Legacy's Wake

The moment the phantoms burned away in the white flames, the hooded figure wasted no time. With a sharp exhale, he lunged forward, his stance shifting from relaxed to deadly in an instant. His footwork was precise, his steps silent as he closed the distance between himself and Chiaki.

Chiaki, already aware of his movement, planted her foot and pivoted just as he threw a sharp right jab toward her jaw. She weaved to the side, feeling the wind of his punch brush past her cheek. Without hesitation, she twisted her hips and retaliated with a straight kick to his stomach, her shin cutting through the air. The impact forced him back a step, but he absorbed the force, rolling with the momentum instead of resisting.

The enemy countered immediately. Pushing off his back foot, he surged forward, throwing a feint with his left hand before swinging a brutal right hook aimed at Chiaki's temple. Chiaki's eyes flickered, recognizing the trap—she raised her forearm, absorbing the blow before shifting her weight to her left leg. In a fluid motion, she ducked low, twisting her body and sweeping her right leg in a sharp arc, aiming to take his feet out from under him.

But he was quick. Instead of being caught off guard, he leapt over her sweep and came down hard with a downward axe kick, forcing Chiaki to roll to the side to avoid getting her skull crushed. She transitioned smoothly from the roll to a crouch, pushing off the ground in a lightning-fast counter. She stepped in close, aiming an elbow strike toward his ribs, but he twisted his torso, dodging at the last second before catching her extended arm with his own.

With a sudden burst of strength, he pulled her forward, attempting to unbalance her, but Chiaki reacted instantly. She adjusted her footing and shifted her weight, rolling with the motion instead of resisting it. Using the momentum, she jumped and twisted mid-air, bringing her knee straight toward his chin.

He barely managed to lean back in time, Chiaki's knee missing him by inches. But before he could capitalize, she landed smoothly and delivered a sharp push kick to his midsection, sending him skidding backward.

The man exhaled sharply, shaking his hands out as if warming up. "Not bad," he muttered under his breath.

Chiaki cracked her neck, flicking her bangs out of her eyes. "You too," she said, smirking.

He charged again, this time leading with a rapid series of low kicks, targeting her legs to disrupt her balance. Chiaki checked the first kick with her shin, then sidestepped the second, her body moving with fluid efficiency. She saw the opening and immediately moved in, twisting her hips as she drove a powerful straight punch toward his chest.

He blocked with both arms crossed, but the force of the blow made him slide back slightly. Instead of retreating, he responded with a spinning backfist, aiming for the side of her head. Chiaki barely managed to duck, feeling the air shift above her as his fist whooshed past. Taking advantage of his overextension, she surged forward, delivering a tight, controlled uppercut to his ribs, causing him to grunt in pain.

But he didn't falter. He gritted his teeth, grabbed Chiaki's wrist mid-strike, and twisted it, forcing her into an off-balance position. Immediately, he followed up by yanking her forward, aiming to knee her in the gut.

Chiaki reacted with split-second precision. Instead of resisting the pull, she moved with it, jumping off the ground and flipping over his shoulder, using his own grip against him. The moment she landed behind him, she twisted his wrist forcefully, causing him to grimace before she spun and drove a side kick into his back, launching him forward.

He tumbled but rolled back to his feet smoothly, now breathing slightly heavier. His stance adjusted subtly, his approach more measured.

As the battle escalated, the shadowy figure found himself at a disadvantage. Chiaki's footwork was precise, her counters effortless, and her movements so fluid that his attacks felt almost predictable. Every time he lashed out—whether a sharp jab or a sweeping kick—Chiaki was already two steps ahead, slipping just outside his reach, her expression as unreadable as ever.

His frustration showed. He lunged forward with a straight punch aimed at her sternum, but Chiaki merely pivoted to the side, allowing the strike to graze nothing but air. Before he could recover, her knee shot up—a sharp, controlled strike—catching him just below the ribs.

A strangled breath left him, his footing faltering for just a moment. That moment was all Chiaki needed.

She stepped in with a tight, compact stance, launching a rapid one-two combination—a left hook to his jaw, followed by a swift elbow strike to his shoulder. The force sent him stumbling back, boots skidding across the cobbled street.

"You fight like someone who's used to people being too scared to hit back," Chiaki remarked, rolling her shoulder as she took a step forward.

The shadow growled, adjusting his stance. This time, he feinted low before shifting into a high, spinning back kick—an attempt to catch her off guard. But Chiaki wasn't fooled.

She dropped low, narrowly avoiding the heel that whistled past her head, and swept her leg outward in retaliation. The shadow barely leaped back in time, but before he could fully regain his balance, Chiaki was already in his space.

A powerful palm strike slammed into his chest, forcing him back yet again.

His breathing had become heavier, his stance looser. The controlled aggression he once carried now seemed desperate. His fingers twitched, considering summoning another wave of phantoms, but before he could make a move—

Chiaki stepped forward.

She didn't need to say anything. The way she carried herself, the way her sharp eyes pinned him down—it was enough. The figure clenched his jaw. He knew if he continued, he'd lose.

Then, without warning, he turned on his heel and bolted into the darkness.

"Tch." Shanya clicked her tongue. "So THAT'S how it is?"

Temoshí, leaning lazily against the wall, smirked. "Ain't even gonna let us have a proper goodbye, huh?"

Chiaki, lowering her hands, exhaled. "He ran because he knew he couldn't win."

Shanya rotated her wrist, the energy in her claw dimming. "Doesn't mean I'm not pissed about it."

Temoshí stretched her arms over her head. "Relax. We'll see him again."

