25 / 04 / 2019 - Daito, Osaka Prefecture, Japan.
07:10 PM. Saturday. Tashiden. POV: Ayato.
People, and even most sentient beings, rarely realize the staggering symphony of inner workings taking place beneath their own skin.
Unconsciously, the human brain maps the physical world by systematically skipping the most difficult, complex, and redundant calculations on its host's behalf.
Take the simple act of 'movement,' for example. The average person has no idea that walking isn't just a matter of throwing the left foot forward, then the right.
Beneath that mundane action lies an abyss of constant data processing.
'An agreement between various distinct parts of perfect balance, flawless muscle coordination, and micro-adjustments calculated for every single millisecond it takes to take a step...'
When you actually spell it out, it sounds like an absolute hassle, doesn't it?
Ayato's thoughts wandered aimlessly as he walked through the quiet residential neighborhood, his expression deadpan and serious.
The physical world in his vision had already dissolved into the familiar, dark spatial grid he had occupied earlier in the dojo.
In this realm of heightened spatial perception, objects didn't matter. Only 'excitation' and the 'ripples' of kinetic impact held any meaning.
Rhythm and Field.
Each of these distinct traits was born from the unconscious desires and wishes of their respective wielders, or at least, that was how Akane had once explained it.
The trait known as Rhythm, which belonged to Irina, was the act of perceiving ambient patterns and meticulously mapping them out in sequential order.
Standing entirely alone in the darkness, Ayato's dim, lackluster sky-blue eyes scanned the perimeter. His Field, meanwhile, was the act of perceiving action and impact on the sheet of space.
His left hand gripped the strap of his gear bag, shifting the weight securely onto his shoulder.
As he looked around, the faint, skeletal outlines of the surrounding buildings managed to materialize within his dark spatial grid, though they were heavily overshadowed by the void.
There, behind concrete walls and deep beneath the earth, faint pulses of 'excitation' and 'ripples' of life vibrated through his consciousness.
Ayato absorbed the sensory data silently, letting the cool night breeze brush against his face.
His dark hair, which had grown noticeably longer over the past few weeks, danced wildly in the wind.
He stepped forward, his silhouette suddenly illuminated as he came to a halt beneath the cone of light casting down from a lone streetlamp.
Flicking his gaze down the road, he noted a small parking lot sitting at the edge of a straight, open asphalt path. It was filled with cars and various local transportation.
It was a stark reminder that even though this particular street felt tranquil and sparse, the data of his 'excitation' vision didn't lie: there were dozens of people surrounding him, breathing and moving inside their respective homes.
Detecting no immediate anomalies or hostile ripples for the moment, he stopped walking. Instead, he turned his head toward the right.
Directly opposite the parking lot stood a single, detached house. It was completely shrouded in the shadows of the evening, its perimeter cordoned off by a bright, jarring wrap of yellow police tape.
It was his sole purpose for coming out tonight.
But Ayato was in no hurry to breach the active scene just yet. With a quiet breath, he consciously deactivated his spatial vision, letting the dark grid fracture and melt away as the world rushed back into its normal, vibrant colors.
He had a choice. He could cross the street and infiltrate the house immediately, or he could take his time surveying the outer perimeter first.
The decision was entirely his to make—and frankly, he wasn't in any rush to go back to the suffocating atmosphere of his home anyway, for obvious reasons.
Leaning his back against the cold metal of the streetlamp pole, he allowed himself a brief moment to absorb the quiet evening air.
Head hung low, he pressed his left hand against his bag to steady it, while his right hand smoothly undid the zipper and retrieved a cold bottle of Pocari Sweat from the depths of the compartment.
Zipping the bag shut, he twisted the cap off and took a long, deep drink. The familiar, slightly sour and sweet flavor traveled sharply down his parched throat, bringing with it the icy chill his body desperately needed to freshen his exhausted mind.
"Huhhh…"
Letting out a slow breath, he twisted the cap back onto the plastic bottle. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, transferring the drink to his left hand.
