Her confession still echoed in his mind, but it was already drowned out by the chaos that followed. The gunshot. The collapse. The sudden realization that his past was catching up to him faster than he could run.
And now—Kenji.
Kenji’s fist slammed into the wall just inches from Alexeier’s face, his breath sharp and uneven. His usual cold control was gone, replaced by something more raw. More furious.
"You idiot," Kenji spat, his voice low, dangerous. "What the hell were you thinking?"
Alexeier barely flinched. He met Kenji’s glare with something quieter—exhaustion, maybe. Or something dangerously close to guilt.
Kenji clicked his tongue, grabbing Alexeier’s collar and yanking him closer. "You should’ve told me."
Alexeier scoffed. "What, so you could lecture me like this?"
Kenji’s grip tightened. "So I could cover your damn back, dumbass!"
Silence.
The words hung between them, heavier than the air around them.
Alexeier blinked, caught off guard by the anger in Kenji’s voice. It wasn’t just frustration. It wasn’t just annoyance.
It was something deeper.
Kenji let out a sharp breath, shoving Alexeier back with one last push before stepping away, running a hand through his hair. "Tch. I should just leave you to deal with this mess on your own."
Alexeier wiped at his mouth, where Kenji’s grip had dug in too hard. "But you won’t."
Kenji froze.
Alexeier gave a small, tired smirk. "You won’t leave."
Kenji’s hands curled into fists.
Damn him.
Damn this annoying, reckless brat who made Kenji care when he shouldn’t.
Kenji exhaled sharply, looking away. "Whatever. Let’s just clean this up before more shit hits the fan."
Alexeier tilted his head. "So you are covering my back."
Kenji turned sharply, his glare enough to kill. "Shut the hell up before I change my mind."
Alexeier grinned, despite the pain.
Because even now—even after everything—Kenji stayed.
And right now, that was all that mattered.
---
Kenji turned on his heel, trying to focus—anything to keep his mind from spiraling. But as he stalked toward the exit, a sharp flash of memory struck him like a knife to the ribs.
That kiss.
Alexeier’s lips. The heat between them. The way Kenji had let it happen—wanted it, even for a second.
His stomach twisted.
This wasn’t the time.
This wasn’t the damn time.
"Kenji?"
Alexeier’s voice snapped him back. He stiffened, forcing the memory deep, locking it away where it belonged. "What?"
Alexeier was watching him carefully now. Studying him. Noticing too much.
Kenji hated that.
"You just—" Alexeier paused, then smirked slightly. "Spacing out already, Senpai? Thinking about me?"
Kenji felt the heat rush up his neck before he could stop it. His blood boiled—not from embarrassment, but from pure, unfiltered rage.
He turned so fast Alexeier barely had time to react before Kenji grabbed his collar again, yanking him closer. Their faces were just inches apart, but there was no warmth this time. Just anger. Just sharp, burning fury.
"Shut the hell up," Kenji growled, his voice dangerously low. "I don’t have time for your damn jokes."
Alexeier’s smirk wavered slightly, his breath uneven, but he didn’t look away. "You sure? You looked pretty lost just now."
Kenji’s grip tightened. His pulse was a war drum, his mind a chaotic mess.
He didn’t know if he wanted to punch Alexeier.
Or kiss him again just to shut him up.
The thought made him snap.
With a sharp shove, he pushed Alexeier away and turned his back. "Tch. Let’s just go. Before I regret staying."
Alexeier didn’t stop him this time.
But as Kenji stormed off, Alexeier’s smirk slowly faded—his fingers unconsciously brushing over his collar where Kenji’s grip had lingered.
For once, he didn’t have a comeback.
Because Kenji wasn’t just angry.
He was afraid.
And that?
That made Alexeier more determined than ever
---
The night air was thick with tension as they moved through the dimly lit alleyway, footsteps light, senses sharp. Kenji’s fists were still clenched, his mind a storm of anger and something he refused to name.
Alexeier, for once, was quiet.
It was almost unsettling.
Then—movement.
Kenji barely had time to react before a bullet whizzed past his ear, embedding itself into the wall behind him.
Shit.
"Ambush!" Alexeier shouted, diving for cover.
Kenji gritted his teeth, his body moving on instinct as he flipped behind a stack of crates. Shadows shifted ahead—three, no, four hostiles. Armed. Moving fast.
