The room felt heavy.
Not just with the scent of incense and sickness—but with something deeper. Darker.
Watari didn’t move at first. His fingers remained curled tightly around Mary’s hand, her words still echoing in his ears.
“Chizuru did this to me.”
“Make it end.”
Slowly, he stood up. His gaze turned toward the doorway, toward the woman standing in it with that same empty, unreadable smile.
And then—his aura surged.
The temperature in the room shifted instantly. The air crackled, heavy with raw energy, the floorboards creaking under the unseen force.
Watari wasn’t even trying to control it—it just poured out of him, unrestrained.
Anger. Frustration. The weight of it all.
Chizuru felt it.
Her body tensed, just slightly, but her smile remained. As she studied him, a quiet hum of energylingered in the air—faint, but present.
Chizuru’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Strange… his aura should feel restrained right now.
But there’s something else.
A low pulse, buried beneath the surface. Unformed, but waiting.
She exhaled, brushing the thought away.
No matter.
Potential was useless if he never lived long enough to realize it.
Instead, she raised a hand in mock surrender.
“Whoa, whoa—” she cooed, voice smooth as silk. “Calm down. I don’t think you want to fight the only person who can heal her.”
Watari’s gre sharpened.
His aura didn’t drop. Not yet.
“What did you do to her?”
His voice was low, edged with a dangerous calm.
Chizuru tilted her head.
“What did I do?” she echoed, feigning innocence.
Then—her expression shifted.
Something colder settled behind her eyes.
“You still don’t get it, do you, young Watari?” she said, voice quieter now.
“This is all your fault.”
His breath caught.
”…What?”
“This,” she gestured vaguely around the room. “Mary. The orphanage. Everything that’s happened.”
Watari’s stomach twisted.
“Don’t—”
“No, no,” she cut him off, stepping inside, voice soft, almost condescending.
“Let’s really think about this.”
“If you had never stuck your nose into things…” she mused.
“I never would’ve been sent here.”
Her words were slow, deliberate—each one cutting deep.
“Kuroda never would’ve taken an interest in you.”
“Never would’ve needed a contingency pn for some unexpected variable.”
“Never would’ve had to find pressure points—ways to keep you in check.”
She took another slow step forward, watching him.
“And you know what the easiest pressure point was?”
She gestured toward the bed.
Toward Mary.
“You.”
Watari’s fists clenched at his sides.
Chizuru smiled, sweet and hollow.
“So tell me, Watari—how can you bme me, when the root of all this… is you?”
A thick silence settled between them.
She let it hang, watching the way his breathing grew heavier, the way his fists trembled, the way his shoulders tensed just slightly.
She had seen it before.
That hesitation.
That doubt.
That guilt.
And then—she leaned in.
“Don’t you think all of this could be so much easier if you just… walked away?”
His aura fred.
The air in the room rippled as his energy spiked again, but Chizuru just sighed, shaking her head.
“Still getting that fighting feeling from you,” she murmured.
Then—she raised her wrist.
The bracelet.
The cube dangling from it shimmered slightly in the dim light.
“This?” she said, tapping the accessory lightly. “This is my Form.”
She smiled, watching his gaze flicker toward it.
“I wonder if you can guess what it does.”
Watari didn’t answer.
Chizuru exhaled, a dramatic little sigh.
“You’re so dense,” she said.
Then, finally—she spelled it out.
“My ability is healing.”
A pause.
Then, she continued.
“I have nothing to do with combat. My Form exists for one purpose only—to restore, to mend, to fix.”
She tilted her head, feigning curiosity.
“Now… isn’t that interesting?”
Watari’s body stiffened.
“Kill me…” she whispered, “and she dies.”
A slow, unbearable silence.
Then—a smirk curled on her lips.
“So, here’s my offer.”
She turned, zily strolling toward the door again, as if she already knew she had won.
“I won’t be leaving for New York until there’s a week left,” she said. “I can heal Mary. Completely.”
She gnced at him over her shoulder.
“But only if you prove something to me.”
Watari remained still.
Chizuru’s smirk widened.
“Prove to me that you can be a good dog,” she said lightly. “That you can sit. That you can stay.”
Another pause.
“Stay out of New York. Don’t interfere. And I will heal her.”
Watari’s jaw clenched.
She had trapped him.
Boxed him in.
He had no choice.
His fists trembled, his entire body rigid, but after a long moment—his aura dimmed.
”…Fine,” he muttered.
Chizuru cpped her hands together.
“Wonderful! See? Things can be so simple.”
Watari exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing.
Then, after a beat—he smirked.
“But you should know something.”
Chizuru raised an eyebrow.
“Oh?”
Watari tilted his head slightly.
“I may be a dog…”
Then—his smirk widened.
“But my leash has always been a little loose.”
Chizuru blinked.
Then—she ughed.
A soft, almost amused chuckle.
“Ah, you really are an interesting one, aren’t you? I obviously have the upper hand and you still dare to threaten me?” she mused.
Watari stayed silent.
“Fine, then. Let’s see if you actually stay put.”
She turned away.
“Rest up, little stray,” she cooed. “Your master will check in on you soon.”
And with that—she was gone.
