Aiko ran.
The tunnel walls blurred as she sprinted through the underground labyrinth. The air was thick with dust and damp rot, each breath burning in her lungs. Behind her, the echoes of gunfire faded, but she knew better than to stop.
Ryoji had told her to run.
So she did.
A sudden opening—an old service hatch. She grabbed the rusted handle and wrenched it open, forcing herself through. The world flipped as she tumbled down a steep incline, her hands scraping against metal. Then—daylight.
She had emerged beneath an overpass, the din of traffic above masking her ragged breathing. The city pulsed around her, unaware of the hunt taking place beneath its surface.
No time to think. No time to stop.
She darted across a narrow alley, her mind racing. They would expect her to blend into the crowds, to disappear among the neon and chaos of Tokyo's streets. But Ryoji's lessons echoed in her mind.
They always predict the obvious. Give them the impossible.
Aiko veered off-course, scaling a rain-slicked fire escape and pulling herself onto a rooftop. From here, she could see them—black-suited figures moving methodically, sweeping the streets. She flattened against the metal structure, waiting for her moment.
Then she ran again.
Across rooftops, leaping gaps she never would have attempted before. Down into an abandoned railyard, slipping between rusted train cars. Through a flooded canal, waist-deep in freezing water, her hands gripping the slippery walls as she pulled herself to the other side.
Each turn was a gamble. Each move had to be unpredictable.
Somewhere far below, in the tunnels she had left behind, Ryoji was still fighting.
Ryoji moved like a shadow through the remnants of the underground sector. The Agency's elite forces were disciplined, but they weren't ghosts. They relied on tech—drones, sensors, scanners.
He relied on instinct.
A flash of movement. He ducked low as an agent swept past, night-vision optics scanning. Silent as death, he moved behind him—one swift strike, blade into the throat. The body dropped without a sound.
The grid above flickered as the Agency tried to reestablish control. Their systems had gone dark when he hijacked their comms, but he knew it wouldn't last. He needed to move.
A side passage. A maintenance tunnel long forgotten. He slipped inside just as a floodlight swept the corridor he had left behind.
He had bought himself seconds. Not minutes.
Then, from his stolen earpiece—
"Target Beta lost. Last sighting—upper city."
Aiko.
Ryoji's jaw clenched. He had told her to run. But he also knew what she was capable of.
He moved faster.
The streets were alive with movement. Aiko blended into the chaos, her wet clothes sticking to her skin as she pushed through the crowds of Shinjuku's backstreets. She felt the eyes watching, the hidden threats moving closer.
Then—a reflection in a store window. A figure moving against the tide of people.
They had found her.
Aiko didn't hesitate. She shoved past a vendor cart, knocking over boxes of produce as she bolted into a side street. The footfalls behind her were steady, controlled. They weren't chasing. They were herding.
She turned sharply, spotting an open doorway—an old, half-abandoned apartment complex. She sprinted inside, taking the stairs three at a time.
She needed to get higher. She needed a plan.
But as she reached the top floor, the door ahead burst open.
An agent. Masked. Armed.
No escape.
Aiko's breath hitched as the man raised his weapon—
Then a shadow moved behind him.
Fast. Silent. Deadly.
Ryoji.
A flash of steel. A muffled choke. The agent crumpled.
Ryoji looked at her. "Lesson eight."
She swallowed hard. "What is it?"
His voice was low, steady.
"Never run alone."
Then they moved—together—vanishing into the night as the city swallowed them whole.
To be continued in Chapter 10...