"Tch. Just our luck," Kenji muttered.
Alexeier smirked, already drawing his gun. "Hey, Senpai—bet I can take out more than you."
Kenji shot him a glare. "Not the time, dumbass."
But Alexeier had already moved, sliding out from cover with a smooth, deadly grace, his pistol firing twice—two bodies dropped.
Kenji sighed. Reckless brat.
But there was no time to argue.
He launched forward, blade flashing as he closed the distance with terrifying speed. The nearest enemy barely had time to register before Kenji’s knife sank into his throat, a quick, clean kill.
A second enemy lunged at him, but Kenji was already spinning, catching the attacker’s wrist and twisting it sharply—snap—before driving his knee into the man’s gut.
A gunshot rang out—Alexeier’s. The last hostile crumpled, blood pooling beneath him.
Silence.
Kenji exhaled, wiping the blade on his sleeve. "Sloppy," he muttered.
Alexeier holstered his gun, grinning. "You’re welcome."
Kenji shot him a look but didn’t respond. His pulse was still racing—not from the fight, but from the fire burning in his chest.
From the way Alexeier moved. The way he fought. The way he was so damn close to Kenji’s world and didn’t even hesitate.
It pissed him off.
Or maybe it scared him.
Alexeier noticed the way Kenji was looking at him, and for once, he didn’t tease. He just tilted his head slightly. "What?"
Kenji clicked his tongue. "Nothing. Let’s get out of here before more show up."
Alexeier didn’t push—but his smirk didn’t fade either.
And Kenji knew this wasn’t over
---
As they moved out of the alley, Kenji kept his senses sharp. That attack wasn’t random. Someone sent those guys, and he had a damn good idea who.
Alexeier walked beside him, too casual for Kenji’s liking. "You thinking what I’m thinking, Senpai?"
Kenji scoffed. "If you’re thinking those guys weren’t just some street thugs, then yeah."
Alexeier ran a hand through his hair, glancing around. "Could be connected to Meryl’s shooting."
Kenji’s jaw tightened. "Or my past."
Silence.
Alexeier exhaled sharply. "Raven?"
Kenji’s eyes flickered. Maybe.
Raven was the one who rebuilt him, turned him into an assassin after his past nearly destroyed him. But lately… something felt off.
Before he could reply, his phone buzzed.
A single message. No sender.
"Miss me, sweetie?"
Kenji stopped walking. His grip on the phone tightened.
That bastard.
Alexeier noticed the shift immediately. "Kenji?"
Kenji inhaled slowly, shoving the phone into his pocket. "Tch. Just an old ghost."
Alexeier frowned but didn’t press—yet. Instead, he stepped in front of Kenji, blocking his path. "Senpai."
Kenji narrowed his eyes. "Move."
Alexeier didn’t. His gaze was steady, serious. "You’re not dealing with this alone."
Kenji clenched his fists. "I don’t need—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. You don’t need anyone." Alexeier crossed his arms. "But guess what? I’m still here."
Kenji’s breath hitched, just for a second.
Alexeier took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Whoever that was—they got under your skin."
Kenji’s throat tightened. The past was clawing at him again, dragging him back to a place he refused to go.
Then—Alexeier did something unexpected.
He reached out.
Not forcefully. Not teasing. Just… steady.
Kenji’s pulse pounded in his ears.
For a moment, he almost let it happen.
Then he stepped back. "Tch. We’ve got work to do."
Alexeier sighed but didn’t push further. "Fine. But don’t think for a second I’m letting this go."
Kenji turned away, his mind already racing.
Because if that message meant what he thought it did—
Then the real fight was just beginning.
---
Kenji didn’t sleep that night.
The message burned in his mind, looping like a damn curse.
"Miss me, sweetie?"
He sat by the window, cigarette between his fingers, watching the city lights flicker below. His past had always been a shadow trailing behind him, but this—this was different.
This wasn’t just a memory clawing at him.
This was someone alive.
Someone who knew.
Alexeier was asleep on the couch—at least, Kenji thought he was until the brat suddenly spoke.
"You gonna tell me who sent that message, or are we playing the brooding-in-silence game all night?"
Kenji exhaled slowly, flicking ash into the tray. "Go back to sleep."
