Chapter 81

“But the way you’re trying to do that is absolutely evil!” “Why is that? We are talking about a group with a united will. A will, and a drive to press that will forward. It’s the simplest thing in the world.” “And can’t you hear the screams of the weak you’re trampling over with your ‘united will’?” Hitsuma shrugged it off, opening his arms to Kisara again. “Oh, so you’re treating me like a subhuman now?” he proclaimed. “That’s a little mean, isn’t it? The Five Wings Syndicate investigated the whole affair with Kazumitsu Tendo. And you, too—maybe you’re denying it, but deep down in your heart, doesn’t our ideology resonate with you? Or is the monster you’re keeping inside your heart see an even more sinister path for the future of mankind?” Kisara shuddered, the color draining from her face. “That’s enough, Superintendent!” “Maybe it seems like the Varanium supply’s gonna last forever to you,” Hitsuma continued, ignoring Tadashima’s intimidation. “But it’s not. Someday, it’s all gonna dry out. You’ve probably seen pundits go on about it in the news a hundred times by now. And Varanium is used for more than just the Monoliths. Civsecs use it for their weapons and ammo, too. Whoever controls the Varanium controls the planet—and that’s not an exaggeration, either. “Even if we collected together all the estimated Varanium ore deposits in the world, there’s nowhere near enough to protect every nation. And who do you think’s going to be trampled over first? It’s the weak! The weak you think you’re defending against us! But the sooner we can take action now, the more human lives we can save. In fact, if the human race keeps going the way it is now—an endless quagmire of war, consumption, wasted resources—it’s entirely possible that the Gastrea will wipe us out. “You’re an intelligent woman—I know you’ve got it in you to understand. What we need right now is to take the first step, secure victory, and keep the war as short as humanly possible. It’ll all contribute to the public good, in the end. Kisara… You have what it takes to join us.” Kisara’s eyes opened wide with surprise. “President Tendo! Don’t listen to him!” Hitsuma took out the automatic handgun he had on his person and fired. A spurt of blood flew out from Tadashima’s shirt, and horrified surprise crossed his face. Quickly turning around, Hitsuma switched to flight mode, running down the aisle. Gunfire erupted behind him, bullets digging into the floor near his feet. He used a shoulder to bash the front door open and flew out. The bright blue sky made him wince for a moment, but soon he was inside a back alley, kicking up rain puddles as he ran with all his soul. The whole plan was a failure. He needed to come up with a new one. For now, the first priority was lying low and reformulating his strategy. Once things settled down a bit, he could contact Kisara again and try enticing her a little more. There was no need to panic. In fact, he was cooking up a few ingenious ideas already. Then a car burst into the alley in front of him, brakes screeching. It stopped right in the middle of the street—it was after him. The smoked-glass window whirred down, revealing the face of a young man wearing a hunting cap. “Hello there, Mr. Hitsuma.” Hitsuma watched him, again overcome by surprise. “Are you…Nest?” It was the first time they had met in person. He was, after all, just a contact agent. The man who referred Hummingbird, Swordtail, and Dark Stalker to Hitsuma, as well as handled material transport for him. Regaining his bearings, Hitsuma started waving his arms side to side. “The op’s a failure! I need to at least get my father and myself to Osaka Area, all right? We’re both gonna need fake passports, like, now!” The urgency was clear in Hitsuma’s voice. Nest kept on smiling. “That’s a nice bow tie you got on.” “Uh?” Hitsuma’s jaw dropped as he looked down at his chest. It was a plain black one, like on every other tux in this city. This wasn’t funny. “What are you…?!” There was a muffled gunshot, and Hitsuma’s body shook. He fell to his knees. His chest was warm. The burst of color running through his shirt was a dark red. Nest had a pistol with a silencer attached. “We decided to dismantle the Black Swan Project. As a result, we’re being asked to eliminate all evidence linking it to Five Wings.” “No… If I’m not around, the administration’s going to fall apart—” An orange flash burst from the silencer. It was the last thing Hitsuma ever saw. Once he fired all the bullets in his gun, Nest tossed it in the backseat and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands. “You make a mistake, you pay for it. Farewell, my good Superintendent.” The engine revved to life as the car reversed at full speed. Another second, and Nest was gone. All that remained was the corpse sprawled out in the wet, dingy alley. 