Rain trickled down the wide hotel windows, drumming softly against the glass like a heartbeat half-remembered.Tokyo's Grand Line glittered below, a maze of neon and laughter, a city of fun frozen in twilight. Ferris wheels spun like ghostly halos. Roller coasters slept under the hum of distant thunder.
Inside Hotel Room 703, the light was dim — only the desk lamp glowed, throwing long shadows over three figures.
Akio Hukitaske sat by the window, shoulders slightly hunched, his suitcase half-open beside him. Within it, wrapped carefully in white silk, were the Twin Blades of Pharmacy — the Emerald and the Blackened Blade. He had packed them out of caution, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. Something in his gut whispered that peace never lasted for people like him.
He ran his fingers along the scabbard's edge, feeling the faint hum of energy — the memory of battles fought, the ghosts of the Murakaze who once wielded them.
Behind him, Hikata Yakasuke was sprawled across the couch in his loose shirt and track pants, playing with a can of cola, tossing it from hand to hand with careless rhythm. His voice broke the silence.
"Akio, this is supposed to be a vacation, you know?" he muttered. "Ten whole months the others get to chill overseas — and what do we get? Stuck in a hotel next to a theme park full of people on sugar highs."
Rumane, standing near the kitchenette, said calmly, "You're the one who shouted 'yes!' before Akio even read the invitation."
"Hey, they said free buffet, didn't they?" Hikata grinned, stretching lazily. "That's my weakness. I thought we'd eat, maybe take some photos. I didn't expect glowing wristbands of death."
Rumane lifted an eyebrow. "Next time, read the fine print."
Akio smiled faintly at their banter — a familiar warmth that reminded him of quieter times in the pharmacy, before all this madness. But it was fleeting. The weight in his heart didn't lift.
The strange invitation.The wristbands.The faint tension in the air since they'd arrived.
Something about the place felt off. Too perfect. Too artificial. Like a stage waiting for its tragedy.
Suddenly, a knock came at the door — not loud, but steady, deliberate.
Rumane straightened. Hikata caught his cola can mid-air, eyes narrowing.Akio reached for the Emerald Blade's case, cautious but calm. "Come in," he said.
The door opened slowly, revealing a tall figure in a gray coat, soaked from the rain. His hat shadowed half his face, but the glint of his badge caught the light.
Detective Yakahura Mizuhashi.
He'd been mentioned when they first checked in — a visiting officer assigned to Tokyo's north district.But the way he looked at Akio now, with that steady, assessing stare, made it clear this was no casual visit.
"Evening," Yakahura said, voice low but clear. "Didn't mean to interrupt your night, but I think we need to talk."
Akio gestured toward the couch. "You might as well. We were just trying to decide whether to sleep or panic."
Hikata smirked. "Panic's winning by two votes."
Rumane offered the detective tea. He accepted with a brief nod and removed his coat, sitting down across from them.
For a few moments, the only sound was the rain and the faint hum of the air conditioning.Then Yakahura spoke. "You three were at the pharmacy before coming here, right?"
Akio nodded. "That's right."
The detective took a slow sip, studying him. "Then you probably don't know what's been going on around this area. There's been… sightings. Unusual activity near the outskirts of the park."
"Sightings?" Hikata asked. "Like ghosts, UFOs, or tax collectors?"
Yakahura didn't smile. "Bandits. A group calling themselves The Remnants of the Red Smoke."
At the mention of that name, Akio froze.
Rumane's eyes sharpened. "That's impossible," she said quietly. "The Red Smoke Bandits were wiped out. Akio and the others destroyed their network during the Helix War."
"That's what we all believed," Yakahura said. "But over the past few weeks, witnesses have reported red-marked cargo trucks, coded transmissions from the old Yaka Lab frequency, and more disturbingly — shipments of chemicals tied to age regression experiments."
Akio set down the case. The faint tremor in his hand didn't go unnoticed by Rumane.
"The Yaka Lab…" he whispered. "So it's them. The scientists of the Helix Project."
Yakahura nodded. "Yes. The same ones who called themselves The Scarlet Helix."
For a moment, the name hung in the air like a shadow of the past.
Hikata leaned forward, brow furrowed. "Wait — The Helix? I thought they were all gone. Didn't we destroy The Lab? Burned it to all ash?"
Akio's voice was distant, almost hollow. "We did. But some of them escaped. Scientists, assistants, data handlers — ghosts who ran when the alarms sounded. Remember you two."