With his right hand now free, he pulled his smartphone from his pocket, opening the Dark Network once more to see if any new information regarding the Osaka deaths had been uploaded to the regional boards.
His mind drifted back to his earlier ongoing thread. Obviously, unconscious movements had a vital reason for remaining entirely unconscious.
Going back to the example of walking—would any normal person honestly want to spend a full, grueling minute just thinking about the physics required to take four steps forward?
Of course not. There was absolutely no evolutionary benefit to it, so the human brain naturally blocked it out.
'But there's always an exception...'
Ayato's eyes, returning to their clear, crystalline sky-blue state, scrolled through the holographic feed absentmindedly, his focus split.
A normal human wouldn't benefit from breaking that neurological barrier, but an exceptional martial artist or an anomalous individual certainly would.
To seize absolute, overriding control over one's own body and to completely replace unconscious, automated actions with deliberate, conscious execution.
It was done to grant oneself a level of kinetic leverage that the human brain could never naturally achieve.
And that was the undeniable reality for both him and Irina.
Both of them were constrained to a designated safe zone by the natural mechanics of their own abilities, trapped like a canary in a cage.
In Irina's case, it was actually a blessing; her ability operated flawlessly within that safe perimeter.
But what about him? On that fateful day, during his absolute lowest moment of helplessness after calling Akane's powers useless, was he truly any better than a glorified, walking radar?
No.
Hence, after evaluating his limits and confronting the bitter, rational truth, he realized he could never accept a life of passive observation.
The only way for him to grow was to violently shatter that safe zone and seize absolute control with his own two hands.
'And so, here we are...'
Snapping back to the present, Ayato realized that even in his relaxed, conscious state, the slightest shred of focused thought allowed him to perceive the neighborhood.
Without even fully activating his Field, he could distinctly track them through his fine-tuned sensory filters.
He could feel someone having dinner in the house directly across from him; someone else playing video games on the far side of the block; others working late or talking on their phones.
It was the direct result of his brutal, self-imposed control over his own mind.
'This is the result of those five days, isn't it? I wonder how I truly compare to you now, Akane...'
Reflecting on those grueling, isolated days, he knew he had conceived a methodology that was essentially a suicide plan if he looked at it objectively.
A faint, strained smile crossed his lips, trembling slightly as his heart wavered under the weight of the memory.
Taking conscious control of your own body was one thing: manipulating muscle fibers or regulating breathing frequencies could be negotiated through simple biology.
But how was anyone supposed to consciously direct something entirely abstract, an imaginary construct he couldn't even physically picture, like his Field?
'First, you must feel it. Treat it exactly like an extension of your hands. Then, make it resonate within your consciousness, just like flexing a muscle. Intent and focus. Once you firmly grasp those two concepts, it serves as a prelude to true control.'
That had been his working theory during that desperate week. Simple mental instructions were utterly useless, so he had resorted to a drastic, borderline insane measure: the kind of crazy stunt only an unhinged mind like Akane's could pull.
'To forcibly shock the subconscious. To drive instinct entirely out of its automated calculations. The exact millisecond the mind is jolted and changes... you must grab that fleeting sensation.'
That was the core of it. No fancy tricks. Just desperately grasping for a straw of something impossibly thin, slippery, and elusive: at the exact, perfect moment of crisis.
Ayato lowered his smartphone to his chest.
He could feel the solid device resting against his skin beneath the thin fabric of his tracksuit, right against the jagged mark of his very first real fight.
He still remembered that day with terrifying, vivid clarity.
…
A monstrous dark wolf, as massive as a two-story house.
Its deafening roar sent physical shockwaves through the air, its gaping maw reeked heavily of burning sulfur, and its blazing crimson eyes glowed like twin searchlights, haunting his vision.
In that split second, cornered and broken, Ayato had made a choice.
He had gritted his teeth, tears and snot smearing across his dusty, bloodied face.
His body was battered, his leg was severely sprained, and every primitive instinct in his DNA screamed at him to give up, to curl into a ball, and forget everything.
But that cowardly thought was violently suppressed by a sudden surge of ferocity.
