The city was holding its breath.
Ryoji felt it in his bones—something had shifted. Not just the tightening of the Agency's net, but a new presence on the board. One he hadn't sensed in years.
They moved through the rain-soaked backstreets, winding deeper into the old industrial district, where Tokyo's forgotten corners slept beneath rust and concrete. Every echo, every flicker of light, put him on edge.
Miura stopped near a drainage canal covered in graffiti. "We're close."
Ryoji scanned the perimeter. "Still don't trust this 'ghost' of yours."
"You don't have to," she said, prying open a rusted gate. "He hates the Agency more than you do."
Aiko glanced between them. "What if they find us again?"
Ryoji looked at her, his voice low but steady. "Then we don't run."
They descended into an old sewer tunnel, the kind not mapped on any digital grid. The smell was thick, the walls damp with age. But it wasn't long before they came to a sealed metal door reinforced with steel bars and an ancient keypad.
Miura knocked twice. Waited.
Then three more times.
Silence.
Then—a hiss.
The locks disengaged slowly. The door creaked open.
And a man stood in the doorway. Gaunt. Scarred. One eye white from an old wound. The barrel of a shotgun aimed squarely at Ryoji's chest.
Miura raised her hands. "We need shelter."
The man eyed them for a long beat. Then stepped aside.
"Get in."
They entered the safehouse—bare concrete walls, weapons hung on racks, surveillance monitors still running on analog systems. Old-school, off-grid. Paranoid. Perfect.
The man grunted. "You brought the girl. That's a death sentence."
Ryoji stepped in front of Aiko. "She stays."
The man smirked. "You always were stubborn, Takeshi."
Aiko blinked. "You know him?"
Ryoji didn't respond.
Miura answered. "They were in the same unit. Before Division Zero became what it is now."
The man spat on the ground. "Before it rotted from the inside."
Suddenly—an alert.
A red dot on the analog map flickered.
"Contact," the man said. "Multiple signatures. Moving fast."
Miura paled. "Already?"
Ryoji stepped to the screen. Six red blips. One approaching faster than the rest.
His voice dropped.
"It's not just the Agency."
The old man's hand tightened on the shotgun.
"No. It's worse."
"Black Division," Ryoji said grimly. "They've been activated."
Aiko whispered, "Who are they?"
No one answered at first.
Then Miura finally said it.
"They're what Division Zero sends when they want nothing left behind."
Outside, tires screeched on wet pavement.
A shadow moved across the surveillance feed—tall, armored, silent.
The Black Division had arrived.
And no safehouse could stop them.
To be continued in Chapter 22...