The party was gone. The lights, the cheering, the beats— all drowned by screams and the smell of gunpowder. Tables flipped, drinks shattered, the floor sticky with spilled liquor and fear.
Hydro's voice cut through the panic.
"Quinn, all of you— go find Kristine, Matt, and the fi— I mean, five million dollar girl!"
Quinn spun around, her expression stiff. "How about yo—"
Hydro didn't let her finish. "You guys can fight, right? You have powers?"
They froze. The question hit weirdly heavy. Hydro's eyes didn't blink, but his tone stayed flat — like he already knew the answer.
"I—ye—yeah, we do," Kai stammered.
"Then go!" Hydro barked. "Get to Kristine and get out of here! Now!"
He stood up fast, a blur of motion. The guy in the Kabuki Mask locked onto him instantly. The mask tilted slightly—one eye slit narrowing.
The shotgun fired.
BANG.
Hydro ducked, the shell grazing his shoulder before embedding itself into the wall behind him.
"LOOK, THAT'S MY AIRPOD SHOTTY!" Electroman screamed, pointing like an unhinged cartoon character.
"NOT NOW!" Hyper grabbed him by the arm, dragging him back while Quinn shouted, "MOVE! GO!"
The group ran, their feet slamming against the tile, slipping on spilled drinks as they pushed through the chaos. The Kabuki Mask's focus never left Hydro.
OUTSIDE
Hydro bolted through the fences, the warm night air hitting him like a wave. The festival lights outside flickered from the shock of the gunfire.
Behind him, the masked man sprinted—no wasted movement, no hesitation, just precision. Every step he took was silent, like death itself had good sneakers.
Hydro swore under his breath. "Oh great. A silent track star with a gun. My favorite."
The beach stretched out ahead, wide and crowded— people screaming, running, dropping bags and drinks as they fled.
Another shot cracked through the air.
Hydro side-stepped, the sand exploding where his foot just was.
He turned mid-run, pulled out his shotgun— the long, dark blue steel of Remina gleamed under the neon lights. The air shimmered around it, faintly humming with magical current. Hydro used one hand.
"Alright, sweetheart," Hydro muttered to the weapon, "let's make this quick."
He aimed. Fired.
BOOM.
The shot ripped through the air like thunder. Blue sparks burst out as the magical shell collided mid-air with a returning bullet. Both detonated in a bright, electric explosion that threw sand everywhere.
The Kabuki Mask dodged, rolling fluidly across the sand before standing again, unbothered, and reloading with that same eerie calm.
Hydro fired again.
And again.
Each shot missed by inches, tearing holes into parasols, drink stands, and one unfortunate inflatable banana.
"Hey, that thing costs money!" someone yelled from afar.
"File a complaint later!" Hydro shouted back.
The masked man fired once more, and Hydro barely ducked in time. He could feel the air whip past his ear.
"Alright, you little freakshow." Hydro growled. "You're far long gone."
He turned and sprinted across the sand. His shoes kicked up grains that shimmered under the light. His lungs didn't even ache — immortality had its perks.
The crowd scattered like ants, people screaming and running toward the boardwalk. Hydro zig-zagged through fallen chairs and scattered umbrellas.
The Kabuki Mask's shadow followed, closing in.
Hydro reached for his duffel bag, still running. His fingers brushed across something familiar — cold metal, humming faintly.
He pulled out a Hydrogen Fuel Cell — about the size of a paperback book, sleek and silver with faint blue lines running through it.
He stared at it for a split second. "Oh hell no. I shouldn't."
He clicked the button anyway.
The cell started beeping.
Beep.
Beep.
Beepbeepbeep.
"Alright," Hydro muttered, glancing behind him, "say cheese, samurai."
He threw the cell over his shoulder. The beeping went rapid.
BOOM.
The explosion bloomed like a blue sun. A shockwave rolled across the beach, blasting sand high into the air, knocking over tents and flipping chairs like paper. The sky itself seemed to flash white-blue for a second.
Hydro slid to a stop, half-crouched, covering his face with his arm as the heat passed over him.
When the smoke cleared, he slowly stood up. The sand around him was scorched glass.
Through the rising smoke… he saw it.
A silhouette.
The Kabuki Mask walked forward — his coat torn to shreds, his arm gone, his mask cracked.
Then Hydro saw it. Tiny silver threads crawling over his body, stitching him back together. Nanomachines.
"Oh, hell no," Hydro muttered, his tone dripping disbelief. "Nanomachines? Seriously? Oh—for Pete's sake."
