Chapter 4: Passing Each Other

Several days had passed.

Since that incident, he hasn’t shown up again.

Of course, I asked around at school and did some investigating on my own, but my information-gathering skills were amateur at best.

I picked up a few minor rumors—someone helping an old lady carry her bags, guiding a lost child—but this city had events where people cosplayed while doing volunteer work. It was hard to say if any of those were really him.

Acts of kindness like that were something anyone could do.

I considered narrowing it down by height or voice, but his height was just average for a high school boy, and the only thing I’d ever heard him say was “Now!” Not exactly a useful clue.

As a last resort, I even submitted a request to the higher-ups, but with so little to go on, the Military wasn’t going to waste resources on a search.

Still, I held onto hope.

Maybe some irregularity had accelerated his awakening. Maybe the main story had started earlier than expected.

I didn’t know.

But the protagonist was already here.

He was already moving for someone’s sake.

And yet, here I was.

“D-don’t kill me… don’t kill me, don’t kill—”

“Reproduction rate 18%, multipurpose knife manifestation—glass fiber-reinforced plastic.”

Another job.

The outskirts of the city. A moonlit, abandoned building.

I drove the knife into the supernatural creature’s head.

It wasn’t metal—just a reinforced plastic knife I’d recently learned to create. My reproduction rate was still low since I’d only just started training, but it was enough.

The monster collapsed with a heavy thud.

It looked like a deformed crow, its body twisted, arm-like appendages growing where wings should have been.

Apparently, it was an experimental creature—genetic manipulation using radiation.

Lately, more of them had been appearing in the city, but their origin was still unknown.

Most went on violent rampages.

But some… some were intelligent. Some stayed calm.

Like the one I just killed.

It’s really depressing.

“Ga…ah…”

The monster groaned. It was still alive.

…At the very least, I should put it out of its misery quickly.

I raised my knife, ready to deliver the final blow—

“—That’s far enough, Mass-Production Cutter.”

A voice stopped me cold.

I spun around, my muscles tensing. I’d been on guard, but I hadn’t noticed them.

A girl with blue hair. About my age.

She wore a visor that obscured her face—just like my hood.

I couldn’t see her expression now, but I already knew what lay beneath.

A lively, dignified face that suited her usual vibrant demeanor.

She was dressed in a sleek, futuristic combat suit—completely different from the magically enhanced military gear I wore. Hers was pure science, hugging her figure tightly.

I knew her.

Not just as a game character.

I’d seen her before. At school. In passing. And during missions like this.

“…Rainy Arts, the Water Surveyor.”

Her real name—Nijiizaka Ameiro.

One of the main heroines of this world, just like Lady Misora.

In the game, she was the protagonist’s classmate—the popular girl with a secret identity. Meanwhile, Lady Misora played the older, mentor-like senpai.

She belonged to the Corporation, an organization often at odds with the Military. But they shared the same ultimate goal—protecting civilians.

Through countless clashes and missions, the two sides had come to respect each other. Once the protagonist arrived and the main story began, they even became allies, despite their ideological differences.

You could call their relationship a friendly rivalry.

But right now, there was nothing friendly about the way she glared at me.

“That’s far enough… drop your weapon.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I drove my knife straight into the monster’s skull.

A sickening crack.

The life beneath my blade snuffed out in an instant.

Nijiizaka’s face twisted in disgust.

Of course, it did.

She was part of the Corporation—the side that opposed exterminating supernatural beings.

She was the kind of heroine who valued every life, who protected even the harmless entities others would kill without a second thought.

It was only natural that she’d look at me like this.

…With a relationship like this, how are we supposed to become friends?

The sensation of taking a life lingered in my hand, a phantom weight pressing down on my chest.

It was hard to breathe.

Still, if I wanted to handle this the way Lady Misora would, I couldn’t show weakness.

I forced a bright expression. Forced a light tone.

“W-well, you know, this is my job too! It’s not like I have a choice… Just bad timing, right? Haha, guess it was just bad luck I was here…”

“…………”

No response.

She raised her Materializer in her right hand.

“...I want you to surrender quietly. I promise… I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“Ah, you’re so kind—! Rainy Arts-chan, you’re such a good person! We even have similar speech patterns, you know? If we’d met under different circumstances, maybe we could’ve been friends—”

“Reproduction rate 1000%—H₂O, Manifest!!”

A rush of splashing water filled the air.

Droplets scattered like morning dew as she shaped a spear of water in her hands.

“Haa—hyaah!”

With a sharp breath, she thrust her arm forward.

The spear extended in an instant, transforming into a high-pressure water cutter that shot toward me.

I dodged at the last second.

But even as I evaded, another strike came. Then another. And another.

Relentless.

I parried with my utility knife, searching for an opening to retreat.

She was an elite of the Corporation. The higher-ups knew I couldn’t take her head-on—and my mission was already complete. Retreating wouldn’t affect my evaluation.

“Someone like you—just stop fighting already!”

But the intensity of her attacks...

She wasn’t aiming to kill, but she was more than willing to take an arm or a leg.

In the game and spin-offs, Lady Misora and this girl had clashed before—but they were always minor skirmishes. Both sides understood that a serious battle wouldn’t end well. Even with their differing ideologies, they had no reason to fight to the death.

But this… was different.

She was coming at me with the resolve to risk her life.

...Why is it that everything I do always, always goes wrong?

I shook off my despair and refocused.

If I wanted to escape, I needed to shake her composure.

“Reproduction rate 100%—Blade Manifestation!”

I materialized only the blade of a utility knife, wrapping it around my arm as makeshift armor.

Then, I charged forward—straight into a water slash.

“Guh—!”

The attack didn’t pierce through, but the impact exploded like a blast.

My arm didn’t get blown off, but the bones inside were completely shattered.

Still, that was fine. I’d taken the damage. That meant I could replicate her Water Cutter.

This time, I wrapped the blade armor around my torso.

Preparation complete. The angle and positioning were good.

Another torrential thrust came rushing toward me.

Maybe because she thought I could block it, this one was even more reckless.

That worked in my favor.

I took it head-on—with my abdomen.

“Wha—”

—And in the next instant, I was impaled by the Water Cutter.

…Or so it seemed.

“Guh… Damage Bullet, Water Shot…”

The moment her Water Cutter pierced my abdomen, I released my own Water Cutter from my back.

From her perspective, it must have looked like her attack had gone straight through me.

The force of my attack shattered the window behind me.

Taking advantage of her momentary panic—thinking she might have killed me—I leapt out of the abandoned building.

“Wait—!”

I hit the ground and took off running.

Somehow, I managed to lose her.

I let out a breath.

And then—

“—Ugh.”

Blood gushed from my mouth.

…I had defended myself, but my internal organs had likely taken damage.

Pressing a hand to my abdomen, I expelled the damage as faint light, healing the wound.

I didn’t have to fire my ability as a bullet. At its core, my power was meant for healing—I had just modified it for combat.

