The garden looked like a war-zone. Thin rain fell without pause, washing away the blood that mingled with shattered stone and charred leaves. The air reeked of metal and ozone, of power and desperation. Miyako breathed with difficulty, every inhale accompanied by a harsh whistle. Her left arm barely responded, but the sub-machine gun remained steady in her right hand.
Kanzō advanced slowly through the ruins, his katana held low, the blindfold sodden and clinging to his face. His posture was impeccable. Each step sounded measured, as though the ground itself belonged to him.
Miyako hid behind a half-collapsed column, her heart pounding in her chest. Her breathing merged with the patter of rain. She couldn't stay still, she knew that. If he heard her pulse, she was done."Old stubborn man," she whispered, a crooked smile forming, "you don't know when to fall."
The voice echoed among the broken walls. Kanzō halted his advance. He turned his face slightly towards the sound."And you don't know when to stop," he responded calmly.
His tone held no hatred, only fatigue. And that made her more furious.
Miyako activated her invisibility and leapt sideways. She fired three shots; the projectiles whistled through the air. Kanzō pivoted with precision, slicing with his katana in a perfect arc. Each bullet was deflected, diverted toward the walls. The energy waves from the blade shattered the ground around him, raising dust and fragments of stone.
The roar was so intense that the rain seemed to stop.
Miyako rolled to the side, gasping, as a piece of column collapsed where she'd been a second earlier. She rose, laughing."If you can hit the wind," she yelled from somewhere in the darkness, "maybe you can defeat a shadow."
Kanzō gave no reply. He merely raised his sword and cut the air again. A blue line crossed the garden and grazed Miyako's invisible shoulder. The blow made her spin, crashing to the ground with a groan. For a moment her invisibility faltered: her silhouette flickered faintly under the rain before fading once more."A shadow that speaks too much ends up being heard," murmured Kanzō, advancing.
Miyako cursed under her breath. She crawled toward a darker corner, among fallen pillars and timber. The pain in her arm was unbearable—but she smiled all the same."He's blind, not stupid," she thought. "So I've got to become louder or quieter… I don't know which kills me faster."
She shifted position again and again, firing short bursts, creating echoes from different directions. Kanzō angled his blade toward each sound, destroying the air itself—but for the first time he began to err. His breathing grew heavy, uneven.
The ground beneath them was covered in luminous lines like roots of energy. Each glowed and crackled, slowly burning the grass.
Miyako stopped behind a shattered statue and pressed her forehead to the barrel of her sub-machine gun. Her body trembled—not with fear, but with exhaustion."Now…," she whispered. "Now it begins to crack."
Kanzō lifted his head, as though he had heard her through the noise."Your noise only announces your end," he said in a calm voice.
Miyako laughed. A brief, dry laugh, more nervous than cruel."My end? I hope so. At least then I could rest."
An energy wave raced over her, cutting the statue in half. The impact sent up a cloud of dust and smoke. Miyako used the moment, activated her invisibility again and slipped through the debris, hunting a blind spot.
Kanzō turned slowly on his axis, sword still raised, as though listening to thoughts drifting in the air.
She crouched behind a fallen wall, checked her magazine: five normal rounds, two inhibitor rounds."The old man doesn't crack. He just breathes slower," she thought, inserting a special bullet.
Thunder roared overhead. A flash lit the temple for an instant, revealing Miyako's weary face smeared with mud and blood.She inhaled deeply—and for the first time, she held perfect silence. No laughter, no whispers. Just a body breathing on the edge of collapse.
Opposite her, Kanzō halted. He lowered his katana so the tip rested on a stone.The sound of rain dominated the space again.
Miyako raised her weapon slowly, staying hidden. Among the stones, she placed an extra bullet, an improvised trap, waiting for the echo of the impact to deceive the hero.
The game had changed. It was no longer a hunt. It was a dance between two breaths refusing to die.
And in that heavy silence, the chapter of noise was ready to explode."Come on, old man…" she whispered softly. "Listen to me properly this time."