Through his narrowed, watering eyes, his vision began to bleed into a deep, visceral red as his heart hammered against his ribs.
"WOOORFFFF—!!"
Reflected in his dilated pupils was the incoming, lethal sweep of the beast's massive paw.
The elongated claws gleamed sharp and white in the darkness, sharp enough to shred stone.
In that microsecond, Ayato knew with absolute certainty that he was about to die.
But… would he accept it peacefully?
"HAHHHH—!!!"
Roaring until his throat burned raw, he forced his body to move, pushing past every physical limitation.
Sweat and blood splattered across his face as he poured his entire soul into that single, desperate second.
Time dilated into a crawl.
Yet, he still wasn't fast enough.
The phantom straw in his mind, that elusive sensation of control, was too slippery to catch.
A blinding flash of white light erupted across his vision.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!"
He couldn't avoid the strike entirely. The agony that followed was blinding.
Even as he wept from the sheer trauma of the impact, three massive, cavernous gashes were carved deeply across his chest, blood erupting from the wounds as a white-hot sting paralyzed his mind.
He was crying, screaming, forcing his consciousness to stay awake through the sheer, unmitigated torture of the pain because he knew that if he closed his eyes, he would never wake up.
Yet, through the tears, the corners of his mouth slowly curved upward. Even as his blood pooled on the ground, he knew he had succeeded.
"Haa-ha… AAaa… Haahahaha…."
A breathless, manic mixture of a sob and a laugh.
…
Ayato shook his head aggressively, violently wrenching himself away from the dark recollection.
The ghost of that past sting seemed to travel back through time, manifesting as a phantom ache across his chest in the present day.
Yet, the corners of his lips curved slightly, mirroring his expression from that night. Even though it had cost him a piece of his humanity, he had succeeded.
"Haahhh…"
Letting out a slow, stabilizing sigh, he glanced down at his left hand.
He realized he had unconsciously crumpled the thick plastic Pocari Sweat bottle into a mangled, compressed piece of scrap, the trapped air inside threatening to violently burst through the seams.
Amused and slightly disturbed by his own erratic strength, he slowly loosened his grip, letting his fingers relax with a weary, tired expression.
'My mental state is completely compromised today...'
'It would be entirely useless and also dangerous for me to continue the investigation tonight.'
He had learned his lesson the hard way. Even if his body was physically prepared, his mental capacity had to be in prime condition to react to the unpredictable threats lurking in Osaka's underbelly.
He could not afford to treat an active anomaly investigation like a casual after-school outing.
Shaking his head once more to clear the remaining adrenaline, he unscrewed the cap and drained the final, leftover drops of the electrolyte drink.
Finding it completely empty, he casually flicked his right wrist, tossing the crushed bottle toward a public recycling bin located several meters down the sidewalk.
He watched idly as the piece of plastic arced perfectly through the crisp night air, landing with a clean, satisfying clink dead center inside the canister.
A soft chuckle escaped his throat, though the heavy weight in his chest remained.
"Huhhh…"
With one final sigh, he shrugged his tense shoulders, turned his back on the yellow police tape, and walked away from the crime scene.
He didn't offer the shrouded house a single backward glance, completely disconnecting his focus from it.
Pocketing his hands into his tracksuit, his perspective shifted into a quiet, resigned calm.
If his mind wasn't sharp enough to catch the entity tonight, he wouldn't force it; it was only a matter of time before his systematic tracking cross-referenced the killer and the chaser anyway.
'Well... I might as well go visit that girl again. Auntie did technically approve of it, after all.'
Visualizing the quiet, fragile silhouette of the girl in his mind, the tight, rigid tension in Ayato's shoulders finally began to thaw.
A faint trace of deep-seated sorrow still lingered in his eyes, but a genuine, gentle smile managed to break through his weary expression as he thought of her current condition.
'I should stop by a convenience store and buy some food for her first. And maybe some new clothes? Though... I'd better ask for her preference before I buy anything blindly.'
Walking down the brightly lit commercial street, his steps felt noticeably lighter.
———
08:00 PM, Near Fukakita Ryokuchi Park.