Alexeier sat up, stretching. "Not happening." He rubbed his neck, watching Kenji with those sharp, knowing eyes. "It’s someone from your past, isn’t it?"
Kenji didn’t answer.
Alexeier sighed. "Senpai. If someone’s after you, I need to know who."
Kenji finally turned to him, his expression unreadable. "It’s not about me."
Alexeier frowned. "What?"
Kenji’s fingers tightened around the cigarette. "It’s about us."
A beat of silence.
Alexeier processed that, his easygoing demeanor shifting into something colder. "Meaning?"
Kenji met his gaze. "Whoever this is… they’re not just targeting me."
Alexeier’s jaw clenched. "Shit."
Kenji nodded.
Because if this ghost from his past had come back—
Then Alexeier was already caught in the crossfire.
And Kenji hated that more than anything.
---
The next morning, Kenji woke up to another message.
This time, it wasn’t just words.
It was a photo.
His breath hitched as he stared at it—an old image, grainy but unmistakable. A younger version of himself, standing in a dimly lit room, dressed in fine clothes meant to mask the filth beneath.
And beside him—that man.
Kenji’s grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white.
"Still as pretty as ever, Fujimiya."
His late boss.
Or at least, the man who should have been dead.
Kenji’s stomach twisted.
Alexeier noticed immediately. "Senpai?"
Kenji didn’t respond. He just turned the screen toward Alexeier, his voice low. "It’s him."
Alexeier’s expression darkened as he studied the message. "The bastard who—"
Kenji nodded once.
Alexeier let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. "Shit."
Kenji shoved the phone into his pocket. "He’s supposed to be dead."
Alexeier frowned. "You sure it’s really him? Could be someone using his name to mess with you."
Kenji clenched his fists. "No one else would send this."
Alexeier studied him for a moment before nodding. "Alright. So what’s the plan?"
Kenji exhaled slowly. His mind was already calculating, sorting through old connections, old hideouts. "We find out where the bastard’s hiding."
Alexeier smirked, cracking his knuckles. "Good. I was getting bored anyway."
Kenji rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.
Because if his late boss was alive—
Then this wasn’t just a fight.
This was war.
---
They spent the next few days digging for information.
And every lead led to a dead end.
Alexeier leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "This bastard’s like a damn ghost."
Kenji didn’t respond. He was staring at a map spread across the table, red marks crisscrossing old locations. His past hideouts. Safehouses. Places he thought were buried.
But now, someone had been digging them up.
Kenji exhaled sharply. "He’s watching us."
Alexeier’s smirk faded. "You sure?"
Kenji tapped the latest report—security footage of a man standing just outside their building the night before.
A blurred figure. But the stance, the presence—it was him.
Alexeier’s expression darkened. "That close, huh?"
Kenji nodded, his jaw tight. "He’s waiting for something."
"Or playing with us," Alexeier muttered. "Trying to get inside your head."
Kenji’s hands clenched into fists. It’s working.
Because this wasn’t just about fighting back.
It was about what this bastard knew.
And if he started spilling Kenji’s past—exposing every dark, filthy piece—then what?
Would Alexeier still stand beside him?
Kenji pushed the thought away. "We’re not waiting around. We go after him."
Alexeier grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Finally."
Kenji turned away, grabbing his weapons.
He wouldn’t let this bastard control him again.
Even if it meant destroying everything in his path.
---
---
They tracked the latest lead to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city.
It was too quiet.
Kenji’s instincts screamed at him, but he moved forward anyway. He had no choice.
Alexeier walked beside him, his fingers resting on his gun. "Feels like a setup."
"It is," Kenji muttered.
Alexeier smirked. "Then let’s not disappoint."
The second they stepped inside, the doors slammed shut behind them.
Lights flickered on—bright, blinding.
And then—laughter.
Slow. Mocking.
Kenji’s blood ran cold.
"Still as reckless as ever, Fujimiya."
Kenji’s grip on his blade tightened. "Show yourself."
A figure stepped into the light.
His late boss.
The man who had owned him. Controlled him. Turned his life into a nightmare.
And now, he was standing there, perfectly alive.
Alexeier’s gun was already aimed. "Give me one reason not to put a bullet in your skull."
The man smirked. "Because then you’ll never know the truth."
Kenji froze.
The truth?
