He sat on the bench along the wall, shoulders resting back against the cool surface, hands loosely folded in his lap. His thoughts were clearer than they’d been the day before, the worst of the fog lifted, but a faint haze still lingered beneath it all like white noise. Still, it was better.
His mind drifted back to the conversation with Aira the night before. The memory tightened something in his chest. The way her voice had changed when she asked about the blood. The disbelief. The worry that had spiraled into self-blame before he could stop it. Watching her turn inward like that had cut far deeper than any anger ever could.
He exhaled slowly.
Aira was right. It was selfish of him to disregard his own health so casually. Irresponsible, too. He’d told himself that even if something serious happened, he was certain he’d push through it somehow. But what he hadn’t considered was the fallout, what it would do to the people who cared about him.
The thought left a quiet ache behind his ribs. He shifted slightly on the bench, eyes lowering to the floor.
Aira had always cared deeply about others. Her way of loving was loud and connective. She expressed care by showing up, by wanting to spend time together, by insisting on being heard and hearing others in return. He realized now that every time Aira came looking for him to rant, it wasn’t just venting. It was her way of saying she wanted to be near him, that she cared about him and what he thought.
Guilt surfaced in his chest. He knew how much she valued honesty, and as much as he wanted to meet her halfway, it couldn’t be helped. There were too many risks if she ever learned the truth, keeping her in the dark was both self preservation and protection.
Besides… there was another reason why he’d stayed silent.
After the Hollow attack, Aira had recovered physically. She was surrounded by friends, endlessly talkative, bright and social as ever. But Akio had noticed that the happiness didn’t feel as full anymore, not as bright.
Especially when she was alone.
He’d seen it in quiet moments where she didn’t realize anyone was watching. Times when she sat staring into nothing, expression distant and searching, like she was trying to grasp something just out of reach. Once or twice, he’d seen tears slip down her face without any clear trigger, her brow furrowed in confusion as if she couldn’t even explain to herself why she was crying.
It was as though something essential had been taken from her. Something invisible that no one else seemed to notice.
Akio’s fingers curled slightly against his palm. He still didn’t know what he could have done to make it better. For a long time, the helplessness had gnawed at him, an ache he learned to live with rather than solve.
That had shifted, at least a little, after Aira started journalism.
He’d noticed it gradually: the way she came home buzzing with stories, complaints, half formed theories. The way her laughter sounded more genuine again. The way purpose had settled back into her posture, restoring something that had gone missing after the attack.
So he’d made a decision. He wouldn’t tell her he was the Dawn Hound, because he was terrified of what that truth might take from her. Of how knowing might twist journalism into something else, something heavier and more dangerous.
And, if he was being honest with himself, because a part of him was afraid of what would happen when the person who looked at him like a brother started looking at him like a symbol instead.
“Still thinking about things?”
The familiar voice gently pulled him back to the present.
Akio turned his head to find Gabriel beside him, exactly where he’d been the whole time—seated comfortably, a playcard spinning idly between his fingers, giving him space without ever leaving. Akio smiled despite himself, the tension in his chest easing just a fraction.
This was their spot. A quiet corner tucked away from the rest of the world, hidden from foot traffic and noise. They didn’t come here for any particular reason, and neither of them ever questioned it. Sometimes, it was just enough to exist—side by side, without explanation.
Akio leaned back against the bench, eyes drifting to the pale light filtering through the high windows.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I just… wonder if I’m making the right choice sometimes.”
Gabriel hummed thoughtfully, the sound familiar and oddly comforting. “It’s usually never that simple. Good intentions don’t really exempt you from accountability.”
After a beat, his tone softened. “Taking a break is a good start, though.”
“You’re right,” Akio said with a small smile. “It’s the responsible thing to do. And I promised her I would.”
Gabriel smirked, amusement laced with unmistakable relief. “Oh dear. And here I was worried you’d still insist on working yourself to death.”
Akio let out a quiet breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. He could hear the worry underneath the teasing—and he knew this decision mattered to Gabriel more than he’d ever say outright.
“I could say the same,” he replied, gaze softening. “Don’t overdo it while I’m gone.”
Gabriel leaned against the armrest, easy smile in place, tone confident and reassuring. “I’ve already made adjustments. It’ll be a little tricky—but nothing I can’t handle.”
There was a small pause before Gabriel glanced back at him, the humor fading just enough to reveal something firm yet gentle underneath. “You’re actually going to rest. No patrols. No ‘just one small thing.’ None of it.”