The masked man didn't answer — he just kept walking. His eyes behind the mask flickered faintly red.
Hydro clicked his tongue. "Figures. Always the edgy silent ones."
He turned and ran again, sand flying under his boots. The night air burned in his lungs now, but he didn't care. He could feel the masked man gaining again, relentless.
Hydro yanked open his duffel bag mid-run. "Okay, think fast, Hydro. What do we got—what do we got—"
He reached in and pulled out—
—Captain America's shield.
"...Why do I even have this?" he muttered, spinning around and tossing it. It bounced off the masked man's chest, clanged against a lifeguard post, and zipped back into Hydro's hand.
"Okay, that's actually kinda sick," Hydro said, impressed with himself.
He turned back and pulled again— this time, Thor's Mjolnir.
He stopped mid-run. "Ok how dies this wo—"
Thunk. It fell straight through the sand.
Hydro amgrily groaned.
The masked man raised his shotgun again. Hydro dodged left, grabbed another item—
—The Gravity Gun from Half-Life 2.
"Oh, now we're talkin'."
He aimed and fired at a nearby surfboard. The board flew up and smashed right into the masked man, knocking him down for the first time.
"Yeah! Eat foam, tech samurai!" Hydro shouted.
But the guy just stood up again. The nanomachines whirred. His mask tilted slightly.
Hydro froze for a second, realizing this was no ordinary hitman. Whoever sent this guy didn't just want to hurt him — they wanted him gone, for good.
The masked man lifted his shotgun again. The metallic parts on his arms began to unfold, turning into something more—like wings made of segmented blades.
Hydro's face twitched. "Oh, for crying out loud, he's got DLC now?"
He dove behind a sand dune as another blast shook the beach. Sand scattered over him, tiny bits pelting his jacket.
He exhaled deeply, thinking fast.
Alright, calm down. You're Hydro. You've literally fought a god in the past. A glorified tech cosplayer ain't gonna end you.
He peeked out again, watching the man slowly reload. The mask gleamed under the firelight of the explosion behind them.
Hydro sighed, almost amused. "You know what? Fine."
He stood up again, brushing sand off himself like nothing happened, his expression unreadable.
The masked man cocked his shotgun.
Hydro just tilted his head slightly and muttered,
"...So, what's the deal? Why me? Why go through all this?"
The wind whipped through the beach. The masked man said nothing.
Hydro's jaw clenched. His voice lowered, serious now.
"Who sent you?"
No answer. Just the faint hum of nanomachines crawling over the man's rebuilt arm.
Hydro gripped his duffel bag tighter, the fabric straining under his fingers.
"Alright. If you won't talk…"
He slowly exhaled, eyes glowing faintly blue beneath his messy hair.
"...then I'll make you."
The camera (if this was an anime) would zoom in on the two of them — the silent assassin and the immortal misfit, standing against the burning blue light of the hydrogen blast that refused to die out in the distance.
The world's noise faded. Just the wind. The waves. The hum of machines.
The waves were roaring like the universe itself was holding its breath. Smoke curled off the beach, thick and dark, rolling like a stormcloud dragged across the sand. The air shimmered with the aftershock of Hydro's hydrogen explosion — blue flames licking across broken boards, glass, and the smell of ozone slicing through everything.
Hydro was breathing heavy, hands trembling not outta fear — but restraint.
He watched the smoke clear.
And from it… walked the machine.
The Kabuki Mask cracked halfway down the jawline, revealing flickers of orange-red circuitry pulsing underneath. Its flesh — no, metal — was piecing itself back together like liquid steel. Nanobots zipped through the air, welding, repairing, regenerating. The eyes glowed that menacing scarlet hue that screamed: I'm not done with you.
Hydro muttered, "Of course it regenerates. Why wouldn't it regenerate."
He rolled his shoulders, exhaled. His heartbeat slowed — the same calm before he'd drop his humanity for survival.
But before he could move again, static buzzed through the air. The Kabuki Mask stopped moving. Its eyes dimmed slightly. Then a voice echoed out — calm, deep, methodical.
"Hydro Undergrove."
That voice.
That name.
Hydro turned slowly toward the sound.
And on a hilltop overlooking the beach stood Daizo Konohagure — sharp suit, bare feet in the sand, a cold drink in his left hand, and a cybernetic headset latched to the side of his face, pulsing with digital veins that linked him straight to the machine.
Hydro's tone flattened, "...You. Figures you'd be watching from your little VIP tower."
Daizo smiled — a smile too calm for someone who just tried to nuke a teenager.