The injury was severe, and it didn’t heal completely… but at least I managed to retreat without fighting Nijiizaka.

I couldn’t bring myself to hurt a girl.

And… I didn’t want to see the heroines suffer because of me anymore.

I wanted to get along with them.

Sure, I was a guy, and of course, I liked cute girls. But even beyond that, both Lady Misora and Nijiizaka were dazzling, incredible people I admired.

Hurting them—causing them pain—was unthinkable.

…But then, why couldn’t I handle things as Lady Misora did?

I had followed the interactions from the spin-offs faithfully. I had shown the strength befitting a rival. I had participated in all the events where we fought together for the sake of the citizens.

And yet—

Every time I met Nijiizaka, her expression only grew harsher.

I didn’t know what I was missing.

With my blood-deprived head spinning, I stumbled my way back home.

---

By the time I finally got home, it was past 5 a.m.

I didn’t even want to look at the clock anymore.

I was exhausted.

If I wanted to, I could expel my drowsiness as damage—but that would only delay the inevitable. It wouldn’t actually give me any rest, just keep me awake a little longer.

I made my way to school, trudging along the familiar route.

When I reached the railroad crossing near campus, the barrier was already down.

...This crossing takes forever.

With a sigh, I leaned against a nearby utility pole.

It felt… surprisingly comfortable.

Just for a little while—at least until the train passed—I’d rest my eyes.

Just for a moment.

…

………

……………

“—Hey, Kiza… Arishiro! Wake up! The warning bell’s already ringing!”

"Huh…?"

I opened my eyes.

The train had long since passed.

The school bell was already chiming in the distance.

In front of me stood a familiar male student, calling out in a panicked voice.

...Crap. I’m going to be late.

If I sprinted at full speed, I might make it—but my “full speed” was something like 50 km/h. If anyone saw me, the Military would definitely come knocking.

What do I do?

What should I do?

As I panicked, the male student—oh, right, Moribe-kun, the guy who once lent me his gym clothes—gestured urgently.

“We’ll take a shortcut!”

"Huh…? But even if it’s a shortcut—"

With normal speed, even the most direct path wouldn’t get me there in time.

Still, I followed him.

And somehow, before I even realized it—

We were already standing in front of the school.

"Huh!?"

That wasn’t… an illusion.

Nor was it a lapse in memory.

It was subtle, barely noticeable, but space had definitely warped. We had passed through something—some kind of supernatural phenomenon that shortened the distance in an instant.

"Th-that just now…"
"Ah, I just happened to find it. This way’s super fast."

…Does he not realize it’s unnatural?

To him, it’s just a shortcut. There must be some kind of perceptual effect in place—one that keeps normal people from questioning it. Even after stepping through it, the distortion was nearly imperceptible.

An ordinary person wouldn’t find anything strange, even if they used it every day.

I should probably report this to the Military… but for something, this minor, memory processing might not be necessary…

"Th-thanks… but, um, maybe it’s better not to take that path too often… You know, it’s dim and kinda hard to see…"
"Hm… yeah, I guess. You should just leave earlier for school. And don’t sleep in places like that. Though, I’m not one to talk…"

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. Now that I looked at him, he seemed just as exhausted as I was.

"…Did you stay up late too?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Had a lot to do… I was up until around five."
"Wow, that’s rough."
"I-it’s not that big of a deal…"

I lowered my gaze.

There was no point in saying this to someone unrelated. But even so, the words slipped out before I could stop them.

"I-it’s all stuff I have to do because of me… and even then, nothing’s going well. Yesterday, I couldn’t make up for anything… Everything I’m doing feels pointless… So really, it’s not impressive at all…"

"Ah, no, that’s not it."

He cut me off before I could sink any deeper.

"It’s impressive that you’re working so hard despite all that. Forget about it being your fault, or something you have to do, or it feeling pointless. That’s not what I’m talking about."

"—!"

It was such a simple thing to say. Something generic. Something anyone could’ve said.

But for just a moment… I felt like crying.

Then—the school bell rang.

Before I knew it, we were already standing in front of the classroom.

The boy from the class next door turned to leave, stepping toward his own room.

Just before he disappeared inside, he glanced back at me.

"If things get really bad, let me know. I’ll help."

And with that, he was gone.

…

There’s nothing an ordinary person could do to help.

Going out of your way to achieve the impossible, risking your life to push through… that’s the privilege of main characters—something a background mob like me could never do.

So, the feelings of “happiness” or “wanting help” that just popped into my head… they’re just empty hopes, fleeting thoughts from an exhausted mind.

But still… maybe it’s okay to ask for a little help.

At the very least, he probably has a wider social circle than I do. Even if it’s a long shot, I could ask him to look into the protagonist a little… There might be something.

Thinking this, I half-slept through the morning classes and waited for a lunch break.

I opened the door to the next classroom and scanned the seats for Moribe-kun.

There he was. Sitting near the front, on the hallway side.

I hesitated for a second. It felt awkward walking into another class uninvited… Wait, why am I thinking like a normal student?

"Um, Moribe-kun? I have a favor to ask…"

I pulled out the flyer I’d prepared and asked for his help with the search.

He looked a little uncomfortable, but surprisingly, the conversation went smoothly.

Maybe he’s just a good listener… I don’t know, but talking to him felt oddly easy, like chatting with an old friend.

"So, I was thinking of making about a thousand copies of this… I came up with a few ideas, but this ‘Plan C’ with the sticky note is the final version…"
"You’re planning to hand these out to the whole school? No, I can make copies, but we don’t need a thousand. Absolutely not. Ten is enough."
"Then let’s meet in the middle at four hundred ninety-five—"
"Don’t meet in the middle there. I’ll make the copies, so just sit tight, Arishiro."
"B-but—"

Before I could protest, he grabbed the flyer—sticky note and all—and left his seat.

…Well, he had a point. There’s no way we could distribute hundreds of copies with just the two of us.

I waited.

And waited.

But… he didn’t come back.

What’s going on? Did he get bored halfway through?

Curious, I went to check on him.

Outside the study room, by the student-use copier, I spotted him talking to someone—a girl with her back to me.

"I’m in a tight spot here! I don’t have time to look for some random cosplayer!"
"But five thousand is way too many! Why do you guys always go to extremes!?"
"Uh, what’s going on—"

When I called out, the girl turned around.

Blue, medium-length hair. Sky-blue eyes.

A lively, cheerful face. A well-balanced mix of cuteness and dignity.

Her height was average for a girl, but her figure was more mature than expected. Paired with her boyish charm, it created a refreshing yet strangely alluring contrast.

Even without the visor, I recognized her immediately.

The other main heroine I’d fought yesterday—Nijiizaka Ameiro.

“N-Nijiizaka-san…”

She blinked at me. “Huh? Do I know you? Have we talked before?”

“Ah, no…”

Of course, she wouldn’t remember me.

During missions, we always wore recognition-blocking gear. While I knew her face from the game, she had no idea who I was.

…This might be an opportunity.

