Dragging a Broken Body to Connect the Fuse, a Faint Recognition Forges a Bond

Warm, with a salty, humid scent. Those were Haku's tears, splashing one by one onto the back of Mizuki Han's cold neck, only to be instantly frozen into tiny ice beads by the frigid aura radiating from his skin.

A nuisance.

That was the first thought that flashed through Mizuki Han's mind. He loathed this kind of weak, meaningless emotional release. In the worldview he had constructed, tears were the patent of the weak, the whimpering of losers.

He wanted to scold her, to tell her to shut up, to crush this fragility completely with the coldest words possible.

However, he could not make a sound.

His throat felt as if it had been filled with gravel; every breath brought a tearing, agonizing pain. That brutal, point-blank self-detonation had not only sacrificed his left arm but had also forced the recoil of the explosion into his internal organs without reservation.

He could feel his lungs like damaged bellows, and several of his ribs seemed to be broken. Every inch of muscle in his body was howling in unbearable agony.

What humiliated him even more was the weak yet undeniable support behind him.

Haku's thin, small shoulders were pressed firmly against his back. She was using every ounce of her strength, her slender arms wrapped around his waist, trying to drag him up from the cold ground. That strength was negligible for an adult, but for Mizuki Han, who didn't want to move even a single finger at this moment, it became the only thing keeping him from total collapse.

"Brother Han... get up... please, just get up..."

The girl's crying was stifled and desperate, carrying a trembling tone that grated on his nerves.

Mizuki Han did not respond. For the first time, his heart, encased in absolute rationality, felt such a clear sense of powerlessness toward his own body. He needed the help of this "burden" in his eyes to complete the final step.

This realization was more bone-chillingly uncomfortable than the excruciating pain of his severed arm.

"Shut up."

He finally squeezed two hoarse syllables from the depths of his throat; the voice was not loud, but it carried an unquestionable command.

Haku's crying stopped abruptly. She was like a frightened little beast, her body stiffening violently, but the arms wrapped around him tightened even further.

Mizuki Han stopped wasting words. He focused all his mental energy on his remaining right arm and his legs, his teeth grinding together. Using his right elbow to support himself, he pushed off the ground with his legs with all his might. With Haku dragging him with everything she had, his broken body finally began to move, in an extremely wretched posture, inch by inch toward the Energy Hub Control Console flickering with a faint blue light a dozen meters away.

The distance of ten meters now felt as long as a chasm spanning life and death.

On the metal floor, a shocking trail of dark red blood mixed with blue ice crystals was left behind.

That was the trajectory of his burning life.

Finally, he reached the console. The complex dashboard and dense wiring appeared blurred and distorted in his vision, which was blacking out from blood loss. He found the reserved interface, the final terminal for the detonator wires of all the Explosive Tags in Sector F-9.

He pulled the last roll of detonating wire from his chest; the other end was connected to the small remote detonator in his hand.

Now, all he had to do was insert this metal wire, which was barely thicker than a strand of hair, precisely into the interface that was only the size of a needle tip.

An action that would seem extremely simple in normal times had now become an impossible task.

His right hand was trembling violently due to blood loss and intense pain. The slender wire at his fingertips swayed like willow catkins in a gale, unable to align with the target at all.

Once.

Twice.

The tip of the wire slid past the edge of the interface several times, sparking tiny flickers.

Beads of sweat the size of beans seeped from Mizuki Han's forehead. His breathing became increasingly rapid, and his vision grew ever more blurred.

[Warning: Poison gas injection countdown, 11 hours and 21 minutes remaining...]

In his mind, that cold calculator was still running. But his body was already on the verge of giving out.

Just as he was about to give up due to exhaustion, a pair of small hands gently, tentatively, covered his trembling right hand.

It was Haku.

He didn't know when she had knelt beside him. She was no longer crying; on that small face stained with tears and grime was a stubborn, extreme focus that surpassed her age.

