High & Low ~The story of SWORD~

Act 19: SWORD PACT Or Not?

It was a quiet day, the kind that drifted by with little purpose. He sat slouched in an old armchair near the sunniest window of the bathhouse, letting the warmth soak into his skin. The hum of the laundry machine played in the background like a lullaby, mingling with the distant rhythm of passing cars outside. If there was a melody to his life, these were the verses. The high notes? The growing silence of the Sannoh district as, one by one, the shops shut their doors for good. His father's bathhouse was among those soon to follow.

He had always liked helping his father here. It wasn't exactly therapeutic—too hot, too noisy, too much work—but it was home. He was a Sannoh boy. These walls held the echoes of his childhood, his friendships, his identity. But now, it was all slipping through his fingers—his home, his family's livelihood, and even his friends' places of belonging. The world he knew was slowly vanishing.

The sharp tap of boots on the wooden floor pulled him from his thoughts.

A figure had stepped inside. Short, wiry, and clad in the tattered remnants of what looked like a post-underground concert ensemble—ripped jeans clinging to lean legs, an old, faded muscle tank barely hanging on to its shape, and calf-high, laced-up boots that marked each step with urgency. Her hair, jet black and slightly longer than the last time he saw her, swayed as she ran her fingers through it. Her dark, steel-like eyes locked on him with familiar precision.

She had found him, just as she expected.

"Kasumi!" he blurted, startled. "What are you doing here?" he asked, confusion flickering across his face. It was unusual—no, unheard of—for the Iemura daughter to step into the men's bathhouse. She had her boundaries. She had her pride. They all met daily at Itokan Diner like the rest of the Sannoh gang. This was personal.

She didn't say anything right away. Instead, she walked to the armchair beside his, flopped into it with a huff, and reached out to flick his forehead.

"Baka," she said with a smirk. "You cut your hair. No wonder no one recognizes you anymore."

She crossed her legs and settled in, eyes never leaving his.

"Why are you hiding? Are you really not coming with us?" she asked gently, though the answer was already written across his face. She had been worried for a while now—not just about Tettsu, but a few others too. Something was shifting within Sannoh Rengokai. Cracks were beginning to show. And Cobra, their leader, was preoccupied with larger battles—battles that went beyond their district, beyond their crew, stretching across all of SWORD.

"Kasumi," Tettsu said, exhaling slowly. "Not you too. Dan said the same thing. But I'm still me. Nothing's changed."

His smile was soft, nearly invisible, but she saw it. He appreciated her being there—of all people, it was always Kasumi who knew how to reach out, how to make someone feel seen. Even when they didn't see things the same way. She supported Cobra's vision, after all. But that didn't mean she couldn't understand how Tettsu felt.

"I'll be there," he added. "Waiting for Dan. Don't worry."

Kasumi nodded, her expression unreadable. She stood and placed a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder.

"You know... what's happening isn't just happening to you," she said. "It's hitting all of us. Cobra might be focused on the bigger picture right now—on SWORD—but that doesn't mean he's forgotten about Sannoh. About us. All five districts are under attack. We can't afford to look away."

She paused before adding, "He's not good with words, you know that. But he cares. About Sannoh. About you. About all of us."

"I know," Tettsu replied, almost defensively. "I've known Cobra longer than anyone. He'll do something. He always does."