BLACK BULLET
CHAPTER 01

THE TENDO CIVIL SECURITY AGENCY

1     SPRING.

Beneath an evening sky dyed red, the square-jawed, rough-faced senior inspector of the homicide department approached the fine-featured, thin young man threateningly. “Huh? You’re the civil officer who’s here to help us? Even stupidity has its limits. You’re just a kid!”

The young man who was being approached with such derision, Rentaro Satomi, let his listless eyes slide up to the side, looking idly at a crow cawing as it returned to its nest. All he wanted was to go home.

Rentaro answered the inspector evasively, grumbling, “Doesn’t matter what you say. I can’t do anything about it. I’m the civil officer who’s here to help. I have a gun and a license. My boss told me to come here, so I did, because I had to, but if you’re going to doubt me, I’m going home.”

Clucking his tongue, the inspector started walking around Rentaro, narrowing his eyes as if appraising him. “That uniform… You a student?”

Rentaro looked down at his uniform. On the chest of his pitch-black uniform that looked just like a suit was the embroidered insignia of Magata High School. “What’s wrong with that?” he said.

“So these days even kids can play at being civil officers, huh?” said the inspector. “Show me your license.”

When Rentaro pulled out his license, the inspector looked at the picture on it and compared it to Rentaro’s face. He snorted. “That’s an unlucky mug. Not real photogenic, are you?” he laughed, his stomach shaking.

This is work, too. Just deal with it, Rentaro said to himself as he glared at the inspector.

The inspector, who introduced himself curtly with nothing more than “I’m Tadashima,” threw the license back at Rentaro. “Tendo Civil Security Agency, huh? Never heard of it.”

“It’s ’cause we aren’t that well known,” said Rentaro. “Uh, sorry to rush things along, but can we talk about work now?” Rentaro lifted his face and looked up at the dilapidated apartment building in front of them. Cracks, filth, corrosion, and damage made it stand out, but it was an extremely normal six-story apartment building. It was called the Grand Tanaka. “This is really where the trouble is?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Tadashima. “The guy in Room 102 called screaming, saying there was blood leaking down from the room above. Putting all the info together, there’s no doubt it’s a Gastrea. Anyway, let’s get in there already. Friggin’ finally.” At the finally, Tadashima raised his voice, as if intentionally trying to be overheard, and walked into the building.

Civil officers and inspectors not getting along wasn’t anything new, but it was so obvious that rather than being angry, Rentaro was just disgusted. He stopped in front of the building, seriously considering going home, but then reluctantly followed the man in.

Shortly after the defeat, a law was put in place stating that no one was to enter the scene of a crime involving Gastrea without a civil security officer, or “civsec” for short. It was a necessary step in the efforts to try to slow down the skyrocketing rate of police officer deaths, but there wasn’t a police officer to be found who welcomed with open arms the civil officers who were stepping into their jurisdiction.

At that moment, Tadashima put his rough face close to Rentaro’s, as if realizing something. “Hey, where’s your Initiator partner? You civil officer fighters come in pairs, don’t you?”

“Oh, I didn’t think this was bad enough to need her,” said Rentaro. He was startled on the inside, but he couldn’t admit that he’d accidentally left her behind. Thinking that maybe it was a bad idea to not have her after all, he looked back down the dim hallway they came from, scratching his head.

When he heard about the Gastrea incident in their neighborhood from the agency president, his one and only boss, he remembered pedaling his bike seriously for once, trying not to let another agency get the job before them. He must have left his partner behind at that point, too. He just hoped she didn’t get lost.

When he got up to the scene, room 202, there were already a bunch of officers gathered near the door.

“Has there been any change?” asked Tadashima.

At Tadashima’s words, one of the squad members looked back with a pale face. “S-sir. Just now, two point men went in through the window. After that, we had no further contact with them.”

The atmosphere at the scene froze.

“You idiots! Why didn’t you wait for the civil officer to arrive?!”

“We didn’t want the guys who always come and run wild on the scene stealing the credit from us! You know how that feels, don’t you, sir?”

“Who cares about that?! Anyway—”

“Outta the way, you idiots! I’m gonna break in!” Rentaro interrupted.

Tadashima looked into Rentaro’s eyes for a second and jerked his chin with an order. Two of the fully equipped police squad members waiting behind them were stationed in front of the door, holding shortened door breacher shotguns at the hinges of the door.

Rentaro also pulled out his gun, a Springfield XD, from his belt, cocking the slide as he did so he could fire if necessary. He took a deep breath to clear his mind. Wiping the sweat from the palm of his hand on his pants, he clicked his tongue. This had really turned into a troublesome case. “Do it,” he said.

The two shotguns fired at almost the same time Rentaro kicked down the door. His eyes narrowed for a second as the brightness of the setting sun flooded his vision. As if rising out of the sunset, the small, six-tatami-mat room was dyed with the setting sun. However, something redder than the setting sun was spilled out all over the floor of the living room. There was also the rich, unmistakable smell of blood. Two police squad members had been thrown against the wall, dead.

Rentaro saw something he found hard to believe there. In the middle of the room, a tall man was standing still. He was probably over 190 centimeters tall. His too-skinny arms and legs were attached to a too-skinny torso. The mysterious figure was outfitted in a wine-red pinstriped tailcoat, silk hat, and to top it all off, a maschera mask, like you’d wear to a masquerade.

The Gastrea was gone. But who was this man…?

Eventually, the masked man turned around and gave a faint smile. From behind the mask, he turned his sharp gaze to Rentaro. “You’re rather late, civsec, my boy.”

“What…? Are you…in the same business?” said Rentaro.

“It’s true that I was also after the Gastrea that was the source of the infection. However, I am not in the same business as you. Why, you ask?” The man spread his arms in front of him as if performing on stage. “Because I am the one who killed the two police officers.”

The instant Rentaro realized the man was an enemy, his body reacted. He closed the gap between them in an instant and hit the man with the heel of his hand, not waiting for an answer. The angle and timing of the attack were both good.

“Oh, you’re rather skilled,” said the man.

Just as Rentaro thought the masked man looked like he was having fun taking the attack, there was an impact on his chest. The punch made Rentaro’s chest cave, throwing him across the room. He crashed onto the glass coffee table in the living room on his back, winded.

What in the world is this guy? Rentaro thought. His face twisted in extreme pain, he opened one eye and saw the masked man winding up his fist for another close-range punch. As he hurriedly rolled off it, the glass table splintered with a shrill crash. Rentaro was able to jump out of the way and stand up, but a roundhouse kick came right at the side of his head, as if his evasive position had been anticipated. Both he and the arm he put up to block the attack were sent flying into the wall with the terrible force of the kick.

The masked man sniffed contemptuously.

Rentaro was dizzy with despair at the vast difference in their abilities even as he took a firm stance.

Then, an out-of-place ringtone echoed through the room, and the masked man picked up the phone. “Kohina? Um, yeah. I see, okay. I’ll go meet up with you.”

“Look over here, you monster! This is for my friends!” shouted a voice.

When Rentaro turned to look, standing in the door were a number of police squad members holding carbine rifles.

The masked man quickly drew a gun from the holster on his hip without even looking in their direction. Blood suddenly erupted from their blue tactical vests and splattered on the wall. The masked man kept firing, and three people who used to be human were shot down in the blink of an eye. The officers waiting outside became agitated.

Rentaro closed the gap with all his strength and stepped firmly on the floor. “Tendo Martial Arts Second Style, Number 16: Inzen Kokutenfu!” The round kicks that he fired off in return were avoided by neck movements from the masked man, but Rentaro stepped quickly into his second attack and unleashed his Inzen Genmeika. Rentaro fired off high kicks that didn’t miss their mark this time, and hit the masked man’s maschera directly.

Rentaro started to yell “Yes!” but the man put a hand on his neck—which had been twisted back with the force of the kicks—and forced it back into position with a strange sound. The most surprising part was that the man did not once let go of his cell phone. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just a little busy. I’ll be there soon.” Flipping his cell phone closed, he didn’t move, looking intently at Rentaro.

Rentaro felt chills freeze his blood.

The man let out some short laughs as he held his mask to his face. “Oh my, that was wonderful. Even though I was not paying attention, I didn’t think you’d actually get a hit in. I would love to kill you right here, but there’s something else I must do right now.”

He stopped talking for a moment, and his piercing eyes looked at Rentaro from the depths of the mask. “By the way, what’s your name?”

“Rentaro…Satomi.”

“Satomi…Satomi, huh?” the man mumbled to himself, sidestepping the pieces of glass from the broken window and going out to the balcony, putting his leg on the handrail.

“Let’s meet again sometime, Satomi… Or should I come find you?”

“You… What are you?”

“I am the one who will destroy the world. No one can stop me.” The man jumped down from the balcony in a single bound.

For a while, Rentaro’s stiffened body couldn’t move, as if it had been sewn down. He opened his sweaty palms and closed them hard. Could such a powerful being exist in this world?

He heard a groan and looked back with a start. The men who were shot by the mysterious masked figure were seriously injured and were being carried out on stretchers, their friends calling desperately to them.

Rentaro’s fist shook. Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder give him a strong shake.

“Get a hold of yourself, civsec! We’ve been prepared for this since starting this job. What you need to do right now is—”

Rentaro clucked his tongue and shook Tadashima’s hand off. “I know! I have to stop the Pandemic first!” Looking at the clock on the wall, he gathered his thoughts and gave himself a pep talk. He had lost a lot of time, but his work wasn’t over yet. Shutting out thoughts of the strange man from his consciousness for the moment, Rentaro, gun in hand, cautiously checked the bathroom and inner Japanese-style living room, opening all the closets. Finally, he opened the only thing left to check—a large wooden closet.

Inside, there was nothing but clothes.

“Hey, what’s going on? Where’s the Gastrea?” said Tadashima.

Rentaro was a little confused hearing Tadashima’s voice behind him, but he put his gun away and went back to the living room.

The problem was a puddle of blood that had spread on the floor where the masked man had been standing. It was not the man’s blood. He had not been injured. And even though Rentaro didn’t want to think about it, this was enough to be fatal.

Rentaro looked at the picture frame on the low table. It was a picture of a family, with the daughter tucked in between the loving embrace of the husband and wife. “The guy living here was living by himself, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, it was a man living by himself,” Tadashima answered.

Rentaro checked the ceiling. “What the…?”

Tadashima made a face, following Rentaro’s gaze. There was an object stuck to the ceiling with green gel. Rentaro jumped and touched the thing stuck to the ceiling. He rubbed it with his fingers, and it felt extremely sticky.

“There’s no mistake that the victim was attacked here,” said Rentaro. “But the victim probably escaped from the window of the living room looking for help. And then, I don’t really wanna say it, but moving around after losing this much blood, he’s probably…”

Tadashima nervously groped around in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. “Let me get this straight. Not only is the source of the infection still walking around somewhere, but the infected person is, too?”

Rentaro nodded. “Inspector Tadashima, please evacuate the neighborhood immediately and request a blockade to seal off the area. They couldn’t have gone far. We should look outside, too. If we wait until it becomes a Pandemic, demotion’s gonna be the least of your worries.”

It was like drifting between being awake and being half-awake. There was a reassuring floating bridge connecting the two, but just as the man realized what it was, it would disappear.

Before he knew it, he had stopped his wandering around in the sunset. He looked to his right and to his left. Why was he walking around this place? Even though it was at some remove from his home, the view in the distance looked familiar, so this had to be be somewhere in the Tokyo area. He couldn’t say exactly where he was, but he had a faint memory of the scene around him. He thought maybe he was so drunk that his senses had gotten confused, but his thoughts were clear and he had not lost his sense of balance, except for the slight languidness left in his body.

He shook his head slightly. What was his name? It was Sumiaki Okajima, of course. After having the name for forty-five years, he wasn’t going to forget it that easily. It was fine up to that point. But then why was he in this place? No matter how hard he thought, he could not come up with a single explanation.

It didn’t seem like he was sleepwalking. This was a residential area, but he didn’t have any friends who lived in the area. He couldn’t possibly have trekked all the way out here, then. Or perhaps he had just set out on an aimless walk, and the inertia of his feet had carried him here. Inertia, he repeated inside his head and couldn’t help but smile bitterly.

Ever since the company he worked for had gone under, it was as if he’d just kept living through inertia. Tired of having his savings get lower and lower, he’d tried to compensate for their loss through gambling and poker, but that was the beginning of the end. By the time his delirium died down and he was able to objectively see how stupid he had been, he had already paid an immense fee to learn his lesson.

After the Gastrea War, Sumiaki had looked with scorn on those people who had lost their purpose in life and were slowly killing themselves, but he had now turned into exactly what he had scorned in the past.

He could not bring himself to blame his wife and daughter, who had washed their hands of him early on. When he lost money, he would get drunk and violent. No one could call him an excellent father by any standard. His ability to barely maintain a clear head was, pathetically, because he had run out of money to buy alcohol. His house had been foreclosed upon, and now that he spent all day in his cramped apartment spacing out, he’d grown uneasy at not being a productive member of society, and was occasionally so overwhelmed with emptiness that he wanted to scream.

