Chapter 40: Victory and Bond
"Four down," Damian said with a triumphant grin, stretching his arms behind his head as he lounged on the safehouse sofa, surrounded by takeout boxes and half-drained cups of soda. "Six to go. There are many souls to save, and not enough of us to do it. But damn, we're doing a pretty good job so far, right?"
Hana rolled her eyes as she shoved a piece of gimbap into her mouth. "Just don't start another kitchen fire as a celebration. We still haven't recovered from the last one."
"That was one time," Damian protested, holding a chopstick in defense.
"One time too many," Kenzo muttered from the far end of the table, staring at his laptop but clearly listening in.
Audrey smiled, watching them bicker with a fondness she couldn't quite hide. The weight that had sat so heavily in the safehouse just days ago had lifted—at least for now.
Rina's rescue was still fresh in their minds. The footage of Takumi's arrest had gone viral. Justice, at long last, had a face.
Audrey lifted her cup of tea, voice quiet but steady. "To Rina."
Kenzo followed, meeting her eyes briefly. "To how far she's come."
Hana added, her tone more thoughtful than usual, "To finding strength when the world says you have none."
Damian gave a nod, less theatrical than usual. "And to second chances—the ones we give others, and the ones we fight to earn."
Their cups met in the center with a soft clink. No one said anything for a moment.
Then Audrey whispered, "She's not just surviving anymore. She's healing."
Kenzo gave a small nod, the corners of his mouth lifting. "And we were part of that."
A quiet kind of pride passed between them, woven with something gentler—relief, maybe. Or hope.
They drank, laughter slipping out of them freely for the first time in what felt like weeks.
As the food dwindled and the evening settled into a soft, golden lull, the group gathered on the living room floor, surrounded by empty containers and tangled limbs. Kenzo sat beside Audrey, their arms brushing from time to time. Neither pulled away.
"So," Damian said, stretching lazily. "What now?"
"More missions," Hana said, lying flat on her back. "More saving people. More black hoodies and fake IDs."
Kenzo tapped at his phone. "I've started tracing the next case. But it's early. We might have a few days of silence."
"We could use the time," Audrey said, gently. "Not just to rest. But to remember why we're doing this."
Damian looked around at all of them. "We're ghosts. But maybe ghosts who can still leave something good behind."
They were quiet for a beat.
"I still think it's wild we're even... here," Hana admitted. "Some goddess decides we're worth saving—gives us power—and we're supposed to clean up the mess the world left behind."
"And yet," Audrey whispered, "we're making it matter."
Kenzo looked over at her. The light from the lamp softened the edges of her face, and for a moment, he didn't see a warrior or a victim—just Audrey. The person. The soul.
"You did good," he said quietly, just to her.
She turned to him, surprised. "We did good."
He didn't argue.
They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only came when hearts were full and defenses were down. Then Damian sat up and said, more seriously than usual, "Do you guys ever think about... what happens after?"
Hana blinked. "After what?"
"After the missions. When the pact ends. If it ends. Will we still—remember each other?"
Audrey lowered her tea, her eyes thoughtful. "I think about that a lot. Whether we get to keep any of this. The memories. The bond."
Damian looked down at his hands. "The idea of forgetting you all—it scares me more than dying again."
Hana sat up slowly, glancing at them. "We didn't choose this. But somehow it became... ours. This weird, broken family."
"I don't want to lose you guys," Damian said, voice softer than expected.
"You won't," Audrey whispered. "Whatever comes next, we've already changed each other."
Kenzo nodded, eyes on her. "Some things don't vanish. Even if we do."
Then Damian added with a crooked grin, "You think the goddess has, like, a suggestion box?"
Audrey chuckled. "Why?"
"Because we seriously need clarity on the terms and conditions of this afterlife gig."
"Maybe we can bargain for partial memory retention," Hana deadpanned. "Or a reunion discount."
Kenzo raised a brow. "You're assuming this pact has a fine print we can actually read."
Audrey smiled, setting her tea aside. "Maybe one day we'll ask her. Or maybe we won't need to."
"Still," Damian added, flopping back with a groan, "If we're stuck between life and death, I better not lose all this emotional growth we've built."
Kenzo nodded, eyes on her. "Some things don't vanish. Even if we do."
The laughter resumed when Damian dared to suggest a karaoke night as their next bonding activity. Hana smacked him with a pillow. Audrey giggled. Kenzo, predictably, protested—only to be met with chants of "Kenzo duet! Kenzo duet!"
But as the others continued to tease and toss jokes back and forth, Audrey quietly rose from the group and nudged Kenzo with a glance toward the rooftop.
They slipped away without much fuss, climbing the narrow stairs to the rooftop where the city shimmered beneath them. The air was cooler up here, quieter—like the world paused for breath.
They sat side by side on the rooftop ledge, legs dangling over the edge, silence falling comfortably between them. Kenzo leaned back on his hands, eyes on the distant skyline.
"That conversation earlier... it got me thinking about the after," Kenzo said softly, his fingers brushing the cool rooftop ledge. "Like... if we finish all ten missions. If we actually get through this. What happens then?"
Audrey didn't answer right away. She exhaled slowly, her breath curling in the night air. "I used to think I didn't want to. Think about it, I mean. It hurt too much to hope."
