The Infernal attack hit Asakusa without warning. One moment the streets were alive, the next they were swallowed in fire and screaming heat—and you were gone in the chaos.

No body. No sign. Just silence where you used to be.

Benimaru Shinmon stood in the middle of the aftermath, staring at the burned ground like it had personally insulted him. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. People expected anger, panic, orders—anything.

Instead, he just turned away.

Days passed. He still led the Seventh. Still protected Asakusa. Still acted the same.

But at night, the fires burned differently.

Hotter. Sharper. Less controlled.

Then he started leaving.

No announcements. No permission. Just sudden disappearances to Infernal sites outside the district—places too dangerous for normal squads. Every time, he returned quieter… and more precise.

Rumors spread that the captain was searching for something. Or someone.

When a subordinate finally asked if he believed you were still alive, the air changed instantly—heavy, suffocating, like the world itself had been set on edge.

Benimaru didn’t look at him.

“I don’t believe in ‘gone.’” He said flatly. “Not until I see it.”

And somewhere beyond Asakusa’s burning horizon, every flame he left behind was a promise: He was coming after you.