The rain fell like shattered glass against the cracked windows of the Sapporo safehouse, each drop a percussion note in the symphony of silence that hung between Nagisa Shiota and Yoku Hakumura. The room smelled of mildew and burnt circuitry, the air thick with the weight of secrets finally unearthed.
Nagisa sat on the worn tatami mat, eyes fixed on the stolen files spread before them like entrails of a dissected truth. Hakumura stood by the window, his reflection ghostly against the rain-streaked glass, shoulders rigid as steel.
The file lay open between them. Subject 04 - Yoku Hakumura: Ghostline Reconditioning / Origin Protocol.
Inside were photographs that made Nagisa's stomach turn—images of a child, no older than seven, strapped to a hospital bed with leather restraints cutting into small wrists. The child's eyes were wide, pupils dilated with terror so pure it seemed to leak from the photograph itself. Beside the bed stood a stranger in a pristine white coat, her face half-obscured by shadow, but her posture radiating clinical detachment.
The notation beneath the image read: Dr. Yuriko Hakumura - Lead Psychologist, UMA 8907 / Division Zero.
Hakumura's hand trembled as he touched the photograph, fingertips barely grazing the surface as though afraid it might burn him. "That's... my mother," he whispered, voice breaking like ice breaking over a frozen lake.
Nagisa's eyes flicked upward, studying Hakumura's profile. The younger persons jaw was clenched so tightly that tendons stood out like cables beneath skin. His breathing had become shallow, irregular—the breathing of someone drowning on dry land.
"She wasn't a victim," Hakumura continued, his voice dropping to barely a whisper. "She was one of them. She created the Ghostline Project." Nagisa stood slowly, moving to Hakumura's side. He didn't speak—words felt inadequate, insufficient for the chasm of betrayal opening before them.
The Revelation
They spent the next hours combing through the files, each document a knife twisting deeper into Hakumura's heart. Audio recordings. Video logs. Handwritten notes in elegant script that detailed experiments with the cold precision of someone cataloging weather patterns.
Dr. Yuriko Hakumura had been a prodigy—youngest doctorate in clinical psychology in Japanese history, recruited by UMA 8907 at age twenty-three. Her plans had been radical, disturbing: "Weaponizing Human Trauma: The Reconditioning of Identity Through Controlled Psychological Fracture."
She believed that human attachment was the fundamental weakness that prevented the creation of perfect soldiers. Love. Fear. Grief. These were not emotions to be managed—they were flaws to be excised.
Her first subjects were orphans. Children with no one to miss them, no one to ask questions. She subjected them to systematic psychological torture—isolation, sensory deprivation, induced hallucinations, the deliberate fracturing of memory and identity. The goal was to create blank slates, minds that could be rewritten with singular purpose: obedience.
Most died. Their minds couldn't withstand the pressure, collapsing into stuff like suicidal psychosis. Others became vegetables, their consciousness shattered beyond repair.
But some survived.
One video file made Nagisa's blood run cold. Dated fifteen years ago, it showed a small room—sterile white walls, a single chair, and two children. One was Hakumura, perhaps eight years old. The other was older, maybe eleven, with the same dark hair and angular features.
Yuriko's voice, clinical and detached: "Subject 04, please introduce your companion."
Young Hakumura's voice, small and trembling: "This is my brother. His name is Daiki."
Yuriko: "Good. Now, Subject 04, I need you to understand something very important. Your brother is sick. He has a disease that will make him hurt you. The only way to save yourself is to hurt him first."
The child Hakumura shook his head violently. "No! Daiki wouldn't hurt me! He's my brother!"
Yuriko: "I understand your confusion. Let me help you see clearly my dear sons..."
What followed made Nagisa turn away, bile rising in his throat. Yuriko administered something—an injection—to Daiki. Within minutes, the older child began to seize, then to scream, then to attack his younger brother with terrifying violence.
Young Hakumura fought back, crying, begging for it to stop. But Daiki didn't stop. Couldn't stop. The drug had hijacked his nervous system, transforming him into a weapon against his will.
