An unnatural atmosphere pervades the environment.

A youth wore a jacket that was obscured by the overcast night, enveloping himself from the icy dead of night. Stagnant, the youth watches a fight as if in a vision, and many simple-minded speculations flood his mind, deeply rooted against the very core of his mission.

A gaze simply uninterested comes and aims at a still place of a location, and even if uninterested, it follows through the path of a scenery followed by two lethal oppositions.

The youth's genuine thoughts wandered to various topics while watching the fight, as they always did. It had his attendance under control for a month, like teenagers eager to watch their drama show, but the youth was no more attentive than the few times it had been here before.

Numerous grinding metals and quick dashes echo throughout the environment. Their movements were rhythmic, whirling from one location to the next, and the elegance of their artwork made the youth forget it was a deathly duel between two strangers rather than a dance competition.

Their motivations are unknown, but they fought a battle with everything they had over something that seemed beyond the comprehension of the youth. 

Whatever the reason, they were violating a common law by senselessly killing each other, and the youth couldn't help but be dissatisfied because no one could punish them but themselves. What is the point of the law if it cannot deter people like this? There was no justice that could be brought, and only evil could be produced as a result of its futility.

To fight a meaningless fight, it would mean that they have their meaningless reason too.

The disparity in their arsenals was obvious and noticeable. Sickles vs. swords, but unlike the sword user, who was constrained by its strength, the sickle user could move its weapon at will. It runs, swirls, and comes to a halt as if natural instincts are guiding its movements. It was an inhuman, inexplicable ability.

Everything so far had been incomprehensible, or if they were normal for the city, it didn't seem any different than the rest of the world had been. Magic, sorcery, or whatever. Even if it appears to be a delusional power brought on by the mind, the fact that it was on full display was a compelling act of contradiction.

Their powers annihilated everything in their path, but with respect, they never let chaos reign and fought silently as if the purpose of their power was to kill each other beneath the melancholic crystal moon.

Every second was crucial to both of them, and they never let their breath run out as they fought. With an equal fight, the future was uncertain, and it was unclear who would win.

Silent... 

Their clash came to a grinding halt. The youth stood, but its instincts were telling the youth to stay put. Not any moment longer, the wind reverberates, and a sharp sound of hissing is expeditiously proceeding in the youth’s direction.

It glimpses a scalpel about the length from the youth’s shoulder to his elbow. It was a throw that brought upon a tremendous stretch of power, and just by thinking of getting struck by it, brought the youth alarmed that the hair from its shoulders straightened.

At any moment now, the youth raised his hand before anyone could interrupt, but even then, someone was already there to defend the youth.

Light as a feather—someone’s fast maneuver flings a violent wind in his direction—a black-clad somebody catches it at a speed like lightning, stopping the scalpel momentarily before it could go through the front of its forehead. 

With the tremendous throw, no one can easily put a stop to it, yet the person was powerful enough to kill the momentum of the weapon.

“What are you doing here, young man? Look, leave this place already! I won’t save you a second time, you get it?." She says, but she coolly deflects all thrown objects in our direction.

Her apparel was oversized. It was more than just wrapping every inch of her frame. One could say that she was sheepish, but there may have been a deeper reason.

“Are you a dumbass? You were this close to death but you don’t even care. Does your life even mean anything to you?“ She berates him, fuming from his carefreeness.

Does my life mean anything at all? Perhaps there is a purpose in my existence. By existing, everything that came within my everyday life was meaningful, in which I hold attachments I don’t want to sever. I appreciate that someone still needs me, and I still have a lot of things to do in my life. I am also desolate in the future that I brought for existing. But in the end, these thoughts become meaningless in the face of death, and I’d rather think of ways to live than ways to say goodbye.

“I never intended to let the scalpel hit me if it wasn’t for you.” He shows a lack of concern and steps back away from her. “Do you think you can beat that person?“

With no moment’s hesitation, she utters. “Of course.“

His eyebrow curves, as doubt comes into his mind. Her reticence and power are above the rest, yet for months of labor, she could not subjugate her enemy. She saved an innocent life rather than concentrating on killing her enemy. She was naïve, remarkably detestable.

She couldn’t kill anyone, and there, His mouth faced upward.

Are they really trying to kill themselves?

“Don’t get too close.“ She rotated to the side and bent her knees beautifully.

A few seconds later, the roof quakes as the other person enter from the sky; snowy lustrous skin, an eye-band covering her eyes, and a cute goth dress to boot. When compared, their heights were about the same.

From top to bottom, her figure was unlike the other, completely overtaking, and even as she dons a few of herself; she was at the pinnacle of females that were on the tier of a high standard, but if only she didn’t use her power to kill. Maybe, at the very least, she could’ve lived her life on the stage.

What was the reason that she brought her life into something she could never go back to? Does she intend to kill her opposition? The mystery of her deepens, and he grimaces with his poor speculations.