"It's been a year, hasn't it? Since you infiltrated my headquarters. Since you took Ghost... the Odachi forged by my ancestor. The one you're not worthy to hold."
Hydro's eyes flickered, that faint glint of divine gold mixing with the darkness under his iris.
"Your ancestor? Don't act like your bloodline earned it. The Ohara forged Ghost, and the Konohagure stole it. You don't inherit pain through names, Daizo — you create it."
Daizo chuckled low. "You talk like a man who's forgotten what power costs. You think you can just walk the earth immortal, pretending to be human, carrying blades that belong to gods?"
Hydro tilted his head slightly, "You think I pretend? You have no idea what I gave up to be normal."
The Kabuki Mask twitched. Daizo adjusted the dials on his headset. "Let's not waste time with sentiment, boy. You know what I want. You hand over the Odachi, and I'll let your little friends live their happy slice-of-life. Refuse…"
Daizo's voice dropped, sinister — but weirdly calm.
"Refuse, and I'll erase your memory. You won't even remember what it meant to be Hydro Undergrove. You'll wake up one day thinking you were just some washed-up high schooler with too many part-time jobs."
Hydro blinked. That threat… hit different.
That wasn't about killing him — it was about unmaking him.
He smirked, half-joking but dead serious.
"That's your big threat? Memory wipe? Bro, I've already been through enough trauma that I'd pay to forget."
Daizo's smirk faded. "Then so be it."
He touched a dial on his headset — and the Kabuki Mask lunged forward.
The sand erupted.
Hydro barely dodged as the Kabuki Machine slammed a metal fist where his chest had been seconds ago, the ground fracturing like a bomb crater. Shockwaves blasted the beach chairs into the ocean.
Hydro leapt back, his shoes grinding into the sand, hands glowing faintly — not with light, but with shadows. His veins lit up like black lightning, the shadow-fire rising from his arms like smoke.
The Kabuki Machine came again, fists flying — precision, speed, brutality. Hydro blocked the first, ducked the second, then spun under a third and slammed a roundhouse into the machine's chest.
The impact echoed like thunder — but it barely flinched.
"Ah, hell," Hydro muttered, shaking his hand. "It's like punching a refrigerator made of God's disappointment."
The machine grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the sand. Hydro's body left a crater.
For a second — silence. Then Hydro's shadows crawled up, licking the wound, regenerating. His eyes burned bright blue for a second before dimming again.
He grinned. "You hit like a truck, but I've been hit by planets."
Hydro kicked the thing's knee — a sickening crunch of metal. Then his other hand exploded with energy, a shadow burst straight to the machine's chest, sending it flying backward into the surf.
Daizo's voice rang through the machine's comm, slightly distorted but smug:
"You can't win a war against steel, boy."
Hydro cracked his knuckles, walking forward slow, the ocean spray hitting his face like rain.
"You keep thinking I'm flesh. You keep thinking I break easy. You ever seen what happens when a shadow fights back?"
The machine reassembled, chest glowing red. It sprinted toward him again. This time Hydro met it halfway — the collision split the air.
Each hit was meant to kill him.
Each dodge, each counter, was like watching a ghost move.
Hydro's fists blurred — black fire streaks, shadow bursts, sand flying, explosions popping like fireworks.
The Kabuki Mask slammed a fist into Hydro's ribs, sending him flipping through the air — but before he hit the ground, his hands caught himself midair, flipping and landing crouched, shadow flames repairing the dent in his side.
He spat blood and smirked, "Damn, you almost made me feel mortal again."
The machine's head tilted, unreadable. Its arm morphed into a cannon.
Hydro's expression shifted from cocky to cold.
"Alright, fine. Let's play your game."
It fired — a massive plasma beam screaming toward him. Hydro raised both arms and crossed them — the beam hit him dead on, the sand evaporating around his feet.
For a moment, the world turned white.
Then, the smoke cleared — Hydro still standing. His jacket burned off but regenerates like a symbiote, chest covered in scars glowing faintly then disappears, veins lit with divine and demonic energy clashing. His body was regenerating faster now, shadow fire curling around him like armor.
He looked up. "That all you got?"
Daizo's voice came through the machine again, strained, irritated now.
"How are you still alive?!"
Hydro smirked.
"Daizo, buddy… immortality's a choice, not a flex."
He dashed forward — shadow trails behind him like comets.
The Kabuki Machine tried to counter, but Hydro grabbed its arm, twisted, and slammed it into the sand, cracking its shoulder joint. Then Hydro ripped out its plasma cannon, flipped it, and fired it point blank into its own chest.
Explosion.
A blinding blue flash.