Kenzo's gaze slid to her. "And now?"
She looked at him, her eyes softer than the moonlight. "Now I think... maybe we won't have to live in the 'after' alone."
Kenzo swallowed. "I've been scared of losing this. You. For the first time, I feel like I'm not walking through life on autopilot. And I'm terrified that when it ends... we'll go back to being strangers."
Audrey turned to him, smile pulling gently at her lips. "Well... lately I've been thinking I want to make a bucket list."
Kenzo blinked. "A bucket list?"
She laughed quietly. "Yeah. I saw Rina writing hers, and I realized... I never let myself hope that far. But I want to. I want to live for something after this."
Kenzo's expression softened. "What's on it?"
Audrey hesitated, then said sheepishly, "I want to learn how to ride a bike."
Kenzo blinked again, then burst into a soft laugh. "Wait—you don't know how to ride a bike?"
"Never learned," she said with mock indignation. "My mom tried once, but I was convinced I'd fall into a ditch and disappear forever."
"You're fighting supernatural evil and delivering justice with goddess-given powers... but two wheels scare you?"
"I didn't say I wasn't a paradox," Audrey replied dryly.
Kenzo grinned. "Okay, it's settled. After this, I'm teaching you."
She raised a brow. "Really?"
"Really. And you're going to fall. A lot. But I'll be there."
Audrey looked at him, her gaze steady. "Then it's a deal."
Kenzo's voice dropped to something more sincere. "We won't go back to being strangers. Not if I can help it."
Audrey nodded slowly. "Then let's not vanish. Not even after."
They sat in silence, legs swinging gently over the ledge. The wind tugged at Audrey's hair, but she didn't move. Kenzo watched her from the corner of his eye, and something in his chest squeezed.
"You know," he said, voice quiet, "you're the first person I've ever made plans with that go beyond a month. Maybe that's weird. But I don't want to let that go."
Audrey turned toward him, her expression unreadable at first—but then softened into something gentle. Something warm.
"It's not weird," she said. "It means you're living again."
He smiled, and for a moment, they just breathed in sync, steady and still.
The city hummed below them, but up here, it was just the two of them—caught in a stillness neither wanted to break.
Just then, a soft knock echoed through the quiet stairwell. Audrey glanced up as Kenzo reached into his jacket pocket and unfolded a postcard. He read aloud with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Dear team, I'm still in therapy—it's not always easy, but it's getting better. I'm also finally working on that bucket list. Just crossed off visiting a sunflower field. Thank you for helping me get here. Always grateful, Rina."
The others soon gathered to hear the message. Damian let out a celebratory cheer, while Hana grinned and leaned her head against the railing. Audrey smiled, eyes misty, heart full.
Kenzo, standing beside her, looked at her longer than he meant to.
"That's a damn good update," Damian said, clapping Kenzo on the back with a grin.
Audrey turned to meet Kenzo's gaze, and he didn't speak right away. There was something different in his expression—softer, more open. He smiled, just a little, and said under his breath, "She's really doing it."
Audrey nodded, her voice catching. "Yeah. She is."
Kenzo looked at her for a long moment. "You helped her get there."
Audrey blinked, surprised by how much that meant coming from him. "We all did."
"But you led her out," he said. "You gave her that hope."
A quiet passed between them again, but it wasn't empty. It was full—of pride, of quiet gratitude, of something neither of them quite had the words for.
Then, just as Audrey looked down at her hands, Kenzo added, "I'm proud of you."
She looked up, eyes glistening but steady. "Right back at you."
Before they could catch their breath, the safehouse lights dimmed—then flickered once. A hum buzzed through the room. Damian sat up straight. Kenzo froze, eyes already darting toward the surveillance screen across the room. A new file pulsed onto the screen.
Audrey's heart clenched.
Another name. Another case.
This time: a student. Young. High school. Repeated hospital visits for "accidents." Teacher reports flagged but dismissed. Online messages filled with slurs. Crying selfies. A timestamp.
The team watched in grim silence as the video loaded—grainy footage of a high school hallway, barely steady. A boy—Miho—cornered by three older students. Their voices echoed even without sound, laughter cruel as they shoved him against the lockers.
They hit him. Pulled his bag away. Demanded money. The footage trembled before cutting briefly to another clip—Miho curled into himself behind the school gym, shoulders shaking.
Audrey's breath hitched.
Kenzo's hands clenched around the edge of the table, knuckles white. His mind ran statistical models of escalation. The signs were there—Miho was nearing a breaking point.
Damian cursed under his breath. "I'm gonna break something."
Then Hana, who had been unusually still, pushed her chair back and stood. Her fists trembled, eyes fixed on the screen. The shadows of old scars flickered behind her eyes. Her breathing was ragged, unsteady.
She whispered, more to herself than to anyone else, "Not again. I should've—" She stopped herself.
Damian turned, catching the tension in her voice. "Hana?"
She didn't answer right away. Just grabbed her jacket and walked toward the door.
Audrey reached out gently. "Hana, you okay?"
Hana paused only long enough to say, "We wait too long, and we lose him."
She exhaled, this time louder, her voice low and clear. "Let's go."