For some reason, things always turn hostile between us during missions. But if she thinks this is our first meeting… maybe I can build some goodwill.

If we become friends in our daily lives, maybe our encounters on the battlefield won’t be so hostile either.

“Ah, sorry, Arishiro.” Moribe scratched his head. “Nijiizaka’s kind of taken over the copier…”

“Arishiro-chan? A friend?” Nijiizaka grinned. “Are you Moribe-kun’s girlfriend?”

“...No, that’s not it.”

“Anyway,” Moribe cut in, “you should stop printing soon. You’re gonna get in trouble for using too much ink. Honestly, if it’s a proper search, you should just go to the police—”

“I know, but it’s not like that! There are reasons I can’t file a report, so I just have to ask around—”

…They seem to get along well.

Not super close, just one of many friends. But it was completely different from how she treated me during our fight yesterday.

I felt envious.

I really wanted to be friends with Nijiizaka-san too.

I wanted a lively, cute girl like her to talk to me brightly and cheerfully…

"…………"

In my first life, I never got to experience that.

I thought my second life would be different.

Nijiizaka reluctantly stopped the copier and picked up her stack of flyers.

She looked ready to leave.

I had to say something. But not in my usual way—I needed to sound bright. Casual. But switching to “cheerful mode” on command wasn’t that easy…

“Well, if I run out, I can always come back later!” She waved her flyers. “Anyway, I need to hurry and find these kids!”

“Huh? You’re looking for someone too?”

“Yeah, some elementary school kids I know… but it’s a special situation, so I can’t go to the police. There aren’t many people who can help, either.” She glanced at Moribe. “I was hoping you could help if you had time, but you’re busy too, right?”

“Ah, well, sort of—”

I swallowed, then blurted out:

“Um—”

At this point, I had no choice but to go along with the mood.

Cutting off Moribe-kun’s words, I somehow managed to call out to Nijiizaka-san.

“I-I’ll help too…! If there’s anything I can do—”

“Really!? Thank you, that’s a huge help! I love you, Arishiro-chan!”

“Huh—ah, hehe…”

N-Nijiizaka-chan… The game’s heroine… just said she loves me in real life…

She probably says that to everyone, but still—it made me happy.

I tried to suppress the grin creeping onto my face. Barely managing to respond to her bright, beaming smile, I took half of the flyer stack from her hands.

“Let’s go! The hallway near the courtyard is packed during lunch, so we’ll do it there!”

“Ah, y-yes!”

“Hey, Arishiro, what about this?”

“Huh? Oh, that’s—”

I turned around in a panic.

And in doing so—

Bump.

My shoulder hit Moribe-kun’s hand, and the stack of flyers he was holding scattered across the floor.

“Whoa.”

“Ah, s-sorry—”

I need to pick them up—

“Arishiro-chan, what’s wrong? Hurry up, or lunch break will be over!”

“Huh? Ah, uh—”

Nijiizaka-san was already around the corner, calling out from a distance.

I need to hurry. I have to hurry. But—

At my feet, Moribe-kun was silently gathering the scattered flyers.

It was my request. They fell because of me.

I should be the one picking them up.

But—

“Ugh…”

The main character from the story… and an ordinary male student.

No matter how you look at it, I should prioritize Nijiizaka-san.

At the very least… I’ll apologize properly later.

Compared to everything else I’ve been feeling, it’s just a small pang of guilt.

But even so, as I ran after her, I couldn’t ignore the tiny thorn pricking at my heart.

---

In the dim light of early evening, Moribe Sabaki left the school with a sigh, still holding the stack of flyers he hadn’t managed to hand out.

But his sigh wasn’t just because of that.

(…She didn’t have to look so guilty about it…)

The search had started because of his own actions.

It made sense to prioritize Nijiizaka, who had a more urgent situation. And besides—

“—If you notice anything about these kids, let me know! Oh, but don’t push yourself too hard, okay? It’s not good if you get into trouble. Thanks so much for today!”
“Ah, n-no… I hope they’re found soon…!”

Beyond the school gate, in the distance, he saw them.

Kizami, looking a little awkward but smiling happily at Nijiizaka.

Did she want to talk to Nijiizaka? Did she want to be friends?

Sabaki didn’t know the details, but if it made her happy after looking so gloomy, that was what mattered most.

Still… his gaze dropped to the flyer in his hand.

Not the one with his cosplay.

The one Nijiizaka had given him—with photos and sketches of the missing children.

“…This is clearly connected to them, isn’t it…”

He muttered under his breath.

He’d already suspected that Nijiizaka Ameiro was one of them.

Sabaki didn’t know much about them—only that multiple organizations existed, sometimes in conflict with each other. He didn’t know which one Nijiizaka belonged to or what her role was.

But he was sure of one thing.

He’d met her when he got caught up in supernatural incidents around town.

His memories of those events had been erased. But he still knew they’d been erased.

Apparently, the devices they used could only alter memories from the last few hours.

That was probably enough for regular civilians who accidentally witnessed something supernatural.

But for someone like Sabaki—someone actively looking for the supernatural—it wasn’t enough.

There were more thorough, time-consuming methods that could remove more. But… so far, they hadn’t used those on him. Probably.

He stared at the flyer again.

Sabaki had a habit of digging into supernatural occurrences, collecting information that ordinary people would ignore.

He avoided going too deep—just enough to keep them from noticing him—but even surface-level knowledge had given him some insights.

Looking at the flyer’s contents and piecing them together with what he already knew… a few possibilities came to mind.

Nijiizaka was probably already searching for the most likely locations.

Trying to cover every possible lead alone would be overwhelming.

If he had more information, he might be able to narrow it down.

But without knowing what the missing link was, there wasn’t much he could do.

As he wandered home, taking his usual detours through suspicious areas, he spotted a man in a suit squatting on the side of the road, talking on the phone.

(Huh… that manhole…?)

At the man’s feet was a gaping hole in the road.

At first glance, it looked like a salaryman reporting an open manhole to the city office to prevent accidents… but that wasn’t it.

The man’s voice was oddly quiet, barely carrying over the phone.

Pretending to listen to music through his earphones, Sabaki discreetly aimed a homemade sound amplifier—something he’d prepared for moments like this—toward the man. If his hunch was right, this guy was one of them.

“‘Yes, yes… static… a hidden passage disguised as a sewer… connects outside the city… beyond our control… requesting support from the Military’s upper echelons… backup from Mass-Production Cutter… static… the extremist faction of the Society… the leader, the illegal stimulant Black Dope… her mission is to eliminate him… the supernatural entity believed stolen from the Corporation… enhanced in some way… termination of that supernatural weapon is also part of the mission…? Yes, understood… ………’”

The call ended.

The salaryman-like man tucked away what looked like a smartphone—but was clearly a specialized communication device—then casually scanned his surroundings.

“…………”

Sabaki kept walking, pretending he hadn’t heard anything, though his heart was now pounding.

Mass-Production Cutter.

That was what the man in the lab coat had called Kizami.