The video ended with Daiki's body on the floor, young Hakumura's hands covered in blood, and Yuriko's calm voice: "You see? You saved yourself. You did what was necessary. Remember this feeling. This is strength. Orphanage Mama's proud."
Hakumura watched the video in silence, tears streaming down his face. When it ended, he simply closed the laptop and walked to the corner of the room, sinking to the floor with his back against the wall.
"She killed him," Hakumura said, voice hollow. "My brother died because she turned him into a monster and made me kill him..."
Nagisa knelt beside him, careful not to touch, understanding that sometimes proximity was presence enough.
"And then she told me it never happened," Hakumura continued, voice breaking. "She... she made me forget. Told me Daiki died of an illness. Made me believe I'd imagined having a brother at all. But I kept dreaming about him. About his eyes. About the blood."
He looked at Nagisa, eyes red and raw. "Every nightmare I've ever had... it was real. It was always real."
The Buried Truth
They discovered more. Files detailing how Yuriko had continued the experiments, refining her methods. Hakumura wasn't just Subject 04—he was the successful model. The one who survived with enough functionality to be useful, but enough psychological damage to be controlled.
When UMA 8907 decided the Ghostline Project was too expensive, too slow, Yuriko refused to accept failure. She went rogue, taking her research underground. The official report stated she died in a laboratory fire.
But a single encrypted file revealed the truth: Dr. Yuriko Hakumura - Status: Active / Location: Division Zero - Subterranean Archive, Hokkaido.
"She's alive," Nagisa said quietly. "And she's been operating this whole time." Hakumura's expression hardened, grief calcifying into something colder, sharper.
"Then I'm going to find her. And I'm going to make her answer for what she did. Even if she's my own mother. She'll pay for what she's done..."
Nagisa placed a hand on Hakumura's shoulder. "We'll go together. But Hakumura... you need to prepare yourself. The person you find might not be the person you need her to be."
"I know," Hakumura whispered. "But I have to hear it from her. I have to know why."
The Journey North
They traveled by train through the night, watching Japan's landscape transform from urban sprawl to rural emptiness to the snow-covered wilderness of Hokkaido. Hakumura barely spoke, his gaze fixed on the window, watching his reflection merge with the passing darkness.
Nagisa studied him carefully, recognizing the signs he'd seen before—in Karma, in Kayano, in the mirror after Koro-sensei's death. The particular kind of stillness that preceded either breakthrough or breakdown.
"You know," Nagisa said softly, "Koro-sensei used to tell us that the worst wounds aren't the ones that kill you. They're the ones that make you forget you were ever whole."
Hakumura turned slightly. "And how did you heal yours?" "I didn't," Nagisa admitted. "I just learned to carry them differently. Found people who would help me carry them when they got too heavy."
Hakumura's lips twitched in something that wasn't quite a smile. "Is that what this is? You carrying my weight?" "No," Nagisa said. "This is me standing beside you so you don't have to carry it alone."
They arrived in Hokkaido at dawn. The facility was exactly where the coordinates indicated—built into the side of a mountain, disguised as a geological research station. Snow had drifted against the walls, making it look abandoned, forgotten.
But the security systems were very much active. Nagisa could see the faint shimmer of motion sensors, the barely visible camera lenses embedded in artificial rocks.
"They're expecting us," Nagisa murmured. "Good," Hakumura replied, checking his weapons. "I'm done hiding."
Into the Abyss
They entered through a maintenance tunnel, bypassing the main security. Inside, the facility was massive—corridors stretching deep into the mountain, lined with reinforced doors and humming with barely audible machinery.
The air was wrong. Too cold, too sterile, carrying the faint chemical smell of preservatives and something else—something organic and decaying. They descended three levels before finding the first chamber. Nagisa pushed the door open slowly, and the sight beyond made his breath catch.
Hundreds of containment pods lined the walls, stacked three high, extending into darkness. Inside each pod was a human figure suspended in pale blue liquid, tubes running from their bodies to central processors. Most were orphans.