The wind answered—but not him. Kanzō waited, motionless, his ear tuned to the slightest mistake.
Miyako smiled among the shadows.The next move would decide who remained standing.
The air smelled of iron and ash. The rain fell harder now, hammering the garden's remains as if the sky tried to wash away the battle. Among broken pillars and pools of blood, two figures kept breathing: one with measured calm, the other at the brink of collapse.
Kanzō stood tall, his katana ready. He could not see Miyako, but the pulse of his environment spoke to him: the rain-drops interrupted mid-air, the echo of water on stone, the subtle change of pressure when a body moved.
All that was vision for him.
Miyako, a few metres away, crouched behind a half-destroyed wall, her left arm bleeding and her breath ragged. Her invisibility flickered weakly, destabilised by fatigue."I'm tired… but he is too," she thought, staring at the blind hero's shadow through the rain. "I just need one second. One."
She pressed the sub-machine gun to her shoulder and changed the magazine. Normal bullets wouldn't work; she needed the inhibitor rounds.
She pulled out a small grenade from her coat pocket: a metal cylinder with a green flashing light. Her last ace.
Kanzō lifted his head slightly."Your breathing… has grown slower," he said in a grave voice. "You accept the end."
"Yours," Miyako replied, smiling though her voice trembled.
She fired three times from different directions. The bullets ricocheted off the hero's energy waves, exploding in blue sparks. He spun his sword, releasing an expansive wave that blew up the wall where Miyako hid, sending her sprawling to the ground.
She rolled, gasping, mud and blood smeared across her cheek.Kanzō walked toward her with steady steps, the katana lowering slowly."There's no shame in falling," his voice was almost compassionate. "Dying in noise does not make you strong."
Miyako spat on the ground and lifted her gaze, a twisted smile cutting across her bloodied face."And dying in silence doesn't make you wise."
She activated invisibility and moved to the side, letting her voice bounce from a different angle.
Kanzō turned toward where he heard her and launched an upward slash—an energy arc that destroyed an entire column.But she was already behind him."One…" she thought, removing the safety of the grenade.
With a swift movement, she tossed it at the hero's feet. The cylinder rolled between puddles, hissing before releasing dense green fog.
Kanzō stopped immediately. His breath altered. The power within him pulsed, grew unstable. The energy waves dissipated. The inhibitor worked.
Miyako emerged from invisibility just behind him, a smile full of madness and exhaustion."Thanks, old man… for teaching me to breathe without fear."
She fired.
The sound was dry, brief, almost elegant.The bullet struck Kanzō in the chest.
The hero's body arched backward, a plume of vapour escaping his lips as it mixed with the rain.For a moment, all froze.
Miyako lowered the weapon slowly, watching him stagger, trying to stay upright. The grenade's effect waned; the blue energy glowed weakly about him.
Kanzō drew a deep breath and placed a hand on the wound. His voice sounded tranquil, almost serene:"So… this is the end I chose." He smiled with mild sadness. "I wasn't wrong. A shadow… will always seek the light, even if it hates it."
Miyako watched him in silence, soaked through, the sub-machine gun trembling in her hands. She felt no satisfaction. Only emptiness."Don't give me philosophy now, old man," her voice was rough, tired. "I have no room for guilt."
Kanzō took a step back, faltering, and dropped to his knees. His sword plunged into the earth, supporting him."Then… at least…," he coughed blood, "Don't forget it. Peace… was never your enemy."
His fingers released the hilt of the katana.The body fell forward with a dull thud.
Miyako breathed raggedly, the rain covering her like a veil. For a few seconds she didn't move. She simply gazed at the body of the man she had just killed.
The hum of footsteps woke her—distant, hurried, coming from the temple interior. Young voices calling for their "master"."Shit…" she whispered.
She stored the sub-machine gun, pressed on her wound and began to run toward the nearest wall. Her blood marked each step. Before she jumped, she turned once more toward the garden.