Hydro flew back, landing hard, coughing. The Machine was half-buried in sand, body torn open, gears exposed.
It started rebuilding again — nanobots swarming the wreckage.
Hydro got up slowly, wiped his mouth, and said under his breath, "This is getting annoying."
He reached into his duffel bag and pulled out something stupid — a wrench. A big, old, rusted wrench.
He looked at it, then at the machine, then shrugged.
"Alright. Let's go medieval."
He charged again, dodging metal shards and plasma bursts, every swing of the wrench echoing like a lightning strike.
The machine roared. Hydro screamed back.
They clashed — human against machine, god against steel.
Then Daizo's voice came again, calm, almost… philosophical:
"You could've lived in peace. You could've been one of us. Why stay human when you're clearly not?"
Hydro stopped mid-swing, wrench hovering inches from the Kabuki Mask's cracked face.
His tone dropped.
"Because I want to be human. That's something you'll never get — all that power, all that tech, and you still need to hide behind it."
Daizo stayed quiet for a moment. Then said softly:
"You sound just like him."
Hydro frowned. "Who?"
"Kabuto. The one who forged Ghost. He said the same thing before my ancestor killed him."
That line hit Hydro like an echo. His jaw clenched.
The shadows around his hands intensified — like they were alive, remembering that name too.
Hydro's tone darkened. "Then I guess history repeats itself — except this time, you're the one who's losing."
He swung the wrench one last time — straight into the Kabuki Mask's head.
Metal shattered. The mask broke in half.
The machine fell still, glowing red for one last second before collapsing.
Hydro stood over it, breathing heavy, eyes glowing faintly.
He looked toward the resort hill — Daizo was still there, headset sparking. The connection cut off.
The beach was silent again, only the waves whispering.
Hydro finally sighed, tossing the wrench aside. "Man, I really gotta stop using random household items as weapons."
He looked at his burnt sleeve, shaking his head. "Guess Ghost gets another day off."
He started walking back toward the resort lights in the distance. The shadows receded, fading from his skin.
His regeneration slowed.
He looked human again.
Just a tired, pissed-off teenager who accidentally fought a robot assassin barefoot on a beach.
And as he walked, he muttered, half to himself, half to the ghost in his mind:
"Bodhisattva, huh… Guess even gods want me dead."
The beach was a graveyard of light.
Ash. Smoke. Faint embers floating through the night like dying stars.
Hydro stood there — shirt torn, shadows ebbing out of his skin like steam. His breath was steady. His expression… unreadable.
The Kabuki Machine was twitching, barely holding form, its armor ripped apart and leaking molten nanometal. Daizo's connection still buzzed faintly through its circuitry — a faint voice repeating through the static:
"Hydro… Undergrove… give… me… the sword…"
Hydro sighed, wiped the sweat from his face, and muttered, "Fine. You wanna see it so bad? Guess I'll grant you your damn wish."
He crouched, unzipped his duffel bag, and wrapped his hand around the hilt.
Ghost.
The 87-inch Odachi, forged centuries ago — humming softly, like it remembered what blood felt like. The air around it changed — calmer but heavier, like reality itself was standing at attention.
Hydro unsheathed it.
The blade gleamed pure white, brighter than moonlight, the reflection rippling like liquid glass. The faint whisper of Kabuto Rokuhira's spirit resonated through the metal — a cry and a prayer merged into one.
The sand around Hydro lifted. The air shimmered. The beach began to hum.
From the broken nanomachine's body, the swarm began to rise again — billions of metallic particles knitting together into a colossal, shapeless mass. It moved like liquid mercury and screamed like a dying god.
Daizo's voice boomed through the static, louder now:
"If you won't hand it over… then I'll take it from your corpse!"
Hydro didn't respond. No banter. No snark. Just… silence.
He raised Ghost.
The blade's glow intensified — white light burning like holy fire, flickering with a pulse that almost sang.
Then Hydro moved.
And the world moved with him.
The fight was wordless, but not quiet.
Each swing of Ghost carved through metal and air alike. The nanomachine lunged, forming spikes, claws, blades — anything it could mimic — but Hydro danced through it, fluid and relentless.
He parried an incoming spike, turned, and slashed horizontally — cutting clean through a thousand nanobots in one strike. They burst into light, dissolving into metallic dust that hung midair like glitter.
The monster reformed — a towering silhouette, humanoid but grotesque, with hundreds of arms. Hydro slid backward across the sand, Ghost dragging behind him, leaving a glowing white line.
The creature struck down.
Hydro vanished.