6 Half-dead, half-alive, Rentaro wasn’t able to gaze at the Monoliths in their full, up-close size until fairly well into the following night. His gait was halting, unsteady, every step met with searing pain. It had been a long while since his battle with Yuga met its end, the blessed adrenaline his body produced in response to it a thing of the past. All that remained was an intense, all-encompassing ache. Along the way, he encountered three Stage One Gastrea. He discovered all three first, using his few remaining leg cartridges to end the battles in half a second. And that was that. The summer wind blew pleasantly against his skin, pallid with blood loss. He closed his eyes and sucked as much of its scent into his nostrils as possible. He had seen it for himself—the Gastrea cultivation facility collapsing in a heap of rubble. He had tried his best to hurry back to the Monoliths, but was stymied by the urge to carry Hotaru’s body back. It made him turn back at least once. But it just wasn’t possible. Not in his state. So he buried her next to the portable Monoliths instead. If possible, he wanted to get her body out of that grave as soon as possible. To someplace more suitable for her—next to Suibara. For now, at least, the Monoliths loomed large before him. Just beyond the border between “here” and “there,” he spotted a herd of red flashing lights. He squinted. He had no idea how they had sniffed him out, but it looked like Rentaro had a police welcoming party waiting for him. He let out a sigh. The photos from inside the facility were saved on Hotaru’s mobile phone, yes. But explaining it all would take so much more time. But Rentaro’s outlook was completely mistaken. “Rentaro!” “Big Brother!” A blonde girl and another one with a pair of pigtails were running toward him. He gazed at them in wonderment, his limbs quaking. It had been a dream of his for so long, he seriously thought it was all a hallucination for a moment. But when he realized it wasn’t, Rentaro started running, forgetting all about his injuries. They half hugged, half collided into one another, spinning around as they fell on the grass. They were warm; they were soft; they were dreamlike—they were Enju and Tina. “Enju! Tina!” He tried to stop them, but he couldn’t. His face twisted, and before he knew it, the tears were surging out. They joined shoulders, beholding one another. Tina and Enju were just as moved by this reunion, both sniffling a little and Tina wiping her eyes at regular intervals. They repeated one another’s names over and over again like crazed parrots. One more time, they held one another close. Strongly. Just to make sure they never separated again. Then, all at once, Rentaro asked a barrage of questions. Were they free? The answer, excitedly given between the two: Yes. Enju was suddenly released from the Promoter matching process, Tina just as suddenly released from jail, and the police even gave them a ride there. Another question sprang to his mind. “Speaking of which, guys, we’re pretty much right by the Monoliths. Are you guys okay being here, with the Gastrea Virus and all?” “Oh,” Enju replied quizzically. Then her eyebrows shot up, both hands to her mouth as her ponytails seemed to visibly droop. “Ngh, I—I don’t feel too good… I think I’m gonna throw up.” “I’m not too hot myself.” “Stupid.” Rentaro grinned wryly to himself as he tousled their hair. They had even forgotten about that for his sake. “Come on,” he said, giving both a shove on the back. “Let’s get home. ’Cause, seriously, if you hang out here much longer, you’ll—” He lost his train of thought when he saw what was ahead of him. It was an August bride in white. The veil was gone, revealing a head of long, straight, black hair that waved in the wind. “Kisara…” She didn’t try to meet his gaze. Instead she just stood there, eyes focused on a point somewhere to his right. “Open up.” “Huh?” “Open up your arms.” “Oh.” Rentaro did so. Kisara, still focused on the ground, fell into them, embracing his chest. Her gloved hands wrapped themselves behind his back. It unnerved him slightly. “Wh-whoa, Kisara—” “You’re so stupid.” He couldn’t gauge her expression, given that her face was buried in his torso. She rubbed her nose against it as she shook her head. A slight, ever-so-slight, shudder crossed over from her body to his. “So, um…?” he asked. “Yes?” “Is it all over now?” Rentaro felt the girl nodding in his arms. He looked up at the starless night sky and sighed. “Oh.” Kisara was there. Enju and Tina were released. The crimes he stood accused of had all been dismissed by Kisara, apparently. But what about her and Hitsuma? Why was she in a wedding dress? Rentaro thought for a moment, then wisely decided those questions could wait. They stayed in that position for a while—it was hard to say how long—until Rentaro grabbed her hands and suggested they return home. The Monoliths were right in front of them as they held each other’s hands. He had been gone for so long that they were both eager to make up for lost time. Thus the four crossed the imaginary finish line together, walking back to Tokyo Area as a group of free people. The police officers watched blankly from their cars. After the wild goose chase Rentaro sent them on, there he was—a successful escapee, a civsec who just restored his good name right in front of them. Nobody would be getting police commendations for this case. Rentaro found Tadashima’s face among the watchers. He had a sling on—reportedly he had suffered a gunshot wound to the shoulder. Something about his face was even more formal and solemn than usual. He gave Rentaro a silent salute. “Clear the way, people! The savior of Tokyo Area’s coming through!” A quiet frenzy erupted among the officers, infecting them one by one until all saluted the civsec team. Every face held a sincere look of reverence. Suddenly, Rentaro heard the sound of a music box playing—it was from the pocket watch in Kisara’s hand. There was something oddly familiar about it, but he couldn’t remember the tune’s name. Despite the lack of ticker tape and cheering, it was the best welcome-home parade he could have asked for. Thus, with the smell of summer still in the chilly wind, the police-escorted official ceremony for the reopening of the Tendo Civil Security Agency came to a close.