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Akio met his gaze. He saw the worry there and felt something in his chest loosen. Being held to his word like this felt less like restriction and more like trust.
“I promise,” he said.
The silence that followed lingered, warm and close, filled with everything they didn’t need to say. For a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them and the quiet light spilling across the floor, held together by a bond that needed no proof.
Then—
A sharp gasp cut through the stillness.
Akio blinked, then closed his eyes for half a second, a familiar mix of exasperation and mild dread settling in before he even turned his head. He didn’t need to look to know that whatever calm they’d been allowed was officially over. Beside him, he felt Gabriel shift as well, the subtle tension in his posture mirroring his own.
“...How long was she standing there?”
“Long enough,” Gabriel replied, voice grim with resignation.
Akio let out a quiet sigh and finally turned toward the source of the disturbance.
Sure enough, a girl was peeking out from behind the far wall of the waiting area, making no attempt whatsoever to hide the fact that she’d been spying on them. Big, round glasses framed eyes that were currently sparkling with far too much interest, her vibrant red hair pulled into an elaborate side ponytail that somehow managed to look both intentional and chaotic. Even from here, Akio could feel the unmistakable aura radiating off her—unfiltered enthusiasm, rampant imagination, and a dangerous level of narrative projection.
“Oh my god,” she breathed, her gaze darting between the two of them like she’d just stumbled upon something sacred. She stepped fully into view and stopped directly in front of them, clasping her hands together as if physically restraining herself from vibrating apart.
“Hi Cecily,” Gabriel said, tone carefully casual, as though bracing for impact.
“That conversation WAS PEAK,” Cecily announced, voice rising immediately. “You two are so cute together—”
“We were just talking,” Akio cut in, already exhausted.
Cecily waved him off with delighted insistence. “No, no, it’s not just that. It’s the cadence. The body language. The unspoken trust and care!! This is, like, soulmate-longing-coded. Extremely slow burn romance!”
Gabriel shifted uncomfortably. “I think that might be overdoing it.”
Cecily’s grin only widened, eyes glinting with mischief. “That’s the beauty of it,” she said knowingly. “You never see it until it’s already happening~”
Akio felt a familiar, sinking despair settle in his chest. He didn’t bother correcting her, experience had taught him it was futile.
Cecily was technically their peer, a highly competent member of the student council and an aspiring fashion designer. For reasons Akio had long since stopped questioning, she had become irrevocably convinced that he and Gabriel were gay.
“Complementary aesthetics,” she’d claimed the first time. Then it was shared trauma. Then astrology. Something about star crossed signs and narrative symmetry.
In the present, Cecily adjusted her glasses with a flourish, practically vibrating where she stood.
“So anyways,” she announced brightly, “I came here to show you guys your fall season outfits.”
Before either of them could respond, she pulled out a flowery booklet and snapped it open with dramatic flair. Fabric unfurled at once, rolling out in a smooth cascade. One side was deep black, the other stark white. Intricate leaf patterns were embroidered across the material, red and gold threaded through the black, blue and silver woven into the white. The designs mirrored each other exactly, the leaves curved and angled as if caught mid-fall, frozen in motion.
Cecily squealed, clutching the edges of the fabric. “I just know this is going to look incredible under the right lighting! You two are going to match, and when you move it’ll look like the leaves are actually drifting—”
“Akio’s taking a break,” Gabriel cut in smoothly.
“No worries, babe,” she chirped, waving a hand. “Honestly that’s even better for the launch. Absence builds anticipation. It’s, like, a teaser. People will go feral for the full reveal.”
Akio stared down at the fabric in silence. He already knew the answer, but he asked anyway. “Is this… really necessary?”
“Of course it is!” Cecily exclaimed. “Cycling outfits with the seasons is how you stay relevant and slay. You can’t just be a duo that slays without actually slaying. That’s not how branding works!”
As she launched seamlessly into an impassioned rant, Akio let his attention drift, only half listening. Cecily wasn’t just a fashion student with too much enthusiasm. She was the stylist behind the Twin Hounds—the one who designed their masks and cloaks, who patched up their gear after missions and somehow always knew exactly what needed reinforcing.
And the only reason they had a stylist in the first place was because, long ago, she had somehow figured out who they were.
Akio still didn’t know how she’d done it. He only knew that the moment she did, she’d cornered them and issued an ultimatum that had nothing to do with money or leverage: she would style their vigilante outfits, and in exchange, she wouldn’t tell anyone. Why? Because the city’s most iconic duo could not be running around looking boring.
