Mystic stepped into the police office, his eyes moving across the room as he studied every corner. He had been called to the station for one reason, and the yandere case was the least of his concerns. After the note he had written, he had to come in and explain why he had written what he did.
Harold stood waiting near the entrance but as the moment he spotted Mystic, he walked over to greet him, his expression settling as he approached.
"Hello Mystic. I am glad you didn't reject my invitation to help with the yandere case."
He followed beside him, his hands remaining at his sides as they headed toward the main office.
"Well, I wanted to help. After all, she killed my classmate and embarrassed her like she is a second rate Jesus."
The two entered the main office, where Hina's corpse rested on the isolated table in the middle of the room. Mystic stopped mid-step. His eyes widened as he stared at her body, his gaze remaining fixed on her as the memory of her being secured weeks ago came rushing back.
Then a voice cut through his thoughts.
"Why is a highschooler here, he is holding us back."
One of the officers looked toward Mystic, his attention shifting between him and Harold.
Harold turned toward the officer, his eyes narrowing into a hard glare.
"Mystic is here because he knows what the yandere killer is really after." His stare remained fixed on the officer before he turned back toward him.
He slowly approached Hina's corpse. His footsteps stopped beside the table, and he lowered his gaze toward her face. He did not move. His chest barely rose as he stood there, his eyes locked onto her as though he were waiting for her body to move again.
"The yandere killer is after me, no doubt about it. I saw Hina's memories after she died, somehow she saw me in the dream world and started attacking me. I had a mask on but after it was shattered, she was crying because of the fact she hurt me."
Mystic's words left the room silent as Harold's expression changed.
He stared at him, his eyes widening as the realization settled in. He had never known this student possessed a version of his memory gun. His mouth remained shut for a moment before he finally gathered himself.
"Thanks for that. It's the main lead we need right now, I will keep a few of my men looking after you, even in the crime city the police tech is the best tech in the world. Now head back to Satoshi Academy."
Harold stepped toward Mystic as he finished speaking, his attention remaining on him. Mystic nodded once before turning away from the station. He walked through the entrance and continued outside, his expression remaining fixed as he carried one goal with him: becoming a symbol of peace.
The next day, Mystic finally returned to Satoshi Academy after fully healing and telling Harold everything he knew about the yandere case. The English classroom hummed with the familiar cacophony of a Monday morning, voices overlapping beneath the scrape of chairs and the shuffle of students settling into their seats.
Sunlight poured through the tall, arched windows, stretching long golden shafts across the scuffed linoleum floor. Dust motes drifted lazily through the beams, while the scent of chalk dust, teenage cologne, and faint cafeteria coffee lingered in the air from the hallway.
Laughter erupted from the front rows, where the jocks and cheerleaders gathered together, their voices booming through stories about weekend parties, touchdowns, and dramatic hookups.
In the far corner near the back row, beside the corkboard plastered with faded posters, Mystic lounged in his seat with his chin resting against his palm, his eyes fixed on the window.
The classroom door opened, and Mr. Summers stepped inside. His gaze moved across the room before settling on Mystic, who remained by the window as though the four weeks without class had never happened. Mr. Summers quietly crossed the room, stopped beside his desk, and tapped him on the shoulder, making Mystic jolt in his seat.
"Welcome back Mystic. Is your body okay. I heard what happened to your spleen and you being in the hospital for a few weeks."
Mr. Summers stood beside the desk, watching Mystic as he recovered from the sudden touch. He slowly looked up at him before a bright smile spread across his face.
"Yeah, I am fine now. I just had to get adjusted to not having a spleen to my body."
He sat back in his chair, his expression unchanged as though the hospital, the pain, and everything that followed belonged to someone else.
A shaky breath slipped through Mystic's nose after Mr. Summers turned away.
He pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the metallic scent of his own blood still clinging to it like a bitter aftertaste from a half-remembered death. His fingers tightened against the edge of his desk as fragments of the previous loop surfaced and vanished again.
His gaze dropped toward his hands. He could still remember making tech for the first time before the loop, the memory sitting somewhere behind his eyes. The torrent that had once battered through his mind had finally ebbed, leaving the jagged edges of everything he had learned buried beneath the silence.
Mystic looked toward the empty space in front of his desk, his eyes narrowing as his thoughts returned to the kinetic weapons he had been working on.
The idea had existed in the comic books he had read since childhood, but the yandere killer had turned something fictional into something real. His fingers curled against the desk as the possibility of creating something similar, something stronger, took shape in his mind.
The classroom slowly emptied as students left for lunch. Mystic remained seated, his eyes still fixed ahead while the minutes passed without him noticing.
The sound of footsteps eventually approached his desk, and Mr. Summers stopped beside him.
"Mr. Fire, you are feeling okay right? The lesson ended 10 minutes ago and Its currently lunch time."
Mr. Summers waited beside the desk for a moment before turning toward the classroom door and leaving Mystic alone. The door clicked shut behind him as Mystic remained in his seat, staring at the empty classroom as sunlight continued to spill across the floor, his thoughts buried somewhere between the weapons he wanted to create and the death loops waiting ahead of him.
An old warehouse stood buried beneath the darkness of Crime City, its rusted walls and broken windows hiding what happened inside. Screams echoed through the building, swallowed by the surrounding streets where warehouses had become common shelters for gangs trying to stay beyond the reach of the police.
Three people lay across the cold floor, their clothes soaked with blood and their bodies battered from the beating they had taken. Two masked figures stood over them, their shadows stretching across the concrete as one of the injured men struggled to lift himself from the ground.
The blonde-haired girl stepped forward, the demon-shaped mask covering her face while the kinetic gloves wrapped tightly around her hands. She stopped beside one of the men and lowered her gaze toward him.
"Tell me where the boy is and we can let you live."
Her fingers slowly curled inside the gloves as the man stared back at her.
The man pushed his palms against the floor and tried dragging himself away, leaving a smear of blood behind him. His movement stopped when the black-haired figure stepped into his path, the dragon-shaped mask turning toward him.
The figure raised his hand, and the man barely had time to react before his hands were cut away.
A scream tore through the warehouse as the man collapsed against the floor, clutching at his wounds. His body shook while blood spread beneath him, and the blonde girl remained standing beside him, waiting as his eyes darted between the two masked figures.
"I don't know where he is, the person who knows the most about him is Luna Frost, My daughter. Let me Live." His voice cracked as he pressed himself against the floor, his eyes fixed desperately on the blonde girl.
Both masked figures went still. The blonde girl's hand lowered slightly, while the black-haired figure remained motionless behind the dragon-shaped mask.
For several seconds, only the man's ragged breathing filled the warehouse.
The blonde girl's kinetic glove tightened around her fist. She stepped toward the injured man, and the next movement was fast enough to leave him no chance to react. His body fell still against the floor, joining the other two bodies already scattered across the warehouse.
She turned away from the bodies and walked toward the exit, her footsteps echoing across the concrete. One hand rose toward her demon mask, and a few tears slipped beneath its edge as she continued forward.
"I think we should find boss. The plan has started."