CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Everyone fight their own war
♤♡♢♧
Chishiya had rarely cared about anything.
He didn't care about his family, just as his family hadn't cared about him.
He never minded that he didn't fit in—because, truthfully, he had never wanted to.
Most people around him were predictable, dull, average, and endlessly selfish. Then again, he had always believed that all people were endlessly selfish. Especially him.
Most of his life, he had experienced things as an outsider, untouched by what made others cry or what brought them joy. He hadn't gone to medical school because it was what his prestigious doctor parents would have wanted.
He went because he was curious—curious if it would make him care about human lives.
It didn't.
But he was exceptionally good at it, just as he was at nearly everything he did. Even so, he never felt pride, never felt as if he had accomplished something.
He simply moved forward, unshaken, steady.
Art, on occasion, interested him. Sometimes, he would linger in museums, staring at paintings, trying to understand how a single brushstroke could hold so much—pain, joy, disgust, longing, excitement.
After all, they were just chemical compounds pressed onto canvas.
He never quite grasped how shades of gray, white, black, brown, yellow, blue, or deep green, blended together, could make him feel the warmth of sunlight breaking through a forest, almost as if it touched his skin.
He never searched for an explanation as to why that intrigued him.
Just as he never searched for an explanation as to why she intrigued him.
Maybe it was because he saw Seina the way he saw those paintings—beautifully constructed tragedy, with far more depth than what one saw at first glance. The longer you looked, the deeper it got, the more unbearable it became, layers unfolding into something raw, something broken.
He could never pinpoint the exact moment when he started to worry about her, when he started noticing how, like dried paint cracking on a canvas, she was slowly fracturing beside him.
Maybe that was why he was so careful with her. Why he made sure—subtly, deliberately—that she didn't destroy herself, or that no one else destroyed her either. Not even him.
He couldn't recall if that concern had ever faded, or if it had simply reignited the moment they crossed paths in this place again. The lines had blurred too much, like colors bleeding together under a painter's hand, mixing into something new, something untraceable.
He didn't know when his boundaries had started to blur with hers. Maybe that was the moment he realized he finally understand the true meaning of art. Maybe that was why, without thinking, he turned to her, his gaze flicking briefly to the way she was still favoring her side, her movements just slightly too stiff.
He sighed.
She's in no shape for this.
"You should hide somewhere," he said flatly.
Seina's brows shot up. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." His tone didn't change. "With injuries like that, you won't be able to run if things go south. If someone comes after you, you're dead."
Seina's jaw tightened. "So what? You want me to just crawl into a hole and wait?"
"More or less."
"Yeah, that's not happening."
Chishiya sighed again, clearly already expecting this fight. "Pick a place. Somewhere no one would think to look for you."
Seina crossed her arms, ignoring the dull throb of pain. "And where exactly do you suggest?"
A small smirk tugged at Chishiya's lips. "Aguni's room."
Seina blinked. "What?"
"Think about it," he continued. "Who the hell would check there? It's Aguni's space, no one's stupid enough to go snooping around his room right now. You'd be safer there than anywhere else."
Seina hated to admit it, but it wasn't a bad plan. Still, the idea of hiding while everything went to hell around her made her stomach twist.
She exhaled sharply. "And what about you?"
Chishiya shrugged. "I'm going after Niragi."
Kuina sighed. "Great. And I guess that leaves me to babysit the rest of the executives and see if any of them start acting shady."
"Exactly." Chishiya nodded.
Seina ran a hand through her hair, frustration simmering beneath her skin. She wanted to argue, to fight back against the idea of just hiding—but the truth was, Chishiya was right. Every move still sent sharp pain lancing through her body, and if someone did come after her, she wouldn't last long.
Still, the thought of sitting still while they ran headfirst into danger made her want to scream.
But she swallowed it down.
"...Fine."
Chishiya tilted his head slightly. "Was that so hard?"
Seina glared at him. "Shut up before I change my mind."
A soft chuckle escaped Kuina, but the tension still hung heavy between them.
They were about to split—each one walking straight into their own version of hell.
