As Kaguya and Mari continued to watch, a mass of flames in the shape of a dragon erupted from the monster’s mouth.
“It’s about the size of a human…and it creates fire in midair?” said Kaguya. “I wonder what mechanisms are involved…”
She stared at the hero’s movements, transfixed. It was impossible to make out the creature’s face, however; it remained blacked out no matter which angle it was filmed from, almost as if shrouded in shadow.
The hero released several spheres of water, blasting apart the opposite platform and tracks. Even a recording was enough to convey the intensity of the battle.
But the only thing that Kaguya had eyes for was the hero.
“First fire and now water? I guess anything goes…”
The young man swung his sword too fast for the cameras to track. The tip of the blade pierced the hero near its heart. A moment later, the creature collapsed.
“Aw…!”
“You sound disappointed! Are we even watching the same thing?” said Mari.
“I’m watching the hero, of course!” Kaguya slumped back against her chair. “It was a tank—a type of hero with extremely high attack strength. From just these few seconds, however, I couldn’t determine anything else…”
“Those folks at Tactical Infantry are impressive, though, aren’t they? Imagine defeating a hero of that size with just a single strike.”
“I wasn’t paying attention to a bunch of random soldiers,” said Kaguya, sitting back up. “The only thing I’m interested in are heroes… Although I do have to admit, a squad that strong is intriguing in its own way. They’re still just humans, though, in the end.”
“You really are hopeless…,” Mari teased. “Sometimes I think you care more about these heroes than you do about other people.”
“Of course I do.” Kaguya didn’t even pretend to disagree. “The more we learn about heroes, the sooner we can bring this whole situation to an end. We can stop the fighting. Unlike Tactical. All exterminating the heroes does is maintain the status quo.”
The situation Kaguya referred to was, of course, the epidemic of aberrations—the heroes that currently plagued Japan, threatening the nation’s peace and way of life.
Hero—a nickname for these monsters that had first appeared thirty years ago. Heroes wrought violence and destruction upon all in their wake.
No one knew where they had come from or why they were here. All that was certain was that whenever they did appear, which was seemingly without rhyme or reason, they were sure to inflict massive destruction. And of course, that their faces were always unnaturally blacked out.
There were also two other features common to heroes worth noting.
“Heroes create devastation wherever they go. They have caused so many deaths. Countless people have lost family and loved ones to these heroes. That includes you as well, doesn’t it, Mari?”
Mari nodded. Despite her peppy attitude, she was, in fact, an orphan whose family had been murdered by heroes.
“How many years has this tragedy gone on? How many children have been orphaned in this struggle? And yet people still don’t notice,” Kaguya muttered softly.
It was true.
Regardless of the destruction that heroes caused, most adults were incapable of seeing them. Their perceptions became distorted, causing them to see heroes as weather anomalies or other unusual phenomena.
Kaguya scrolled through her smartphone. It was her personal device, not military-issue.
Inaccurate headlines filled the screen, such as Massive Damage at Ikebukuro Station Discovered Overnight, Train Collision Suspected. The monster that had appeared on the cafeteria TV was completely absent from the accompanying photographs.
According to the news, the incident that occurred at the station last night had been entirely due to a train collision.
But could a train crash explain how the opposite platform had been demolished? Despite how little sense that made, no one was about to assume it had, in fact, been a monster attack instead.
“No matter how much damage a hero causes, people still can’t see them. They don’t notice,” said Kaguya. “It’s part of what makes a hero a hero.”
The inability to be seen by postadolescent adults was one of the defining features of a hero.
While it varied by individual, most people lost the ability to perceive heroes, even through indirect means such as video or television, around the time they reached twenty years of age. They also refused to believe children who had seen them, no matter what they were told.
“They used to be able to see them, though, didn’t they? Before they became adults?” Mari asked, confused. “It doesn’t make sense to me that people who were able to see them for so many years would stop believing what they’re told the moment they lose that ability.”
“Well, not that many people have actually witnessed a hero appear firsthand…and most who have are dead. People who were in the Extermination Bureau obviously still remember, but most can’t see them anymore. From what I understand, many adults wonder if they’re actually just crazy.”
Even those who fought against the heroes thirty years ago, when they first appeared, were no longer able to perceive them. Now the heroes existed only in their memories.
“The same happened to some of my superiors. They slowly lost the ability to see heroes—and once that was gone, they couldn’t study them any longer. That was why they quit.”
“That’s so sad…” Mari looked downcast. “All that hard work and effort, just to lose the ability to see them. The same will happen to us, too, won’t it…?”
“Yes…,” said Kaguya. She suddenly caught her breath, as if she’d been wrestling with some demon of her own. “Yes, Mari, that’s true…!”
Her voice quickly became forceful. Mari jerked her head upward in response.
“The day will come when we won’t be able to see heroes anymore. There’s nothing we can do about that. In my case, I’ve only got about three years left… But that’s precisely why I need to finish my work before that happens!” Kaguya’s violet eyes sparkled.
“Your work…?”
“I told you a little about it before, remember? The Revival Project!”
“Oh, isn’t that the research into how turn heroes into—?”
“Attention, all personnel—this is the After-Action Review Division…”