As the portrayed makes its way to a new setting, the show changes its orientation on a lamella-like plated roof. The both of them hush and the round continues with a sharp dash. The black-clad girl rotates from side to side. She was erratic.

On the other side, the mysterious woman’s goth dress flutters. She smiles, brushing her long hair as her sickles fly like homing missiles; never stopping when missing or when the black-clad girl deflects them back.

Within a hair’s breadth, swords come out of the black-clad dress and momentarily sever her way through to her. Sickles come within that moment, faltering her march. The mysterious woman throws her sickles in the air, and her mouth moves, uttering something, and suddenly, a mirage of her appears.

As much to his surprise, they swiftly come grabbing the sickles flying from the air and both of their dash to the black-clad girl. She eludes the throw from the right side; flipping herself into motion, cutting the mirror-like doppelgänger on the neck while throwing her sword on the forehead of the mysterious woman.

All of it happened within a second, and even his eye could only see half of them as the black-clad girl leaves afterimages after every step.

Both of them lay down with no life, but the black-clad girl didn’t move—she couldn’t move—and that also goes for him. There was only one of her before another appeared, but from the start, that should’ve been the end. Or so the black-clad girl thought as she scowls at him—no, at someone else—powerless at such a cunning gimmick.

“—Bilocation.“ She reveals herself before she utters the trick. From his shoulder through his elbow, the scalpel had come back and what it held was a hostage that previously escaped death from a certain someone.

Deja vu.

The weapon was hitting his back, sharp enough that a soft touch ripped his jacket with no force needed.

“You dirty rat, Mayumi!“ The black-clad spoke, screaming its name. Mayumi spasms, displeased with the utterance of her name. “Don’t bring innocent civilians out of this.“

“Surely, you jest.“ Showing hostility, her soft voice tickles his ears. “Tsukiko, you can’t stop me.“

“Why do you want to kill?“ She asked.

he, who can only look from the front, couldn’t feel Mayumi’s smile plunging deeper; the curve stretched further up to the point that it could reach her nose.

“I was born with a power to hunt and subjugate all beings with greater sins, one that not anyone can just forgive. All you ever do is utter that there’s no going back, but the world isn’t so black and white as you think it is. This is all for the sake of the world, but you… Do you even know what you’re doing?!“ Hatred, annoyance, displeasure, and hostility—the spiral of emotion plunges deeper like the scalpel slowly putting him to his demise. “I only yearn to save those who will soon suffer or to them who are subject to vile experiences, but you leave me with no choice. If you think you can save anyone. If you think your choice is the right one. Then, try saving this person if you can!“

As Tsukiko stood affected by her words, Mayumi tried to plunge the lengthy weapon into the back to pierce his heart.

Even in the face of death, he was as cool as a cucumber, but his mind was restless—thinking again of something so far away—something that has no bearing on the current lethal situation.

Their ideologies conflict, warping their use of power. Every power has its purpose. Purpose can take on many meanings depending on the mental state of its user. Every gift has its intention of the free will of how, what, where, when, why, and who to use. Is it wrong to kill someone? Is it wrong to protect someone? Personally, being selfish is part of it when you answer them.

As much as people kill animals to live, animals also have to kill their kind to live. Of course, as much as people kill to live, people protect themselves as they hate to be killed; either by someone else or by themselves for their own selfishness.

So for me to be selfish, I have to kill her to protect myself.

He falls to his front and quickly rotates within an axis, propelling his foot up the point of her neck while his head is next to the ground. It was at such a stretch that the scalpel's speed was much slower. As the impact occurs, the befuddled Mayumi is blown away, while the wind's direction has shifted involuntarily.

Mayumi had left the scene, disappearing with such ease from an unexpected person.

He stands and wipes his clothes. “Maybe this was for the best.“

It’s not like that’s enough to kill someone anyway… I hope so.

Tsukiko, whose mind had Mayumi’s words swirling in, intruding into her sense of justice and her moral principles. It was so deep that she couldn’t find the scene of him kicking Mayumi into oblivion to be of any importance.

Tsukiko ceases his movements, spasming frequently from the sudden fit. “I… Is it really okay to stop her…?“

He sneers, standing on the edge of the rooftop, “Wipe that ugly mug in your face. You’re really pissing me off.“

Even though I can’t see her face. Anyway, time to move out.

Tsukiko introduces herself. “Hey, you… wait, my name is Shimizu Tsukiko. Please tell me your name.“

He was about to reject an offer when he remembered her saving him from the scalpel, even though her assistance wasn't what he needed. Nonetheless, she eventually assisted him.

"Nishimiya Sho… that’s my name." Sho jumped from the top of the Church's roof, then vanished from view.

As the Church bell rings, a new day begins, and the previous hour fades into the past. Sho, exasperated with the current outcome, breaks free from the loop with a self-satisfied smile on his face.