Seina hesitated, then reached out, her fingers brushing over Chishiya's hand. It was a fleeting touch, but it made him pause, his gaze snapping to hers.
"Be really fucking careful," she muttered.
For a split second, something unreadable flickered across his face. Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone.
He simply smirked. "No promises."
Seina rolled her eyes, pulling back.
And then, without another word, they all turned and walked away.
***
Chishiya had always found Niragi's methods distasteful. Unimaginative.
Mowing people down from a rooftop like some deranged sniper? Please.
It wasn't even sport.
He crouched in the shadows of the ransacked supply room, sifting through the scattered junk.
He wasn't looking for a gun.
Guns were Niragi's thing, and he had no interest in playing by Niragi's rules.
No—Chishiya had something far more poetic in mind.
His fingers brushed against something plastic. His head tilted slightly as he pulled it from the pile.
A water gun.
His smirk was slow, amused.
"Burn before it burns," Seina's voice echoed in his mind, a throwaway remark from another lifetime, before all of this.
Chishiya chuckled. How ironic.
He grabbed a few more things, formulating the rest of his plan. This was going to be fun.
***
Kuina nearly bumped into Ann as she rounded the corner, her nerves still shot from the chaos around them.
"Shit—Ann?" she exhaled, taking a step back. "You scared the hell out of me."
Ann, as always, was calm. Focused. Like none of this insanity was even happening. "What are you doing here?"
"Same as you, I'd guess," Kuina muttered, glancing around. "Trying to figure out who the hell the witch is before we all go up in flames."
Ann gave a small nod, then lifted something in her hand.
A small, clear plastic bag. Inside—
Kuina's stomach twisted. "Is that...?"
"The murder weapon," Ann confirmed. "The knife that was used to stab Momoka."
Kuina swallowed, glancing around. "Please tell me you have some genius trick up your sleeve, because we don't have a lot of time here."
Ann's lips curved slightly. "I do, actually."
She pulled out a small tube of superglue.
Kuina blinked. "Okay, I'm gonna need you to connect the dots for me."
Ann knelt down, pulling a small metal tray from her bag. She placed the knife inside and started working.
"The blade will have fingerprints," Ann explained as she squeezed the superglue onto the tray. "Normally, the oils in a person's fingerprint break down over time. But if you heat superglue in a contained space, it releases cyanoacrylate vapors that bind to the residue left behind."
Kuina stared. "And that means...?"
Ann glanced up. "It means that in a few minutes, we'll have a clear set of fingerprints on this knife."
Kuina exhaled, rubbing a hand over her face. "You're a fucking genius."
Ann didn't respond—just focused on the process, her expression unreadable.
Kuina watched her work, exhaling slowly. For the first time that night, she felt a sliver of something close to hope.
Maybe, just maybe, they could figure this out before it was too late.
***
Seina moved quickly, keeping her head down as she slipped through the corridors, scanning every hallway before stepping out. The entire Beach had become a war zone—gunfire cracked through the air, screams echoed, and the acrid scent of burning flesh clung to the walls like a curse.
She pressed herself against the cool surface of the stairwell door, inhaling sharply before easing it open. The metal creaked, and she froze, heart pounding, waiting to see if anyone had heard.
Nothing.
She exhaled and slipped inside, climbing the fire escape as fast as her injuries allowed. Every step sent a dull, radiating pain through her body, but she gritted her teeth and kept going. The air was thick with smoke and sweat, and her pulse hammered so violently she swore she could hear it over the chaos.
By some miracle, she made it to Aguni's floor without running into one of the maniacs downstairs setting people on fire.
She reached his door.
Her breath caught in her throat as she pushed it open and stepped inside—
And froze.
Aguni was already there.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, his broad shoulders slumped forward, his hands clasped over his face.
Seina stopped breathing.
Slowly, he lifted his head. His dark, exhausted eyes locked onto hers, and a slow, creeping tension filled the air between them.
Seina had faced death a hundred times over in this world.
But something about the way Aguni looked at her in that moment—so still, so heavy, so unreadable—made the words die in her throat.
For the first time in a long, long time, she had no idea what to say.