Sumiaki bought a sports drink from a vending machine by a utility pole and put it to his mouth. Maybe it was because the flavor was too light, but it didn’t taste like anything to him. He downed the five hundred milliliters in the blink of an eye, but it just seemed to make him even thirstier. “Seriously, why am I here—”

At that moment, Sumiaki was taken aback, hearing someone yelling in a loud voice.

“Rentaro, you insensitive imbecile!”

In front of him, he saw a girl with a long shadow walking toward him. She seemed about ten years old, wearing a short skirt and a fancy coat lined with a checkered fabric. She had thick-soled lace-up shoes, and her hair was tied with largish hair ties into pigtails that swayed slightly left and right.

As he passed her, he heard her furious voice saying, “You bastard, you’ve got some nerve abandoning me, your fiancée, like that!”

It seemed like someone had left her behind, but she passed Sumiaki without noticing his presence. Thinking she lived in the area, he called her from behind. “Miss, can you give me some directions?”

He himself was surprised at how suspicious he sounded, so it made sense that the girl was surprised. She lifted her face, suddenly jumping and backing away.

“W-wait, please. I don’t mean you any harm. My name is Sumiaki Okajima, and I think I live around here, but I don’t know how to get home.”

The girl looked at him without moving a muscle. As he was thinking about what else he could say to clear up any misunderstanding, the girl seemed to realize something and looked at him in bewilderment. “Sir… You don’t know what has happened to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s nothing I can do for you. Of course, there’s nothing anyone else in the world could do for you, either. But… Well, is there anything you have left to say in the end? To your family or friends? You have someone, right, sir?”

“What in the world are you saying?”

“I’m not saying this because I want to. But Rentaro says it’s my duty to tell the person, so that’s why I’m telling you, sir.”

Their conversation wasn’t meshing properly. Sir? This girl that barely came up to Sumiaki’s chest was looking at him with what seemed like pity in her upturned eyes.

“You have not realized, after all? Then you should take a look at yourself. But do it slowly, so as not to fall into a panic. Then you will understand my words.”

Overpowered by the mysterious resignation the girl emitted, Sumiaki looked at himself. “What the… What is this?” His abdomen was dyed red. No, it wasn’t just his abdomen. He had a large wound that looked like he was ripped open up to his collarbone or throat, and there was still fresh blood flowing from it. His blood was dripping and forming a puddle on the paved road where he was standing.

Gingerly touching his abdomen with his hand, he felt a slippery, unpleasant sensation. Why didn’t he notice until now? Why didn’t it hurt, anyway? What had happened to him? Just then, his vision took a turn for the worse, and it looked like the sky and the earth switched places. The next thing he knew, Sumiaki had collapsed on the ground. “I…remember. That’s right, I became penniless, and then…”

In the countless job interviews Sumiaki had gone to, his character would occasionally be attacked, and he would be tormented by frustration that made him grind his teeth. Eventually, he was hired as a solar cell module cleaner. It was hard work, but he was guaranteed a certain wage, so once his life settled down, he might even be able to bring his wife and daughter back to live with him. It was still just a dream, and his goal for the time being was just to put his life back together, but once he realized there were still things that he could do, his body was filled with excitement.

He wanted to at least hear their voices. Thinking that, he had gone out to the balcony of his apartment to call his wife’s parents’ house. In the few rings it took for the other side to answer, Sumiaki looked up suddenly, which might have been the most unfortunate thing he did in his life.

There was a giant, human-size organism stuck to the wall on the fourth floor. It seemed to choose the moment Sumiaki noticed it to move, and its two eyes flashed red like fresh blood as it climbed down.

“I ran away after almost being killed by that Gastrea, and got all the way here.”

“You have infectious Gastrea in your bodily fluids,” the girl said in an emotionless voice.

Sumiaki looked at the marks left by two fangs on his collar. “Oh,” a resigned sound leaked out of his throat.

He remembered what he saw many times on TV during the war. A lab rat was injected with the Gastrea virus, and minutes later became a terrifyingly strange-looking creature that scared audiences out of their wits when it gave a cry.

After the girl pointed it out, his calf started to itch, and his body grew hot, tormented by a pressure that was bursting out from the inside. His DNA was probably being rewritten at high speed that very second. The next thing he knew, his eyes welled with tears. “Then you’re a civil officer’s…?”

“Yes, I am an Initiator. My name is Enju Aihara. I’m ten, and old enough to be a real lady.”

He tried to smile, but his face twisted with a spasm. His body was already starting to move on its own. “I have a favor to ask… Will you apologize to my wife and daughter for me? Tell them I’m sorry for everything I did.”

“I will.”

That was the last of the world Sumiaki saw. Just like that, he passed the critical point where he could stay in human form. Just as it seemed like his arms and legs were shriveling faster than common sense would allow, long, thin, pitch-black legs sprang out from his body as if piercing through it. Hair sprouted from the legs, and four pairs of glowing red eyes appeared on the head. His abdomen swelled up like a ball, and from the corners of his mouth, two glistening fangs grew in. The yellow-and-black spotted pattern would fill a human with a visceral disgust. This was a giant spider.

The petite girl didn’t scream or run away. She just quietly readied herself. Then, she was interrupted by a voice from a completely different direction. “Gastrea—Model Spider, Stage One, confirmed. Entering battle with it now!”

“Rentaro!” said the girl.

“Enju, you okay?”

Enju ran to him. Rentaro also ran toward her with his arms spread wide. Even if it was just for a short time, the two had been apart, and under the slowly setting sun, in a flood of emotions, they reunited with an embrace—an embrace Enju would under no circumstances allow, as she let loose a kick straight at Rentaro’s crotch.

“Owwwwww…” Holding his crotch, Rentaro went to his knees and put his forehead to the ground. Writhing with an intense pain unknown to any woman, Rentaro clenched his teeth and lifted his face. The girl, Enju Aihara, 145 centimeters tall, was looking down arrogantly at him with her hands on her hips.

“You have some nerve shamelessly showing your face in front of me again after throwing me off the bicycle.”

“A-are you mad?”

“Of course I am.”

“I-I had no choice. If I didn’t get this job, Kisara would have kicked my butt, you know!”

“I would do the same if you abandoned me.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“You should just offer your buttocks quietly. Then the only remaining problem would be who is going to kick it. You can choose who will kick it.”

“Dummy, who wants to choose between two options like that?”

The two were interrupted once again by the roar of a gunshot. Arriving late to the scene was Tadashima, holding a smoking revolver in his hand. “Hey, you two! Are you ignoring the enemy to do a comedy sketch? Do your job, civsec!”

The newly born Gastrea’s skin spurted blood when the bullet hit it, but in the next instant, it began healing with terrifying speed, and finally spit out the .38-caliber bullets that Tadashima had fired from the healed wound. The Gastrea turned its head toward Tadashima and let out a shrill cry. Not good.

Rentaro decided it was faster to rush over and knock Tadashima to the ground than it was to yell at him to duck.

“Oof! What’re you doin—”

The giant spider lowered itself and jumped, scraping the area the two had just been with incredible force. Tadashima’s face paled.

“Inspector, this is a single-factor Jumping Spider Gastrea.”

“J-jumping spider?”

“The original is a spider that can jump tens of times its body length to get food. You can tell from the characteristic coloring on its body. Also”—Rentaro took Tadashima’s revolver—“regular bullets are not that effective against Gastrea. If you shoot at them, you’ll just make them excited, so you’re not supposed to use them.”

“Then how are you supposed to defeat them?!”

Just then, a dark shadow covered them, and Tadashima let out a short scream.

The smell of rotten eggs hit their noses, and Rentaro turned around slowly after feeling a chill run up his back. There was the giant spider with all eight legs opened wide. Opening and closing its mouthparts and fangs with venom glands on them, its stomach faced him. Its physical form and flashy coloring brought on a visceral feeling of disgust, and its spinnerets made a grating sound.

Seeming to suddenly notice something, the Gastrea quickly turned its body to face the small girl. Pointing its spinneret at the girl, it trembled and suddenly covered the girl’s body with something that looked like a casting net, and changed positions.

“Eww, what is this? It’s rather sticky.”

The girl tried pulling at it with her hands, but whenever she did, the viscous threads wound themselves around her more.

At that moment, Rentaro glanced sharply at the glowing, slimy green strands, completely unlike a normal spider’s silk. It was the same as the stuff he had seen in the victim Sumiaki Okajima’s house.

“Get down, Enju!”

“Huh?”

The girl couldn’t react to the quick order. Her frail body was thrown to the side, and she flew almost twenty meters, scraping the ground so violently that she left a mark.

“Enju!” Rentaro shouted as he quickly drew his gun from his belt and pulled the trigger. His arm jumped with the recoil from the intense discharge. The second the bullet hit, the Gastrea let out a loud scream and tried to protect itself with its eight legs as it retreated. There was no sign of the wound starting to heal itself.

All right, this is good, thought Rentaro to himself. He fired again. He fired bullets continuously at the spot where a leg had been blown off and its body was shaking violently off balance. Its hard exoskeleton ripped open, its bodily fluids gushed out, and the .40-caliber bullet drilled a black hole in its mark.

Rentaro fired about ten shots before the gun’s slide release stopped, telling him that it was out of bullets. In the distance, the Gastrea’s body was curled into a ball, and it didn’t even twitch. Approaching it carefully, he saw that one shot had taken one of its venomous fangs off, along with part of its face. But then Rentaro stopped. Oh? he thought. Not only had less than half of his bullets hit, but there was also no trace of any bullets hitting the vital organs. He gulped. He had a bad feeling about this.

In that instant, the spider jumped up and uncovered its venom glands, rushing straight at Rentaro. His body couldn’t react quickly enough to the surprise attack. Rentaro was hit, and his body stiffened.

Just then, with the sound of a fierce impact, the Gastrea’s body was thrown alongside the ground, bouncing once, crashing into the stone wall next to him, destroying it and making the utility pole collapse along with it, blowing up a great pile of dust. For a second, he didn’t understand what had happened. “Oh, was that you, Enju?” he said finally.

Enju stood where the Gastrea had just been a moment ago, a proud look on her face. “Hah! You’re always letting down your guard too soon, Rentaro. I cannot bear to watch you.”

Tadashima’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. He surely couldn’t believe that this slight girl’s kick had sent flying the sixty-kilogram Gastrea that had been there a moment ago.

On the outside, the girl didn’t really look any different from a normal girl—except for one thing. Her eyes, black until just a moment ago, were now shining red. She had crimson eyes, just like the Gastrea.

The shock on Tadashima’s face slowly turned to understanding. “Ah, so this kid’s the Initiator.”

“I’m Rentaro’s partner, Enju Aihara. Remember that, you public servant,” she informed him deliberately, with a triumphant look. Her arrogance was improper for her age, yet at the same time charmingly beautiful.

Rentaro had learned his lesson after the ten-year-old girl pointed out his worthlessness, and reloaded before he approached the Gastrea with his gun out. Stretching its many legs up toward the sky, the spider gave a final spasm, and then was really dead.

Rentaro turned toward Tadashima and bowed his head seriously. “Sorry, Inspector. I let my guard down because it was a Stage One.”

“Hey, wait, weren’t you going on earlier about how regular bullets weren’t effective on Gastrea?” asked Tadashima.

Rentaro turned to face Tadashima. It wasn’t really a secret, so Rentaro didn’t say a word. He just showed his spare magazine—or rather, the bullets in it.

Tadashima’s small eyes widened in understanding. “I see, they’re Varanium bullets.”

Rentaro nodded and took one out, rolling it on his palm to show him. The tip of the golden cartridge—the Varanium-black bullet—reflected the setting sun sharply. “As you know, this is made of the metal Varanium, which inhibits the Gastrea’s ability to heal wounds.”

And it’s because we have this that mankind has barely been able to avoid extinction, he thought inwardly. The Gastrea hated this metal vehemently, and if they were thrown into a room lined with it, they were said to waste away and die.

“There are things you can do to a bullet, too, huh?” asked Tadashima.

“There are civsec officers who stand out more with swords and spears made of this metal, but mine is a bullet. The bullets are special, but the gun is just an ordinary gun,” Rentaro said. “Look.” He held out the XD he used to show him, and Tadashima put his hand on his chin and looked impressed.

Suddenly, Rentaro felt a few light tugs on the sleeve of his uniform and turned to see Enju smiling and vigorously pointing at herself. “I know, I know. You were amazing. Good job. And you saved my life. That’s what you wanted to hear, right?”

“I also have something to say to you.” Enju beckoned him, so Rentaro had no choice but to lean in to her eye level. He figured she just wanted to tell him that his finishing move was too weak, or that he should get stronger, which made him want to sigh.

Then, he found his head being quickly rotated, and like a surprise attack, something soft pressed against his lips.

Wha—?! His body stiffened, and Enju moved away in a flash, hands clasped behind her back bashfully.

She laughed. “Thanks, Rentaro. You still have a long way to go as my partner, but when I let my guard down, you stood in the way of the enemy alone. That was kind of cool.”

“Y-you…”

“What, did you want to do it more? If it’s you, you can do some other things, too.”

