For a long moment, neither of them said anything.
They stood near the abandoned building, their eyes fixed on the street where Mayo's figure had slowly disappeared.
The evening wind slipped through the broken windows behind them, carrying the faint smell of rust and dust. Somewhere in the distance, a car passed, its sound dull and fading into nothing.
For a long moment neither of them spoke.
Ozair finally ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly. "Tell me you saw that too."
Aryan did not answer right away. His gaze remained locked on the empty street, as if part of him still expected Mayo to reappear around the corner.
"I saw it," he said quietly.
Ozair leaned back against the cracked wall and shook his head. "He threw that guy like it was nothing. And the others… they didn't even stand a chance."
Aryan nodded slowly.
The memory replayed clearly in his mind. Mayo had moved calmly, almost casually, yet every single strike had ended the fight before it could begin.
There had been no hesitation in him, no panic, none of the clumsy fear they used to see whenever trouble appeared. He had not looked angry. He had not looked scared.
He had looked like he was doing something routine.
It did not feel like the Mayo they knew.
Ozair looked down the road again. "We should go after him."
Aryan hesitated.
Part of him agreed, but another part felt strangely uneasy, as if chasing Mayo right now would only push him further away.
"He looked like he wanted to be alone," Aryan said after a moment.
Ozair frowned. "Alone? After that?"
"I don't understand it either," Aryan admitted. "But forcing it right now might make things worse."
Ozair kicked a loose stone across the cracked pavement and watched it skitter into the dark. "This is insane. Yesterday he could barely stand after getting punched. Today he wipes out a whole group like it's nothing."
Aryan glanced back toward the dark building one last time before turning away. "Let's head home for now. We'll talk to him tomorrow."
Ozair didn't look convinced, but after a moment he nodded.
"Fine," he muttered. "But I'm not letting this go."
They walked away from the silent building together, each carrying the same uneasy thought.
Something about Mayo had changed.
And neither of them understood why.
By the time Mayo reached his house, the sky had already darkened.
Warm light spilled through the living room windows, and the faint aroma of cooked rice drifted through the quiet street. Everything looked peaceful and ordinary, as if nothing unusual had happened that evening.
Mayo pushed open the gate and stepped inside.
From the kitchen came the soft clinking of dishes.
Mina looked up the moment she heard the door.
"Oh, Mayo!" she said, stepping out from the kitchen with relief on her face. "You're finally back. I was starting to worry. Where did you go?"
She wiped her hands on a small towel as she walked toward him.
But Mayo simply walked past her.
His steps were calm and steady, his expression distant.
Mina blinked. "Mayo?"
He stopped near the staircase but didn't turn around.
"I'm great, thank you."
His voice sounded flat. Almost detached.
In the living room, Haruto lowered the newspaper he had been reading and studied his son carefully.
"You were gone for a long time," Haruto said. "Did something happen outside?"
Mayo shook his head slightly.
"No."
That was all he said.
Then he began climbing the stairs.
Mina and Haruto exchanged a brief glance as his footsteps faded above them. The silence that followed felt heavier than it should have.
Mina frowned softly. "Did you hear the way he spoke?"
Haruto folded the newspaper slowly. "I did."
"He didn't even look at me," Mina said quietly, worry creeping into her voice. "He always tells me everything that happened during the day. Even small things. Even things that don't matter."
Haruto leaned back against the couch, thinking carefully before he spoke.
"Maybe he's still shaken from what happened," he said. "Give him a little time."
Mina nodded, though the concern on her face didn't disappear.
"I hope that's all it is," she said softly.
But something in her voice suggested she already doubted it.
A few minutes later, soft mechanical footsteps echoed along the upstairs hallway.
Toviro stood outside Mayo's door, holding a small device no larger than his palm. The screen flickered with faint streams of moving data.
He glanced down at it again.
"Energy readings stable," he murmured. "But the pattern is still… unusual."
The device hummed softly as it continued scanning. Toviro's ears twitched.