As the shadowy figure sprinted away into the darkness, Chiaki casually checked her wristwatch, tilting her head slightly.

"Huh," she muttered.

Shanya raised an eyebrow. "What now?"

Chiaki sighed dramatically before cupping her hands around her mouth and calling out into the alleyway, "Hey! Get back here! I still had three seconds left!"

The distant sound of hurried footsteps stuttered for a brief moment, as if the shadow had actually considered turning around—before quickly resuming at an even faster pace.

Temoshí, crossed her arms. "Damn. Ran like he had an unpaid tab."

Shanya smirked. "Or like he just realized his free trial of 'acting tough' expired."

Chiaki simply shrugged. "Guess I'll just have to take the extra time off my next fight."

Chiaki crossed her arms beneath her chest and let out a deep sigh before turning to face her two friends. "You know what's really bothering me? Shanya couldn't sense that guy at all. You think he had some kind of technique that lets him stay undetectable?"

Shanya rested a hand on her hip, meeting Chiaki's gaze. "I'm tellin' you, it was like he had no heart—just a body. The whole fight, I couldn't pick up a single sign of life from him. But before all this, I did sense something else nearby. Another heartbeat. Someone was following us."

Temoshí, her stance relaxed and arms hanging loosely, chimed in, "And you're sure it wasn't just him tailing us? Why'd you say there was another heartbeat if you weren't certain?"

Shanya's eyes narrowed slightly as she shot Temoshí a firm look, her voice steady. "I didn't make that up. The problem is, I couldn't tell if it was real or not. Yeah, I can sense living hearts around us, but my technique isn't perfect yet. It still needs fine-tuning before I can be completely sure. But one thing's for certain—that guy we fought? He didn't have a single heartbeat."

"Meaning..." Chiaki took a few slow steps forward, her hands casually tucked into her pockets as she stared down the path the man had vanished into. "He's, what? Dead? Moves like a person but isn't actually alive? I couldn't even see his face—just this void of nothingness. And his voice… It didn't sound human at all. It was like listening to a haunted echo inside a hollow cave." Her tone was mostly nonchalant, but there was an undercurrent of intrigue, as if the mystery itself entertained her more than it unsettled her.

Shanya furrowed her brows, crossing her arms tightly as she tried to piece things together. "Yeah, somethin' like that, I'd say. But here's the weird part—I know what a ghost feels like, and that guy? He had a body, real and solid. I don't care if he had no heartbeat; whatever he is, he ain't some intangible spirit. He was moving, reacting, fighting just like any other living thing." She exhaled sharply, ruffling her hair in frustration. "I still don't get how I couldn't detect 'im, though. That just doesn't happen."

Temoshí listened quietly, her sharp eyes flicking between the two as they walked. With a heavy sigh, she tugged her black scarf up over her mouth, shielding her face from the biting morning wind. "Whatever he was, he's gone now, and we're wasting time thinking about him. Right now, what matters is Yumiko and Aurora. That's our top priority. That guy? Just a damn inconvenience." Her voice carried a sense of finality, making it clear she wasn't interested in further speculation.

She glanced up at the sky, noticing how the deep hues of the night were beginning to wane, giving way to the faintest hints of morning light. Time was slipping away. "If the others don't know where we are by now, they might start panicking. The last thing we need is the crew running around like headless chickens looking for us. Let's move—fast. We regroup with the others first, then we can worry about the next problem waiting to slap us in the face."

With that, she picked up the pace, her boots crunching against the worn cobblestone path. Chiaki and Shanya exchanged one last glance before following suit, leaving behind only the lingering tension of the encounter—and the unsettling mystery of the faceless man.

"Meaning..." Chiaki took a few slow steps forward, her hands casually tucked into her pockets as she stared down the path the man had vanished into. "He's, what? Dead? Moves like a person but isn't actually alive? I couldn't even see his face—just this void of nothingness. And his voice… It didn't sound human at all. It was like listening to a haunted echo inside a hollow cave." Her tone was mostly nonchalant, but there was an undercurrent of intrigue, as if the mystery itself entertained her more than it unsettled her.

Shanya furrowed her brows, crossing her arms tightly as she tried to piece things together. "Yeah, somethin' like that, I'd say. But here's the weird part—I know what a ghost feels like, and that guy? He had a body, real and solid. I don't care if he had no heartbeat; whatever he is, he ain't some intangible spirit. He was moving, reacting, fighting just like any other living thing." She exhaled sharply, ruffling her hair in frustration. "I still don't get how I couldn't detect 'im, though. That just doesn't happen."

Temoshí listened quietly, her sharp eyes flicking between the two as they walked. With a heavy sigh, she tugged her black scarf up over her mouth, shielding her face from the biting morning wind. "Whatever he was, he's gone now, and we're wasting time thinking about him. Right now, what matters is Yumiko and Aurora. That's our top priority. That guy? Just a damn inconvenience." Her voice carried a sense of finality, making it clear she wasn't interested in further speculation.

She glanced up at the sky, noticing how the deep hues of the night were beginning to wane, giving way to the faintest hints of morning light. Time was slipping away. "If the others don't know where we are by now, they might start panicking. The last thing we need is the crew running around like headless chickens looking for us. Let's move—fast. We regroup with Yumiko and Aurora first, then we can worry about the next problem waiting to slap us in the face."

With that, she picked up the pace, her sneakers crunching against the worn cobblestone path. Chiaki and Shanya exchanged one last glance before following suit, leaving behind only the lingering tension of the encounter—and the unsettling mystery of the faceless man.

To be continued...