Rentaro felt the blush rising in his cheeks. “I… Idiot! Don’t even say that kind of stuff as a joke! What’ll you do if there are people around who misundersta—”

Feeling a sudden chill on the back of his neck, he turned and saw Tadashima pull handcuffs from his hip and sidle over.

“You’ve got some strange tastes, you pig,” said Tadashima.

Rentaro broke out in a cold sweat. Tadashima continued glaring at him.

“Recently, there’s been an idiot playing pranks on girls in the area. His physique is about the same as yours, and his weight is about the same as yours, too… What do you think about that?”

“Y-you’ve gotta be kidding me. It’s a misunderstanding, a false accusation! I plead not guilty!”

“I’ll hear what you have to say at the station.”

“Y-you bastard!”

Rentaro and Tadashima chased after each other around Enju.

“E-Enju, please! Say something!”

Enju puffed her chest out as if to tell everyone to listen to her. “We have a deep relationship that cannot be summed up in one word.”

Tadashima cocked his revolver. What? Was he going to be shot dead?

“She’s a freeloader!” said Rentaro.

“He’s always so amazing at night that I can’t sleep,” said Enju.

“I toss and turn in my sleep!”

“Our futures are sworn to each other.”

“No, they’re not!”

Tadashima looked back and forth from Rentaro to Enju, comparing them. Finally, he put the handcuffs away. “Man, I was gonna put a pair of shiny bracelets on you, too.”

“P-please stop, Inspector. Your joke’s going too far.”

Rentaro drew a deep breath as his gaze dropped to Enju’s back. The skin on her back was peeled off, and it was completely red. It must have happened when she took the blow from that thing’s body earlier and scraped her back against the ground.

“Does it hurt, Enju?” he asked.

The girl snorted with triumphant eyes and looked at him unwaveringly. “I’m fine. It’ll heal soon. I’m more angry about my clothes being ruined. It even broke one of the straps of my camisole.”

As if to back up the girl’s words, what she said came to pass. The painful-looking scratches that covered her back got smaller as they all watched. Eventually, the wounds healed as if nothing had happened, and all that was left was the beautiful, smooth skin of a young girl, along with her ripped clothes.

Looking at Tadashima’s gaping mouth from the corner of his eye, Rentaro thought, That’s the normal reaction.

An ordinary human would first get a scab over the wound, and then the wound would slowly heal over time under that. The fact that she skipped that process when her wound healed emphasized the fact that she was no ordinary human.

Superhuman powers of healing. That was one of the benefits they had as Initiators—girls who could control the Gastrea virus under certain conditions. The extraordinary muscular strength and agility they possessed also fell into that category. And when she was not using her powers, like now, her eyes were always black.

Rentaro was a Promoter, someone who supported the Initiators, and he had the responsibility of directing her onto the right path. “Oh yeah, Enju. You talked to the victim before he experienced shape collapse, right? Did he say anything?”

“Yes, he said to say ‘hi’ to his wife and daughter.”

“I see…” Rentaro looked at his watch, straightened his back, and gave Tadashima a salute. “On April 28, 2031, at 1630 hours, Initiator Enju Aihara and Promoter Rentaro Satomi eliminated the Gastrea.”

“Good work, civil officers.”

Even if it was ritualistic, Rentaro bowed back at the highest-ranking officer on the scene. Exchanging glances with Tadashima, they both let smiles escape.

At that point, an innocent voice that didn’t understand what it meant to read the situation broke the mood.

“Hey, more importantly, are you going to make it back in time for the sale?”

“Huh…? Oh!” Rentaro hurriedly pulled out the day’s insert flyer from his pocket. The blood drained from his face.

“Oh, you’re going already?” asked Tadashima.

“Yeah, if you’ve got more work, let me know.”

Tadashima seemed to be mumbling something for some reason. “Well, you know, that…when you, uh, helped me earlier… Oh, never mind. Anyway, what’s the important business you’re rushing off to?”

“Bean sprouts are six yen a bag!”

Watching the young man’s shadow as he ran away, followed by the playful smaller shadow following him like a puppy, Shigetoku Tadashima grumbled. “Bean sprouts…?”

He had thought about thanking him for protecting him earlier, but it seemed silly now.

“You made it out in one piece, Chief?”

Turning around, he saw his subordinates who had split up to search for the Gastrea start arriving late to the scene.

“They looked like new faces. Do you think we can use them?”

“Who knows. Speaking of which, I forgot to ask for their IP Rank.” Tadashima pulled out a cigarette from his chest pocket almost unconsciously and lit it. Seeing that, his younger subordinates gazed at the cigarette without a word.

“You gonna work with the cigarette in your mouth?” one said.

“Don’t be so stuffy. I almost died just now.” Ignoring his subordinate’s knit eyebrows, he took a deep puff into his lungs and blew it out. It had been clear all day, so even the Monoliths standing far in the distance could be seen in one glance. The enormous rectangular walls standing 1.618 kilometers high and one kilometer wide dotted the scene like steel towers at regular intervals. Even though they seemed out of place in the natural landscape, there was also a feeling of reverence for them for some reason.

Within the Monolith barrier that completely surrounded a portion of the Kanto Plain was one of the last paradises left for mankind. What looked like a forest of black chrome stone blocks were actually slabs of metal made of Varanium. They were the same as what surrounded the Kanto Plain, extending into Old Tokyo, Old Kanagawa, Old Chiba, and Old Saitama.

Gastrea hated Varanium. With the special magnetic field given off by Varanium acting as a natural barrier, Tokyo Area was able to avoid large-scale Gastrea attacks. To put it another way, outside of the five remaining areas in Japan including Tokyo, the rest of the land was teeming with nonhuman monsters and nonhuman monsters that used to be human. If a mere human were to take one step outside of the Monolith, he would either be devoured in an instant or end up as one of them.

And this wasn’t just happening in Japan.

Before Tadashima knew it, forensics and other police had gathered, gathering evidence and putting up caution tape that said KEEP OUT.

Ten years ago, these Gastrea began to appear around the world, and with their infectious capacity, their destruction of humanity accelerated with incredible momentum. One infected person became two, two became four, four became eight… When humanity finally began to worry about the multiplying Gastrea, it was already too late. There was nothing they could do.

All the countries that suffered damage during the large-scale war used the Monoliths, which were barely good enough for practical use, to build barriers. Now, ten years later, they continued to desperately barricade themselves with them.

Humanity lost the Great Gastrea World War.

The cigarette smoke that rose into the air soon dispersed in the setting sun.

In those ten years, Japan had healed the wounds of its defeat and finally gotten its cultural compass back to the levels of the early 2020s.

Tadashima crushed the shortened cigarette butt with his foot and looked out of the corner of his eye at his subordinate, who was moving briskly to the scene.

Occasionally, to prevent a Pandemic, they would have to hunt an early-stage Gastrea that had wandered in. At first, that was the job of the police and the riot squads under their command, or the self-defense force, but now, civsec had a firm hold on a large share of the fighting jobs. The police were left to deal with the aftermath.

Feeling the thick spring air on his skin, Tadashima looked at the two disappearing backs with uncharacteristic sentimentality. Initiator and Promoter. Fighters who came in pairs. They used the power mastered by their bodies to fight the Gastrea.

They were mankind’s last hope.

2

“Do you have anything left to say before you die, Satomi? Do you?”

Cold sweat ran down Rentaro’s cheek, and he backed away from the voice, but his back was soon against the wall.

The girl with the dangerous-sounding voice had a frown on her face and her arms crossed, and her foot tapped impatiently. He knew that this would happen. She was extremely angry.

In front of Rentaro’s eyes was a beauty in black. In sharp contrast with her smooth skin white as light snowfall, her long straight hair was jet-black. The only places where her skin was exposed were her face, the nape of her neck, her hands, and the part of her thigh that could be seen between her skirt and her high socks. Everything else was covered in black with the school uniform of Miwa Girls Academy, and other than the red ribbon tied at her chest, it could be said that she was completely black and white. Her turned-up almond eyes were sharp. She was cute when she smiled, but she was usually in a sullen mood, which seemed like kind of a waste.

Rentaro was trying his best to protest while being overpowered, but he kept his voice low. “Wh-what’s done is done, right?”

“You moron!” Her shouting echoed in the small, cramped room, and when Rentaro avoided her sharp punch at the last moment, she seemed to snarl as she glared at him.

“Why did you dodge? You’re making me angry.”

“Don’t be unreasonable!”

When Rentaro made a move to escape, the girl followed, fists flying, chasing him around the reception area’s furniture.

Damn it, the whole day’s been like this.

“The only thing…you’re good at…is running…” The girl had no stamina and shortly fell back, her shoulders heaving as she caught her breath.

“C’mon, I’ll work hard when we get a new job, all right, Kisara?” said Rentaro.

“Don’t be stupid! This was our last chance!” the girl said. “And,” she continued, glaring at Rentaro, “at work, you are to call me ‘President,’ not Kisara.” Flipping her long hair, she briskly returned to her work desk. “Useless thing,” she said as she sat in her office chair.

Rentaro sighed. When he got back to the office, it wouldn’t be a mere butt-kicking waiting for him, it was an iron-fisted punishment that knew no moral bounds.

There was a large ebony work desk about the size of a grand piano and a well-tanned leather office chair. Seeing a girl wearing a sailor school uniform sitting there looked very strange.

Kisara Tendo. The youngest daughter of the Tendo family that took Rentaro in ten years earlier, and the president of the Civil Security Agency, that Rentaro worked for.

“In other words, is this what happened? You rushed off to buy the sale items that are sitting on that desk right now, and didn’t realize until you were halfway there that you had forgotten to get paid by the police?”

“Yeah…,” Rentaro mumbled brusquely as he averted his gaze.

He had hurriedly called Tadashima, who said, “What? I thought for sure that it was a pro bono service you were doin’ for us. Well, what’s done is done, so why don’t we just call it a free trial? If more jobs come up, I’ll make sure to work you good and hard!” he said, laughing as he hung up.

Kisara rested her chin on her knee and continued with a look of displeasure on her face. “And then all you bought were two bags of bean sprouts?”

“Y-yeah! It was limited to one bag per person, so I brought Enju and bought two!” Wondering what kind of report he was giving, he searched for something else to talk about. “Do you want some, too?”

A bag of bean sprouts flew right into his face.

“Come on, Satomi, we’ve had zero income this month. Whose fault do you think that is, you useless, good-for-nothing fool? Besides, is the supermarket time sale more important to you than your report to your boss?”

Suddenly, Kisara started trembling with her hand still in a fist. But instead of a punch, she put both hands on the table and stood up. “Most importantly, why didn’t you tell me about the limited-time sale?!”

As if on cue, Kisara’s stomach growled, and the girl collapsed on her chair, holding her stomach. Her eyes were blank. “I can’t take this any longer. I want beefsteak…”

“I do too, you know,” said Rentaro.

Kisara was currently living on her own, separated from the Tendo family, so even though she looked rich, her wallet was empty. “Hey, Satomi,” she said.

“What is it?” said Rentaro.

“Get to work.”

“Ugh, I’m getting spasms from my chronic disease.”

“They’ll stop if you work.”

Kisara looked down at the rush-hour traffic from the third-floor window of Happy Building, where the Tendo Civil Security Agency was a tenant. She shook her head gently and sighed. “Owning a business is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Did you think it would be easy?”

“Playing the stock market or foreign exchange is easier. Just moving things from the right side to the left side results in a profit margin. But a business is completely hopeless. That’s also because you’re an unreliable moron, Satomi.”

“You don’t think it’s because the second-floor tenant is a cabaret and the first floor is a gay bar? The fourth is a loan shark, you know.”

“You don’t get it, do you? Location doesn’t matter to a truly good company.”

Was that how it was? Rentaro thought. “We should just pass out flyers or tissues and advertise on the streets,” he said aloud.

“Boring. Doing average things will only bring average results. If we’re going to do something, we need something with more impact.”

“Then why don’t you wear a maid outfit and pass out flyers?” He meant that because Kisara had extremely good raw material to work with, ten out of ten people would turn to look at her, but apparently Kisara did not get that. Her face turned red and the vein on her temple bulged.

“I am a Tendo! Are you telling me to imitate those lowly waitresses and hostesses? I will do no such thing! You should run into a crowd and shout ‘Tendo Civil Security Agency is right here!’ while setting yourself on fire or blowing yourself up!”

“That’s terrorism…” Rentaro was half-shocked as he looked around. “But, President, seriously, let’s hire another employee.”

Even if it was small and cramped, the Tendo Civil Security Agency rented out a whole floor for its offices, and having just Rentaro and Enju as its only two employees was too much of a waste.

“I will if there’s someone I think I can use,” Kisara said curtly and snapped her fingers to change the subject. “Satomi, make some tea.”

“Do it yourself,” he said.

“Oh my, what idiot was it that forgot to get paid again?”

“Damn it. Okay, okay. I shall bring it directly, Miss.”

Wondering how she could still put on such airs when she was so poor, Rentaro poured hot water into the teapot and put it on Kisara’s desk.

“Oh, thanks,” Kisara said, but didn’t look as she continued typing on her laptop with her delicate white fingers, but when she looked up for a second, their eyes met. “Hey, the Gastrea you defeated was an infected, right?”