Kanzō still breathed weakly, his face inclined toward the rain, as if trying to look at the sky for the first time.
Miyako felt the urge to stay… but she swallowed it."Don't worry, old man," she murmured, becoming invisible again. "I won't keep you waiting long in hell."
And she vanished into the mist.
Seconds later, two apprentices reached the place. Their sandals splashed in the mud when they saw their master's body on the ground. One of them, the older, dropped to his knees beside him, crying his name. The other, eyes wide with horror, saw a blurred figure retreating through the broken walls."You! Stop!" he yelled, running after the shadow.But Miyako was already nothing more than a spectre in the rain.
Her breath merged with the wind. Every step hurt. Every heartbeat burned.Still, she smiled.Because the night had decided who would keep breathing.The night had stopped crying—but Miyako remained drenched in blood. Her steps sounded clumsy on the wet pavement, her laboured breath mixing with the distant hum of the city. Every corner seemed to fold in on itself, as though the darkness wanted to swallow her whole.
Her left arm barely responded. Every time she moved the muscle, an electric jolt traversed her body, reminding her of Kanzō's farewell burst of energy. But she still walked. Dragging her boots, staggering, but not stopping.
She reached her building. She climbed the stairs slowly, leaning on the rusty handrail. The key dropped to the floor three times before she managed to open the door."Kuro…" she muttered.
The cat emerged from the shadows, meowing. He rubbed against her legs, leaving a trace of white fur on her black coat. Miyako smiled—that tired smile that never quite reached her eyes."Did you miss me, Kuro?" she said in a hoarse voice. "I missed you too. Although… I'm sure you have better company than me."
She dropped the sub-machine gun on the table and collapsed onto the sofa. Her wounded arm hung limp; the other hand fumbled the remote among cushions and trash. She turned on the television.
The news filled the room in a solemn voice:"Breaking news. Z-Rank hero number 9, Kanzō, has been found dead in the temple where he taught…"
The images showed the garden reduced to ashes, the ground cracked by energy cuts, pupils weeping beside the body covered by a white sheet.
Miyako watched everything with the expression someone wears while watching an ordinary documentary—until a laugh, quiet at first, began to climb up her throat."Yes…" she whispered through laughter. "Yes, I killed him, Kuro. I killed the blind man who saw."
Her laughter grew, echoing through the empty room, bouncing off the dirty walls. It was a living laugh, desperate—the kind you give when you no longer know if you're still human.
Kuro jumped onto the sofa and curled in her lap, as if nothing in the world had changed. Miyako looked at him and stroked his fur with her good hand. Her breathing began to calm."Do you know what's worst?" she said, staring at the ceiling. "That I feel nothing. No relief, no guilt. Not even satisfaction. Only…"
She trailed off. On the television, heroes honoured Kanzō. Some cried. Others pledged justice."Only noise…" she finished.
Kuro lifted his head and meowed as if answering. Miyako smiled—that crooked smile which was half mockery, half sorrow."Relax, little cat. I'm not going to die yet. There are still heroes to kill."
The cat purred and closed his eyes. Miyako did too. For a moment everything seemed to halt: the television, the breathing, the world.
Outside, the wind battered the window like a forgotten visitor. Inside, the bluish glow of the news cast her face in ghostly light.
The journalist's voice kept filling the room:"Investigators believe the killer may have used unconventional weapons. The public is urged to remain calm."
Miyako leaned back, closing her eyes. One final laugh escaped her lips."The noise is over, but the echo still hunts for somewhere to stay…" she murmured.
The cat meowed again, and the camera—either in her mind or in the story—pulled away from the sofa.
Miyako kept laughing softly, surrounded by silence, the screen flickering with images of fallen heroes.
And while the TV continued narrating the tragedy of hero Kanzō, she simply stroked her cat.
In her world, there was no tragedy. Only a new empty space waiting to be filled with another name.
The rain returned, faint, as if the sky sighed too.
And in that moment, the assassin who had defeated a Z-Rank closed her eyes, letting the echo of her own chaos lull her.