…Was this guy part of the same organization as her? He mentioned the Military...

What should I do? No—what can I do? Do I even need to do anything?

First off, that manhole is being watched. I can’t just waltz in.

If they’re calling Kizami for backup, she’s probably stronger than this guy. But even so, he’s still one of them. It wouldn’t be surprising if he had a gun hidden on him… no.

(Can I do it…? That supernatural shortcut—like the one from this morning… Right, the elevator in that building on Second Street… If you input a hidden command, sometimes it connects to a weird underground ruin outside the city… and I think the passage there leads toward this manhole… Last time, I ran away because it seemed dangerous…)

Wait, wait, wait—his rational mind tried to argue.

Even if he could get in, what could Sabaki possibly do?

Last time, he just got lucky.

Moribe Sabaki was just a high school student.

Sure, he was a little more athletic than average… but the soccer team guys were way better, and even Tanaka, the guy sitting next to him in class, was much stronger in a fight.

Someone like him, going up against the Society, extremists, illegal stimulants like Black Dope—clearly dangerous people—was out of the question.

He didn’t have the strength for that.

He was just an ordinary background mob who couldn’t even take down a single adult male with a gun…

“…………”

But first of all, he wasn’t even sure if that underground facility was connected to this case.

If he checked it out and found something, he could pretend it was a coincidence and subtly pass the info to Kizami or Nijiizaka.

And if there was nothing? Well, then he’d just wasted some time.

“...5, close, 2, close-close-open-close, 4, 2, 3, 1, close, 1, 1, 1… there.”

The elevator doors slid open.

A dimly lit space stretched beyond. There were lights, but not enough. They only illuminated certain areas, leaving much of the surroundings shrouded in darkness.

The visible section was an underground cavern with exposed rock walls—nothing like a sewer or subway. Though he couldn’t see the entire space, the sheer scale of it was clear.

“Ugh…”

In the distance, the sound of multiple footsteps echoed.

He didn’t know if it was related to what he’d overheard earlier, but… there were definitely people here. A lot of them.

At the very least, I should hide my face.

Sabaki pulled out his Materializer and sent a mental image into it.

(Reproduction rate 5%… cosplay outfit manifestation.)

A homemade suit and helmet silently materialized, covering his school uniform.

He’d made some improvements since last time—added a bit more protection. …Well, mostly for peace of mind.

He checked the voice changer built into the helmet.

Just as he was about to move closer—

“—Hey, what are you doing there?”
“Huh!?”

He spun around.

Both of them stood in the shadows. It was too dark to see clearly, but he could make out the silhouette.

A soldier in an assault suit, wearing a full-face helmet like Sabaki’s and carrying some kind of firearm.

Sabaki’s breath caught.

But the voice that called out to him was calm. Flat. No tension.

“Didn’t you hear the signal? All remaining units are to gather before the Bishop.”
“—Ah, yeah… got it.”

The dim lighting and similar helmets worked in his favor.

It seemed he’d been mistaken for one of them.

The soldier walked ahead, stepping into the lit area, revealing his figure more clearly.

The general silhouette of his equipment was similar… but the design itself was different.

If Sabaki kept going like this, he’d be found out—

(Reproduction rate 4%… cosplay outfit, re-manifestation.)

With this, he could tweak his current outfit to match.

Now armed with a fake gun—realistic in shape but completely non-functional—he moved forward.

Sabaki’s heart pounded wildly.

Other soldiers in similar equipment were gathering, but so far, no one seemed to notice anything off about him.

They entered a large hall—more organized than the cavernous passageway before.

But the interior was far from scientific.

Dark banners hung from the walls, etched with eerie symbols. The dim lighting cast flickering shadows, and faint, ritualistic markings stained the floor.

It looked more like the sanctum of a cult than a military base.

The soldiers here weren’t standing in strict formation. They clustered loosely around the center of the room, murmuring amongst themselves.

Sabaki kept his distance, positioning himself at the edge—close enough to observe, far enough to make a quick escape if needed.

Then, someone stepped into the center.

A tall man in priestly robes.

His face was gentle, his lips curved into a faint smile. His eyes narrowed, radiating an unsettling warmth.

That’s probably the Bishop.

Or maybe… the one behind Black Dope, that illegal stimulant—whatever it was called.

But then—

Several children were led in behind him, their hands bound, their small bodies trembling.

Sabaki’s breath caught.

He recognized them.

—They were the missing elementary school kids. The ones Nijiizaka Ameiro had been searching for earlier in the day.

(What do I do…!? No, in this situation, there’s no way…!)

Sweat poured down his back. His eyes burned.

He had no idea what to do.

As Sabaki remained frozen, the priestly man began to speak.

His voice was calm, almost soothing.

“—Do you understand now? It’s unacceptable for children like you, with bright futures, to be locked away in the Corporation’s cramped laboratories.”
“No… I’m scared, let me go…”
“You simply possess supernatural abilities that set you apart. That’s something to be proud of, not something to be hidden or erased. Don’t you want to be accepted by the world for who you truly are, without fear or shame?”
“Help me, big sister…!”

Then—

The man reached into his robes.

A silver syringe gleamed in his hand.

“That’s why—you have the right and the duty to rebel against this unjust world that oppresses you.”

Before Sabaki could even process what was happening—

The man moved.

Fluid. Effortless.

He pressed the syringe against a boy’s arm—

And injected the unknown liquid into his body.

"Ugh… gah… AAAAAHHHH!!!"

Right before Sabaki’s eyes, the boy’s body began to swell grotesquely.

Thick black fur sprouted from his skin, spreading rapidly like a living infection. Within moments, it covered him entirely, consuming his face until not a single trace of his human features remained. Then, with a sickening crack, two new arms burst from his sides. His limbs—both old and new—stretched and twisted unnaturally, his entire frame bloating, contorting, shifting into something inhuman.

A monstrous fusion of bear and spider. A grotesque abomination.

"Magnificent."

The voice came from a man in a priest’s robe, watching the transformation unfold with something close to reverence.

"Today is a day to celebrate. You’ve now gained the power to seize your freedom. The previous test subjects were hardly useful in combat, but as expected, using ability users as the base makes all the difference."

"Guh… gah… g-g-giiiiiiii—!"

"Reproduction rate 50%—Syringe Manifestation."

A syringe materialized out of thin air. The priest plunged it into the monster’s convulsing form.

Almost instantly, the creature stilled. A dazed calmness washed over it, like an animal drugged into submission.

The priest’s voice softened, his tone eerily gentle, as though he were truly concerned for the boy. But beneath the warmth lay a command—an order, absolute and inescapable.

"Kill the intruders heading down the corridor."

With a ground-shaking rumble, the beast obeyed, its heavy steps fading as it lumbered into the darkness.

Behind them, the remaining children whimpered, tears streaking their dirt-stained faces. The priest turned toward them, placing a finger to his lips.

"Now, now… There’s no need to cry."

His smile was almost fatherly.