Then appeared behind it — a single clean slash splitting the entire mass diagonally.
It roared, but its scream broke into a digital crackle. Its limbs fell apart — melting, scrambling to rebuild.
Hydro's eyes glowed faintly blue as he exhaled and raised Ghost again. The shadows from his arms coiled up the blade, wrapping around the white light like yin and yang.
He dashed forward. The sand exploded beneath his feet.
He leapt — spinning, twisting, cutting through a rain of metallic blades mid-air. Each one shattered with a flash of light.
The nanomachine swung a massive arm at him — but Hydro parried, sliding under it, then drove Ghost into its core.
For a moment, everything froze.
Then Ghost sang.
A haunting tone, deep and resonant — a requiem for the broken.
Light exploded outward, ripping through the beach. The nanomachine convulsed, glitching, fracturing into tiny shards that disintegrated in the glow.
Daizo's connection shattered.
And somewhere miles away, in a luxury resort room filled with monitors—
"NOOOO— MY MACHINE—!"
Daizo screamed, flipping his drink into the wall. He kicked a chair, stubbed his toe, and yelled again.
"GOD—DAMN—IT—HYDROOOO!"
He slammed the headset down and stormed out, cursing in every language he knew.
Back at the beach, Hydro stood still, watching as the last of the nanobots fizzled away into dust. The air grew calm again.
He sheathed Ghost slowly, the soft metallic click echoing across the empty shore.
"Figures." He muttered.
The moment of silence didn't last long.
Police sirens.
Blue and red lights cut across the sand as several patrol cars screeched to a stop near the wreckage. Officers rushed out, flashlights cutting through the smoke.
Hydro groaned quietly, reaching for his duffel bag again. "Great. Just what I needed. The sequel to paperwork."
He slung the bag over his shoulder, pulled out his camera, and snapped a few pictures of the destroyed nanomachine's remains. The flash illuminated the metallic dust swirling around him.
Click. Click. Click.
Then, with one satisfying whirrr, five polaroid photos printed out. He fanned them dry, squinting at one.
"Yeah, that's gonna look great on a resume," he muttered.
"Sir! Step away from the site!" one officer shouted as they ran toward him.
Hydro turned, all calm, casual, like he hadn't just wiped out a billion-dollar weapon system.
He held up the photos. "Relax, officer. It's handled. Here, give these to your commissioner."
The officer blinked. "Wait, are these—"
Hydro shoved the pictures into his hands. "Tell him this bulls███ needs cleanup. Oh, and credit me by the way — Hydro Undergrove. That's 'Hydro' with a Y, not an I."
The second cop squinted at him. "Credit you? For what exactly?"
Hydro shrugged, pointing at the burning sand crater. "For… y'know. Stopping that. Some… unfortunate events happened here."
The cops exchanged looks. One whispered, "Unfortunate events? Dude, there's a crater the size of a swimming pool."
Hydro crossed his arms. "Yeah, well… it's been a long night. Some random guy showed up with a gun, started shouting stuff about a sword, and then—boom. Nanomachines, man. You know how it is."
They stared at him.
Hydro smiled politely.
Wind blew. Waves crashed. Somewhere in the background, a palm tree was on fire.
"…You're serious?" one officer asked.
"Dead serious," Hydro said. Then added, "But not dead. Thankfully."
He gave a small salute, then started walking toward the boardwalk.
"Anyway, I'm clocking out early. You guys do your investigation thing."
The first cop yelled after him, "Wait—Sir! We need your statement!"
Hydro waved lazily over his shoulder. "Write it as 'Some Guy Saved The Day And Left.' You'll figure it out."
They watched as he vanished into the haze, silhouette framed by the police lights.
One cop sighed. "Who was that?"
The other one flipped through the polaroids — shots of the destroyed machine, glowing dust, and a blurry figure in the corner flashing a peace sign.
"…I think he saw that was the guy who fought the robot."
"Robot? You mean that's what that was?"
"Bro, I don't get paid enough for this."
Meanwhile, Hydro was already halfway across the empty boardwalk, munching on leftover fries he found in his pocket. He looked out at the ocean, the horizon glowing faint blue.
He smiled a little.
"Let's call that 'Assassination of Bodhisattva.'" he murmured. "Guess I passed the test."
He zipped his duffel bag shut, adjusting it on his shoulder.
Ghost hummed faintly inside — peaceful, almost proud.
Hydro chuckled under his breath. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You did most of the work, old man."
The wind carried the sound of distant sirens, but Hydro just walked on — disappearing down the pier, his shadow stretching long under the moonlight.