Their eyes were open. Empty. Staring at nothing. "What... what is this?" Hakumura whispered, his voice barely audible. A voice answered from the shadows, calm and clinical:
"The future. Or at least, it was supposed to be."
The Mother
Dr. Yuriko Hakumura stepped into the dim light. She was smaller than Nagisa had imagined—barely five feet tall, gray hair pulled into a severe bun, wearing a pristine white coat despite the facility's decay. But her eyes were what struck him most. They were the same pale gray as Hakumura's, but utterly devoid of warmth.
She looked at Hakumura not with recognition or guilt, but with the measured curiosity of a scientist observing an interesting specimen.
"Yoku," she said, his name flat and neutral. "I calculated a 67.3% probability you would eventually find this place. You've exceeded my projections by three months."
Hakumura's hand moved to his weapon, trembling. "Don't. Don't you dare call me that."
Yuriko tilted her head slightly. "It's the name I gave you. Subject designations lack the psychological impact necessary for proper identity formation. 'Yoku'—meaning 'to desire.' I chose it specifically to create internal conflict with your conditioning. After all I never considered you my son. Just a subject of mine. One who will make great experimental progress with my research."
"Stop talking like I'm an experiment!" Hakumura shouted, his voice echoing through the chamber. "I'm your son!"
"You are proof of concept. The demonstration that human consciousness can be rebuilt, refined, weaponized." Nagisa stepped forward, positioning himself slightly between them. "You experimented on your own son. Also on random orphans at the orphanage you worked at to."
Yuriko's gaze shifted to him, assessing. "Nagisa Shiota. The child who killed Koro-sensei. Your psychological profile suggests strong empathic responses and trauma-bonded attachment patterns. Predictable."
"You don't get to analyze me," Nagisa said quietly, his voice carrying the cold edge he'd learned from years of assassination training. "And you don't get to justify what you did."
"Justify?" Yuriko's expression didn't change. "I don't seek justification. I seek understanding. Every advancement in human capability requires sacrifice. Koro-sensei's transformation required the death of the person he was. Your growth as an assassin required the deaths of those you loved. My research required subjects willing—or unwilling—to transcend their human limitations."
Hakumura's voice came out strangled. "Daiki wasn't willing. He was a person. He was your son to."
"Daiki was weak," Yuriko stated flatly. "His status was insufficient for reconditioning. The drug-induced aggression was necessary to test your survival instincts under familial threat conditions. His death provided valuable data."
The words hung in the air like poison gas.
Hakumura moved before Nagisa could stop him, closing the distance and grabbing Yuriko by her coat, slamming her against the wall. The impact was hard enough to crack the plaster.
"Say you're sorry!" Hakumura screamed, tears streaming down his face. "Just once—just once—be my mother and say you're sorry!" Yuriko looked at him with those empty eyes, her expression unchanging even as blood trickled from her lip.
"I cannot apologize for pursuing scientific advancement. Emotion clouds judgment. Attachment creates weakness. I eliminated those flaws from myself years ago. It's why my work succeeded where others failed."
Hakumura's grip tightened, his whole body shaking. "You're not human anymore. You're a monster wearing my mother's face." "Perhaps," Yuriko said calmly. "But monsters are simply beings that have evolved beyond the need for what you call humanity."
The Revelation
Nagisa gently pulled Hakumura back, positioning himself in front of Yuriko. "Then let me show you what humanity can do that your 'evolution' never will."
He pulled out the stolen data drive. "This contains everything. Every experiment. Every death. Every crime you committed in the name of 'advancement.' And I'm going to make sure the world sees it."
For the first time, something flickered in Yuriko's eyes. Not fear—calculation.
"That data is encrypted with bio-locked security protocols. It will self-destruct if accessed by unauthorized users." "Then you'll authorize it," Nagisa said simply.
"Why would I do that?"