"I know it must be hard to play with someone that size. You’d rather talk to him normally, wouldn’t you? Here… I have one dose of the antidote. If you’re good children, you’ll know what to do."

A hand clenched. Leather gloves groaned under the strain.

"I would have preferred to have that Electrocution girl cooperate as well… the one who fried herself like a hunted dog. But since we failed to rescue her from the Corporation, there’s nothing to be done."

The priest exhaled, as though the matter were merely a mild inconvenience.

"It’ll take some time to prepare the next batch of the elixir. Keep the children hidden—somewhere far away. Two guards should suffice. The Military will likely attack soon, and I’d rather allocate personnel there."

With that, he turned and left, taking several soldiers with him. The rest began to disperse.

A few stayed behind, murmuring among themselves before two of them grabbed the children and led them away—toward a cell, most likely.

"………"

I should run.

Now’s my best chance.

I’d already infiltrated deeper than I ever intended. Staying any longer would be a death sentence.

I’ve accomplished my original goal.

I’ve confirmed what I needed to.

All that’s left is to contact Nishizaki. That should be enough.

Once I do, the Military or the Corporation will send their combat units, and they’ll rescue the children. Just providing a direct route to the enemy’s base is already a significant contribution.

After all, Moribe Saibaki has no obligation to do anything more.

But—

"There’s only one dose of the antidote… and it’ll take time to prepare the next batch of the elixir… but will that be after the children are already saved…?"

…

I have to do it, don’t I?

I don’t know if I can.

It might be completely meaningless.

Maybe I just don’t want to blame myself later.

Even if I try, it might all end up being for nothing.

Maybe it’s fine to run away for reasons like that.

But even so—

"If that guy… if Kizami isn’t running away from things like this… if he’s still trying his best…"

Then I should too.

If Moribe Saibaki truly wants to understand Toki Kizami’s feelings—

Even if I’m just a background character, a disposable pawn who’ll meet ruin if I get too close—

I have to do everything I can.

I start walking, forcing my breath to stay even as I move toward where the children were taken. I keep my steps slow, careful not to draw attention—

Then, the world erupts into chaos.

Explosions shake the underground cavern. The sharp crackle of energy pierces the air. Screams echo down the corridors.

The Military’s Materializer users have launched an assault.

Kizami has arrived.

I have no proof, but I know it.

This is my chance.

I break into a sprint. Deep in the underground complex, past twisting corridors, I find a simple iron door—too crude to even call it a cell. Two guards stand in front of it.

I don’t slow down.

"What’s going—"
"The bishop is calling for you! One of you, go immediately! He wants to ask about the children’s condition! I’ll take over in the meantime!"

My heart pounds so hard it drowns out the sounds of battle.

The two guards exchange a brief, uncertain look. Then, to my relief, one of them leaves, stepping away from his post.

The key remains.

One left.

The tension is suffocating.

Can I keep this act up long enough?

The remaining guard glances at me, sensing my nervous energy.

"Don’t be so tense. I get that the attack has everyone on edge, but we’ve got the bishop on our side. There’s no way they’ll make it this far."
"Y-yeah… but what if they target this place directly…?"
"Unlikely. All the direct routes are sealed off. Even if they’ve figured out the path to this base, no organization actually knows the exact location yet."
"…What about warp-based supernatural areas? Isn’t that a concern?"
"You’re such a worrier. Sure, those can connect by chance, but those kinds of supernatural phenomena take years of research to pinpoint, and even then, most are impractical. No organization has a firm grasp on them, and worrying about such low-probability scenarios is just—"

Click.

The cold muzzle of a gun presses against the guard’s head.

"That’s a relief to hear… Drop your weapon. Take off your armor. If I see you making any suspicious moves, I’ll shoot."

"W-what the…!?"
"Didn’t you hear me? Hurry up."
"Tch… damn it, fine! I dropped it! I took it off! Now—"

Thud!

My fist crashes into his jaw, cutting off his words.

…In an ideal world, that punch would’ve knocked him out instantly.

But reality isn’t that kind.

What follows is a messy, brutal brawl.

The guard is stronger than expected—years of experience over raw power. Saibaki barely holds his own, relying on quick thinking, dirty tactics, and sheer desperation. He manages to gain the upper hand thanks to his initial strike and the difference in equipment.

Finally, with one last heavy blow, the man slumps to the ground, unconscious.

"Ugh… damn, this is what it takes to take down an unarmed old guy…?"

The inside of his helmet is slick with blood, warm liquid pooling around his chin from a nosebleed. It’s disgusting.

Shaking off the dizziness, he grabs the keys and jams them into the iron door.

There’s a slight flinch from the other side.

Sensing their fear, Saibaki de-materializes his disguise, returning to his normal appearance.

"…Are you okay?"
"W-who’s there!?"
"Don’t worry. I’m here to help you… no, to find you. Here."

He pulls out the flyer from Nishizaki and holds it up.

The moment they see it, the tension eases. They recognize it. They trust it.

After that, things go smoothly.

"Alright, let’s go together. I know a route that should keep us hidden, but we need to be careful—"
"…What about Tatchan?"

Saibaki freezes.

"…You mean that boy who got injected with that weird drug?"

The children begin talking all at once.

About Tatchan.

How kind he is. How good of a kid he is.

How much he means to them.

How desperately they want him to be saved.

"…You’ve got to be kidding me."

That’s impossible.

No matter how you look at it, this is already pushing the limit.

Going any further would be suicide.

There’s a difference between risking your life and throwing it away.

The best course of action is to calm the kids down and get them to safety.

"Ugh…"

Boom.

A deep rumble shakes the underground cavern.

They’re fighting.

Probably Kizami against that man in the priest’s robe…

Or maybe—

Kizami against Tatchan.

The boy these kids are so worried about.

No. It’s not just them.

Nishizaki is worried too.

I remember how Kizami looked earlier today—how happy he was talking to Nishizaki.

…If Kizami keeps fighting like this… If he ends up killing Tatchan with no way to avoid it…

And if Nishizaki finds out…

If Kizami finds out…

If that happens, then…

Moribe Saibaki won’t be able to do anything.

But right now—

I did say I’d help if things got bad…

There’s nothing more Saibaki can do alone.

No matter how much an ordinary person struggles, there’s no way they can solve something on this level.

But even so…

If he can just help the one person who can—

Then maybe… just maybe…

He can still make a difference.

---

The Supernatural Protection Association, commonly known as the Society, was founded to protect persecuted supernatural beings. A mutual aid organization built on solidarity, it once stood as a beacon of hope.

Like the Military and the Corporation, it was born from noble ideals.

But as it grew, so did the rot within.

Now, in a grand hall adorned with occult symbols—a space devoid of any trace of science—a man in a priest’s robe places a crystal ball onto a pedestal.

His name is Illicit Stimulant Black Dope.

The crystal ball hums with power. Light flares from within, forming a projection in the air.

A magical hologram.

Focusing on his will, Black Dope watches a distant battlefield unfold.

"I see… Mass-Production Cutter."

