Sakuya and Shinobu were forced to face the raw reality of the tragedy one last time. The same tragedy that had been following them for months, refusing to fade.
The ceremony moved forward slowly, almost cruelly, as if every minute deliberately stretched itself to better remind them of what had been lost. The words echoed through the air, solemn, sometimes mechanical, but to Sakuya, everything felt muted. Sounds reached him as though filtered through a thick, unreal veil. It was not the present that weighed on him, but the past. Still there. Intact. Impossible to avoid.
And in the middle of it all, there was Jūzō.
His presence was an aberration.
He had no place here.
No place in this building.
No place in this moment.
And yet, he stood there.
Perfectly still. Ostentatiously calm. As if he were savoring every second of the silent tension. One agent too many. One stare too many. A shadow contaminating a space that should have remained sacred.
Throughout the ceremony, Sakuya felt Jūzō's gaze settle on him again and again. Each time their eyes met, the same thing passed between them.
A cold hatred.
Raw.
Unmistakable.
Not the kind that explodes.
The kind that builds.
Jūzō did not restrain himself. Low remarks. Inappropriate smiles. Half-veiled comments, discreet enough to avoid causing a scene, yet clear enough to be understood. Dirty, pointless words, deliberately cruel.
But Sakuya did not answer.
Not this time.
He had neither the time nor the will.
His attention was elsewhere.
At his side.
On Shinobu.
Sakuya stayed close to him the entire time. Not as a guard. Not as an agent. But as a friend. As the last pillar still standing. He watched every movement, the way Shinobu's shoulders tensed at times, the way his gaze drifted whenever a word, an image, or a memory became too heavy to carry.
Today, nothing else mattered.
Not Jūzō.
Not the N.A.S.C.
Not Seimei.
Not classifications, tensions, or conflicts yet to come.
There was only Shinobu.
And Kanao.
Kanao Haragane.
The person they had come to honor one last time.
The person who had been the love of his life.
The person around whom all this silence had been built.
Sakuya remained upright. Silent. Present.
Because in that precise moment, simply being there was already a battle.
And because no matter what followed, no matter what this day would lead to, he knew one thing with absolute certainty.
Today, he was no longer fighting for himself.
He was fighting for Kanao.
And for Shinobu.
Once outside the building, the cold air struck Shinobu harder than expected.
He stopped for a moment, his gaze still distant, then let it drift almost unconsciously toward Sakuya.
And what he realized unsettled him deeply.
Sakuya was standing straight. Motionless. With an almost unreal solidity.
From the beginning of the ceremony, he had not faltered once. Not even for a second. He had held his posture, his gaze, his silence, as if it were a mission that could not allow the slightest error. Focused. Serious. Present from start to finish.
Too present, perhaps.
A strange dizziness passed through Shinobu.
From the outside, Sakuya looked as though none of it truly affected him anymore. As if he had already endured the worst. As if this pain now belonged to the past, locked away behind a perfectly controlled facade.
And that thought struck him hard.
Because Shinobu knew.
He knew it was not true.
He knew Sakuya was anything but indifferent. That deep down, he was just as broken. Maybe even more so. But where Shinobu sometimes let his cracks show, his heavy silences, his wandering eyes, Sakuya seemed to have learned to contain everything.
To lock everything away.
As if something had changed at its core over the past months. As if this calm, impassive version of Sakuya had been forged through trials, isolation, and inner battles Shinobu could only imagine, never truly witness.
The contrast disturbed him.
Seeing his friend stand so straight in the face of such immense pain should have reassured him.
Instead, a quiet fear settled in.
Because Shinobu suddenly realized that this solidity might not be healing.
It might be armor.
And without daring to say it out loud, he wondered how long Sakuya could keep moving forward like this.
Then Sakuya slowly turned toward him.
His expression softened. Just a little.
A discreet, almost fragile smile appeared on his lips.
"Do you remember… when we were kids…" he said quietly,
"when I dreamed of becoming a doctor?"
The question caught Shinobu off guard. It seemed to come from nowhere. He blinked, searching his memory, then nodded.
"Yeah… I remember."
A sad smile crossed his face.
"You said you wanted to heal people. You wanted to be able to save anyone."
Sakuya nodded slowly.