“Yeah,” he said brusquely, and continued, answering what she left unasked. “We couldn’t find the source of the infection, but it was probably the same Model Spider Factor. Since it wasn’t a bird or winged insect type, another company probably found it and took care of it already. If it were above Stage Three, we would’ve been called in to help. Besides, the biohazard alarm didn’t go off, either.”

The single-factor Gastrea that Rentaro had defeated was just a scaled-up version of an animal on Earth, so it was still almost cute. With two or more factors, and especially with four or more, the DNA was so mixed up that the resulting Gastrea could only be called a monster.

For Gastrea in Stages One through Four, as their stage numbers increased, their strength rose exponentially. So even though the employees of the various civsec companies were by no means friends, if they were in a situation they felt was more than they could handle, they would work together to exterminate it. Because there was no request for help, the source Gastrea must have been easily exterminated.

Dropping her gaze to the computer display, Kisara rejected Rentaro’s opinion. “There are no reports to that effect, or any eyewitness reports at all.”

“What?” said Rentaro.

Kisara turned her laptop 180 degrees. On the screen was a map. It was from the civil officer agency website, and it showed where there had been fights with and sightings of the Gastrea over the past ninety days.

“This is…” Rentaro scowled and looked at Kisara, who nodded slowly.

“There aren’t any reports, are there?” she said.

“But there’s no way there wasn’t a single eyewitness report of a source, right?”

“There isn’t one here.” Kisara brushed back her hair and looked at him provocatively with upturned eyes.

Rentaro narrowed his eyes and looked at the map and the words on the website again. “Why isn’t the government sending out a warning to the whole region? This is a serious matter.”

“Satomi, the government is not incompetent, but they hardly ever use coercive means like evacuation orders, so there’s no point in getting your hopes up. I mean, that’s why we civil officers exist.”

It really is a terrible job, he thought, clucking his tongue. He shook his head lightly. “I need an expert opinion on this. I’ll go talk to Doc after this.”

“I’ll also try asking other civil officers indirectly about it. We’ll be hunting the remaining source, too, as soon as possible.”

“Roger.”

Kisara lowered her beautiful eyelashes and sipped her tea. Rentaro looked sideways at his boss with respect. No matter what she said, she understood that human lives needed to be put first.

Having no way of knowing Rentaro’s inner thoughts, Kisara finished working on her computer and closed it, clasping her hands together and stretching. Rentaro could hear her back cracking satisfyingly. He noticed that he was accidentally looking at her generous chest pushing up her sailor school uniform and hurriedly averted his gaze.

“Oh, come to think of it, where’s Enju?” asked Kisara.

“Huh?” said Rentaro. “Oh, she said she was getting sleepy, so I took her home first. If you’re going home soon, I can walk you partway.”

“Sorry, I have hemodialysis today, so I have to go to the hospital.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot.”

Taking a sip of the half-cooled tea, she surveyed the inside of the office. Rentaro followed her gaze. The reception area furniture for meeting with clients faced the plain desk used by the only employees, Rentaro and Enju. Because there were times when they had to stay overnight, there was also a small kitchen to cook in, hidden behind a curtain. It was shabby and cramped and cold in the winter. It wasn’t comfortable by any standard, but strangely enough, she didn’t hate it.

“It’s been almost a year, hasn’t it?” she said. “Since you became a Promoter and met Enju.”

“It’s only been a year,” he replied. “We’re still not even halfway to our goal.”

Kisara tilted her head slightly to the side and smiled. “Satomi, you really have changed since you met Enju. You’ve started to smile more, and you can cook now. I never would have imagined you could turn out this way.”

Rentaro turned his head sulkily. “I’m not that different.”

“Hey, Satomi. What’s your goal now?”

“Huh?” His heart suddenly skipped a beat.

“To find Enju’s parents for her? Satomi, have you given up on your own mother and father? You said it a lot when we were kids, didn’t you? That your mom and dad were definitely still alive and that you’d find them. But I haven’t heard you say it recently. Do you really still believe it even now?”

She wasn’t particularly angry or blaming him, she was just looking at him. But Rentaro couldn’t bear it any longer and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, does it?” He tried to speak calmly, but a harshness remained that sounded like he was spitting out the words. “You just have to know everything, don’t you? It’s fine. I know that my parents are dead for sure.”

Damn it, now I’ve done it, thought Rentaro as he trudged down the night streets.

On the way, a lady from the cabaret on the second floor winked at him and said, “Stop by sometime.”

Then, on the first floor, a brawny man with a shaved head and goatee from the gay bar winked and said, “You’d be the best ‘top.’ Stop by sometime.” (Rentaro wasn’t really sure what a “top” was, but it seemed to be a gay term.)

And then a little ways from the building, the loan shark from the Hiroshima yakuza greeted him saying, “Yo, Rentaro, today was hot, huh?”

But Rentaro could only give a halfhearted reply to each of them.

When it came to his family history, he was never good at controlling his feelings, but he didn’t think that it would make him do something as dumb as taking it out on the people around him. Rentaro put both hands in his pocket and tilted his head as far back as it would go, gazing at the night sky sprinkled with stars. There was no helping it. Tomorrow, he would go back and apologize without becoming too emotional.

Rentaro headed straight for the hospital that was part of Magata University. He had never seen the lights off in the lab building next door to it. Magata University had many departments, from computer science to farming, on its vast grounds. It made the school Rentaro attended, Magata High School, look like a miniature garden. Next to the main school building was the university hospital, although it was actually a slight distance of about three hundred meters away.

The receptionist knew Rentaro and let him in without any questions. The front entryway was open, and the smell of disinfectant hung in the air. The people passing Rentaro in his school uniform (which, because of his chronic cash shortage, also served as his casual clothes and work uniform) all seemed to have unpleasant looks on their faces.

What? You got a problem with me? Rentaro thought at them, but he still bowed silently as he passed.

Once he got to the north side of the building, the number of people around dropped suddenly, and there was an abrupt dead end to the hallway where there appeared to be a square hole cut into the ground. At first glance, it looked like a pitfall, but when he looked carefully, he could see that there were steep stairs attached to it.

As he walked down the stairs, he thought about the look people would have on their faces if they heard that a mysterious individual had added a morgue to the university hospital without permission and was living there alongside the corpses. He was sure that the slight chill he felt wasn’t just because the temperature had dropped.

A strong mint fragrance wafted through the air as he pushed open the door engraved with grotesque demons with breasts that were probably meant to keep people away. Inside, it was dimly lit but surprisingly spacious. The whole floor was covered with green tile, and even though it was slightly eerie like an operating room, if he looked carefully, he could see underwear and lunch boxes and a chalkboard covered with German or some other foreign language, which gave it an overall lived-in feel.

However, the person this space belonged to was nowhere to be seen.

“Doc, where are you?” Rentaro called out.

“Over here,” said a voice.

Turning toward the voice, Rentaro gave a start. In front of him was a naked muscular body over 180 centimeters tall with sunken eye sockets. On the cleanly shaven head were fresh scars from where the skin had been extracted. It was the corpse of a man Rentaro had never seen before.

“Woah!” he shouted. No matter how he thought about it, the voice seeemed like it was coming from this man, but he knew corpses couldn’t talk. Rentaro was not very good with scary stories of this genre.

“Boo.” From behind the corpse was a woman in a white lab coat who he did know, and relief made his knees weak.

“D-don’t scare me like that, Doc!”

“Hey, Rentaro. Welcome to the Abyss.” She spread her arms wide to complete the performance. She was wearing a tight skirt with a white lab coat so long it dragged on the ground. Her skin was an unhealthy pallor, and her presence was so faint that she seemed like a ghost. She didn’t bathe and let her bangs grow so long that they covered one eye, but underneath it all, she was a beauty.

Sumire Muroto. Head of the forensics lab and a Gastrea researcher. She was the queen of this dimly lit basement room and had severe social withdrawal to boot. If left alone, she would stay here for as long as her stockpile of food lasted.

“Who is this man?” Rentaro asked her.

“Charlie,” she answered. “I forget his real name. He’s my lover.”

“Didn’t you have a woman named Susan here before?”

“Unfortunately, she is no longer here. He is her replacement. Corpses are great. No idle chatter from them. They are the only ones who understand my feelings.” Saying that, she lovingly applied embalming liquid to the corpse’s cheek.

Even though he had already given up on trying to understand her, Rentaro scratched his upper arm as he watched the scene with dreary thoughts. Because of her extreme dislike of coming into contact with other people, she was openly ostracized within the school. Her favorite motto was, “In this world, there are only people who have died and people who are going to die.”

He needed to take care of his business and leave as quickly as possible. Rentaro started to open his mouth, but Sumire was faster.

“The Stage One Gastrea you defeated was just brought to my lab,” she said. “Do you think you can kill a little more cleanly next time? The impact of the bullets injured the flesh. On top of that, the bullets were all over the place. Nobita is a perv and lazy and weak, but at least he’s a good shot. You’re a perv and lazy and weak and a terrible shot on top of that. You’re the worst. Honestly, why haven’t you already committed suicide? It’s not like you have a hope left in this world, do you?”

“I’m not that hopeless!” Rentaro sighed. This depressing beauty was actually entrusted by the government with the dissection and research of Gastrea, and even though she didn’t look it at all, she apparently had a high IQ and was once the darling of the academic world.

“By the way, did you eat dinner yet?” she said.

“Huh?”

“Dinner.”

“Not yet…”

“Then eat this, my culinary creation.” She stood up and took out a plate from the microwave, unwrapping it. At first glance, it looked like completely white porridge, but it was half-solid, or rather oatmeal-like, and when scooped with a spoon, the closest word to describe it would have been gloopy. Rentaro wondered how it had gotten to the point where it smelled like it had gone bad.

Involuntarily, large drops of sweat beaded on his face. “Doc, do you know the food called Tastee Wheat from the movie The Matrix?”

“Yeah, that looked delicious, didn’t it? Guri and Gura’s pancake, Laputa bread, and Tastee Wheat. You could call them the top three on my list of 2-D foods that I want to eat.”

“Isn’t one of those things not like the others?”

“Huh? Wait, even though a TV screen is flat, The Matrix was a live-action movie, so should it be counted as 3-D? What do you think?”

“Oh, I know! Let’s talk about work.”

“Hurry up and eat. If you don’t eat it, I won’t tell you anything.”

“S-seriously…?” Rentaro looked at the dim ceiling, then gazed at the Tastee Wheat, puzzled. A bubble rose to the surface and popped with a “glop,” almost as if it were sneering at him. Chanting a prayer, he put it in his mouth.

It was unexpectedly good!

No, that was a dream that could not be. Instead, the next instant, he felt a piercing pain and the collective outrage of his senses. “Gahhh, my throat itches!”

“How is it? Is it good?”

“Does it look like it was good?”

Sumire used her thumbs and forefingers like a photographer to form a frame. Peeking through it, she gave a thoughtful nod. “If I were a photographer, I would call it ‘Anguish: Trapped Between Hell and Purgatory.’”

“Ugh, on top of being sweet, there’s also a gross sourness. What the heck is this?”

“Oh, it’s half-melted, but it started as a donut. It came out of the stomach of a corpse.”

Rentaro pressed a hand over his mouth.

“The sink is over there.”

He tried to throw up all the contents of his stomach. Gagging, he said, “W-wasn’t that evidence?!”

“No, the case was already solved. When I asked the inspector in charge if I could eat it, he gave his consent right away.”

“That’s definitely a lie!”

“You’re too concerned about the details.”

“It is not! A detail! At all!”

“Oh, I know,” she said, changing the subject, “since we’ve finally got three people here in these wonderful catacombs, let’s do something like the Oath of the Peach Garden from the Three Kingdoms! ‘Even though we were not born on the same day, when we die, let it be on the same day, at the same time.’ Oh, but Charlie is already dead.” She laughed, amused at her own joke.

What should I do? Rentaro thought. I seriously want to go home.

“For the cast, Charlie is Guan Yu, you’re Liu Bei, and I’ll be Zhang Fei. Hey, that unhappy-looking Liu Bei is terrible. I don’t sense a shred of personal virtue. It’s terribly miscast.”

“But a Zhang Fei that can only love corpses is okay?” Rentaro’s whole body felt tired. His shoulders drooped.

Sumire laughed happily as she took notes. “All right, let’s get down to business. Did you want to hear my autopsy report on the organism you killed?”

“Doc, the source—I think it’s probably the same Model Spider Factor, but there have been no eyewitness or extermination reports. At this rate, there will be more victims. I want to exterminate it as soon as possible. If it were to go into hiding, where do you think it would be?”

“Let’s see.” Sumire started to play around, spinning in her chair and crossing and uncrossing her legs. “One possibility is that it opened the lid of a manhole and went underground, shutting the lid firmly behind it.”

Rentaro raised his eyebrows. “With those spider’s legs?”

“It’s got twice as many limbs as a human. Wouldn’t that actually make it easier?”

“‘Gastrea are not intelligent organisms. They are simply lower life-forms that act on their natural instincts.’ Isn’t that what the textbooks say?”

Sumire shook her head, as if saying “Oh dear” and spread her hands. “For some reason, it’s become the accepted theory in Japan that Gastrea are not intelligent, but it’s been proven that this is mostly wrong. In the West, the opposite is the accepted theory.”