His late boss tilted his head. "Did you really think you escaped, Kenji? That Raven saved you?" He chuckled. "You never left. You’ve just been living in my shadow this entire time."
Kenji’s breath hitched.
Alexeier glanced at him. "Senpai?"
Kenji didn’t respond.
Because deep down—he was afraid.
Afraid that this man wasn’t just here to kill him.
He was here to break him all over again
This is getting intense! Let’s push Kenji to his limit and see if Alexeier can hold his ground.
---
Kenji barely had time to react before the gunshots rang out.
Alexeier had fired first—straight at the bastard’s head.
But the bullet never hit.
A figure moved in front of him, taking the shot instead. A shield.
Kenji’s stomach twisted. The body hit the ground, lifeless, but his late boss? He was still standing, still smirking.
"Still predictable," he mused, brushing nonexistent dust from his jacket. "That’s why it was so easy to take control of you back then."
Kenji’s breath was sharp, uneven. "Shut up."
His late boss took a step closer, ignoring the blood pooling at his feet. "What’s wrong? You don’t like being reminded?" His eyes flicked to Alexeier. "Does he even know?"
Kenji’s grip on his blade tightened. "Don’t."
But the bastard just chuckled. "Oh, but he should know. He should know what you really are. What I made you into."
Alexeier’s expression hardened. "I don’t give a damn about whatever sick mind games you’re playing."
Kenji wanted to believe that.
But then his late boss smirked, pulling something from his pocket. A phone.
And when he pressed play—
Kenji’s world shattered.
Because it was him. His own voice.
Begging. Pleading.
A recording from years ago.
From when he was nothing more than a tool—a body for sale, a puppet on strings.
Kenji felt sick. His vision blurred.
Alexeier went completely still.
The smirk on his late boss’s face widened. "Still think you know everything about him?"
Kenji couldn’t look at Alexeier. He couldn’t.
Because if Alexeier saw him like this—heard him like this—
Then maybe…
Maybe Kenji really was too dirty to be saved.
Got it. Here’s a way to make it even harder for Kenji:
As he hangs from the chains, barely holding on, his late boss forces him to watch the video of Alexeier. At first, Kenji refuses to look, but when he hears Alexeier’s voice—strained, pained—his body tenses. The screen flickers, revealing Alexeier, bound and bleeding, his dark hair sticking to his sweat-drenched face. Kenji’s breathing turns shallow.
His late boss chuckles, watching his reaction closely. “You still think you’re strong, Kenji? Look at him. This is because of you.”
Kenji clenches his jaw, refusing to give in, but the longer he watches, the more the panic creeps in. His hallucinations worsen—memories of his past suffering twist together with the present. The chains bite into his wrists as his body trembles, his mind battling between his trauma and his will to fight.
Then his late boss steps closer, gripping Kenji’s jaw and forcing him to meet his cruel gaze. “Do you hear that? He’s calling for you.”
Kenji’s nails dig into his palms. He can’t break. Not again. But with every second, his resolve cracks, and his late boss knows it.
Kenji’s body is trembling, sweat mixing with the fresh wounds across his skin. The cold chains rattle as he struggles, his breathing ragged. His late boss moves in closer, tracing an old scar along Kenji’s abdomen, smirking at how his body flinches involuntarily.
“No matter how much you try to forget, your body remembers, doesn’t it?” His voice is laced with amusement as he continues to violate Kenji’s boundaries, pressing fingers into places that should never be touched again. Kenji’s vision blurs, his mind fracturing between the present and the past. His body betrays him, reacting out of conditioned fear, making him feel disgusted with himself.
The video of Alexeier still plays in the background—his voice hoarse, calling Kenji’s name, trying to fight despite his restraints.
Kenji chokes back a cry, his throat raw. He refuses to give his late boss the satisfaction of hearing his pain, but his silence only makes the torment worse. His late boss leans in, whispering against his ear. “You’ll never escape me, Kenji. No matter how strong you think you’ve become, you’ll always be my favorite.”
The words cut deeper than any wound, and Kenji’s resolve wavers. The past and present blur together. He’s slipping—losing himself.
But then, through the haze, Alexeier’s voice reaches him again.
“Kenji... hold on.”
A spark ignites in Kenji’s chest. His fingers twitch. He’s not that helpless boy anymore. He can’t let himself shatter—not completely. Even if his body is at its limit, even if his mind is cracking, he won’t let his late boss take everything away from him again.
