### Volume 2: Upper World

  **Chapter 19: The Past That Cuts**

  Sky let the folded paper slip from his fingers. It fluttered down to the cracked concrete like a dead leaf—blank on the other side, no signature, no explanation, just those nine words burning behind his eyes:

  *They knew this was gonna happen to Sky and Max.*

  He stared at it for three seconds.

  Then he looked up.

  Mara was still on his knees twenty feet away—chest heaving, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, Mist Sword planted in the ground like a crutch. The thirteen Yakima Clan members fanned out behind him in a loose half-circle. Mei stood at the center, red bandana dark with rain. Renji, Aki, Sora, Haru, Yuna, Taro, Riku, Kaede, Shin, Reo, Nao, Kai—every name Joe had drilled into them during academy briefings, every face Sky had seen in wanted posters or survivor feeds. All of them armed. All of them staring.

  Sky’s gaze locked on one face in particular.

  Aki Yakima.

  Mid-twenties. Short black hair slicked back. Thin scar running from left eyebrow to cheekbone. Eyes narrow, lips curled in that same smug half-smile Sky remembered from seven years ago.

  The memory hit like a freight train.

  Sky was eight. Taro was eight. They’d been best friends since kindergarten—same lunch table, same stupid jokes about girls being “huzz,” same after-school pickup basketball games behind the elementary school. Taro’s parents and Sky’s parents had become friends too—barbecues on weekends, movie nights, the adults drinking while the kids ran around the backyard pretending to be heroes.

  Then one Saturday, Taro’s dad brought a friend over.

  Aki.

  He was nineteen then. Tall, quiet, always watching. Sky’s mom smiled politely when he arrived, but her eyes flicked to the door like she wanted to leave. Sky didn’t understand why. He just remembered Aki staring at her too long. Too hard.

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  Later that night Sky heard them arguing in the kitchen—his mom’s voice low and sharp, Aki’s low and insistent. “You owe me,” Aki said. Sky’s mom said no. Loud. Clear. Sky peeked around the corner and saw Aki’s hand on her wrist. She yanked it free.

  Two weeks later Sky’s mom didn’t come home from the market.

  Neither did his dad.

  They found the bodies three days after that—both throats cut, left in an alley near the old warehouse district. Police called it a robbery. Sky knew better. He was nine. He remembered Aki’s face at the funeral—standing in the back row, eyes dry, that same half-smile.

  Sky never told Taro.

  Taro never asked.

  But Sky remembered.

  And now Aki was standing twenty feet away, wearing the Yakima Clan bandana, sword at his hip, looking at Sky like he was just another job.

  Sky’s vision tunneled.

  The Heart thumped—once, hard.

  *There he is,* Jane whispered, almost gleeful. *The boy who took your mommy.*

  Sky’s hand tightened on the knife.

  He moved.

  Not fast. Not yet.

  He walked straight toward Mara—boots crunching glass and gravel.

  Mara pushed himself up—slow, shaky—gripping the Mist Sword like it weighed a ton. “Stay back, Vessel.”

  Sky didn’t answer.

  He closed the distance in five steps.

  Then he kicked—low, hard, boot slamming into Mara’s stomach.

  Mara grunted—pushed back two steps, boots sliding on wet concrete. The Mist Sword came up in a weak arc, but Sky was already inside it.

  He remembered.

  Aki’s hand on his mom’s wrist.

  Aki’s smile at the funeral.

  Aki’s voice in the kitchen: “You owe me.”

  Sky’s eyes locked on Aki.

  The Heart thumped again—louder.

  *Kill him,* Jane said. *For Mommy. For Daddy. For the aunt. For the grandma. For everyone he took.*

  Sky dashed.

  60 fps.

  His body blurred—will energy snapping around him like static. He crossed the gap in a heartbeat.

  Echo Flash—first hit. Fist to Aki’s jaw. Delayed echo detonated inside the bone. Aki’s head snapped back.

  Sky didn’t stop.

  Echo Flash again.

  Again.

  Again.

  Twenty-five times—each punch faster, each echo overlapping until it sounded like one continuous explosion. Aki’s face caved—cheekbone shattered, nose broken, teeth flying. Blood sprayed in a wide arc.

  Mara lunged—trying to stop it.

  Sky backhanded him without looking—open palm, full force. Mara’s head cracked against the nearest wall. He slid down, dazed.

  Sky grabbed a jagged glass shard from the ground—still warm from the earlier fight.

  He turned—400 fps now, body a streak of blue-red.

  Aki tried to raise his sword.

  Too slow.

  Sky grabbed the edge of Aki’s cloak—yanked him forward—then drove the glass shard straight through Aki’s right eye.

  The point punched through bone, out the back of his skull.

  Aki’s body jerked once.

  Then went limp.

  Sky yanked the shard free.

  Aki dropped—dead before he hit the ground.

  Sky stood over him—breathing hard, glass dripping red.

  He looked up.

  Taro was staring at him from the Yakima line—eyes wide, face pale.

  Taro—the kid he met at five years old.

  The kid he shared lunch with every day in elementary.

  The kid whose house he went to after school, playing soccer in the backyard until the sun went down.

  The kid he joked with in seventh grade about daring all the girls, calling them “huzz,” laughing until their sides hurt.

  The kid who told him “go for it” when Sky admitted he liked a girl… the same girl Taro liked.

  The kid who never blamed Sky when she chose neither of them.

  The kid who stood beside him at every funeral, at every birthday, at every stupid teenage moment.

  Taro’s eyes met Sky’s.

  And Sky saw it—the recognition.

  The memory.

  The betrayal.

  Sky’s voice cracked.

  “Taro…”

  The chapter ended.

  To be continued…