“Well, that’s what I think, too…,” said Rentaro. “But while your hiding underground theory seems to be on the right track, I don’t think that’s quite it. Recently, even the sewer system has security cameras equipped with night vision. If it’s as you say and the Gastrea ran underground, it would’ve been caught by those devices.”

“Oh, when did Japan become so advanced? I suppose being down here, I don’t know enough of what’s going on in the world. Hmm, the DNA of the source of the infection this time was overwritten with that of a jumping spider, huh…?” She looked at him. “Now that I think of it, you know a lot about animals in general, don’t you?”

Rentaro scratched his head and looked down, muttering to himself. “Well, I just know a little about natural science and ethology, that’s all. It started because I liked Fabre’s Souvenirs Entomologiques, and it kind of continued from there…”

She laughed at him. “I get it. You were the type who had no friends, so you watched bugs instead, right? You were pleased when you submerged an anthill with water, weren’t you?” Her voice changed a little. “‘Hah, drown! It’s Noah’s great flood! Know the wrath of God!’”

“Is that supposed to be me? Don’t just make stuff up!”

Sumire rested her chin on her elbow, which was on the armrest, and grinned broadly. “Anyway, you’re a real wimp. With such a gloomy hobby, you won’t be able to catch Kisara’s eye. If you like her, you should make her yours by sheer strength.”

Rentaro scowled. Why’d she start talking about this? “Doc, didn’t you know? Kisara is a master of the Tendo Martial Arts Sword Drawing Style. I’m only at the beginning level, so I’d just be killed. Her kidneys are failing, though, so she can only move for short amounts of time and does mostly office work now.”

When they were little, Kisara often protected Rentaro, who was bullied a lot by her older brothers at the Tendo house, but he didn’t like how she’d treated him as a servant ever since then. Even though he’d gotten strong enough to protect her now…

“Oh? Ah well, let’s get back to the topic at hand,” said Sumire. “Do you know the distinguishing trait of a jumping spider?”

“Its coloring, isn’t it?” said Rentaro. “And it’s famous for jumping to catch its prey.”

Sumire pulled out her own Tastee Wheat from the microwave and suddenly thrust a spoonful into her mouth. Eww! Rentaro thought as he watched her.

“That’s right,” she said. “You know, of course, that even if it became human size, the jumping spider, which uses its powerful jump to capture prey, would not be able to maintain the jumping distance of ten times its body size, right?”

“Yeah—uh, wait, really?”

“Hey now, get yourself together,” said Sumire. “They say that if a flea were human size, it would be able to jump as high as the Tokyo Tower, but if a flea were actually to become that big, never mind its jumping ability—it wouldn’t even be able to support its own body weight with those legs, and it wouldn’t be able to get enough oxygen through cutaneous respiration. It’s the same thing. Based on the law of gravity and the principle of scale, it’s pretty obvious that such a creature should not exist. But the Gastrea virus turns that idea on its head.”

The woman in the white lab coat stopped talking for a moment and smiled enigmatically.

Rentaro remained silent, urging her to go on. This wasn’t entomology anymore, it was physics. There was no place for the layman Rentaro to interrupt.

“When a Gastrea transforms, the hardness of its exoskeleton and its body functions increase to match its size. That’s why the larger the Gastrea, the harder and stronger it is. The Gastrea virus, which redesigns living organisms, is a threat. In principle, it is very similar to the reverse transcription of a retrovirus, but it doesn’t just replicate copies of itself—after analyzing its host’s DNA, it reconstructs it into its most suitable form.

“The problem is the speed at which this occurs. The corrosion speed of a Gastrea virus overwriting DNA is outside of the standard of all the living organisms on the Earth. Dawkins would probably piss his pants. If you told me that that it’s not from this planet, I’d believe you.

“And once its corrosion exceeds fifty percent inside the host’s body, the host is no longer able to maintain human form, and goes through the process of shape collapse, resulting in the host becoming a Gastrea. Through that process, some individuals gain original abilities that should not exist. Get it? It’s an evolutionary leap through mutation.”

Before Rentaro knew it, Sumire’s plate was empty. What in the world is wrong with her sense of taste?

“That was a long tangent, but the missing source could possess some sort of new ability, you know,” she said.

“Since we haven’t been able to find it, could it be some kind of optical camouflage?” Rentaro suggested.

“It could be a simpler mimicry camouflage, like a chameleon. If it really had the ability to distort light, Tokyo Area could be annihilated by a Pandemic tomorrow, even.”

“Don’t worry. Enju and I, as Initiator and Promoter, exist to prevent that from happening.”

“Enju, huh?”

“What is it?”

“I find the Cursed Children especially creepy. Especially once I found out about their origins. Ten years ago, at almost exactly the same time the Gastrea virus first appeared in the world, children in the womb with Gastrea-controlling factors were born, as if to oppose them. At first, a big deal was made of them being a gift from God to control the Gastrea, but in the end, that was completely wrong.”

Sumire looked like she was dreaming as she squinted in the air and let her gaze wander.

“The only way for an ordinary person to contract the Gastrea virus and become a monster is through the blood. Aerosol, or airborne infection, is not believed to occur. There were also many experiments that confirmed that infection did not occur orally or through sexual intercourse.

“However, when the virus entered orally, it did not die immediately, and if it happened to enter a pregnant woman’s mouth, then the child in her womb stored up the virus before it was born.

“The Cursed Children had red eyes when they were born, but appeared normal otherwise. In other words, even though they were infected with the Gastrea virus, the progress of the disease was extremely slow. If we think about the fact that normal people who are infected with a large amount of Gastrea virus at once change shape almost immediately, the fact that these girls’ bodies don’t change shape for years is miraculous. It is extremely interesting. See? I explained it without using a lot of technical jargon. Even an idiot like you can understand the gist of it, right?”

“Yeah, I wish you’d always talk like that…,” said Rentaro.

She’d stuck in plenty of nasty asides, but he was able to understand the general concept, thanks to her. Mimicry camouflage, huh? No matter what you might say about her, she was pretty amazing.

“Well, I’ll be going then, Doc.”

Sumire smiled as she gave a light wave to see him off. “Come again, FBI Agent Starling.”

“So we’re gender-bending now, Dr. Lecter?”

“Rentaro, you are late!”

When he returned to his dear apartment, the window of the second-floor bathroom suddenly opened, and out with the bath steam came Enju, leaning her upper body out of the frame. He was glad that she was welcoming him with her face wreathed with a smile, waving her hands, but he couldn’t condone her doing so while she was obviously naked and in the middle of taking a bath.

“Hey, idiot, what if someone’s looking?” he shouted back to her. “Close the window.”

“Don’t worry. My body belongs only to you!”

“Will you please try to understand what I’m saying? I’m saying it’s embarrassing for me!”

Rentaro ran up the stairs and thrust his key into the door of the corner room on the second floor. He flew into his eight-tatami, one-room home, and when he got to the changing room, he could hear the sound of the shower and see the silhouette of Enju’s slender body. It was a modest bodyline, but thin and supple and very beautiful.

He was flustered for a moment, but when he noticed the piece of paper that said “You can peek if you want” in Enju’s messy handwriting taped to the bathroom door, his strength left him all at once and he sank to the floor.

He could hear a voice from the bath. “You are late. Were you doing something naughty with Kisara?”

Rentaro plunked down and crossed his arms. “Shut up. She beat me up and told me to get to work.”

Enju laughed. “She would. That’s what I thought happened, as well.”

“You’re an evil freeloader.”

“Anyway, is dinner ready yet? My stomach feels like it’s caving in.”

Okay, okay, he thought as he picked up the clothes Enju had shed with abandon and put them in the laundry hamper with his own dirty clothes, then took them to the coin laundry on the first floor. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around, so he decided to use the machine that worked the best, the newest one in the back.

Rentaro thought that Enju wouldn’t want her clothes to be washed with his, but unexpectedly she had said, “Imagining you getting excited about wearing clothes that were washed with my underwear is fun,” and said it was fine. They were being washed with detergent, so there was nothing to get excited about, but it still meant he could wash them all in one load, so he let her believe what she wanted.

Thinking there was no way anyone would steal their clothes, he went back to the room and opened the fridge. He lined up the ingredients they had, including the bean sprouts they had bought, and thought for a moment.

Today, he would make egg-topped rice out of the eggs, braised burdock and carrot out of the burdock root and slightly old carrot, and fry the bean sprouts with the bit of cabbage that was left over. Once he figured out what to make, he knew the rest of the work would go quickly. He put a pink apron on over his school uniform and started cooking at lightning speed. Before he knew it, he was humming merrily away as he manipulated his long cooking chopsticks.

There was one time when Enju pestered him into letting her cook, but the result tasted so bad that he’d wanted to spit it out, so he had firmly sworn that he would never let her in the kitchen again. Sumire’s cooking not only tasted bad, but she also used unknown ingredients that gave it an unearthly feel. When Kisara cooked, the kitchen went up in flames.

Why did all the women around him completely lack cooking abilities? Just once, he wanted to meet a woman who could make a miso soup that tasted better than his.

With those thoughts floating around in his mind, the sauce of the last dish, the braised burdock and carrot, turned golden. He turned off the heat, removed his apron, and looked at the clock. It was eight p.m.

As he returned from getting the clothes downstairs, Enju had just finished her long bath. When she saw the kitchen, she said, “Ooh!” and jumped, reacting like the kid she was.

“Wait, don’t eat yet,” said Rentaro.

Enju turned to look at him like she was about to bite. “Why can’t I? When I came home, I gargled and washed my hands!”

“That’s not it.”

“I took the neighborhood circular next door like I was supposed to, and I didn’t doodle on it like last time.”

“I said, that’s not it.”

“I didn’t watch more than three hours of TV today!”

“That’s not it, either.”

“I’m not on trash duty today, am I?”

“That’s not it, Enju. Please, just notice!”

The small head couldn’t take it any longer and began to roar. “Just give me my food! Are you trying to starve me to death?!”

Enju seemed to notice something at that point, and her face turned bright red as she looked at him with upturned eyes. “Don’t tell me you were thinking that an empty stomach would exacerbate my lust, and that this was a roundabout way to tell me you desired to have an ultimate fight with me?”

Rentaro put both hands on Enju’s shoulders. “Just put on your underwear. We can start from there.”

“Thanks for the food,” said Rentaro as he put his chopsticks down and bowed.

“Thanks for the food!” said Enju, imitating him and giving thanks. “The food you cook is delicious, Rentaro. How is it that you can make such delicious food from such plain ingredients? You are like a magician.” Enju, who had changed into casual clothes, looked at him with her face bright.

Rentaro thought with a wry smile that she was overreacting. But it didn’t feel bad to be praised. “Well, yes, being imaginative and creative is important in every endeavor, Watson.”

“Who’s that? More importantly, will I be able to learn how to cook like you soon?”

“Uh, well, um, yeah…I’m sure you’ll be able to…eventually,” Rentaro answered, not meeting her eyes. “Everyone has their own strengths.”

“You said too much.” Rentaro poked her head gently, and she laughed with a “Tee-hee” and stuck out her tongue.

That was when Rentaro noticed a small cardboard parcel next to Enju. “Enju… What’s that under your arm?”

“Oh, it’s a new laptop computer! It just arrived.”

“How much was it…?”

“I found a cheap place, so the newest model was only 180,000 yen.”

“O-o-one hundred and eighty thousand…” Rentaro got dizzy and had to prop himself up with his hands.

Because Enju was also an employee of the Tendo Civil Security Agency, she received a salary that was way too much for a child’s allowance. To Rentaro, who was living hand to mouth, Enju cheekily buying expensive things and rubbing them in his face gave him stomachaches.

Seeing the greedy expression on Rentaro’s face seemed to make Enju realize something, and a smirk unbecoming of a child crossed her face. “I will lend money to you any time you wish.”

“Oh, you little devil. It’s your fault that I…”

One time in their poverty, right before they were about to be evicted from their apartment, he went crying to Enju and borrowed money to pay the rent they were defaulting on. However, the next day, Enju spread the story after dramatizing it to make it more amusing. Because of that, the people around him gave Rentaro the blunt nickname of “Lolita-complex pervo living off of a ten-year-old girl” (which spread to residents of the apartment, as well). After that, he made do with his own salary even if it killed him.

As he carried the dirty dishes to the sink, he glanced at the clock and remembered. From the dresser drawer, he took out a needle-less pressure syringe and flicked it open with his nail. “Enju, it’s time for your shot.”

“Drat, is it that time already?” she said.

He urged her to put her arm out. Enju hated shots, but she grudgingly stuck out her arm, her body stiff and eyes squeezed shut. Rentaro pressed the piston with a bitter smile. The girl’s frail body gave a twitch. The soft arm, thin as a small branch, sucked up the transparent blue liquid.

Once a day, it was the duty of all Initiators to get a shot of corrosion-inhibiting medication. If she neglected to do so, the corrosion percentage in her body would increase, and in the end, she would turn into a Gastrea.