A massive, monstrous spider, shrouded in thick black fur, rampages through the scene.

Facing it stands a hooded girl with cherry-blossom-colored hair.

"She wasn’t supposed to be that high-ranking in the Corporation, yet she’s proving tougher than expected."

His voice remains calm, almost admiring.

The image flickers—the girl hesitates. Even as a soldier of the Military, she holds back, unwilling to kill the rampaging creature before her.

Black Dope smiles.

"How kind."

He shifts his gaze to a nearby soldier.

"Go and persuade her."

The soldier stiffens.

"Make it clear that the boy is still very much human, even in this state. If necessary, enlist the children. Let them plead for their friend’s life—"

His smile remains gentle, unwavering.

"If she insists on following the Military’s principles after that… well, we’ll simply have to accept it."

There is no malice in his tone. No doubt in his words.

The soldiers nod, unquestioning.

Just as the radical faction of the Society moves to carry out his orders—

A soldier bursts into the hall, panting heavily.

"B-Bishop! Another attack! Following the Military, the Corporation is launching an assault!"

Black Dope frowns slightly.

"Hmm… Troublesome. Are they here to reclaim the children? No matter. We’ll redirect Mass-Production Cutter toward them. The Military and the Corporation are like cats and dogs. If we stir things up, they’ll turn on each other—"

"N-no, that’s not it!"

The soldier's voice cracks.

"They’re coming directly! The Corporation is coming directly here!"

What?

Before Black Dope can even process the words—

CRACK.

A fracture splits across the cavern’s ceiling.

A deafening roar fills the hall.

Then—

A torrent of water surges down like a waterfall from the heavens, flooding the chamber in an instant.

The hall drowns in a surging deluge, sweeping away the soldiers in an instant.

“Whoa—! I knew it would hit, but to take out the base so cleanly…!”

Amid the cascading water, a figure descends—a sleek combat suit clinging to her form, a transparent water spear in hand.

A blue-haired girl lands gracefully, her visor concealing her features.

Rainy Arts, the Water Quality Investigator.

“…I see. So, the Corporation sent one of their top operatives.”

Despite taking a direct hit from the water assault, Illicit Stimulant Black Dope remains unscathed.

Annoyed yet amused, he shakes off his soaked priest’s robe, his gaze calmly fixed on Rainy Arts—Nishizaki Ameiro.

Though her eyes are hidden, tension crackles in the air. She grits her teeth, her voice trembling with fury.

“Give Tatchan back…!”

“Give him back?” Black Dope chuckles. “Humans aren’t objects. You Corporation types always treat supernatural beings like research material—it’s a nasty habit.”

“Shut up!”

Her spear morphs into a razor-thin water cutter, slicing toward him in a blur.

But—

“Too slow.”

“What!?”

Black Dope moves with impossible agility, dodging effortlessly before closing the gap.

In a heartbeat, he’s in front of her, three syringe-like claws stabbing forward.

“Tch—H2O Manifestation!”

A jet of water erupts beneath her feet.

She barely evades, skidding backward to regain distance.

Black Dope smirks. “As I thought. You wield a spear, but close combat isn’t your strength.”

“You…!”

She retaliates with a flurry of thrusts, fast and relentless.

Any ordinary person would be skewered a dozen times over.

But Black Dope doesn’t even flinch.

“Let’s kick things up a notch.” He raises his hand. “Reproduction rate 550%—Reaction Enhancement Ampule Manifestation.”

His syringes fill with a new drug.

Without hesitation, he injects himself.

“Too fast—!?”

“If you want to catch me, you’ll need a strike I don’t see coming. You should’ve finished me with your first move.”

The tide shifts.

Nishizaki barely dodges as Black Dope launches a relentless barrage of strikes. Then—a solid hit to her side.

“Guh…! N-not yet…!”

“You’re holding up better than I expected,” Black Dope muses. “But are you sure you can afford to focus just on me?”

A familiar sound rings out—

The metallic clatter of guns being cocked.

The soldiers, recovered from the water blast, now have their weapons trained on her.

“...Damn it.”

Nishizaki curses under her breath.

This is bad. She could handle the soldiers alone—but Black Dope is on an entirely different level.

Right now, she’s barely keeping up. Every ounce of her focus is locked on surviving. There’s no room for anything else.

Retreat? No. There’s no time to hesitate.

And while she wavers for a split second, the number of guns aimed at her only increases.

“Are you alright, Bishop!?”

“As you can see, I’m fine.” Black Dope brushes off the concern with a composed smile. “I could handle this alone, but your support will make things quicker.”

He steps forward, shielding one of the soldiers behind him—his demeanor that of a benevolent leader.

“B-but to have the Bishop fighting on the front lines…!”

“It’s fine. Step back. Worrying about hierarchy is a waste of resources.” His voice is patient, almost indulgent. “Feel free to use me as you see fit.”

“…Then I won’t hold back.”

—CRACK!

The same soldier who had just voiced his concern swings his rifle full force—right into the side of Black Dope’s head.

“Huh—?”

“Guh… wha…!?”

A direct hit to the temple—a perfect surprise attack, just as Black Dope had lectured moments ago.

For the first time, one of the Society’s top operatives is caught off guard.

The soldier’s uniform shifts, morphing into a jet-black protective suit. He turns to Nishizaki and shouts—

“Rainy Arts! Now’s your chance!”

“Eh—ah! Got it!”

Whoosh!

A torrent of water erupts.

The water cutter strikes true, piercing through Black Dope’s torso and launching him down the corridor beyond the hall.

“Did we get him!?”

“No, not yet! That won’t be enough—!”

Gunfire erupts as the soldiers scramble to react. The sudden betrayal has thrown them into disarray.

“This is bad! Do something!”

“On it!”

A swirling barrier of water rises around Nishizaki, shielding both of them from the incoming bullets.

“You think you can handle them and him at the same time!?”

“I can deal with the soldiers, but him—” Nishizaki grits her teeth. Then, she hesitates. “Wait—who even are you!? What’s your affiliation!?”

“No time for that. Focus.”

“Tch—fine, if you’re a Materializer, tell me what constructs and tactics work best against him! I can adapt if we work together—”

“Then cover me. I’ll keep him busy. Don’t let anyone through here.”

“Wait—hey! Listen to me!”

The black-masked figure vanishes down the corridor.

(If he’s going to hold him off, that makes things easier—!)

Nishizaki swings her water spear.

A sweeping attack erupts—a flood prioritizing suppression over raw penetration, drowning the battlefield in sheer volume.

The torrent engulfs the soldiers. Some manage to brace against it, but others are thrown off balance, momentarily stunned.

“Reproduction rate 30%—Adhesive Shape-Memory Liquid!”

Liquid bullets fire toward those left exposed.

Upon impact, the fluid morphs, twisting into a viscous, slime-like restraint that locks them in place.

A few more calculated strikes, a few more expertly timed counters—just as she claimed, Nishizaki Ameiro neutralizes the remaining soldiers with ease.

“—And that’s the last one!”

