(Tokyo, Public Security Headquarters Command Center)
A colossal wall of electronic screens split into countless panels scrolled in real time with social-media sentiment data, map coordinates, and the occasional chaotic footage from the front lines.
The air was thick with the clatter of frantic keyboards, hushed radio chatter, and an invisible, suffocating tension.
Standing before the command platform, Yota Yukinoshita remained ramrod-straight; at forty-five his face was stern, the years and authority etched into every line.
He had just watched the final segment of the battle in Aokigahara Forest—how the boy had driven the beasts, reaping lives like a ghost.
Without a flicker of expression he slipped two antihypertensives into his mouth, swallowed a gulp of water, and let the pills—and the surge of emotion—slide down.
He knew better than anyone how much blood, stained his hands; for that "higher" goal he had signed too many inhuman orders. He never called it justice—he was merely a sinner who chose to fall into hell so that, for a while, others might stay in heaven.
"Situation summary," he said, voice calm to the point of terrifying.
A subordinate sprang up, voice trembling: "Sir! Special unit dispatched to Aokigahara… seventeen confirmed KIA, all others wounded and combat-ineffective. Team leader Kazami Yuya… confirmed KIA."
"Current location of the target?" Yota pressed, eyes sharp as a hawk's.
"From last eyewitness and highway cameras, he hijacked a civilian van heading southeast at high speed. Intent unknown."
"Southeast…" Yota's brows locked. HQ was downtown; if the boy wanted revenge, why veer off-target? It made no sense.
Fleeing? No—everything about the youth screamed reckless pride, death be damned. So what was the real purpose of that detour?
Yota's mind raced, piecing every fragment—then a forgotten detail struck: Kazami Yuya's combat recorder hadn't been found… Could Kazami have… before dying…?!
The thought stabbed like an ice pick, breaching his practiced calm; beneath the console his fist clenched, yet his face stayed unreadable.
Forcing himself steady, he snapped: "Alert every precinct on that route—roadblocks, encirclement, lethal force authorized. Target is extremely dangerous; capture dead or alive."
A veteran officer hesitated. "Sir, he's a confirmed Transcendent. Regular police may not suffice. Shouldn't we escalate to the Special Circumstances Division per protocol?"
"His power is only animal control!" Yota's voice cracked like a whip. "Away from the forest his threat drops. More men, heavier weapons—are you telling me the entire security apparatus can't handle one high-schooler?! Execute my order!"
His tone was uncharacteristically harsh, brushing aside standard procedure. Intimidated, the officer bowed and hurried off.
Yota said no more, strode from the room, leaving staff exchanging uneasy glances. He headed straight for the restroom at the corridor's end and locked the door behind him.
Alone, he leaned against the cold tiles, sucked in several breaths, then with shaking fingers produced a private encrypted phone and speed-dialed.
After a few rings a woman answered, voice lazy yet strong: "Hello, Mr. Yukinoshita? Rare to get a call at this hour."
It was Hiratsuka Shizuka—Yukino's homeroom teacher and one of the very few Transcendents whose identity he knew. Their acquaintance was no accident; she was a safety fuse he had deliberately kept in place.
No pleasantries. "Teacher Hiratsuka, straight to it—I need your help, right now."
Sensing the urgency, she turned serious: "What happened?"
"Are you at school? Find Yukino immediately and take her somewhere absolutely safe—fast!" His voice cracked with desperation.
"Yukino? What danger could she be in at school?" Hiratsuka asked, bewildered.
"One of my… targets — your student Kuchiba Hiro — is also a Transcendent. There's a blood feud between us, and he's likely heading straight for Yukino!" He almost hissed the words. "No time to explain — only you can protect her!"
Silence. Then her voice returned, no longer lazy, just cold steel: "Kuchiba Hiro's father… did you kill him?"
Yota closed his eyes, drew a long breath as though shedding a crushing weight—or confessing an inescapable crime—and forced out a single word: "Yes."
"…Why?" Hiratsuka's tone dropped, incredulous.
Opening his eyes to the restroom's pale ceiling, gaze complex with pain yet fierce with conviction, he said slowly: "For humanity's survival."
Only heavy breathing passed between them.
In the hijacked van, Kuchiba Hiro sped toward Sōbu High School, and on its ordinary campus a battle to claim—or protect—Yukinoshita Yukino was about to begin.