The street outside V.R Electronics was bathed in the amber glow of the late afternoon sun, but the air between Blood Eye and Ayaka felt like a frozen wasteland. Chase hung back by the storefront, giving them space while Sid watched through the glass with wide, curious eyes.
Blood Eye stood stiffly, his mechanical eye whirring with an aggressive, jagged sound. He looked at Ayaka—not as the beautiful woman in the beige trench coat, but as a part of himself that had been ripped away and given a life he couldn't control.
"You look well for a corpse's echo," Blood Eye rasped, his voice tight. "How did you end up behind a counter fixing toys? You were built to be a ghost, Ayaka. To kill before the target even heard the wind."
Ayaka leaned back against a lamppost, her dusty-pink belt catching the light as she crossed her arms. Her flirtatious smile had vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp intelligence that mirrored the man standing before her.
"I ended up here because I stopped being an 'it,' Blood Eye," she said, her voice dropping its melodic chirp. "Back in the Marches, I was a tool. A sensory extension. When you felt pain, I felt it. When you killed, I was the one who smelled the blood first so you could stay clean. Do you have any idea what it's like to be a soul-link to a man who only knows how to destroy?"
"It was the link that kept us alive," Blood Eye countered, stepping closer. "We were the perfect unit. Without me, you're just a sentient glitch in a borrowed body."
"A glitch?" Ayaka laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "The Corpse Stealer did me a favor. She broke the tether. When I woke up in this world, I realized I could feel the warmth of the sun without your cold cynicism filtering it. I realized I liked electronics because I can fix things instead of just finding the most efficient way to break them. I'm not your 'Scout' anymore. I'm Ayaka. And frankly, your 'brooding assassin' routine is exhausting."
Blood Eye flinched as if she had struck him with a Void-steel blade. "You were my eyes. I can't even look at the world now without seeing everything in red because of this mechanical patch. I'm half a man because of what she did to us."
"No," Ayaka said, her golden-rimmed glasses sliding slightly down her nose as she looked him dead in the eye.
"You're a whole man who's terrified of being alone. You used me as a shield so you didn't have to face the world yourself. Well, guess what? I'm my own person now. I have a job, I have a friend like Sid who treats me like a human, and what do you have? You got a second chance to restart your life, and you choose to go back into this war."
She stepped forward, her voice dropping to a hiss. "Have you taken a look at yourself? You look like shit. You had a brand new body, yet you decided to turn it into this amalgamation of flesh just so you could feel like your old self. You're obsessed with a past that's already buried."
Blood Eye went silent, his crimson eye flickering. He looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the defiance in her posture. She wasn't a vessel anymore; she was a sovereign entity.
"I'm working with Chase," he finally muttered, his shoulders slumping. "Hunting the ones who would ruin this peace."
"Then do your job," Ayaka said, her flirtatious smirk returning like a mask, though her eyes remained hard.
"But don't you dare come here thinking you can 'order' me back into your head. If you try to re-establish the link, I'll show you exactly how much I learned about human anatomy from you. I won't just throw you through a window; I'll dismantle you."
She pushed off the lamppost and started walking back toward the shop. She paused at the door, glancing over her shoulder. "By the way, your tactical gear is ten years out of date. And you look like an idiot. Come back tomorrow, and I'll get you something that actually fits."
As she disappeared back into V.R Electronics, Blood Eye stood alone on the sidewalk, the red glow of his eye reflecting off the pavement. He looked smaller than he had five minutes ago.
Chase walked up beside him, placing a hand on the assassin's shoulder. "She's a lot to handle."
"She was my soul, Chase," Blood Eye whispered, his voice cracking. "And she hates me."
"She doesn't hate you," Chase said quietly. "She's just enjoying being the one in the driver's seat for once. Come on. Let's head home."
They walked toward the car in silence for a moment before Blood Eye stopped. "Hey, Chase… do I look unpleasant? Be honest with me."
Chase stopped and looked at his old comrade. He saw the scarred tissue, the aggressive mechanical patch, and the weary, sunken posture of a man who refused to let go of the battlefield.
"Well… yeah," Chase admitted with a sympathetic wince. "You look like an old man about to die from some disease you'd only find in the trenches of a forgotten war."
Blood Eye let out a dry, hollow chuckle. "At least you're honest, Surgeon. Let's get out of here."