The girls were born under special circumstances. Most mothers who gave birth to red-eyed children who were Gastrea factors went half-mad. For a time, there were a slew of infanticides where women would give birth to their children by a river and drown their babies in the water. Kids playing by the river could see the corpses of babies floating down the river. Rentaro also saw one once in the past, and it gave him a feeling of emptiness that was hard for him to describe as a child.

Before he knew it, Rentaro was looking intently at Enju’s face, eyes closed tightly, bearing the pain of the shot. Laughing, crying, angry Enju. It had taken a whole year for her to show him this much emotion. He thought about how she was when they were first introduced a year ago, and his heart was pained.

When he first met her through the mediation of the International Initiator Supervision Organization, or IISO, he’d been taken aback by her hostility and distrust of people, as well as her wild eyes. Rentaro had never felt such obstinate rejection in his life.

But now, Rentaro loved her smiles and even how she sometimes seemed too mature for her age. Of course, he loved her as a much-younger sister—or even, if he were bragging, as his own daughter.

“All done, Enju,” he said gently.

The girl’s wet eyes opened slowly, and her rosy, glossy lips opened slowly as if cramped. For some reason, Rentaro felt guilty and looked down in a hurry.

“What’s wrong, Rentaro?” she asked.

“I-it’s nothing!” He would never say it out loud, but Enju had grown very pretty recently. If Kisara were a beauty with a dark side, then Enju was her complete opposite.

“All right. We’re done with our work for the day. We’re done with dinner. Now that we’re full, there’s only one thing left to do.”

Enju looked embarrassed for a second and looked downward, spreading her arms and smiling as if she would accept anything that was done to her.

“Yup, good night.” Rentaro pulled the string of the light twice, pulled the blanket over himself, and lay down. After a while, he suffered a blow to the crown of his head that made his skull ring.

“Owwwww!” he groaned.

“Why are you ignoring me?!” shouted Enju. “When a lady makes a demand, it is a gentleman’s duty to quietly go along with what she wants.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What lady are you talking about? You’re a ten-year-old child! Save the sleep talking for when you’re actually asleep!”

“Then let me ask you this: What part of me is not a lady?” Enju stuck her chest out as far as she could.

“Hah, first of all, a lady is modest and prudent,” said Rentaro. “And your chest is completely flat.”

“What?!” She turned red as she balled up her fists, shaking. “Th-they will keep growing!”

“Enju, it’s important for a person to know when to give up.”

“It’s Kisara’s fault. She stole the part of my boobs that were still getting ready to grow!”

“Kisara has no such weird, goblinlike ability. I can guarantee that from when we used to bathe together as kids.” When he said that, he was surprised at his own perverted statement.

“Argh! I shouldn’t have bought a computer! I should’ve saved up to pay for breast implants in the future.”

Rentaro didn’t like the idea of an elementary school girl thinking about breast implants.

Enju pushed herself up. “However! There are unfortunate men like Rentaro in this world who are unable to love adult women. ‘Big brother, pwease give me a shot of love!’ That’s the kind of stuff you like, isn’t it? Sumire told me, you pervert.”

His head started to hurt, and he pressed his temples. “Please, don’t tempt me with your hellish sorcery. Anyway, where do you keep learning all those words?”

Enju puffed out her chest haughtily. “I learned them from my friend, Gookle.”

“That person’s evil! How many times do I have to tell you not to hang around with Gookle?!”

“Who cares? Let’s just get married. Let’s get married today! I will accept all of your perverted desires!”

On top of making him out to have a Lolita complex, she’d decided that he had perverted desires, and thumped around repeatedly, jumping so that it echoed into the apartment below them. Their downstairs neighbor, woken up by the noise, started to bang angrily on the ceiling with a bamboo stick, and the situation became extremely confused.

Rentaro held his head. If it weren’t for this, she’d be cute. Tilting his head to look at the clock, he sighed and wondered what time he would get to sleep tonight.

Enju blushed as she turned her head sharply in his direction. “That’s enough. I will take off my clothes.”

“Leave. Them. On!”

3

Shrinking away from the noisily chirping sparrows outside, Rentaro looked in the mirror at the face of a young man who looked like he didn’t want to do anything. There were circles under his half-closed, twitching eyes from lack of sleep, and more than an unfortunate face, it looked like the face of a villain. Fixing the collar on the black suit that was his uniform, he tied his necktie. For some reason, his neck felt itchy.

I don’t want to go to school, he thought from the bottom of his heart.

The TV had been left on and was showing the day’s horoscope. Taurus had the worst luck with money, as usual. To make matters worse, Taurus had bad health today, too. Hopefully the horoscope was wrong.

Turning off the shrilly whistling kettle, he poured hot water into his cup of instant coffee and let himself be enveloped in the aromatic fragrance of morning, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

Just then, the door to the entrance opened with a violent force. “Rentaro, the landlady said she’d lend us a bike!” said Enju, who flew in, her spirits high despite the early hour.

Yesterday, he had abandoned his bike near the scene of the incident, so even though it was regrettable, he probably would have been excused for being late. But now his excuse to rest longer was going away. He had a contract with the student council president and couldn’t skip school without a good reason.

He finished off his coffee and took the remote to look for a better channel. Just as he was about to turn off the TV, a reporter shouted, “Look at this!” and Rentaro and Enju turned their attention to the screen without thinking.

The young reporter gripped the microphone firmly in excitement, standing in front of the grand palace of Tokyo’s First District. Anyone would have immediately recognized the distinctive paved road and beautifully pruned trees.

Just then, the camera cut to a girl dressed in white on a balcony. Wearing layer upon layer of pure white fabric as thin as Japanese paper, her head was covered with a veil of the same material, making it seem like a wedding dress. Her clothes looked like a deep covering of heavy snowfall.

Her skin, and even the hair on her head, was white.

“Lady Seitenshi…”

His own voice shook as if his soul were leaving his body with the words.

Ten years ago, Japan had split into five areas. She was the ruler of one of those: Tokyo Area. She was the third Seitenshi, and had been installed in the position after the death of the previous Seitenshi. With her otherworldly beauty and shrewdness that was not just for show, this girl had far more support than the first and second famously bold and heroic Seitenshi.

“Rentaro, look.” Enju was pointing at the stern-faced seventy-year-old man standing next to the smiling girl. With his tall, dignified body dressed in formal Japanese hakama, from his build, he could have been part of the Secret Service.

“Damn, it’s the old man, huh?” said Rentaro.

Kikunojo Tendo, the Seitenshi’s aide, managed all of her support. Because Seitenshi was a hereditary position, in Tokyo Area, after they lost the war, that aide position became the political post with the greatest authority. That old man had made the Tendo family what it was.

Not really paying attention to what the reporter was so excitedly saying, Rentaro muttered absentmindedly, “No one has ever implemented a government where there’s no ruling class, huh?”

“Oh, really? By the way, won’t you be late?”

“Hmm? Oh!” When he looked at the clock on the top right-hand corner of the screen, the time it displayed gave him a start.

As an ordinary student and regular civil security agency employee, he had nothing to do with the government types, and he didn’t like the guys in positions of power, anyway. He turned off the TV and urged Enju outside.

“Let’s go!” he said to her.

She grabbed onto Rentaro’s waist, stuck her legs out from the luggage seat and shouted energetically. It was the pose she called the “Roman Holiday seat.”

The bike the landlady lent them was in pretty bad shape. The brakes hadn’t been oiled, and let out an ear-piercing sound every time he used them, and the spokes were so rusted that pieces of oxidation fell off as he pedaled. He wondered how many years this antique had been left unused in the shed.

But those things were soon forgotten once he started pedaling. As he strained to put strength into his feet on the pedals, he pushed comfortably through the fresh morning air. Enju gave a cheerful greeting to the students and men in business suits they occasionally passed. If he looked hard enough, he could see the Monoliths in the distance, brightly reflecting the sun’s rays. Underneath the trees lining the street that were sparkling with morning dew, the sunlight filtering through the trees changed shape and blinked like a kaleidoscope.

He felt strange.

Ten years ago, material civilization was at the brink of being destroyed due to the invasion of the Gastrea, and a vast number of people were killed or turned into monsters. At that time, the only expressions on people’s faces had been despair and loathing that had no outlet. It had only been ten years. Even so, it had been ten years.

Rentaro closed his eyes and breathed the scent of spring deeply into his lungs. Hearing the bell of a departing streetcar in the distance, emotions welled up from the bottom of his heart.

Just as Enju was clumsily shouting, “Rome! By all means, Rome” as Princess Ann, Enju’s school, Magata Elementary School, came into view. “All right,” she said. “I will now be zealous in my studies. We must part for a while, but don’t cry while I’m gone.” Enju made her parting farewell with her hand stretched out gallantly.

Looking at Magata High School two buildings down, Rentaro sighed in exasperation. “C’mon, Enju. We’re only going to be separated for a few hours. Don’t you think that’s a little too dramatic?”

“If I had my way, we would be together twenty-four hours a day. Rentaro, won’t you transfer to my class? I mean, you are not that intelligent, right? You could take the opportunity to start over from elementary school.”

“You say the craziest things out of the blue. Be kind to my pride.”

“Hmph,” she sulked. “Then be held back and wait for me for six years until I become a second-year in high school. That is my final compromise. Take it or leave it.”

“Being a twenty-three-year-old high school student is wrong in a lot of ways.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

“I do. Anyway, if I get held back that much, they’d kick me out.”

“How dare they?! I want to be in the same class as Rentaro…!”

Seeing the female students around giggling as they passed, Rentaro felt the heat go to his cheeks as he shrugged his shoulders.

“F-fine, I get it. By the way, Enju, inside the school—”

As if knowing what he was going to say next, Enju shook her head slightly and finished his sentence for him. “I know already. In order to hide the fact that I’m one of the Cursed Children, I must act with the utmost consideration inside the classroom.”

Only when she was saying things like this did Enju show her dead, cold eyes. Rentaro uncomfortably shifted his gaze. “All right… That’s fine, then… Sorry.”

“Oh, good morning, Enju!” A cheerful voice interrupted from the side. Rentaro saw a girl about Enju’s age with frizzy hair.

“Good day to you, Mai. I’m glad you look in good health.”

“You’re talking funny, as usual,” said the girl. “By the way, did you watch Tenchu Girls yesterday?”

“Of course. Tenchu Black’s nihilism where one could not tell if she was friend or foe was excellent, as expected.”

She was probably a classmate. Once the girls started talking about the cartoon, they didn’t spare another glance for Rentaro. Even though Enju’s attention was taken away from him in a second, and he was relegated to outside the mosquito net, watching the two talk, his face broke into an easy smile. He felt dumb for worrying even for a moment about her school life. “Well, I’m going now, Enju.”

Before she could say anything, he turned his back and straddled the bike. He kept going until he reached the bike stand of Magata High School two buildings over. The bell signaling the start of school rang as he parked the bike and put on the U-shaped lock.

Rentaro clicked his tongue. He was late. Looking up at the school with an unambitious expression on his face, he half-seriously considered going home. Instead, he hooked his bag on his back and rounded his shoulders, walking slowly into the school. It was the beginning of another boring day.

He slept through Japanese class, and during math class, he was called on three times, but the teacher gave up after being ignored all three times. During break time, the rodentlike girl who was the class president approached him nervously trying to get a survey that had been completed by everyone but him, but he ignored her, too, and she left, looking like she was about to cry.

Some meddlesome girl who looked like her protector came to say, “Hey, don’t you think you were a little mean?” but he ignored her, too. “Fine, do what you want, idiot!” she said, and went back to the circle of girls.

Rentaro could hear someone saying, “Is that guy even trying? Why is he even here?”

Rentaro looked out the window at the faraway Monoliths with a yawn.

Right around when fourth period ended, the phone in his breast pocket started to vibrate. Who’s calling me at this time of day? he thought as he rubbed his sleepy eyes and looked at the screen. Looking wearily at the caller’s name, he waited another ten rings for the caller to hang up, but lost to the persistent ringing of the phone and pushed the TALK button. “What do you want at this time of day…President?”

“Don’t call me President when we’re not working. Well, I’m calling you about work, though.” From the phone’s speaker, he could hear Kisara’s voice as clear as a bell.

“Is it about the case from yesterday?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you more details in the car. Anyway, just come with me to the Ministry of Defense for now.”

“Huh?” He thought he heard wrong. Wasn’t the Ministry of Defense responsible for Japan’s national defense? Huh? “H-hey, what’re you talking about…?”

“Look out the window.”

Hunching, he did as he was told and went over by the window. When he did, he saw a jet-black limousine parked in front of the school gates and his breath caught. “Damn it, all right, I’m going.”

“Idiot. You’re late. I’m behind you.”

“Huh…? Woah!” Taken aback, he let out a pathetic shout without thinking. Behind him was someone so beautiful it was bad for the heart when she appeared suddenly. He could tell that the other people in his class were also confused at the sudden appearance of someone from another school.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“B-but what about school?”

Kisara put her hands on her hips and glared at him as if he was trying to sneak a peek from below. “I left Miwa Academy for this, too, you know. School or work, which is more important? This month, we’ve had zero income thanks to someone, remember? Good-for-nothing Satomi.”

