K turned to look at the Master of Ceremonies, something dark crossing both of their gazes.

  ‘You may want to spare the others, Sire.’

  Pachi beat him to it. “Everyone, out. You may continue your training with K on another day.”

  “Pachi, are you sure…” Shinju began, before Pachi raised a hand to silence her.

  Tersely, the rest of the troupe filtered out of the backstage area, clutching at their injuries. Wen gave K one last scowl as he went.

  But K couldn’t care any less as he and Pachi began circling one another. Stalking the other’s movements like a predator would to its prey.

  “Let me tell you something interesting, Kizuna.” Pachi grinned wolfishly, unbuttoning his crisp vest. “I don’t think you make a very good spy.”

  K tried not to scoff. “You know nothing about me, sir.”

  “It’s true,” Pachi shrugged carelessly, slipping the vest off his torso and tossing it somewhere. He stretched his arms over his head, relishing in the loud crack of his shoulders. “You know how to read your enemies… but you don’t actually know anything about your fellow man. Why is that?”

  “Since you didn’t answer my question about Isagani, I think I’m allowed to ignore you.” K brought an end to their fruitless conversation, running to close the space between them.

  This was K’s greatest strength. He knew that as a boy, he was more lithe and fast than most of the men he’d fight.

  Therefore, Master Banzai taught him how to feint, dodge, and step back whenever needed. He could slide into vent spaces, crouch beneath tables, and fold his body to fit inside cubicles. He knew how to plaster himself to shadows and hide.

  Pachi was entirely different.

  He was explosive— even when he fought.

  It was no particular martial art that hailed from a specific country. In fact, it seemed like a strange hodgepodge between dance and battle. With Pachi tossing kicks and strikes between quick footwork.

  ‘What a strange manner of fighting,’ Hun hummed. ‘It’s almost familiar to me.’

  “What?” K frowned. “How?”

  “Ha!” Pachi chortled, using K’s momentary lapse in focus to strike him right on the forearm. K stumbled, exclaiming in pain. The other boy settled back to a balanced stance. “Are you impressed by me?”

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” K hissed.

  “Oh, of course. Say,” Pachi reached into his trouser pocket, pulling out—

  K’s eyes widened. It was Sunren’s bone flute.

  “Do you think your Beast will grow silent once I play this?” Pachi continued, balancing the flute on one finger.

  K rasped, “When did you…”

  “A while back,” Pachi grinned. “When we were at the bar.”

  ‘Clever.’

  “Hey, let’s make a bet,” Pachi’s eyes glimmered mischievously.

  “No,” K spat, already hounding closer for another attack.

  “Come on!” Pachi whined, dodging a kick that K sent his way. “I know Banzai made you pay Sunren every time you had to use the bone flute… I’m sure that must’ve been quite troublesome.”

  K didn’t care to reply, wanting Pachi to shut his big mouth.

  He followed after the boy with a barrage of punches, aiming for his jugular, his stomach, his head.

  But Pachi dodged each and every one of them— even tossing the bone flute mid-air to catch it in some extravagant, narcissistic trick.

  ‘Stop fighting, Sire. You don’t have to stay,’ Hun snapped. ‘You can just leave. Don’t let him play with you.’

  That’s right. K could forget about all of this. He was already sporting a big enough headache. He didn’t want it to get worse by looking at Pachi’s ugly face for any longer than necessary.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “It’s simple,” Pachi was saying, still adamant on his bet. “If you can beat me in a fight without relying on the Beast’s Blessing, I will play the flute for you without anything in return.”

  K’s interest was piqued.

  ‘Sire—’

  “And if you win?” K leveled.

  “I may ask for something in return.” Pachi smirked. “Not money, in case you were wondering.”

  “No.”

  “Hm? I thought those were pretty good terms.”

  K narrowed his golden eye. “I have been paying Sunren 1000 kin at the end of every mission so that I may stay alive. What makes you think I’m incapable of doing that now?”

  “You’re missing three molars,” Pachi winked. “Are you sure you can still spare a couple more?”

  K chewed on the inside of his cheek for a long time.

  Paying to be saved every time he tapped into the Phantom was draining him. It wouldn’t be long until his allowances from the odd jobs he did behind his brother’s prying eyes dried up.

  Without payment, K could die.