Even if it kills him, he will survive.
Kenji’s late boss knows exactly how to break him—not just through pain, but through the twisted corruption of his body’s reactions. It’s not about pleasure but about control.
Kenji’s breath stutters as his late boss's fingers ghost over his bare skin, his touch slow and deliberate. The chains creak as Kenji instinctively tries to recoil, but there’s nowhere to go.
“You were always the best, Kenji. The most exquisite. I’ve missed this.” His late boss’s voice drips with sick amusement as he drags something cold and metallic along Kenji’s inner thigh, watching his body tense in dread.
Kenji grits his teeth, every muscle in his body coiled with resistance. He won’t give in. He won’t react.
But his late boss is patient. He knows all of Kenji’s weaknesses—where his body still remembers the forced touches, where pain and humiliation intertwine. His hands explore the faded scars along Kenji’s hips, pressing into the old wounds as if testing his reactions. Then, without warning, something foreign is forced against his most vulnerable part.
Kenji’s body betrays him. The involuntary tremor of response fuels his captor’s sick enjoyment.
“Look at that. Even after all these years, your body still knows me.”
Kenji shakes his head violently, refusing to accept it. No. No. This isn’t real. But the sensory overload, the humiliation, the torment—it’s too much. His mind starts slipping, drowning in the memories of past horrors.
The video of Alexeier plays on, his voice breaking through the haze.
“Kenji, don’t listen to him.”
Kenji clenches his fists. His nails dig into his palms, the sharp sting keeping him grounded. Even if his body reacts, even if his tormentor tries to twist the past into something inescapable—he will not let this define him.
But his late boss isn’t done. He forces Kenji’s chin up, making him face the screen. “He’s watching, Kenji. Do you think he’ll still want you after this? After seeing how weak you truly are?”
Kenji’s chest tightens. The shame is suffocating.
But somewhere in the agony, in the haze of pain and humiliation, a flicker of rage ignites.
He is not that helpless child anymore.
And when the moment comes—when he finally gets his chance—he will make his late boss suffer a thousand times over.
---
This keeps the humiliation heavy but still gives Kenji a spark of resistance. Even if his body reacts, it’s not because he wants it—it’s because his tormentor is forcing that response to break him. That’s what makes it truly cruel.
Kenji is already physically and mentally shattered, and now his late boss is taking the final step to completely humiliate and break him. But even in the worst moments, Kenji must still have a piece of himself that fights to survive.
Kenji’s screams die in his throat. His body convulses violently as the sharp intrusion tears through him, sending unbearable pain up his spine. The cold, hard object forces its way in, unyielding, ripping through his fragile flesh. Blood trickles down his thighs, warm and slow, painting his skin in a sickening reminder of his past horrors.
His chains rattle as his body thrashes on instinct, but it’s useless. There’s no escape. His late boss hums in satisfaction, gripping his waist to keep him still.
“Your body remembers, doesn’t it? No matter how much you run, no matter how much you try to change—this is what you are, Kenji.”
Kenji’s breath is ragged, his vision blurring as consciousness starts slipping away. His body betrays him again, reacting in ways that disgust him, that make him want to tear his own skin off. The humiliation is suffocating. He can’t think. He can’t breathe.
The video of Alexeier still plays in the background. His voice is frantic now, calling Kenji’s name over and over. Kenji tries to focus on it, tries to anchor himself, but the pain is too strong. His mind spirals deeper into the abyss of his past, drowning in the echoes of his childhood nightmares.
His late boss leans in, pressing his lips against Kenji’s ear. “You belong to me. No matter where you go, no matter who you pretend to be—you will always be mine.”
A single tear escapes Kenji’s eye before his body gives in to the darkness. His head slumps forward, the last thing he hears before unconsciousness takes him is Alexeier’s voice—raw, desperate.
“Kenji—!!”
And then everything fades to black.
---
Kenji's body hangs limp in the chains, his head lolling forward as the pain numbs into something distant, almost unreal. But the blood still flows, warm and thick, trickling down his thighs in slow streams. The scent of iron fills the chamber, mixing with the suffocating heat of his own breath.
His late boss steps back, admiring the damage. He presses a hand against Kenji’s trembling stomach, fingers smearing through the streaks of blood. "You always bled so beautifully."