"Yeah."
He lowered his gaze for a moment.
"I wanted to save people… so no one would ever have to lose the ones they love."
A light sigh escaped him.
"It's ironic."
He paused.
"Now I realize I've almost lost everything."
His fingers tightened slightly against the black fabric of his suit.
"My mother."
"The woman I loved."
His eyes closed briefly, tension tightening his face.
"And I feel like… I'm losing something else too."
He looked back at Shinobu.
"My humanity."
The words hit Shinobu head-on.
"Sakuya…" he said immediately, emotion thick in his voice.
"What are you talking about? You're still our Saku—"
He stopped himself. As if he felt it was not the right word.
He took a breath, then continued more softly.
"My best friend."
The effect was immediate.
Sakuya felt his throat tighten. For a moment, it was as if Shinobu's voice overlapped with Kanao's. As if it was something she might have said. But in Shinobu's own way.
His eyes glistened.
"Thank you, Shino…"
His voice trembled slightly.
"Thank you for being here."
He did not get the chance to say more.
A heavy, oppressive presence suddenly imposed itself behind them.
Jūzō.
He had been watching them for a while now. Thirty seconds, maybe more. His dark gaze was fixed on Sakuya, unapologetic, unwavering.
His voice cut through the air.
"That's enough."
He crossed his arms.
"Your little ceremony is over. I'm taking you back to the complex. Follow me."
Something broke inside Sakuya.
He had endured everything until now. The looks. The remarks. Jūzō's presence.
But this was too much.
"Jūzō."
He stepped forward calmly, stopping right in front of him.
"Why don't you just leave me the hell alone?"
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay in control.
"What's your fucking problem?"
"Why does it have to be you escorting me?"
Jūzō laughed. A dry, joyless laugh.
"First off, I didn't choose to be here."
He tilted his head slightly.
"And second… what I said wasn't a request."
His smile widened.
"It was an order."
Sakuya took another step forward.
The atmosphere instantly grew heavier.
"Hey."
Shinobu's voice rose, firm despite everything.
"Show some respect."
He looked straight at Jūzō.
"These are funerals."
Jūzō slowly turned his head toward him.
Then, without warning, he moved.
No step.
No visible motion.
He was already there.
His finger brushed Shinobu's forehead.
A simple touch.
Shinobu's body instantly relaxed. His eyes closed. His weight shifted sideways, his wheelchair nearly tipping over.
He fell unconscious before he could even understand what had happened.
Silence fell.
But this time, it was different.
Far more dangerous.
Sakuya did not think.
There was no shout. No warning. No visible build-up.
One moment earlier, Jūzō was still standing.
The next, Sakuya was already there.
The air seemed to bend around him, as if space itself had given way. In a fraction of a second, he crossed the distance between them, his movement so fast it felt unreal.
His knee rose.
Not in a wild motion.
Not in blind rage.
In a perfectly controlled strike.
The impact was monstrous.
Sakuya's knee crashed into Jūzō's scarred face with such violence that a sharp crack echoed through the air. Jūzō's head snapped back, his body lifting off the ground as if struck by an unavoidable force.
He flew.
Several meters.
His body tore through the air before slamming heavily into the ground, carried by the impact, leaving behind a stunned silence.
This was not just a blow.
It was a declaration.
The fight had begun.
Sakuya did not look away.
Jūzō lay on the ground, his body still shaken by the impact, while Sakuya stood motionless above him, like a shadow looming overhead. His fists were clenched until his knuckles whitened. His shoulders trembled slightly. His jaw was clenched tight with pain.
Then his voice erupted.
"Don't you ever touch him again."
Each word was spat out, vibrating with contained violence.
"You piece of shit."
He stepped forward.
His gaze burned. Not with explosive anger, but with something far more dangerous. A cold, dense rage, ready to crush everything in its path.
"You can disrespect me all you want. I don't give a damn." Another step. "You can break my sternum, shatter my ribs, leave me for dead if it makes you happy."
His teeth clenched harder.
Then his voice changed.
Lower. Slower. Lethal.
"But ruining a funeral…" His eyes locked onto Jūzō with near inhuman intensity. "And touching Shinobu…"
A terrible silence fell.
"That's where you crossed the line."