Back then, Akio and Gabriel’s gear had been painfully practical—plain cloaks, minimal masks, nothing that stood out beyond function. They’d been perfectly content with that. Cecily had been horrified.
“NO,” she’d declared, with the gravity of someone announcing a moral truth. “You cannot do this. Trust me. I’ll make you both feel bonita.”
Akio would never admit it out loud, but the refined aesthetic had helped more than he’d expected. The Twin Hounds weren’t just effective anymore; they were recognizable. Iconic. Easier for the public to rally behind.
Back in the present, Cecily slid the booklet back into her bag with a satisfied little hum, practically glowing as she clasped her hands together. “Sooo, that’s all for the seasonal updates—but there’s actually one more thing I wanted to talk to you two about.”
She folded her hands behind her back, tone bright and deceptively innocent.
“I’m doing a photoshoot for one of my fashion projects~”
Gabriel let out a quiet sigh, already bracing himself.
“And let me guess,” he said, half amused, half resigned. “You want us to model.”
“Yes!!” Cecily beamed, the enthusiasm hitting instantly at full force. “You two are going to look so good! Perfect color palettes, great proportions, that whole smart-and-elegant thing you’ve got going on. I swear, the outfits are going to look like they were made for you. This is going to be peak cinema.”
Akio stared at her for a moment, already calculating how little room they had to maneuver. He didn’t bother pretending there was a real choice here.
“How long is it going to take?” he asked.
“Oh, barely anything!” Cecily chirped. “Two and a half hours at most. Super easy. You’ll just wear the outfits, pose a little, follow my direction—nothing complicated.”
She waved a hand as if brushing the concern aside. “Honestly, you’re already naturals. Have you seen how cinematic you look every time you’re on screen? The lighting loves you. The camera loves you. It’s basically a crime not to use that!”
The words tumbled over one another, each new detail tightening the knot in Akio’s stomach. That was the other thing about Cecily knowing who they really were: it meant she had leverage. Their carefully maintained anonymity had a way of feeling suddenly fragile whenever she asked for favors like this.
“Oh!” Cecily perked up mid-rant, eyes lighting even brighter. “And make sure to bring Damien.”
Akio blinked. “Damien?”
“Yes!” Cecily spun lightly on the spot. “It’s an academic themed shoot, obviously—the three of you are perfect for it! Besides, you’re always seen together. Visually, it just makes sense. Rule of thirds! We neeeeeed him!”
Gabriel tilted his head, thoughtful. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”
Cecily’s smile didn’t fade. “I’m sure you can figure something out. I mean—you three are besties, right? Either that, or it would be such a shame if certain information slipped out unintentionally. So anyways, see you on set in three!”
She skipped away down the hall, disappearing from view as if she hadn’t just dropped a logistical nightmare squarely into their laps.
Akio sat there in the aftermath, staring at the empty space Cecily had left behind.
“…We’re dead,” he said quietly. “There’s no way we’re convincing Damien to agree to this.”
Gabriel sighed, expression already shifting into something grim and professional. “It can’t be helped. We’ll have to attempt negotiations. It’s either that, or exposure.”
Akio straightened slightly, the gears already turning. “We can’t let him realize we’re asking him for a favor without offering anything in return. The moment he figures that out, it’s over.”
Gabriel nodded. “Even with incentives, he’d probably say no just to spite us.” After a beat, he added, solemn, “We’ll need advanced tactics.”
They exchanged a brief, perfectly synchronized look before standing from the bench and heading for the exit. Akio exhaled under his breath as they walked, mentally preparing himself for the impossible task ahead.
It seemed the Dawn Hound still had one last mission to handle.
─ ? NEXT CHAPTER POV ? ─
Akio
Broken Equinox
Graphic Violence
In the village of Priscilla, a child is born beneath green-lit boughs—marked by a dragon’s eye that never closes. Faith rots softly. Saints avert their gaze. And curses grow like roots, patient and deep.
As old myths stir and kingdoms decay, the broken are forced to choose: be devoured by the dark, or learn how to tend it.
- dark fantasy ? psychological ? slow-burn
- curse-driven narrative ? moral decay
- character-first ? no harem
- 4 chapters weekly (≥2000 words)
“In the quietest forests, the oldest eyes remain open.”
When the equinox nears, the forest listens. Curses awaken. Faith splinters. And the dragon’s eye remembers what humanity forgot.