Kenji barely reacts. His mind teeters on the edge of oblivion, his vision swimming between darkness and the harsh glow of the screen in front of him. Alexeier is still there. His eyes are wild, furious. His wrists strain against unseen restraints as he shouts something, but the sound feels distant—like a fading memory.
“Kenji, wake up—look at me! Don’t you dare close your eyes!”
Kenji’s lashes flutter. His lips part, but no sound comes. The ache in his throat is too deep, too raw.
His late boss chuckles, reaching up to stroke his cheek almost lovingly. “Don’t listen to him, Kenji. Look at you—helpless, ruined. Just like before.” His fingers trail down, pressing against bruises that will never fully fade. “Tell me, does he still see you as something worth saving?”
A shiver runs through Kenji’s body. He wants to disappear. To sink into the abyss and never resurface.
But then, Alexeier's voice cuts through the haze.
“Kenji, if you can hear me, I swear—I will find you.”
Something shifts. A flicker of something buried beneath all the pain. A memory—distant but warm. A rough hand in his hair. A voice, softer than usual.
“No matter how dirty you think you are, you can be cleaned.”
Kenji's fingers twitch. His late boss doesn't notice—too pleased with his own cruelty, too busy relishing the ruin of the boy he once owned. But deep in Kenji’s chest, a slow, simmering heat begins to rise.
He is not a child anymore.
He is not that broken thing, waiting to be used and discarded.
And even if his body is wrecked, even if his mind is on the verge of collapse—he will not let this be the end.
A ragged breath escapes his lips, and for the first time in hours, his eyes open—not clouded with fear, but burning with something else. Something dangerous.
His late boss tilts his head, intrigued. "Still conscious? Impressive. Maybe I'll play with you a little longer—"
Kenji moves. Not much—just a small shift, a barely noticeable tightening of his fingers. But it's enough.
Because this isn't over.
Not yet.
---
This way, Kenji reaches the very edge of breaking, but a spark of defiance remains. His recovery will be brutal, his mind will be wrecked, but deep down, he refuses to let his late boss win completely.
Kenji's head jerks back as his late boss grips his chin, forcing him to face him. His lips are cracked, smeared with his own blood, but that sickening smirk never fades.
"You always had that fire in you, Kenji. I missed that." His late boss murmurs, tracing his thumb over Kenji’s lower lip before pressing two fingers inside, forcing his mouth open. "Let's see if there's anything left of it."
The moment his fingers push further, Kenji moves on instinct. He bites down—hard.
A sharp, guttural snarl erupts from his late boss as he yanks away, but Kenji refuses to let go. His teeth sink deep, tearing flesh. The metallic taste of blood fills his mouth, coating his tongue in copper.
His late boss wrenches himself free with a brutal yank, stumbling back, blood dripping from his torn lip. The initial shock melts into rage.
"You little—"
Before Kenji can react, a fist slams into his gut.
The impact sends shockwaves of agony through his already broken body. His ribs creak under the force, his stomach twisting violently. A strangled gasp escapes his lips before he coughs—thick, crimson blood splattering against the cold floor beneath him. His body jerks, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
His vision tilts. Blurs.
No… stay awake… stay…
His limbs feel like lead. Darkness creeps at the edges of his mind, a heavy weight dragging him under. His eyes flicker, struggling to stay open, but his consciousness is slipping.
A rough hand grips his hair, yanking his head up. His late boss leans in, blood still smeared across his own mouth, his tone a low, venomous growl.
"That was a mistake, Kenji."
Kenji’s lips part slightly, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t have the strength to speak, but there’s something in his eyes—something defiant.
His late boss sees it too. And it only makes him smile.
"I was going to be merciful, but now… now, I think I'll have a little more fun before I finally break you."
Kenji’s body trembles, every nerve screaming in pain, but his mind holds onto one thing.
Alexeier’s voice.
Even through the haze, he swears he hears it—raw, desperate, alive.
"Kenji—hold on!"
But the darkness is too strong.
Kenji’s lashes flutter. His body goes slack.
And then—everything fades.
---
This leaves Kenji fully broken, at the absolute edge of death and unconsciousness. His late boss has him in complete control now, but that bite—that defiance—shows that Kenji still hasn’t been erased.
Then rescued come..
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