Rentaro shifted his gaze away from Kisara. “For some reason, I’ve come to love work a whole lot…”

“Very good. Now, come.”

He tried to find an opportunity to apologize for yesterday, but he completely missed his chance. Oh well, he thought, walking hunched over, two steps behind Kisara, who was slicing through the wind with her shoulders. Every one of the students who passed Kisara stopped, gaped, and looked back at her.

“Isn’t that the uniform for Miwa Academy?”

“No way, the same Miwa Academy that the Seitenshi attends?”

“It’s a school for rich girls, isn’t it? Woah, look at how beautiful she is. Who in the world is she?”

“No way, no way, no way!”

“Hey, who do you think that is walking behind her?”

“Who knows? A servant or something?”

A guy from your class! At least remember my face! Rentaro silently replied to the voices as he followed behind Kisara.

As they exited the school gate, Kisara got into the limousine—or at least pretended to as she turned back and passed it gallantly.

“Hey, fake rich girl,” Rentaro called toward her.

“Did you know, Satomi?” said Kisara. “You can call for a limousine on the phone.”

“Then why aren’t you getting in?”

“If I do, they’ll want to be paid.”

“Did you prank call them?”

“Don’t worry. I pinched my nose and gave them a fake name.”

“No, no, that’s not the issue here.”

“Oh, Satomi, look. It’s a stray Chihuahua.”

“Listen to me!”

Kisara broke into a run and started playing with the dog. When she leaned over to pat its head, the stray Chihuahua started licking her hand, and she laughed like it tickled. As Rentaro looked at the profile of her face, his heart started beating violently.

“Satomi, do you have something I can feed him?”

“Oh, huh?” he said, startled. “Hmm, oh yeah, I do have something. A lot of stray dogs come to our garden, and Enju likes to feed them. Here,” he said, pulling out a bag of beef jerky from his back pocket and holding it out to Kisara.

Kisara’s stomach rumbled with emptiness. Kisara stared at the beef jerky for a while. Before he could react, she grabbed it out of his hand with the force of a purse snatcher, turned around with her back facing him, and then—of all things—she started eating it.

Rentaro gaped, unable to move.

The poor Chihuahua, its food stolen from it, started to tremble, looking up with big wet puppy dog eyes.

Before long, Kisara, who was red up to her ears, turned just her neck to face Rentaro. “What? Do you have something to say?”

“Kisara, that was for the dog.”

“I was a dog in a past life!” She’d moved into the “unreasonable” phase of the argument.

“Kisara, shake.”

Kisara glared at him with a look that could kill, but before long, she bit her bottom lip and put her own hand on top of Rentaro’s palm, looking as red as a boiled lobster, and then turned her head away suddenly.

If she found it so humiliating, why was she giving him her hand?

“Turn around.”

Kisara spun in circles.

Somehow, it was starting to be fun.

“Weenie.”

“Pervert!”

“Wait, was there a trick like that?”

“You’re a pervert, Satomi!”

“Joking aside, Kisara, are you really having that much trouble making ends meet?”

Kisara looked down, embarrassed, and pulled out her wallet, opening it to show him. Looking inside, he suddenly felt the desire to cover his eyes with his hands. He didn’t realize she had fallen so low. “Hey, Kisara… You don’t have to purposefully pay a lot of money to go to a rich girl’s school. You could just go to a regular public school, can’t you?”

“Attending Miwa Academy is all that’s left of my pride as a Tendo,” she said defiantly. “I’m allowed, aren’t I? It’s the money I made from properly managing the meager assets I have as stocks and exchanges.”

“But Kisara, I thought you hated being called a Tendo?”

“How other people see me is a different matter, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah…it is, but…,” said Rentaro. He tried a different tack. “Well then, how were you planning on getting to the Ministry of Defense with what’s left in your wallet?”

Kisara smiled an extremely charming smile. “Satomi, you withdrew money from the ATM two days ago, didn’t you?”

Rentaro looked away from Kisara. His boss was trying to bum off of him!

“Satomi, you withdrew money from the ATM two days ago, didn’t you?”

“I did, but…” His voice trailed off.

“Satomi, you’re such a hard worker, and so strong, and reliable, too!”

“I thought you called me ‘good-for-nothing’ and ‘weak’ and ‘unreliable.’”

“That was ages ago. I’ve long since forgotten about that stuff.”

“That was yesterday, wasn’t it?”

“That was ages ago. I’ve long-since forgotten about that stuff.”

“I’ll expense it.”

“I’ll pay you back in my next life.”

He was appalled to hear this coming from a company president. Rentaro sighed a heavy sigh. “All right, fine! Let’s just hurry up and get going.”

As Rentaro started walking, Kisara grabbed hold of his sleeve and looked down. Seeing this, Rentaro got fed up. “What, was there something else?”

“Um…,” she said. “Satomi, the beef jerky… Is there any left?”

In the end, he gave Kisara the last two pieces of beef jerky, and she ate them then and there.

The stray Chihuahua looked up at Kisara with a betrayed expression on its face.

“It’s kind of late for this, but was it okay that we didn’t get Enju?”

As the train’s departure bell sounded, the doors closed with a rush of air. They were the only ones in the car.

Kisara pulled up her hair so that the nape of her neck was showing and looked at Rentaro. “It’s not like we’ll be fighting. It’s more like something that would just put Enju to sleep.”

“Oh, I see.” Rentaro understood. So they were going to be asked something about the incident from before. But why wasn’t the usual report enough by itself?

“I didn’t hear the details either, but I was just told to go. I hate bureaucrats. They’ve got the nerve to tell the civsec officers who protect the Tokyo Area that they should be grateful they are even getting jobs from them.”

“Then you should’ve just refused them this time.”

“No way. If they give even the slightest hint that they won’t give jobs to puny people like us, then we have no choice but to obey.”

Rentaro sighed. “Even though we’re ‘civil’ officers, we’re still attached to the government by a thread, huh?”

“They’re jealous. Theoretically, there is no limit to the abilities of the Initiators. A top-class Initiator is supposed to be strong enough to sway the balance of the world’s armies. That’s why the government generally wants to have all the civsec officers under control to manage them.”

“They want to have their cake and eat it, too. But wait, then does that mean that we’re about to enter enemy territory, in a way?”

Kisara lowered her long eyelashes and nodded slightly. “Oh dear, you just noticed? That’s why I went and got you, my bodyguard. You’re the only one I can depend on, so you need to be strong, okay?”

Inside Rentaro’s head, only her last words continued to echo, and gradually, deep emotions began to well up.

Just then, a soft weight fell gently on his shoulder, and he gave a start. Kisara was leaning her head against his shoulder. She blinked her heavy eyelids in annoyance. “Sorry… I’m a little sleepy. Let me borrow your shoulder. I’m always like this after I eat. I can’t sleep at school, either…”

“You can’t sleep?” he asked. “Why not?”

“I…am a Tendo… I’m supposed to be a model for everyone. I cannot show an unsightly side of myself.” She reached her limit. As the strength left her body, a weight fell on his shoulder. She seemed to have really fallen asleep.

Clang, clang, went the train, rushing along with a pleasant rhythm. The sunlight streaming in through the window changed the shadows and shone on Kisara’s expression.

Careful not to wake her up, Rentaro slowly turned his head toward her, and his eyes went to her bosom, where he would normally never look directly. Between her slender shoulder and the largely exposed area around her neck was the beautiful line of her collarbone. The soft swell that pushed up her school uniform slowly rose and fell at a distance that seemed almost close enough to touch.

His gaze went from her eyes and the tip of her nose to her well-featured face, lips, and long hair. A sweet fragrance that wasn’t perfume or shampoo intoxicated him. Every time her soft breathing hit the back of Rentaro’s neck, he felt like he was being shocked. She’s beautiful, he thought.

“Satomi…”

He almost answered her until he realized that she was talking in her sleep. But the words she choked out next left his heart hurting.

“Satomi…my revenge…help me…kill…Tendo…”

He paused for a long time before saying, “I will.”

Kisara knit her brows and curled up her body, starting to shake with fright.

“Fa…ther… Mother…no…don’t die… Satomi…help me…”

Rentaro put his arm around Kisara’s shoulder and hugged her tightly without a word.

4

The government building was deserted after lunch. When Rentaro and Kisara gave their names at the entrance, they were led into the government building and taken up in a pristine elevator. In front of a room marked MEETING ROOM 1 the staff member who was leading them bowed and left.

Opening the door in Kisara’s stead, Rentaro raised his voice involuntarily. The room was far larger than the small door made it seem. In the middle was a long elliptical table, and the back wall was covered with electroluminescent panels. The problem was the people who were inside.

“Kisara, this is…,” he started.

“I didn’t think that we were the only ones to be called,” said Kisara, “but I didn’t expect that so many people in the same business would be invited.”

People wearing well-tailored suits who looked to be civsec agency presidents were already sitting in their assigned seats, and behind them were people who obviously specialized in fighting, staying back. In their hands glittered black chrome Varanium alloy weapons. They were definitely Promoters like Rentaro. He also saw a number of Initiators about the same age as Enju next to them.

What in the world is about to start here? The instant Rentaro stepped into the room, the idle talk that had filled it stopped, and bloodthirsty glares shot at him.

“Woah, hold up. What’s the deal with the quality of civsec officers these days? Are kids playing at being civsec now? Maybe you’ve got the wrong room. If you’re here for a social studies field trip, you should just turn around right now.” One of the Promoters yelled loud enough for him to hear and headed in their direction.

The Promoter’s intimidating, iron plate–like chest was obvious even through his tank top. His hair was spiked like flames, and his mouth was covered by a face scarf with a skull on it. The eyes assessing Rentaro’s worth were opened wide, with white showing between the iris and the lower eyelid.

He held what could be called a bastard sword—a thick, long broadsword that looked like it weighed more than ten kilos. Of course, it was made of Varanium, so the blade was black. The slender Rentaro would have had a hard time swinging the giant sword. Just the fact that the Promoter was holding it lightly made it clear that he was no ordinary man.

Rentaro mustered his courage and stood in front of Kisara to protect her, but apparently the man didn’t like that. “Yeah?” he said threateningly.

“Who the hell are you?” said Rentaro. “If you’ve got business with me, tell me your name first.”

“What do you mean, ‘Who the hell are you? If you’ve got business with me, tell me your name first,’ little boy? You’re obviously a weakling.”

“Civsec officers’ true abilities can’t be determined by how they look.”

“‘Civsec officers’ true abilities can’t be determined by how they look’? You’re getting on my nerves. I want to kill you. Seriously.” His sticky glare made Rentaro’s knees shake and beads of sweat appear on his forehead.

Damn it, why is there a thug like this guy here? He didn’t want to pick a fight in a place like this. As he looked around wondering what agency the man belonged to, a sharp blow hit his face. Rentaro was blown back and stumbled backward. The next instant, he jumped up, pressing on his face with one hand.

Being suddenly head-butted in the face he was more surprised than hurt. He stretched his hand out to the XD gun in his belt.

“Idiot,” said the man contemptuously. “What’re ya gettin’ all worked up about? That was just a greeting.”

Around them were sniggers that seemed to be making fun of him.

That bastard! thought Rentaro.

“Satomi, don’t get involved with the likes of him. Don’t forget what we’re here for.”

“Hey, bitch, what did you say just now?”

“Stop it, Shogen!”

Their rescuer was a man sitting at the table who was probably the Promoter’s employer.

“Aw, come on, Mr. Mikajima!”

“Enough’s enough. If there is bloodshed in this building, we are the ones who would be in trouble. If you cannot follow my orders, then get out this instant!”

The man called Shogen looked like he was thinking things over and was eerily silent for a moment. Then he left, with an insolent “Yessir” and a final sidelong glance at Rentaro.

Rentaro relaxed his body and sighed deeply. When he did, this time it was the man’s employer approaching them, with his hands wide. He looked to be in his midthirties and had the air of the elite about him. He wore a Christian Dior suit and looked like an intellectual.

“You there,” said the man. “Sorry about that. He’s terribly short-tempered.”

“You can’t even properly discipline your pet dog?” said Rentaro.

The man didn’t blink an eye at Rentaro’s snide remark. “I really do apologize.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m used to it, so it’s fine.” That was the truth. Of the civsec Promoters, the hard truth of the matter was that while there were those who stuck to their philosophical beliefs, there were also many who just wanted a place to run wild, or who were criminals who used the position as a cover.

The man turned to face Kisara. “It is a pleasure to meet someone so beautiful.”

“My, aren’t you a sweet talker,” said Kisara.

The man showed no sign of turning in Rentaro’s direction again. Even as he seemed calm and collected in his expensive suit, he also gave an air of nervousness.

Kisara wrapped things up with a sociable smile, and she was moderately pleasant as she sat down in a tall-backed chair.

“We’re in the lowest seat, huh?” said Rentaro.

“There’s no helping it,” said Kisara. “In terms of strength, we’re the lowest in rank.”

Looking around again, Rentaro saw those invited were all big names who practically oozed with capability.

“Then why are weaklings like us even here?” Rentaro whispered quietly in her ear as he looked at the guys from before sitting across from them. “Also, who are those guys?”

