there now."
"Io, your orders are to—"
"With respect, sir, I don't care about orders right now. This is turning into a massacre. Civilians are being dragged into this. That wasn't the agreement."
She hung up before he could respond.
Her motorcycle was parked in the alley behind her building. She swung onto it, the engine roaring to life, and tore off into the night.
She told herself it was about mission integrity. About preventing collateral damage. About maintaining the organization's rules of engagement.
She told herself it had nothing to do with the way Hiro had smiled when he asked about her background. Nothing to do with the strange warmth that had flooded through her when he spoke to her.
Nothing to do with the fact that somewhere along the way, she'd stopped seeing him as a target and started seeing him as... something else.
I'm just doing my job. Maintaining operational security. That's all.
But as she wove through traffic at dangerous speeds, heading toward the warehouse district, she knew she was lying to herself.
Hiro ran through the city like a force of nature.
His massive wolf form covered ground in great bounding leaps, each stride eating up dozens of meters. Cars honked and swerved. Pedestrians screamed and scattered. Someone was probably already calling the police, reporting a monster loose in the city.
He didn't care.
The wolf voice, usually so mocking, was silent now. Or perhaps it had merged with his conscious mind—he couldn't tell the difference anymore. The rage had burned away the boundaries between his human self and his beast self.
He was just... Hiro. Whole and terrible and focused.
They hurt her. They made her cry. They tied her up. They're using her.
Each thought fueled the fire burning in his chest.
Because of me. Because they want to get to me. Luna's in danger because of ME.
The guilt mixed with the rage, creating something volatile and dangerous.
The cityscape began to change as he entered the Demi-human district. The buildings grew more run-down, the streets darker, fewer people around. This was the part of the city that humans forgot about, that municipal services neglected, that existed in a kind of grey area between legal and illegal.
He knew these streets. Had walked them countless times with Luna, finding small restaurants run by beast folk, shops that catered to their specific needs, places where they didn't have to hide what they were.
And now someone had violated that space. Had taken Luna from these streets that should have been safe.
The old factory complex loomed ahead—a cluster of abandoned buildings, their windows broken, their walls covered in graffiti. The main warehouse sat in the center, larger than the others, its corrugated metal walls streaked with rust.
Hiro slowed as he approached, his predator's senses reaching out.
He could smell them. Three distinct scents—two males, human or mostly human, heavy with the scent of violence and chemicals. And Luna's scent, sweet and familiar, laced with fear-sweat and tears.
He could hear them. Breathing. Movement. The soft scrape of a gun being readied.
Trap. This is obviously a trap.
But he didn't care.
His eyes glowed brighter in the darkness as he approached the warehouse's main entrance—a huge rolling door, partially open.
Inside, he could see Luna. Tied to a chair in the center of the open space, illuminated by a harsh overhead light. She looked so small, so fragile, so terrified.
And standing beside her, cigarette in hand, was Scar.
"Right on time!" Scar called out, his voice echoing in the empty warehouse. "I was starting to think you might chicken out! That the little lover's spat on the rooftop had killed your heroic instincts!"
Hiro growled—a sound that rumbled from deep in his chest, more felt than heard.
"Ooh, scary." Scar took a drag from his cigarette. "Come on in, kid. Don't be shy. Your girlfriend's waiting."
Luna was shaking her head frantically behind the gag, her eyes wide, trying to warn him. Don't. It's a trap. Run. Please run.
But Hiro stepped through the entrance anyway.
And the moment he did, Blade dropped from the rafters behind him, gun raised, aiming for Hiro's legs just as Scar had instructed.
The shot rang out, deafeningly loud in the enclosed space.
But Hiro had heard him. Had smelled him. Had known he was there.
He twisted at the last second, the bullet grazing his shoulder instead of shattering his knee. Blood sprayed, hot and dark, but he barely felt it.
He spun on Blade, lips pulling back to reveal fangs that were longer and sharper than any normal wolf's.
"Oh shit—" Blade managed to say before Hiro was on him.
The impact sent both of them crashing into a stack of old crates, wood splintering and exploding outward. Blade tried to bring his gun around for another shot, but Hiro's jaws clamped down on his wrist.
Blade screamed.
The gun clattered to the floor.
"BLADE!" Scar's casual demeanor evaporated. He pulled his own weapon—a knife, long and wicked-looking. "Get off him, you mongrel!"
But Hiro wasn't listening. Wasn't thinking. Was operating on pure instinct now—the instinct to protect, to destroy threats, to eliminate anything standing between him and Luna.