Minimal effort. Minimal exhaustion. The battlefield is hers.

(Alright! I need to hurry and help that black-masked guy—!)

She pivots sharply, ready to sprint down the corridor.

—But the air trembles with a sharp, ear-splitting crack.

The walls groan. Then—

BOOM!

Stone shatters. Rubble explodes outward.

A monstrous figure is flung through the crumbling wall, its massive body colliding against the ground with a sickening thud.

A spider-like creature, its hulking frame shrouded in black fur.

“Guh… g-gii… ii…”

Nishizaki’s breath catches. Her eyes widen in horror.

“Tatchan—!?”

Even as a supernatural being, he’s never looked like this. His grotesque, distorted form reeks of unnatural enhancement.

The Society’s elixir—no doubt. They’ve forced his abilities beyond their natural limits.

Yet despite his terrifying appearance, he’s struggling. His legs tremble, his body sways—he’s hurt. Badly.

And then—

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate.

A figure emerges from the settling dust.

They’re unsteady, breath heavy. But they’re still standing, still armed—a blade glinting in their grip.

“Wait! Listen to me! Right now, he’s just being forced into this state by the Society’s elixir! This kid is—”

The haze clears.

Nishizaki’s words falter.

Her pulse spikes.

The figure before her—a pale-faced girl clad in a torn military jacket and a sleeveless combat dress—

A face she knows. A name she can’t forget.

“…Mass-Production Cutter… no, Toki Kizami…!?”

---

“It seems the diversion worked… The Military and the Corporation are now at each other’s throats.”

Illicit Stimulant Black Dope murmurs, watching the unfolding battle through the crystal ball in his hand.

“Mass-Production Cutter, Rainy Arts, and that boy… A perfect three-way struggle. None of them have the upper hand. They’re wearing each other down.”

Nishizaki’s earlier attack had barely fazed him.

Now, he stands completely at ease, speaking casually to the black-masked figure beside him.

“Judging by your cooperation with Rainy Arts, I assume you’re also with the Corporation? Are you sure you can afford to waste time like this? At this rate, you’ll all tear each other apart… and I’ll be the one reaping the rewards.”

“…Shut up.”

The black-masked figure steps forward.

“I’ll take you down myself. With this.”

He brandishes a wooden sword, its surface glowing faintly.

Despite its makeshift appearance—still adorned with cheap plastic decorations—it has been hastily modified, now embellished with feather-like ornaments.

Then, with a flick of his wrist—

Nearly ten identical swords materialize, forming a slow, ominous orbit around him.

But it’s all a bluff.

Beneath the full-face helmet and protective suit, sweat drips down his face. His breathing is uneven. His hands tremble.

His voice quivers ever so slightly.

Yet the helmet and the voice modulator mask his panic just enough to keep the illusion intact.

Black Dope’s smile remains steady.

“Then come at me. Staying on the defensive won’t get you anywhere.”

“…Aren’t you the one who’s stalling, Illicit Stimulant Black Dope?”

A faint click of the tongue.

Behind that composed expression, irritation flickers.

(Tch… If he’d just charged at me, I could analyze that bizarre weapon. But as things stand, I can’t risk touching it carelessly.)

His opponent’s movements aren’t particularly remarkable.

Yet even Black Dope hesitates.

Materializer users are always a threat.

Most belong to elite organizations. The few who don’t? They’re outliers—rogues who have stolen their power from the best.

(No trace of the supernatural… His movements are light, so the weapon isn’t particularly heavy. It’s not designed for simple slashing or brute force. Given his ties to the Corporation, it’s likely a scientifically engineered weapon. But… there’s no heat. If it were a high-temperature blade or a laser, I could regenerate instantly. But if it’s something more insidious—radiation, electromagnetic interference—my drugs might not be enough to counter it.)

Black Dope specializes in close combat, enhancing his body with stimulants to push past human limits. But distance? That’s his weakness.

Sure, he can throw syringes.

But against a trained Materializer user? Useless.

His gaze flicks to the crystal ball in his hand. The projected battle in the hall is shifting.

Rainy Arts is gaining the upper hand.

Mass-Production Cutter’s movements are sluggish, her strikes lacking precision—likely the result of exhaustion from fighting through waves of soldiers and monsters.

If this keeps up, Rainy Arts will secure victory.

The black-masked figure knows this. He’s stalling. Buying time until she can join him.

Once she does, they’ll turn their focus on Black Dope.

Even if one of them is spent, two elite Materializer users together…

Black Dope would still hold the advantage. But there’s a risk. A slim chance. And that’s enough to be a problem.

If waiting means dealing with an unknown weapon, then maybe—

He should strike first.

The instant that thought takes shape—

“...Here we go.”

"!?"

One of the glowing swords shoots forward.

But its target isn’t Black Dope—

(—The ceiling!? No, this is—!)

Shatter!

The overhead lights explode, plunging the corridor into darkness.

The black-masked figure vanishes into the shadows, leaving only the faint glow of the floating swords.

Then—

The swords scatter.

“A transparent trick…!”

Black Dope narrows his focus. The only thing guiding him now is sound—the sharp whoosh of blades slicing through the air.

(I see… The plan was to show the glowing swords first, then summon invisible ones for a surprise attack! But his obsession with decorations gave him away. Even in the dark, I can track them by sound!)

He dodges instinctively, weaving between the unseen strikes.

The chaotic barrage continues—until the swords abruptly stop.

“A crude strategy for an agent… So, what’s next? If you’ve got another trick, show me— ………… ………….?”

His vision slowly adjusts to the dark.

And that’s when he realizes.

The black-masked figure is gone.

“…What?”

Hiding? No—there’s nowhere to conceal himself in this corridor.

Ran away? Used the chaos of the flying swords to mask his retreat? But why?

Even if he regrouped with the others, it would just turn the battle into a two-on-two-on-one. The odds wouldn’t change significantly.

Unless—

“…No way.”

His hand darts to his pocket.

The antidote—gone.

“From the very beginning…!”

---

I desperately dodge the barrage of water attacks closing in on me.

My body won’t move the way I want it to. My reactions are sluggish. Several strikes graze me, tearing into my skin, blood splattering against the corridor walls.

“Please, stop…! You helped me search earlier today, didn’t you!? You can’t do this… You shouldn’t do this!”

But the real pain doesn’t come from the attacks.

It’s her words.

Words spoken out of genuine concern.

I hurriedly re-materialize my torn hood, but it’s too late. The damage is done.

She knows.

The names Mass-Production Cutter and Toki Kizami are now linked in her mind—firmly, unshakably.

“B-but even so—”
“I know it’s the Military’s mission! But this isn’t for you! You can’t keep doing this! I’ve seen it—so many times—during missions… Even someone like me, just watching from the sidelines, can tell how kind you are!”

“Ugh… ah…”

I barely dodge the shape-memory liquid bullets she fires to pin me down.

I’m not even thinking anymore. My body is moving on instinct, fighting purely on muscle memory.

