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“Guys, fan out! Cover the basement!” Akane yelled out, instructing her team, her voice muffled by her full-face concealing mask.

They barricaded the entrance of the headquarters, rounding up members of Soul Fighter. A few surprised scientists clutching clipboards and folders emerged from the elevator. One managed to call in for back-up but was cut short by Minho’s gun-shot.

“You heard Akane! Confiscate any weapons and stop that elevator from running!”

“Now, you,” she pointed at the man in a white lab coat. “Where is he?”

“I-I swear, I don’t know who you’re talking about! We don’t know a Max!”

“Really? How did you know I was looking for Max? Did I tell you his name?” she interrogated.

Suddenly the lights went out, a flurry of grunts and gunshots followed. Akane’s line of vision was limited, but she could hear the soft click of a weapon being loaded behind her.

“Get down! He’s here!” she shouted.

The lights flashed back on, Akane automatically registered the man that stood before her was Max. It wasn’t hard to tell, even with his mask on; he was lean and on the tall side. Similar to Akane’s black outfit, he too wore all-black attire. The only difference was the white insignia of a griffin. Both sides, glared viciously at each other, Akane slinking towards her target. Out of reflex, all guns were suddenly pointed in her direction.

“So we meet again, Max-kun,” Akane hissed.

“Aw, not happy to see me buchou*?” he mocked.

In a split second, Akane had unsheathed her katana, Max following her actions and pulling out a similar blade. His eyes narrowed, watching her every move. She’d slipped her gloves off to get a tighter grip and abruptly rushed forward. Max quickly blocked her strike, both katana clashing. It signaled the start of a war.

Akane flipped backwards then rushed forward again, narrowly missing Max’s forehead. A few strands of his brown hair floated to the ground. She hissed in anger, swinging mercilessly, poised to kill. Both locked katana again, leaving Akane close enough to smell the scent of sweat and cologne wafting off his mask.

“Give up now, Max. You’re outnumbered,” she stated before kicking his abdomen.

Max showed no sign of hurt as he lunged at her again, only to be hit by a stray bullet. He let out a shaky breath, hand reaching out to cup his bleeding side. His eyes flickered towards the unblocked stairwell and suddenly he was racing up them, a silver chain pounding against his chest at every step. Akane followed after him, refusing to let him escape.

“Hell no, you’re not going anywhere. You’ve cost me one too many criminals.”

Max slammed the door of the rooftop open, looking both ways. Nothing. They were both dead ends leading off the roof, not another building close enough to jump to. He growled, tightening his grip on his blade and faced the doorway. Akane ran straight at him, slamming her katana against his bleeding side. Max staggered back but got back into a position to fight again, signaling Akane to come.

Akane swung hit after hit, trying to pinpoint his weak side. But Max had quickly caught on to her intentions and expertly guarded against her blade. He’d managed to graze her right cheek with the tip of his katana. Blood trickled down the wound, mixing with the sweat that ran down her collarbone. She had to have some weakness, everyone did. His eyes caught sight of a flash of white from her wrist, the gold outlining of a watch shining against the sunlight.

While Max was distracted, she took the opportunity to slash at his shoulder. Max dropped his blade, putting pressure on the shoulder she’d successfully damaged.

“Pick up your katana and face me. I won’t fight an opponent who isn’t armed,” Akane said emotionlessly.

Max picked his katana back up with his opposite hand. His skin was turning pale from the excessive blood loss. Akane let out a mangled shout as she swung her blade. The blow nearly caught his neck, instead slicing through the fragile silver of his necklace. The jewelry fell to the ground, a small ring attached to it, rolling off to the side. At the same time Max had just grazed her wrist holding the katana. Although the blow was light it was strong enough to slice off the white wrist watch.

Akane stopped moving to stare at her most precious possession. She wanted to get it back but Max was . . . He fell to the ground in a heap, breathing heavily from the blood loss. He struggled along the cement to retrieve his ring, meant to symbolize a lifelong promise. Just as his fingers lightly brushed the cheap metal that had once turned his skin green, Akane’s hand had reached for it. Max reached up, shaking his head.

“No,” he said hoarsely. “Give it back.”

“Why?”

Max’s breathing grew labored, he was suffocating under the mask. In an effort to ease his pain, he yanked it off, flinging it to the side. He looked up at her with pleading eyes, begging her to return it.

In that moment, so many things whirled through Akane’s mind as she stared at his unmasked face, this stranger she’d hated for so long. His defined cheekbones, pouty pink lips, and gnarled hair suddenly seemed all too familiar. The brown hair she’d one night when he’d drank too much after his year-long relationship ended; his eyes that stared deep into her very soul; everything about this was wrong.

“Please, give it back. It means everything to me,” he pleaded.

He looked so pitiful, just kneeling there at her feet. This ring . . . was from twelve years ago. She’d given it to him at a super market, after inserting twenty-five cents into the rusty slot. He complained it turned his skin a sickly color one-day and that was the last she saw of it. But here it was, in her palms, the gold paint already chipped off.

Max reached across from him, picking up the white watch, offering it to her in exchange for the ring. Akane trembled, tears welling in her eyes. She reached out to run her hand over the contours of his face, brushing the sweat-infused hair from his eyes. This wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be.

Then she was on her back, being held down by her neck. He was on top of her, legs sprawled to stop her from struggling. Akane was losing air fast, her katana remained in her hand. She could’ve dealt the death blow here and now but seeing his face was preventing her from doing so. Max was relentless but the nagging feeling at the back of his mind was telling him, no. He felt water dampening her neck, making it too slick to hold on.

He released her, was she . . . crying? His fingers slid under the mask but a bullet hitting the metal behind him distracted him. He stumbled to his feet and eyed how far the ground was from the roof. It would be impossible to survive a fall of that height. But, his eyes caught sight of something along the way there. Akane shook her head, telling Minho to cease his fire.

“Wait, stop! Minho, don’t shoot him!”

His fingers grazed the trigger, firing from her abrupt contact with his arm. Akane watched in shock as it pierced Max’s body, fresh blood oozing from the new wound.

“No . . .”

Max flipped over the safety railing, hurling himself off the building. Akane rushed forward, trying to grab hold of his hand, reaching him just in time. She held onto his hand struggling with his weight. She called back to her partner behind her, asking for help but he simply turned his back on her.

“Minho, help me!” she pleaded, gripping onto Max’s bloodied hand.

“I’m sorry, Akane. We’re not to associate with the enemy.”

With those last words he ushered the rest of the men back down the stairs leaving Akane alone with a barely conscious Max.

“Just let go!” he yelled up at her.

Akane shook her head, tears soaking her mask, a few drops escaping from the holes for her eyes. They fell, dropping onto his cheeks.

“Why are you crying for me? We’re enemies!”

“No! Changmin,” she whimpered, ignoring the look of confusion on his face. “We’re best friends.”

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*buchou = captain