He released Blade's wrist—now a mangled, bleeding mess—and went for his throat.
But Scar was already moving.
He crossed the distance in a flash and drove the knife down, aiming for Hiro's spine.
At the last second, something slammed into Scar from the side, sending him sprawling.
Io. She stood between Scar and Hiro, her posture combat-ready, her eyes hard.
"That's ENOUGH," she said coldly.
Scar stared at her in disbelief. "Io? What the fuck are you doing?!"
"Stopping you from turning this into a bloodbath." Her voice was ice. "This mission is over. Stand down."
"Like hell I'm—"
"I said STAND DOWN!" She pulled her own weapon—a compact pistol—and aimed it directly at Scar's head. "That's an order from handler command. They sent me to extract you. You've gone rogue. This operation is terminated."
It was a lie—she had no such orders—but she delivered it with absolute authority.
Behind them, Hiro finally released Blade, who collapsed to the floor, clutching his ruined wrist and moaning in pain. Blood pooled beneath him.
Hiro turned, his massive wolf form now between all of them and Luna. His sides heaved with ragged breaths. Blood dripped from his shoulder and muzzle. His eyes blazed gold, fixed on Scar and Io with murderous intent.
He didn't distinguish between them. They were all threats. All enemies.
"Hiro," Io said, not taking her eyes off Scar but speaking clearly. "I'm going to untie Luna. Don't attack me. I'm not your enemy. Not tonight."
Hiro growled—low, dangerous, uncertain.
"Ms. Io?" Luna's voice, small and confused, came from behind the gag she'd somehow managed to partially dislodge. "What... what are you doing here?"
"Stopping something that never should have started," Io said quietly.
She began moving slowly toward Luna, keeping her gun trained on Scar, who was still on the ground, his face twisted with rage and confusion.
"This isn't over," Scar hissed. "You think you can just—"
"It's over." Io's voice cut like a blade. "Handler command will decide your punishment for unauthorized civilian engagement. But if you move, if you try to harm either of them, I'll put a bullet in your brain before you take two steps."
She reached Luna and began working on the knots with one hand, the other keeping her weapon steady.
The ropes fell away.
Luna immediately stumbled forward, her legs weak from being bound so long. Hiro surged forward, catching her with his massive body, supporting her weight. His wolf form shrank slightly—not reverting to human, but becoming less battle-ready, more protective.
Luna buried her face in his fur, her whole body shaking with sobs—relief, fear, emotional overload, everything from the past twelve hours finally breaking through.
"I'm sorry," she gasped between sobs. "I'm so sorry, Hiro. The things I said. I didn't mean—"
A soft whining sound came from Hiro's throat—as close to speech as his wolf form could manage. I know. I know. I'm sorry too. I'm so sorry.
Io watched them for a moment, something painful twisting in her chest. Then she turned back to Scar.
"Call for extraction. Both of you. Now."
Scar stared at her with pure hatred but pulled out his phone with shaking hands.
Police sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. Someone had heard the gunshot and called it in.
Io looked at Hiro and Luna. "You need to go. Now. Before the police arrive. I'll handle this."
Hiro growled, still not trusting her.
"I'm not asking you to trust me," Io said, meeting those burning gold eyes. "I'm asking you to get Luna somewhere safe. She's hurt, traumatized. She needs you. The police will have questions you can't answer—not looking like that."
Luna touched Hiro's side. "She's right. We have to go."
Hiro hesitated one more moment, then turned. Luna climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he bolted for the exit.
The last Io saw of them was a flash of white and grey disappearing into the night, Luna's white hair streaming behind them like a banner.
Then they were gone.
Io lowered her weapon slightly, suddenly exhausted.
Scar struggled to his feet. "You just made the biggest mistake of your life."
"Maybe," Io said quietly. "But at least I'll be able to sleep tonight."
The sirens were almost on top of them now. Red and blue lights flickered through the broken windows.
Io began constructing the cover story in her mind—anonymous tip about suspicious activity, arrived to investigate, found two wounded men, possible gang violence. She'd done this before. She could sell it.
But as she waited for the police to arrive, for the first time in her career as an assassin, she wondered if she was on the right side.
The memory of Hiro's smile in class, Luna's tears, the love between them despite everything—it haunted her.
What am I doing? What have I become?
The police burst through the door, weapons raised, shouting commands.
Io raised her hands, showing her (fake) teaching credentials, playing her role.
But inside, something had cracked.
Something had changed.
And she had a feeling that nothing would ever be quite the same again.