She used her own small hands, which were also trembling, to carefully wrap around Mizuki Han's large hand, and then she gently pressed her cheek against the back of his hand.

"Brother Han... I... I will help you..."

Her voice was as faint as a gnat's, yet it carried a firmness that could not be refused.

She used her own body, her own body temperature, and her own weight to try to counteract that uncontrollable trembling originating from within his body.

A strange sensation traveled through the soft, warm touch on the back of his hand to Mizuki Han's nerve endings.

It wasn't chakra; it wasn't any form of energy. It was simply the purest will of a weak life.

Stupid.

Mizuki Han sneered in his heart.

But... it was effective.

With his silent consent, Haku used every ounce of her focus. Her clear eyes were fixed intently on that tiny interface, as if it were her entire world. With her assistance, Mizuki Han's trembling hand miraculously gained a sliver of stability.

Now!

A cold glint flashed in Mizuki Han's eyes, and all distracting thoughts were instantly cleared. He poured the last bit of his mental energy into his fingertips and, in that brief moment of stability, guided the slender wire and thrust it fiercely into the tiny hole that decided the life and death of countless people!

"Click."

A crisp sound, so faint it was almost inaudible.

The wire was firmly inserted into the interface.

Beneath the console, a green indicator light representing "Connection Successful" slowly lit up.

Immediately following this, a blood-red LED on the remote detonator in Mizuki Han's hand lit up, beginning to blink slowly and rhythmically at a fixed frequency.

One beat.

Another beat.

It was as if a devil from hell were tolling the countdown to destruction.

Success.

This web of death, woven from countless Explosive Tags and covering the entire Anbu base, had finally received its final piece of the puzzle.

As soon as he pressed this button, this impregnable underground fortress would begin to collapse layer by layer from the inside out in a chain reaction of explosions, ultimately transforming into a steel tomb that would bury everyone within.

A massive wave of exhaustion washed over him like a tide. Mizuki Han's tightly coiled nerves suddenly snapped, his vision went black, and his body fell backward uncontrollably.

"Brother Han!"

Haku cried out, using her frail body to brace him from behind, becoming his final human cushion.

Mizuki Han leaned against Haku, gasping for air. He stared at the remote in his hand, its red light flickering, and for the first time, his dim eyes were devoid of the cold, calculating nature that viewed everything as a mere chess piece.

He looked down at the girl who was supporting him with her own body.

She was still trembling, her face even paler than his own. Yet, her eyes were exceptionally bright; the fear was gone, replaced only by a sense of relief that the plan had succeeded.

She was rejoicing for his success.

This realization caused a tiny, almost imperceptible crack to form in Mizuki Han's frozen heart—a crack he didn't even notice himself.

Perhaps... this tool was "more useful" than he had imagined.

For the first time, he felt a faint sense of recognition toward Haku that transcended mere "utility."

"Go."

He used the last of his strength to force out the word.

Haku nodded vigorously, dragging, holding, and supporting him as she struggled to stand, stumbling toward the abandoned escape shaft located in a corner of Sector F.

That was the only safe point in the entire demolition plan.

However, just as they dragged their broken bodies around a corner in the corridor, both of them stopped in their tracks.

A strange, cloying scent, like rotting nectar, began to permeate the air from ahead.

At the end of the corridor, the ventilation ducts lining the walls were "hissing," spewing out plumes of pale yellow, visible smoke.

The smoke seemed to have a life of its own, hugging the ground as it slowly spread toward them, swallowing everything in its path.

Poison gas!

The final movement of the Great Purge had begun!

Mizuki Han's pupils constricted sharply. He looked at the encroaching toxic mist, then at the path to the escape shaft—the only way forward, now shrouded in poison.

Finally, his gaze fell upon the remote in his hand, still pulsing with its blood-red light.

There was no hesitation on his face, no struggle.

Only the same madness and resolve as always, ready to drag everything into destruction.

He raised his hand and, with a thumb stained in blood and filth, pressed down hard on the red detonator button without a moment's hesitation!