Carrying two plastic convenience store bags in his hands, Ayato descended the sloped, grassy bank leading down toward the river.
He had easily picked up her distinct pulse of activity nearby; she was exactly where his spatial senses said she would be.
As he closed the distance and came up behind her, he had to actively suppress a smile, though a deep layer of sympathy colored his eyes.
She was wearing a tattered, filthy, bluish gown that bore several ominous splotches of deep, dried crimson that looked suspiciously like old blood, and others a dull brown from the dirt.
From behind, her figure was remarkably tiny and visibly malnourished; he estimated her height to be somewhere around 135 to 138 centimeters.
She sat hunched over at the very edge of the water, completely silent, intent on whatever she was doing.
Her stark white, brittle hair was incredibly long, cascading all the way down to her waist. It was a heartbreaking sight.
When Ayato had first crossed paths with her a week ago, his immediate instinct had been to drag her straight to the police station as an obvious victim of severe abuse.
Who wouldn't think that upon seeing a child covered in blood?
But despite his attempts to help her back then, she had resisted vehemently, crying out that she would die if the authorities found her.
Even with the visible bruises, fresh wounds, and crude medical stitches tracking across her arms and body, she refused to budge.
Simply put, Ayato couldn't bear to leave her behind. Moved by pure empathy, he had returned to this riverbank every single day, gradually chipping away at her defenses. It had been exactly one week since that day.
Approaching silently so as not to startle her, Ayato let his thoughts wander to the future.
He desperately wanted to bring her home and have his aunt legally adopt her. If this girl was harboring a dangerous grudge against someone, or fleeing from a powerful enemy, letting his aunt protect her under their roof was entirely feasible.
Having already discussed the matter honestly with his aunt, she hadn't thought twice about agreeing to help. So—
"Hey. I've been searching for you all along the riverbank," he said softly from behind her, a warm smile on his face. "Why did you wander so far away from our usual spot?"
The sudden voice earned a violent flinch from the small figure. She gasped, jumping slightly on the spot in sheer surprise before rapidly spinning her head around to see who had snuck up on her.
Despite the smears of dirt and soot marring her features, she possessed strikingly large, vibrant violet eyes framed by thin, delicate eyelashes.
Her pale complexion was currently twisted into a fierce, angry scowl, her small nose wrinkling as she pouted up at him.
Looking at her, Ayato couldn't help but think that with a proper hot bath and a clean change of clothes, she would look entirely different—maybe even cute.
The thought caused his own mouth and eyes to curve into a bright, cheerful crescent.
"I've told you a million times already!" her voice rang out. It was low-pitched, slightly hoarse, and strained with an angry, defensive grit.
"Why don't you ever listen to me?! Stop following me around! It's dangerous!"
It was the same warning she gave him every day, and it was a warning Ayato consistently chose to ignore.
"Yeah, yeah, haha… I can obviously see the terrifying danger here," Ayato teased, letting out a light chuckle.
Looking down at her as she glared up at him with that puffed-out, angry hamster face, she felt entirely harmless. She reminded him so much of his little sister, Irina.
"I'm being serious!" the girl snapped, her voice rising in frustration. "Why are you so incredibly persistent and adamant?! You're just bothering me… you know that—"
Ayato cleanly cut her off by gently shoving the two heavy plastic bags right toward her face.
They were stuffed to the brim with everything he could gather, from fresh toiletries, warm food, and snacks, just like his daily deliveries.
"Okay, okay. There's food in here. Eat first, and then we can talk."
The girl, forced to catch the bags with both hands, looked more furious than ever.
Her face flushed a deep, embarrassed red. But after a tense moment of stubborn silence, she lowered her head defeatedly, tightly clutching the packages to her chest.
"…Arigatou," she muttered, her voice suddenly shrinking until it was as thin as a mosquito's buzz.
But it was still loud enough to be easily captured by the smug boy standing in front of her, who was clearly no older than she was.
"Douitashimashite! It's no problem at all," Ayato replied, his bright smile widening as a profound sense of relief washed over him. "Now go on, eat up!"