But I can’t keep this up.

My back hits the cold wall of the corridor.

Nowhere left to run.

Another attack surges toward me—undeniable, unavoidable.

But then—

The rampaging boy intervenes.

Even in his monstrous, mindless state, some part of him seems to grasp the balance of the battle. If one side falls too soon, he’ll be left vulnerable.

And so, this unbearable fight drags on.

“If it’s come to this, I’ll drag you away by force…! I won’t let you stay in this world of fighting! Because you’re kind… and you’re just… you’re just a normal girl… the kind you can find anywhere…!”

“Ah… ah… aaaaaah—!!!”

No.

I don’t want that.

I can’t accept that.

I don’t want to give up because I’m not suited for this. Because I can’t do it. Because it’s too much.

Because I’m just ordinary.

I haven’t atoned yet.

I haven’t repaid my debts.

I haven’t made up for my sins.

If I lose this fight—if I stop here—it’s over.

Memories from my past life flood my mind. The careless words were spoken to me as I lay dying:

"You’ll get better soon."
"Let’s hang out again."
"I’ll visit you as much as I can."

Those voices—those empty reassurances—echo now in my own voice. Toki Kizami’s voice.

Replaying over and over—

“Ugh… gii… aaaaaaaah—!!!”

The mental strain takes shape.

A sickly, shocking pink glow erupts from my back, stretching out into something like wings, dripping like blood.

The incoming water attack begins to dissolve upon contact—

—But then.

Something happens.

“—Huh?”

A figure steps in front of me.

A pitch-black coat. A full-face helmet. A glowing sword in hand.

The protagonist stands before me.

The water attack that was about to strike me—stopped.

“Y-you…!”
“Hah… hah…” He’s breathing heavily. “I get how you feel, but that’s enough… Rainy Arts.”

His voice is deeper than it was in the games. Deeper than in the anime.

He pulls a vial from his coat and holds it up.

“It’s an antidote… for the rampaging state. There’s only one dose. Hurry. Restrain him.”

“You stole it…!? What about Illicit Stimulant Black Dope!? Did you… defeat him…?”

“Not yet.” He turns his helmet toward me.

“That’s why—”

I stop breathing.

My chest tightens. My heart pounds. My face burns. A surge of emotions rushes through me—too many to understand.

“I—I got it!”

I shout, and before I even realize it, I’m sprinting.

My body feels weightless. My feet hit the ground faster than ever, propelling me forward.

“Wait…! She can’t take him on alone—!”

Nishizaki’s voice calls out behind me.

But I don’t hear her.

My heart is racing. My legs won’t stop.

I’m already gone.

Somehow, somehow, somehow—all the pain is gone.

All of it.

“Mass-Production Cutter…! You underestimate me. To think you’d come at me with the same strength that struggled against Rainy Arts…”

It’s as though the weight of everything—the pain, the heaviness in my heart—has been expelled.

“Damage Bullet—Pain Damage Shoot.”

All the damage I’ve taken materializes.

A sword-like extension of light forms in my right hand, glowing with a vivid rose-red intensity, burning as though alive.

With a single upward swing, the heavens and earth split.

An explosion of crimson light erupts.

A tremor shakes the ground beneath me, the underground facility quaking like it’s about to collapse.

The ceiling cracks open, revealing a sliver of the starry sky above.

Illicit Stimulant Black Dope’s body is sent flying, his form reduced to a twitching, barely breathing mess from just that one strike.

---

“You were… this strong all along…”

Nishizaki murmurs softly, cradling the boy who has returned to his original form, breathing gently in his sleep.

…Originally, my mission was to eliminate him. To end this boy who had been twisted into a supernatural weapon by the Society, but now…

“Your mission was to ‘terminate the supernatural weapon enhanced by the Society,’ right? This boy isn’t that anymore.”

His words land with the weight of truth. He’s absolutely right.

Wait… how does he know that? But then again, it makes sense. He’s the protagonist, after all.

“We’ll retreat for today… but still, you…”

She starts to speak, but her voice falters. She shakes her head, as though swallowing her thoughts, and then mutters something under her breath.

“…No, it’s fine for now. We’ll talk properly next time! See you!”

With that, she walks off, leaving me standing there.

Now it’s just the two of us. The Military’s cleanup crew will likely be here soon, but for now, the silence is almost suffocating.

What should I do? What should I say? Thanks to the combat dress, I manage to keep my usual cheerful demeanor, but even with that, the words just won’t come. And, wait… my tone just now sounded exactly like Nishizaki’s.

As I hesitate, I notice him turning to walk away.

“W-wait!”

I rush to him, and this time, I’m definitely faster than before.

“Um, thank you! For today, and for before! I’m really grateful, so please, let me do something to repay you…!”

“Ah, no… It’s fine. I didn’t do it for that. And you don’t need to use formal speech. We’re about the same age, after all.”

“Oh, r-really…? Then I’ll drop the formal speech, but still, let me thank you properly! Oh, and tell me your name! Let’s meet up again sometime!? I-I’ll do anything I can, okay!?”

I take his hand, pulling it closer to my chest. I can feel him fluster slightly through his mask.

“N-no—I mean, I really didn’t do much.”

“That’s not true! I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if you hadn’t been here. You worked so hard to help me, and you’re saying it’s no big deal—?”

“—You’re the one who worked hard.”

His hand moves gently to rest on my head, giving it a soft pat.

“Huh…?”

“I just helped a little. Not everyone can fight like you do. Whether I was here or not doesn’t matter. You’re amazing. I really mean that from the bottom of my heart.”

“Eh…”

Tears well up in the corners of my eyes.

I’m happy. So happy, but I can’t stop the tears from coming. What is this feeling?

I need to say something, but the emotions are overwhelming. My thoughts are a jumbled mess.

“Ah, um, I, uh, well—”

He waves his hand, signaling the end of the conversation, and turns to leave.

Just as I’m about to lose my composure and tear up, something happens.

“—Watch out!”

“!?”

I swat the syringe flying toward him, but it grazes the pocket of his suit, tearing it open.

It’s just a scratch, but blood sprays, splattering onto my combat dress.

“This guy… he just won’t give up!”

I slam the hilt of my utility knife into Illicit Stimulant Black Dope, who’s still half-buried in the rock, knocking him unconscious.

This time, I make sure to properly restrain him, tying him up tightly so he can’t move.

“Wait, this… ugh, seriously…!”

But then—he’s gone.

It seems he used the chaos to slip away.

I scan the area, eyes darting across every corner, and activate the Military’s detection devices. Still, there’s no sign of him.

Whatever he used, he managed to vanish in that brief moment.

I sigh, frustration creeping in.

I should’ve at least asked for his name…

“Huh?”

Something catches my attention—an object fluttering in the air in front of me.

Snap. I grab it mid-air.

In my hand is a familiar sticky note.

“Eh… Moribe-kun?”

It’s the same note I wrote earlier today, the one labeled “Plan C.” The one I stuck on the flyer and handed to him.