Jōki

Luka sat on the edge of the rusted crate, kicking his feet as he stared at the neon-lit alleyway ahead. The air was thick with the usual Undermaze stench—oil, smoke, and something rotten he didn't want to think about.

Above him, old pipes dripped water onto the cracked pavement. The Undermaze never felt still. Even in the dead of night, there was always something moving.

But right now, it was too quiet.

Luka adjusted the oversized jacket Sun had given him. It was meant to make him look even smaller, more pitiful. The role of an abandoned street kid was easy to play—because he already was one.

From his spot, he could see the street that led into the drop zone. The arms dealers were coming through that tunnel. The plan was simple.

Luka was bait.

Sun was the blade in the dark.

And Mina? Well… she was waiting somewhere nearby, watching with that annoying smirk of hers.

Luka exhaled slowly. "So… what do I do?"

Sun crouched next to him, adjusting the straps on his mask. "You sit there, looking pathetic."

Luka frowned. "That's it?"

Sun glanced toward the darkened tunnel ahead. "That's it. When they stop to check on you, I'll handle the rest."

Luka was quiet for a moment. "What if they don't stop?"

Sun tilted his head. "Then I'll kill them anyway."

Luka blinked. "…Oh."

Sun patted his head. "Relax, kid. They'll stop. People love pretending to care when it benefits them."

Luka looked down at his hands, gripping the fabric of his sleeves. People pretend to care.

Like the soldiers when they sent him away.

Like the people who looked at him and called him broken.

Luka tightened his grip. "Alright," he muttered.

Sun stood, checking the hidden detonation charge in his sleeve. "You remember what to do if something goes wrong?"

Luka nodded. "Run."

Sun smirked behind his mask. "Good."

Then, just like that—he was gone.

One second he was there, the next, he melted into the shadows, completely erasing his presence.

Luka was alone.

His pulse thumped against his ribs.

He didn't like being alone.

The minutes stretched, the silence pressing against his ears. Then—

A low rumble echoed through the tunnel.

Headlights flickered in the distance, two vehicles moving slowly, their dark frames blending into the shadows.

They were here.

Luka swallowed hard and slumped against the crate, curling up like a helpless kid left on the streets. He let his body tremble just slightly—enough to make himself look small.

The first vehicle stopped a few feet away. The second followed.

Engines idled.

A door creaked open.

Boots hit the pavement.

Then, voices.

"Shit, what's a kid doing out here this late?"

"Who cares? Keep moving."

"Wait. If someone sees a dead kid in our path, we'll get heat. Just check."

Footsteps.

Luka forced himself to shiver, pressing his face into his arms.

A figure loomed over him. He smelled sweat, gunpowder, and something sickly sweet—like rotting fruit.

"Hey, kid," the man's voice was rough, edged with suspicion. "You lost?"

Luka flinched on purpose, curling further into himself.

"Shit," the man muttered. "Hey, we should—"

CRACK.

Something snapped.

The man's words cut off.

The sound of a body hitting the pavement echoed through the alley.

Then—gunfire.

Luka didn't move.

Because he didn't need to see to know what was happening.

Sun had made his move.

The night exploded into chaos.

And Luka?

Luka just stayed curled up, waiting.

Because this was only the beginning.

The air reeked of burning metal.

Luka stayed curled up, his ears ringing as gunfire erupted around him. He didn't flinch, didn't move—because Sun had told him to stay still.

And Luka had learned to listen.

A body slammed into the ground beside him. He heard the crunch of bone, the wet sound of something breaking.

Then—silence.

Luka cracked one eye open.

The first thing he saw was blood pooling near his feet.

The second was Sun.

He stood among the wreckage, completely still. His masked face tilted slightly, as if admiring his own work. Around him, the bodies of the armed men lay motionless, their weapons scattered across the pavement.

One man was still breathing, his body trembling as he tried to crawl away.

Sun turned.

The air shifted.

Luka didn't know how to explain it—but something changed.

The crawling man let out a choked gasp, his body tensing unnaturally. His limbs twitched, his breath hitched—

Then.

Nothing.

He stopped moving entirely.

Luka swallowed.

That wasn't normal.

Sun exhaled through his mask. "You can get up now, kid."

Luka slowly sat up, his body tense. His eyes flickered toward the frozen man. "Is he…?"

"Dead? No. But he wants to be." Sun crouched beside the man, tapping his head lightly. "Your nervous system is… interesting. It doesn't like what I did to it."

Luka had no idea what that meant. But he didn't ask.

Instead, he stood and took in the scene.

The trucks meant to transport the illegal weapons were still there. But their cargo?

Gone.

Or rather—erased.

Luka had seen explosions before. Fires. Destruction.

This wasn't that.

The crates had been full of weapons—guns, energy-based tech, illegal mods.

Now?

There was nothing.

Not broken parts. Not ashes.

Just… empty space.

Like the cargo had never existed in the first place.

Luka clenched his fists. He already knew the answer. But he asked anyway.

"You… destroyed all of it?"

Sun turned to him, his expression hidden behind that damn mask. "No."

Luka frowned.

Sun motioned to the empty space where the cargo had been. "I didn't destroy it. I erased it."

Luka blinked. "What's the difference?"

Sun hummed, rising to his feet. "Destruction leaves something behind—ashes, ruins, proof. Erasure?" He gestured at the empty truck. "It leaves nothing. Like it never existed at all."

Luka stared at the space again.

The way the world itself seemed to reject it.

That was Sun's Jōki.

Not fire. Not lightning. Not something people could see.

It was nothingness itself.

Luka's fingers twitched. "I don't get it."

Sun chuckled. "You will."

A groan interrupted them.

The half-paralyzed man on the ground twitched, his breath coming out in short gasps.

Sun crouched beside him again, resting an arm on his knee. "Tell me something, friend," he said, voice light. "Where were the weapons supposed to go?"

The man shook his head violently.

Sun sighed.

He reached out and placed a hand on the man's forehead.

Luka felt it before he saw it.

It wasn't like Jōki.

Jōki users flared their power, lighting up like beacons of energy. Sun's power was the opposite.

It was void.

An absence of energy. Of presence. Of existence.

The man's pupils dilated. His body went completely still, his breath hitching in a silent, strangled noise.

Luka felt his stomach churn.

Sun tilted his head. "Tell me."

The man let out a sharp, painful sob. "T—the black market—buyers in District 9—"

Sun smiled behind his mask. "See? That wasn't so hard."

Then he lifted his hand—and the man collapsed.

Luka froze.

"Is he…?"

Sun stood. "Alive. Just empty."

Luka stared at the man's blank expression, the way he didn't even blink.

Sun had done something to him.

Luka exhaled, trying to steady himself. "What now?"

Sun dusted off his coat. "Now, we follow the weapons."

Luka blinked. "But… you erased them."

Sun smirked. "I erased the ones here. Not the ones in transit."

Luka frowned. "You let some get away?"

Sun's voice dropped, amusement fading. "I don't 'let' things happen, kid."

He turned toward the neon-lit horizon, where the criminal heart of the Undermaze waited for them.

"I planned it."