…
15 minutes passed.
The two of them sat quietly on the damp grass of the riverbank just beyond the perimeter of the park.
Since the gates had long since locked for the evening, the area was entirely devoid of foot traffic.
Ayato had snuck over regardless, resulting in a rare, isolated moment where it was just the two of them enjoying the stillness of the night.
Ayato leaned back against the gentle slope, his sky-blue eyes reflecting a billion glittering stars scattered across the dark canopy.
His heart felt remarkably calm. It was a strange, incomprehensible phenomenon, as simply staring up at the cosmos seemed to soothe away all the heavy, exhausting inconveniences of his day.
Beside him, the girl was quietly devouring her meal. Though she kept silent, she ate with an alarming, frantic speed: a survival instinct Ayato quietly noted and logged as a recurring habit of hers.
Not that he minded. He was just glad she was eating.
"Shirakami. Your face looks troubled today," she muttered suddenly, finishing the last of her portion.
Pulled out of his stargazing trance, Ayato shifted his gaze to the side.
Lynn had already meticulously packed up the leftover trash and wrappings, her back currently turned to him as she sat hunched over her knees.
"Mmmm... it's a problem," Ayato replied vaguely, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he returned his eyes to the stars.
"A big problem, honestly. But at the same time, it's not a problem at all."
Lynn glanced over her shoulder, her brow furrowing. "What kind of convoluted logic is that? How can you even treat a major issue like that?"
Ayato just flashed a small, quiet smile. Despite the crushing weight of the trauma he had relived on the park bench earlier, he was fundamentally a person who refused to burden others with his ghosts.
In that specific regard, he stood on the exact same front as Akane.
Finding him completely tight-lipped, Lynn let out a soft, resigned sigh. She allowed her body to fall backward onto the grass, joining him in watching the starry sky.
However, she deliberately kept a strict, noticeable distance between them. Ayato caught the movement and let out a soft chuckle, which immediately earned him a dry, unamused stare from the violet-eyed girl.
Now that she was fed and her defenses were slightly lowered, he knew it was the perfect moment to broach the subject.
"Actually, Lynn... there's something important I want to discuss with you," Ayato began, his tone shifting into something entirely earnest.
"How would you feel if... my aunt legally adopted you?"
"No."
'Huh...?'
The absolute, instantaneous finality of her rebuttal caught him completely off guard.
Ayato pushed his upper body up from the grass, his expression morphing into a deep, worrywart frown as he stared into Lynn's vibrant violet eyes.
Her gaze was calm but vehemently solid, that exact same unyielding look he had witnessed on the day they first met.
The sheer weight of it forced him to momentarily swallow the words rising in his throat, but pushing past the hesitation, he tried to salvage the explanation.
"Listen to me for a second, Lynn. My aunt is incredibly powerful. She has the resources and the capability to completely shelter you from whatever or whoever is chasing you. If you come with me, you can finally—"
"I said no!"
Lynn bolted upright, scrambling backward across the grass to put even more distance between them. She glared down at him like a cornered, hyper-cautious cat.
Seeing her panic, Ayato couldn't bring himself to step closer or force the issue, his face wrinkling with intense worry.
"Lynn, at least consider—"
"No! You still don't understand anything, Shirakami!" she cried out, her hoarse voice cracking with raw emotion.
Tears began to well rapidly at the corners of her violet eyes, reflecting the dim starlight.
"I am dangerous! And you approaching me like this is dangerous! Why would you ever think it's a good idea to bring someone like me into your home?!"
She took a ragged, trembling breath, her small fists clenching at her sides as a tear finally spilled down her soot-stained cheek.
"Stupid Shirakami...! Why can't you ever just understand this?!"
Before he could even open his mouth to answer, Lynn spun on her heel and bolted up the slope, disappearing into the dark shadows of the closed park.
Ayato was left sitting entirely alone on the empty field, completely stupefied.
His lips remained slightly parted, but the words he wanted to say vanished into the cold night air, leaving him with nothing but the distant rushing sound of the river.