"Strange."
After a brief pause he knocked lightly.
"Mayo? May I come in?"
No answer.
He waited a moment, then slowly pushed the door open.
The room was dim, lit only by a small lamp near the bed.
Mayo sat on the edge of the mattress, leaning slightly forward, staring at the floor. He did not look up when Toviro entered.
Toviro stepped inside quietly and studied him for a moment before speaking.
"I ran a quick diagnostic earlier," he said carefully. "Your vital signs appear normal, but there are still irregular readings I cannot fully interpret."
Mayo finally glanced at him.
"What's the problem?"
His voice was calm. Almost indifferent.
Toviro studied his expression. Something about it felt unfamiliar in a way that was difficult to name. It wasn't hostility. It wasn't sadness. It was simply the absence of everything that usually made Mayo recognizable.
"It's not exactly a problem," Toviro replied. "Just something I'd like to understand better."
Mayo didn't respond.
The silence stretched between them.
After a few seconds Toviro lowered the scanner and gave a small nod.
"Alright," he said. "Get some rest."
He turned toward the door, then paused.
"Mayo."
Mayo looked up.
Toviro hesitated before speaking, choosing his words with unusual care.
"If something is bothering you… you can tell me. Whatever it is."
For a moment Mayo simply stared at him, his red eyes calm and unreadable.
Then he looked away.
"I'm fine."
Toviro slowly pulled the door closed behind him.
Standing alone in the hallway, he glanced down at the scanner one more time.
The display pulsed faintly in the dim light.
"Something is definitely different," he whispered.
The house gradually fell silent as the night deepened. Lights turned off one by one, and the sounds of the neighborhood faded into stillness.
Moonlight slipped through the curtains of Mayo's room and spread across the floor in pale, quiet lines.
He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling for a long time before sleep finally came.
And then the dream began.
There was nothing. No ground, no sky.
Only darkness stretching endlessly in every direction.
Mayo stood alone in the middle of it. He didn't look confused or afraid. He simply stood there, staring ahead in silence, as if he had been here before and already knew there was nothing to find.
The stillness felt heavy, like the pressure of a deep ocean closing in around him from all sides.
Then something shifted within the darkness. A faint shape appeared in the distance, barely visible at first, more of a suggestion than a form.
At first it looked like a shadow.
But as it slowly moved closer, the outline became clearer.
A tall figure stepped forward.
Its body seemed almost formed from darkness itself, shadows drifting across its shape like slow smoke rising from something cold. Where its face should have been, there was only a mask.
A smooth white mask. Its expression frozen into a permanent smile.
The figure stopped several steps away and said nothing.
For a long moment neither of them spoke.
Mayo watched it quietly. He had seen this figure before. It had appeared in dreams that came and went without warning, always distant, always silent, never close enough to fully see.
Tonight felt different.
The masked figure tilted its head slightly.
"You're close… just a little more… then we—"
Before the words could fully settle, the darkness shifted violently.
And Mayo's eyes opened.
His room was silent.
Moonlight stretched across the floor, and a faint breeze moved softly against the window. Mayo lay still for several seconds, staring up into the dark above him.
His breathing was calm.
Slowly he sat up.
The dream lingered, vivid and clear, refusing to fade the way dreams usually did. Every detail remained sharp. The darkness, the figure, the mask, the voice cutting off just before it could say something that mattered.
He turned his head toward the window.
Outside, the street lay quiet under the pale glow of the moon. No movement, no sound. Just the empty road and the still night air.
For a long time he sat there watching.
Then he stood and walked to the glass.
The reflection staring back at him looked exactly the same as always.
Yet somewhere deep inside, something felt different. Something that had not been there before, quiet and unfamiliar, like a door left slightly open in a room he had never entered.
Mayo rested his hand lightly against the cool surface of the glass and continued looking out into the night.
And somewhere far beyond the silent streets, something unseen seemed to be waiting.