  His eyes shifted to meet Pachi’s. “Fine. But I want you to level the playing field a bit further.”

  “What do you ask for?”

  “I want you to come at me with your Path bared.”

  Pachi seemed to ruminate on this for a bit, before nodding his head victoriously. “I see, you’re curious about my Path. Well… I don’t see why this is an issue. As your warden, I’d have shown it to you eventually.”

  The two of them slowly padded closer until their chests were only a few feet away from one another.

  “Ready?” Pachi tossed the bone flute back and forth in his hands.

  “In the count of three, the bet begins,” K muttered.

  Pachi started, “One.”

  “Two.”

  At the same time, the both of them yelled, “Three—”

  Just like that, K saw Pachi flip the flute vertically. A thin piece of metal glinted as it slid from the flute’s body; the end pointed and—

  K let out a small, wounded noise at the back of his throat as he felt the air get knocked out of his lungs.

  There was a sudden pressure in his torso, right above his hip.

  When he looked down, there was a long needle pressed right beneath his ribs.

  Pachi leered closer. “This needle is around 8 inches long. Right now, I have it poised right over your heart.”

  K heaved.

  “I will give you five seconds before I plunge it through the pulsating muscle you call a heart." Pachi whispered gently into K’s ear, as if he didn’t have him by death’s door. “The only way you can escape is by showing me the Phantom.”

  Hun’s tone dripped with shock as he realized. ‘He’s going to win the bet.’

  K growled. “I will rip the skin off your bones, you—”

  “That’s already two seconds, sweetling.”

  Spurned on by Pachi’s careless reaction, K reeled back as far as he could go, and swung a fist toward Pachi’s face.

  But the moment his curled fingers met Pachi’s face, it was like the force was simply eaten up.

  “I’m sorry, dear Kizuna,” Pachi pouted, pressing the needle even further into K’s flesh. “But my Path Figure Eight can absorb any physical force that may affect my body.”

  That was when K noticed the magenta aura surrounding Pachi’s body. There was a deep, woody scent spreading through the air. Like faint sea winds and a bit of an ashy undertone.

  ‘This aura—’ Hun coughed. He sounded choked.

  “Hun?” K muttered, blinking away the pain.

  Hun babbled on. ‘It… I-I am…”

  “Oh, is your Beast finding it difficult to communicate with you?” Pachi cooed. His hand pressed against K’s chest, the needle slipping further inside. “Only one more second, Kizuna—”

  “Hun, the…” K choked. “...The Medic!”

  Hun didn’t reply, but the Beast was still able to heed his command.

  His bandages unraveled around his body, encasing him in their familiar golden light. Pachi watched the entire scene, eyes blown wide in rapt intrigue.

  “You lose,” Pachi said simply. In a flash of magenta, a force was punched straight into K’s gut— the needle slipping out from K’s wound with a loud, bloody squelch.

  K slammed against the ground, gasping wetly. “Wh-What the…”

  “Ah, that’s another thing,” Pachi grinned leisurely. “I can expel the forces that I absorb.”

  He raised the hand that was still holding the needle. “Y’know how you punched me earlier? I conserved the energy and then expelled it against you instead!”

  The other boy grew quiet as the bright poof of light dissipated, with K now donning nurse scrubs. They were sullied by blood and dyed a deep cargo green.

  This was an alternate version of himself that was serving as a medic during Long Shore’s civil war.

  K gasped from the burning pain he felt, pressing a hand to his own chest. He needed to apply pressure.

  He ripped one of the bandages from his arm to shakily wrap his torso in a new layer.

  “Oh my, looks like you’ll have to tend to that wound…” Pachi ruminated from beside him. “Do you think you’ll have to go past 10 minutes?”

  K gritted his teeth at the other boy’s annoying words. Whether he liked it or not, he’d have to retain the Medic until he was absolutely sure that he didn’t bleed out. He didn't trust Pachi or the rest of the troupe members to know anything about first aid.

  “What…” K blinked blearily, already feeling the effects of blood loss. He slipped down to the floor, falling into a seated position. He needed to keep the wound elevated. “What do you want in return… to play the flute for me?”

  Before he could fall under, he saw Pachi’s stupid face smirking down at him. “I’ll tell you when the time comes.”

  That was the last thing K heard before he snapped— Hun eerily silent within his own mind.