Rain drizzled from the gray sky as the group crouched behind the rusting frame of an overturned delivery truck. Just beyond the cracked highway, the silhouette of Shinjuku Base loomed like a fortress — massive steel walls, perimeter lights, clean barricades manned by soldiers in dark uniforms.
"It looks too..." Kanami whispered, breath clouding. "Clean."
Kanata lowered his binoculars, sweat clinging to his fevered skin. His fingers trembled slightly from the low-grade infection he'd been ignoring for days. "Yeah," he muttered. "Something's off."
Godou-sensei knelt beside him, brow furrowed. Her expression hardened as she looked at the Black Flag Unit's insignia stitched onto the soldier's shoulders. "Those aren't JSDF. That's the Black Flag Unit. Private military. Rogue faction."
Takiya's jaw clenched. "So Yuka was right."
The group remained silent as two armored transport trucks rolled through the outer gates. Inside were people — children, mostly. Huddled. Afraid. Each wore a barcode bracelet.
Serizawa's hand shot to her mouth. "Oh my god..."
One soldier banged on the metal grate. "Move it! Specimens don't get breaks!"
Kanata's vision swam — not just from fever, but rage.
Later, in a half-destroyed pharmacy basement, the group set up camp. The flickering light of a half-functioning lantern revealed the tired, pale flush on Kanata's face. He leaned against a medical rack, eyes half-lidded.
"You're burning up," Kanami said, kneeling beside him with a bottle of water and a clean towel.
"I'm fine," Kanata murmured.
"You're not," she said firmly. She pressed her cool hand to his forehead. "You pushed yourself too hard saving that old man back in Nakano."
He chuckled. "Someone had to."
Kanami hesitated. Then, cheeks flushed, she began undoing the buttons of his torn shirt. "I need to check for infection spread. Don't move."
Kanata blinked as she gently peeled the fabric away. Her fingertips were soft, trembling slightly as they brushed over the bruised skin of his chest and abdomen.
"You're always saving others..." she whispered, dipping a cloth in warm water. "Maybe I want to be the one who saves you next time."
He opened his mouth to respond, but the words tangled somewhere between gratitude and something warmer. Kanami's hands paused for a second longer than needed before she quietly continued cleaning his skin.
Outside, the wind howled. Takiya stood guard by the makeshift entrance, rain dripping from her coat hood. Godou approached her silently, holding a thermos.
"It's not just a rumor," Takiya said without turning. "I've seen this before. In Saitama. My brother..."
Godou waited.
"They came in like saviors. Took the sick. Said they'd help. My brother was only eleven. Never saw him again."
A pause. Then Godou placed the thermos in her hands.
"Kanata needs someone to believe in right now," she said. "You're strong enough. You've always been."
Takiya's voice cracked, barely audible over the rain.
"He keeps looking at Serizawa like she's still his home. But I... I want to be that too."
Godou didn't respond. Just stood beside her, letting the silence hold them.
Inside, Kanami finished her treatment. Kanata's skin was flushed from the fever, chest rising and falling as he rested on the cold tile floor.
Serizawa stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes on Kanami's hands as they lingered just a little too long.
"He needs rest," Serizawa muttered, stepping in. She pulled Kanami's hand away, not harshly — but firm. "We all do."
Kanami looked at her. "He's not yours anymore."
Serizawa's jaw twitched. "That's not your decision."
Kanata stirred, voice hoarse. "Can you both not do this right now...?"
The tension thinned, but didn't vanish.
Night settled. The lantern's glow softened the room into something almost gentle. Takiya sat beside Kanata, offering a sip of water. He was propped up now, exhaustion draped over his features.
"I heard about the trucks," he said quietly.
She nodded. "It's a factory. Not a shelter."
"How many more are in there?"
"Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Yuka might be one of them."
Kanata looked at his hands. Calloused. Dirty. Blood-stained. He clenched them slowly.
Takiya touched his arm, voice softer now.
"You need to know something…" she said, her gaze on the dark corner of the room. "I've seen this before. My brother was taken by men like them."
Kanata turned. Her eyes shimmered, but she didn't cry.
"I never got to say goodbye. I wasn't fast enough. Strong enough. But you..." Her hand found his. "You still have time. To save Yuka. To make this right."
Kanata gripped her hand back — unsure if it was comfort, desperation, or something deeper.
Outside, Godou climbed to the roof and stared toward the base. Soldiers marched the perimeter. Lights danced in predictable patterns.
It all looked so normal.
And that's what terrified her most.
As Kanata drifted into restless sleep, he dreamt of a cold corridor, of children with barcodes, of Yuka reaching for him through a steel cage.
"Niichan... it's not safe here... Run."
His eyes opened. The fever still burned.
But so did something else —
Resolve.