Yakahura placed a thin folder on the table and slid it toward them. Inside were surveillance photos — blurred images of figures in lab coats moving crates at night, the faint glow of red smoke spilling from vents, and a symbol painted on a wall: a double spiral, the mark of The Helix.
Rumane flipped through the pages silently. "So what are they doing here? Why this place?"
"That's the mystery," Yakahura said. "The Grand Line was built over reclaimed ground — the same district that once held Yaka's secondary testing facility. According to the records, it was destroyed in the explosion. But if they're back here now, it's not a coincidence."
Akio closed his eyes. Memories flashed — white corridors, cold lights, children crying as experiments failed. His pulse quickened. The Helix Project wasn't about power or war. It was about time — the forbidden attempt to undo loss.
"They were trying to stop death," he said softly. "They thought if they could reverse aging, they could manipulate time itself. But they failed. Every trial ended in mutation or collapse. We stopped them before they tore the timeline apart."
Hikata leaned back, sighing. "And now they're trying again. Fantastic. Can't these maniacs just play golf like normal old people?"
Rumane gave him a faint look. "They're scientists obsessed with immortality, Hikata. They don't take up hobbies."
Yakahura stood and walked toward the window, watching the rain trace streaks down the glass. "Three nights ago, we intercepted chatter from the old Helix network. Coded messages about something called 'Project Restart.' They mentioned the Murakaze blades, Akio."
Akio looked up sharply. "The blades? Why?"
"We don't know yet," Yakahura said. "But one phrase keeps repeating: 'The cure for time lies in the wound.' It's the same phrase your records show from their final log before The Lab exploded."
Rumane folded her arms. "You're saying they want the swords because of the forging methods?"
"Or the energy bound to them," Yakahura replied. "Either way, they're baiting you."
The silence that followed was heavy, like fog settling after a storm.
Finally, Akio stood, walking to the window beside Yakahura. "So what's your role in this, detective? You didn't come here just to warn us. I can tell..."
Yakahura's reflection in the glass looked almost ghostly. "No. I'm here because I lost my brother to the Helix Project. He was a test subject during their early trials. They promised him youth — they gave him agony. When your team destroyed The Lab, he was still inside. I don't blame you. But I can't rest until I see them gone for good."
Hikata's usual grin softened. "So this is personal."
"It always is," Yakahura said quietly. "But this time, we might not get another chance."
Rumane set the folder down and turned to Akio. "We can't walk away from this. Not when we're this close to whatever they're planning."
Akio's eyes burned with quiet resolve. "We won't. We've faced worse. We'll face this too."
Hikata stretched and gave a lopsided grin. "Guess the vacation's officially over, huh?"
Rumane smirked faintly. "It was never a vacation. You just refused to notice."
The rain began to ease outside, fading into a soft drizzle. The neon lights shimmered across the puddles like molten glass.
Yakahura put on his coat again. "Rest for now. Tomorrow morning, I'll show you the place they've been seen. It's just beyond the waterpark — the abandoned maintenance zone. If we're lucky, we'll find traces of their setup."
Akio nodded. "And if we're not?"
The detective paused at the door. "Then you might have to draw those blades again, pharmacist."
When he left, the room fell silent once more. The sound of the rain returned, soft and steady, like the world catching its breath.
Rumane poured herself another cup of tea. "So," she said quietly, "we face ghosts again."
Akio closed the suitcase, locking the blades inside. "Not ghosts," he murmured. "Remnants. But sometimes remnants are worse."
Hikata rolled over on the couch, one arm behind his head. "You ever get tired of this life?"
Akio looked out at the dark city — the same city he'd saved more times than he could count. "Every day," he said. "But if we don't fight, no one will."
Rumane nodded slowly. "Then we prepare. Tomorrow, the past returns."
The storm outside began to fade into mist. Beyond the window, the ferris wheel lights formed a slow red spiral — two interlocking arcs, glowing faintly like a heartbeat reborn.
Akio stared at it for a long time.
"The Scarlet Helix," he whispered under his breath. "I thought we buried you. Seems I was wrong."
End of Episode 2: "The Detective's Shadow"
Next Episode – "The Park's Hidden Veins"Akio, Rumane, Hikata, and Detective Mizuhashi descend into the forgotten tunnels beneath Tokyo's Grand Line — where echoes of the Helix Project still breathe.