Reiji's POV
Reiji limped down the empty street, each step a reminder of the fight he had barely survived. His breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles aching with exhaustion. Every part of him wanted to collapse, to give in to the fatigue that weighed him down, but he forced himself to keep moving. He had to. There was no one to lean on, no one to help. The faint glow of the streetlights flickered overhead, casting long shadows along the narrow road.
In his pocket, his fingers traced the cold metal of the ring—the ring that had sparked the Dying Will Flame, the power that had saved his life. But now, it felt like a curse. What good is this power if I can't even control it? His thoughts churned as he replayed the battle in his mind. The flame had flared to life when he needed it most, but it had flickered out just as quickly, leaving him vulnerable.
He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling in his chest. For all the talk of power and legacy, for all the strange visions and cryptic words from the remnants, he was still too weak. Still a kid who barely knew how to fight. The Dying Will Flame was supposed to be his salvation, but right now, it felt more like a burden.
I'm not ready for this.
His pace slowed as he neared his apartment. The fight had drained him, both physically and mentally. He could still feel the weight of the ring on his hand, the faint memory of the flame flickering in his mind. But it was gone now. Silent. Dormant. The power that had come so easily in the heat of battle had abandoned him when he needed it most.
Reiji paused, leaning against a lamppost to catch his breath. His vision swam for a moment, the world spinning as he fought to keep himself upright. He couldn't afford to pass out here, not in the middle of the street. Not when there were still enemies lurking in the shadows.
But even as the danger passed, the questions remained. What am I supposed to do now? He had no guide, no mentor to show him the way. Just a ring, a legacy, and a power he barely understood. And yet, despite everything, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. That there was more to come, more battles, more struggles, more doubt.
With a heavy sigh, Reiji pushed himself off the lamppost and continued walking. His apartment wasn't far now, and he needed rest. He needed time to think. To plan. To figure out what the hell he was supposed to do with this power.
Shinya's POV
Shinya watched from the shadows as Reiji limped away, disappearing into the distance. His jaw tightened, the frustration from earlier still gnawing at him. He had seen the kid fight, had seen the Dying Will Flame flare up in the heat of battle. But now, as he watched the boy struggle to walk, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
Reiji wasn't like the other SP users Shinya had encountered. He was different. There was something raw, something untamed about him. The way the flames had ignited, the way they had faded—it didn't make sense. Most SP users could control their powers from the moment they awakened, but Reiji... it was like he was barely holding on.
"Damn it," Shinya muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. Why do I care? The kid wasn't his responsibility. He had done his job, taken down the thugs, and ensured Reiji made it out alive. That should have been the end of it. But something about the boy lingered in his mind, gnawing at him like an itch he couldn't scratch.
Reiji had mentioned something earlier—Vongola. Shinya hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now, as he replayed the conversation in his mind, the name stood out. It sounded familiar, like something he had heard before, buried in the archives of the underworld.
Vongola...
He shook his head, dismissing the thought. There was no point in dwelling on it now. His first priority was filing his report, finishing the paperwork, and closing the case. But even as he told himself that, his feet didn't move. His eyes stayed locked on the empty street where Reiji had disappeared.
"Damn it," Shinya cursed again, this time louder. He knew he wouldn't be able to let this go. Not yet. There were too many questions, too many loose ends. He needed answers. And the only way to get them was to dig deeper.
With a heavy sigh, he turned on his heel and made his way back to the station. Finish the report first, he told himself. Then I'll look into this Vongola business.
Shinya's Investigation
Back at the station, Shinya sat at his desk, the low hum of the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. His computer screen glowed in front of him, casting long shadows across the empty office. Most of the other officers had already gone home for the night, leaving Shinya alone with his thoughts.
He typed Reiji's name into the system, pulling up what little information he had on the kid. It wasn't much—a basic file with his address, age, and a few scattered notes from previous encounters. Nothing out of the ordinary. But then, something caught Shinya's eye. A report, buried in the back of Reiji's file, mentioned a mansion outside the city. The word Vongola appeared, scrawled in a barely legible note.
Shinya leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the desk. Vongola. The name triggered something in his memory. Whispers of an old mafia family, long gone but not forgotten. They had been powerful once, or so the stories said. But now, they were nothing more than a legend, a ghost story told in the darker corners of the underworld.
But if Reiji was tied to them...
Shinya's mind raced. If the Vongola had left behind a legacy, and Reiji was somehow connected to it, that would explain a lot. The sudden appearance of the Dying Will Flame, the boy's struggle to control it, the mansion outside the city—it all pointed to something bigger. Something dangerous.
Shinya sighed, rubbing his temples. This kid's in way over his head.
Shogo's POV
Across the city, Shogo Makishima sat in the dimly lit office of one of his many informants, his eyes scanning the latest reports. His smile widened as he read the latest updates on Shinya Kogami's investigation. The name Vongola had caught his attention, and now, it seemed to be catching Shinya's as well.
Shogo leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest. So, Shinya's digging into the boy's past. Interesting.
He didn't care much about the Vongola legacy itself. Power, family, legacy—it was all meaningless in the grand scheme of things. But Shinya's involvement made it intriguing. Shogo enjoyed watching Shinya struggle, watching him wrestle with the boundaries of his morality, his sense of justice.
And now, with this Reiji boy thrown into the mix, things were getting even more entertaining. A kid with untapped potential, haunted by a legacy he doesn't understand. It was the perfect storm.
Shogo's fingers brushed over a file on the Vongola famiglia, his eyes narrowing as he skimmed the information. Six Guardians, all surrounding the leader. A perfect circle of power, each one playing a vital role.
But Shogo wasn't interested in the roles. He was interested in how they would crumble. How far Shinya would go to protect this boy, how much he would sacrifice. Shogo smiled, his eyes gleaming in the low light. This is going to be fun.
Reiji's POV (Conclusion)
Back in his apartment, Reiji collapsed onto his bed, his body aching with exhaustion. The fight had taken everything out of him, both physically and mentally. He stared up at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing down on him.
The ring on his finger felt heavy, almost like a burden. He didn't understand it. He didn't understand the flame, the legacy, or what any of it meant. The Vongola... a name whispered in the shadows of the past, and now it was tied to him. But why? Why him?
His fingers traced the metal of the ring, his thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess of doubt and frustration. I'm not strong enough.
The flame had saved him once, but it wasn't enough. He needed more control, more power, if he was going to survive. If he was going to find out the truth about the Vongola, about himself.
With a heavy sigh, Reiji closed his eyes. Tomorrow. I'll figure it out tomorrow.
But even as he drifted off to sleep, the doubts lingered, gnawing at the edges of his mind.