The somber night stayed silent as the crescent moon hung over Tokyo, its pale light painting the city in silver shadows.
Down a forgotten alley, an old man stood with a circle-curved katana resting in his hands. His breath was steady, but his eyes were tired, like a warrior who'd seen far too many of these nights.
Across from him, a pale man staggered forward, eyes pitch black with a blood-red minus sign etched in each iris. The kind of eyes that no longer belonged to anything human.
The old man tilted his blade lazily, his voice calm but cutting:
"You really want your last words to be wasted in some damp alleyway? Save yourself the humiliation. Let me kill you another day, with the dignity your kind pretends to cling to at the very end."
The pale man hissed, lips curling into a broken smile.
"I told you, old man, kill me now. Because if you let me live, I swear I will hunt you to my very last bre—"
His words choked to silence. The old man flicked his wrist, wrapping the circular edge of his blade around the pale man's neck in one smooth motion. A sharp pull, a blur of steel, and the head tumbled to the ground.
The old man exhaled, voice low, almost a whisper:
"…So be it."
He turned, ready to leave, when ringgg… ringgg… ringgg his phone buzzed. He groaned, dragging it from his pocket, squinting at the caller ID before rolling his eyes to the night sky.
"Ugh, not again. Can't I just go home to my grandkids for one night?"
He answered anyway.
On the other end, a cold, mocking voice spoke:
"What is a ninety-three-year-old man doing in the street with my possessions… cutting down my men, when he should have taken his melatonin and gone to bed?"
The old man sighed, tired but sharp.
"First of all, the only reason I take those pills is because of your men. Second of all…" His eyes narrowed, gaze shifting to the shadows at the far end of the alley.
"…Just come out already."
A low chuckle slipped from the darkness. Then, footsteps. A man in a sleek black suit stepped into the moonlight, his grin wide, his presence suffocating.
"As sharp and vibrant as ever, Taiyou."
The old man sneered, tightening his grip on the sword.
"You're talking to the ring again, freak. Eyes up here."
The suited man ignored the insult, veins on his wrists bulging, eyes darkening into the same abyss-black as the corpse on the ground. His grin stretched unnaturally.
"Oh yes… my beautiful Taiyou. And the bitter, rotting old man who wields him. Don't worry I'll have her back soon. I swear it."
The old man's ring pulsed crimson, fire crawling across the blade. His tired expression hardened, voice booming through the alley:
"TAIYOU: MOERU!"
Flames roared to life around the katana, burning red like a second sun.
The suited man's grin twisted into hunger.
"Oh, how I love you, Taiyou… soon, darling, you'll be mine again."
The old man barked out a laugh, even as he dropped into stance.
"Jeez… you're getting turned on by a ring? You're sick, kid."
In the next heartbeat, they lunged steel and flame crashing against clawed nails sharper than knives, both blades of death aimed for each other's throats.