"Because," Hakumura said, his voice steady now despite the tears still wet on his face, "if you don't, I'll destroy this entire facility. Every pod. Every subject. Every piece of research. All of it. And I'll make sure you watch."
Yuriko's expression finally shifted—a micro-flinch of something that might have been concern. "You wouldn't. The subjects in those pods—they're still alive. Destroying them would make you no different than me."
"No," Hakumura said. "It would make me better. Because I'd be ending their suffering instead of prolonging it for data." The standoff held, tension crackling like electricity.
Then Yuriko did something unexpected. She laughed—a short, bitter sound.
"I see. The conditioning didn't fully take after all. There's still enough emotional weakness in you to make threats you won't follow through on. Fascinating."
She moved to a console, typing with clinical precision. "Very well. I'll decrypt the data. Not because of your threats, but because I want to see what happens when humanity finally understands that morality is an evolutionary dead end. My research will vindicate itself."
As the data began transferring, alarms suddenly blared throughout the facility. Red emergency lights flooded the chamber.
Automated Voice: "Unauthorized data transfer detected. Initiating containment protocol. Facility lockdown in 60 seconds."
Yuriko's expression remained neutral. "Failsafe. Even I don't have full control over Division Zero's security systems. The facility will seal and flood with nerve gas in approximately three minutes to prevent data theft."
"You knew this would happen," Nagisa realized. "I calculated the probability at 94.7%," Yuriko confirmed. "But the data transfer will complete first. What you do with that time is your choice."
Hakumura stared at her. "You're going to die here." "Yes." "And you don't care?" Yuriko looked at him for a long moment, her expression finally softening—not with warmth, but with something almost like recognition.
"I stopped caring about death when Daiki died. That was the last time I felt anything. Everything after was just... data. Even if I caused it for scientific advancement."
She turned away, walking toward the containment pods. "The subjects won't feel pain. The gas is designed for humane termination. I made sure of that, at least."
"Mom—" The word slipped out before Hakumura could stop it. Yuriko paused, her back to them.
"I was never your mother. Not really. I was just the mother who failed to love you enough to stop hurting you. If there's an afterlife, perhaps I'll apologize to Daiki. But I don't believe in afterlives. Only data."
The countdown reached thirty seconds. Nagisa grabbed Hakumura's arm. "We have to go. Now." Hakumura resisted for a moment, staring at his mother's back, searching for something—anything—that looked like remorse.
But Yuriko just stood there, one hand pressed against a containment pod, her head bowed. Finally, Hakumura turned and ran.
Escape
They sprinted through collapsing corridors, gas already beginning to hiss from vents. Nagisa's lungs burned, his legs screaming with effort. Behind them, the facility groaned like a dying creature.
They burst through the maintenance tunnel just as the mountain shook, the facility imploding inward. Snow erupted in massive plumes, the entrance collapsing into rubble.
Hakumura fell to his knees in the snow, gasping, sobbing, his body wracked with grief that finally had permission to exist. Nagisa knelt beside him, saying nothing, just pressing his hand against Hakumura's back—a small contact, a reminder that he wasn't alone.
They stayed there as the sun rose over the mountains, painting the snow in shades of gold and red. Finally, Hakumura spoke, his voice raw. "Do you think... if I'd been stronger... I could've saved her?"
Nagisa was quiet for a long time before answering.
"No. Some people can't be saved. They've gone too far, cut away too much of themselves. But you can decide what you do with the life you have." Hakumura looked at him, eyes red and swollen.
"Then I want to help you finish this. All of it. Every facility. Every experiment. I want to make sure no one else becomes what I was." Nagisa extended his hand.
"Then let's end it together." Hakumura took it.
As they walked away from the ruins, the data drive hummed in Nagisa's pocket—the final testament of Dr. Yuriko Hakumura's twisted legacy. But also, perhaps, the first step toward healing.
The snow continued to fall, quiet and clean, covering the scars of the past with the promise of a blank page. And in the distance, buried beneath tons of rock and ice, a facility full of ghosts finally found peace.
To Be Continued...