Kisara pulled out the business card she had exchanged with the man earlier, still facing forward. There was a watermark on the back that said in gold letters, MIKAJIMA ROYAL GUARD, REPRESENTATIVE DIRECTOR, KAGEMOCHI MIKAJIMA.

Rentaro gave a small groan. Even among the major players, this was a huge name that even Rentaro had heard of. It was a large civsec agency that employed many capable pairs. “That means that Promoter is also extremely skilled, huh?” he said.

“Someone said ‘Shogen’ earlier, so he’s probably Shogen Ikuma,” said Kisara. “His IP Rank is 1,584.”

“He’s on the thousands board, huh?”

IP Rankings, which were regulated and published by the International Initiator Supervision Organization, were rankings based on the number of Gastrea defeated and the battle results. There were problems with individual differences in compatibility, but the rank assigned by the IISO was basically thought of as the basis for measuring a pair’s strength.

Rentaro wiped the sweat from his palms onto his pants. If that man had come at him in a rage earlier, Rentaro would have been knocked flat, no doubt about it.

“By the way, Satomi, do you remember the IP Rank assigned to you and Enju?” said Kisara.

“I don’t remember exactly, but…around 120,000 something, right?” said Rentaro.

“I don’t remember the exact number either, but it’s about there.” Kisara peeked in Rentaro’s direction and sighed affectedly. “And that corporation employs pairs that are even stronger than him. I’d love a Promoter that strong in my office. Even though my Initiator is extremely gifted, my Promoter is a good-for-nothing idiot who’s ranked lower than me, and is hopelessly weak, at that.”

Rentaro pretended he didn’t hear her, but inside his heart, he felt that Kisara’s words had hit the nail on the head.

How well-known a company was was directly linked to the quality of its Initiators and Promoters. In other words, if a civsec agency was famous, it was because it employed a number of strong pairs. Enju was strong. With an adequate Promoter, she could probably make it into the thousands board. If she was stuck in the 120,000s middle zone, it was natural for her partner to be called incompetent.

Just then, a bald man wearing a uniform entered the room. All at once, the company presidents in the room, including Kisara, stood up, but the man urged them to sit with a wave of his hand. He was too far away for Rentaro to make out his badge of rank, but he was probably a self-defense force staff officer.

“The fact of the matter is that we have gathered you civil officers here today because we have a job for you. Feel free to assume the job comes from the government.” The bald man seemed to be waiting for something as he paused for a beat and scowled as he looked around. “Hmm, one absentee, I see.”

Now that he looked, Rentaro could see that the only empty seat was six seats down from them with a triangular nameplate that said OSE FUTURE CORPORATION on it. He had met them once before on a job. The fat president had been accompanied by the lanky secretary who briskly took care of whatever the president needed. They seemed like a comedy duo, somehow. He wondered what had happened to them.

“Before explaining the contents of the job, if there is anyone who does not wish to take on this job, please stand up and leave the room now. Once you’ve heard what the job is, you may no longer turn it down.”

Rentaro sighed inwardly. What was the difference between a job you were forced to take and a task you were ordered to do? He looked around, but as expected, not a single person stood up.

The elliptical table that was not quite round had over thirty people seated around it, including Kisara. Kisara, who had come straight from school and was still wearing her school uniform, stood out like a sore thumb, but she herself didn’t seem to care.

And behind the company presidents were the Promoters. Their clothes were all over the place. There was a woman who was wearing all red, with a red bodysuit and even dyed-red hair, and a tall, gangly man with bandages on his face who brought to mind Giacometti’s statues. The thought that “I’m going to a government building, so I should wear formal clothes” didn’t seem to have crossed a single one of their minds.

Shogen Ikuma stood by himself with his back to the wall.

Huh? Rentaro noticed a girl standing close to Shogen. She wore a dull, long-sleeved dress with tights. She had large bright eyes, but there was a coldness to them.

Shogen had left such a strong impression that Rentaro didn’t notice her until now, but she must have been his partner Initiator. At that moment, his eyes met the girl’s. Rentaro hurriedly shifted his gaze, but he could feel her staring at him. After a while, he moved only his eyes to look in her direction, but she was still looking at him.

He didn’t know what she was thinking, but she pressed on her stomach with her hands and looked a little sadly in his direction. At first, he was worried that she might have a stomachache, but he soon realized that the subtle expression on her face meant “I’m hungry.” She was an interesting girl to be paired with the tough Shogen.

“Very well, then may I assume that no one intends to refuse the job?” The bald man seemed to emphasize this point by looking at everyone in order. Then, he said, “You will receive the explanation from this personage,” and withdrew.

Suddenly, on the large panels in the back of the room appeared the figure of a girl. “Good afternoon, everyone.”

Kisara opened her eyes wide, and then stood up with force the next instant. At almost the same time, the other company presidents also stood hurriedly.

Rentaro, too, looked at the panels with unbelieving eyes.

With her pure white clothes that made it look like she was covered in snow and her silver hair—it was the Seitenshi, the ruler of Tokyo Area after Japan’s defeat in the war. At a distance not too far and not too close was Kikunojo Tendo, who accompanied her like a shadow. It looked like a live feed from a Western-style room somewhere. For just a moment, Kisara’s and Kikunojo’s eyes met, and sparks flew. Knowing the feud between them, Rentaro was scared.

The Seitenshi sat comfortably in an art nouveau–inspired chair of delicate craftsmanship, and expensive-looking paintings and a canopied bed could be seen behind her. It was probably her private room in the Seitenshi’s palace.

Rentaro started to feel a strange uneasiness at the sudden appearance of such a person of authority. He had a hunch that they had become involved in something dangerous.

“Please be at ease, everyone,” said the Seitenshi. “I will now explain the circumstances.”

Not a single person sat down.

“That being said,” she continued, “the job itself is extremely simple. The job I have for all of you civil officers is the elimination of the source Gastrea who infiltrated Tokyo Area yesterday and infected one person. In addition, please safely recover the case thought to have been taken by said Gastrea.”

Case? thought Rentaro.

A separate window opened on the EL panel, and a photo of a duralumin silver case popped up. The number that appeared next to it was the reward money for completion of the job. Seeing that price, obvious bewilderment filled the air.

Mikajima suddenly raised his hand. “May I ask a question? May we assume that the Gastrea either swallowed the case or the case became engulfed in it?”

“That is correct,” said the Seitenshi.

Being “engulfed” referred to a phenomenon that occurred when a victim became a Gastrea, and ripped clothes, skin, or anything the victim might have been wearing would be surrounded by the skin portion and thus adhere to the Gastrea. If that happened, the only way to remove them was to defeat the Gastrea first.

“Does the government have any information on the Gastrea’s shape, type, or current location?” said Mikajima.

“Unfortunately, those details are still unclear,” said the Seitenshi.

Next, Kisara raised her hand. “May I ask what is inside the case that you would like us to retrieve?” In the commotion that followed, it became clear that the agency presidents around them were excited. Unexpectedly, it seemed that Kisara had asked what was on everyone’s minds.

“Oh? And you are?”

“My name is Kisara Tendo.”

An expression of slight surprise crossed the Seitenshi’s face. “I have heard of you… Even so, that is a strange question, President Tendo. Because it concerns the privacy of the client, of course, I cannot answer.”

“I cannot accept that. If, according to common sense, the source Gastrea is the same type as the infected person, then the source Gastrea is also a Model Spider. Something of that level could be defeated by my Promoter by himself.” After she finished addressing the Seitenshi, she turned toward Rentaro with a look of uncertainty in her eyes and added, “Probably…”

What a rude president.

Kisara continued. “The question is, why is such an easy job being presented in such an unprecedented way—and why ask all the top-class civil officers? That is what I do not understand. Isn’t it only natural, then, that I am left to assume that the danger that merits such compensation lies in what the case contains?”

“There is no need for you to know that, is there?” said the Seitenshi.

“Perhaps not. However, if you insist on keeping your cards hidden, then we will withdraw from this case.”

“If you leave now, there will be a penalty involved.”

“I am prepared for that. I will not expose my employees to danger with such an unsatisfactory explanation.”

In the tense silence that followed, Rentaro thought about the unexpected outcome. On the train, Kisara had said that she could not refuse a job from the government, but—

Just as he thought he should say something and opened his mouth, shrill laughter suddenly filled the room.

“Who’s there?” asked the Seitenshi.

“It’s me.” Everyone’s gazes, including Rentaro’s, went to the speaker. Rentaro was startled at what he saw.

In President Ose’s previously empty seat, the mysterious man in a mask, silk hat, and tailcoat sat with his legs on the table. The CEOs on both sides of him were so surprised at his sudden appearance that they screamed and fell off their chairs.

Rentaro knew who he was. In fact—“You’re… No way…”

“Oof,” said the man, as he bent his body and jumped up, stepping on the table with his shoes on. The agency presidents watched dumbfounded.

Once the man got to the middle of the table, he confronted the Seitenshi.

“Tell me your name,” said the Seitenshi.

“Oh, excuse me.” The man took off his silk hat and folded his body in half to bow. “I am Hiruko. Kagetane Hiruko. It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss incompetent head of state. To put it bluntly, I am your enemy.”

The chills running up his spine made Rentaro draw his gun. “Y-you…”

The man who called himself Kagetane turned his neck with a violent force toward Rentaro. “Oh ho, have you been well, Satomi? My dear friend.”

“How did you get in here?!” Rentaro demanded.

“Oh ho, the correct answer to your question is: from the front door, like everyone else, I suppose. There were some annoying little flies that kept coming at me, though, so I killed a few of them. Oh right, this is the perfect time to introduce you to my Initiator. Kohina, come.”

“Yes, Papa.”

Before they could turn to look, a girl walked up between Satomi and Kisara. Rentaro felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. How long had she been behind them?

She had short, wavy hair and wore a frilly black dress. From the length of the two scabbards that crossed her back, they probably held short swords.

“Whoopsie daisy,” she said as she lifted her arms and legs and climbed up the table with effort, going to stand beside Kagetane and curtsying, holding her skirt in her hands. “I’m Kohina Hiruko, ten years old.”

“She is my Initiator and my daughter,” said Kagetane.

Initiator? This man is a civsec officer?

Kohina slowly looked left and right with a sleepy look on her face. After a short while, she tugged on Kagetane’s sleeve mild-manneredly. “Papa, everyone’s looking. It’s embarrassing, so can I kill them? Also, that guy is pointing a gun this way. Can I kill him?”

“There, there,” said Kagetane. “But you can’t kill them yet. Have patience.”

“Aw, Papa…”

Seeing blood dripping from the scabbard on the girl’s hip creating a stain on the table, Rentaro shuddered. Continuing to hold his gun ready, he used his free hand to move Kisara behind him. “What do you want?” he demanded.

“I came to greet you all today,” said Kagetane. “I just wanted you to know that I am also entering this race.”

“Entering? What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying that we are the ones who will take the Inheritance of the Seven Stars.”

The moment she heard those words, the Seitenshi squeezed her eyes shut for a moment in resignation.

“The Inheritance of the Seven Stars?” said Rentaro. “What’s that?”

“Oh? You were all really being made to take this job without knowing anything, huh? You poor things. It’s what’s inside the duralumin case you were talking about.”

“So yesterday, you were in that room because—”

“That’s right. I followed the source Gastrea into the room, but what I was looking for had disappeared somewhere, and as I was hanging around, a police squad broke the window and came in. They surprised me, so I ended up killing them quite by accident.” He laughed from deep in his throat as he held his mask to his face.

Rentaro felt hatred for the laughing Kagetane. “You bastard…”

Kagetane spread both arms wide and turned on the tabletop. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s review the rules! This is a race to see who can find the source Gastrea and get their hands on the Inheritance of the Seven Stars first. The Inheritance of the Seven Stars is surely engulfed in the Gastrea’s body, so all you have to do to get ahold of it is kill the Gastrea. How about we bet your lives?”

“I can’t listen to your yapping any longer.” The muffled voice came from the other side of the table. It was Shogen Ikuma, with his bastard sword and his skull-face scarf. “You’re talking too much. Basically, we just need you to die right now, right?”

Rentaro thought Shogen had disappeared, but the next instant, Shogen had buried himself into Kagetane’s chest. He was fast. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Oh?” said Kagetane, amused.

Surrounded by a sudden surge of wind, the great sword swung like a tornado. Its deadly timing was perfect, leaving no margin for escape. But then—it was repelled with a thunderous clang, and the next instant Shogen’s sword flew in a different direction.

“Wha…?” said Shogen.

“Too bad!” said Kagetane.

What was that just now?

It was only for a second, but Rentaro saw a bluish-white phosphorescent glow between Shogen’s sword and Kagetane.

“Get back, Shogen!” With Mikajima’s single roar, Shogen instantly understood and retreated, clicking his tongue.

As if they had been waiting for that instant, all the presidents and Promoters who had gathered drew their self-defense pistols at once and fired round after round. Rentaro fired. Kisara fired, too.

The ear-splitting sound of gunfire came from all directions, 360-degrees around. The thunderous sound came again, and this time, the bluish-white glow was more clearly visible.

It was a dome-shaped barrier. When the bullets hit the barrier, they were repelled in all directions with a shrill sound. The glass in the furniture and on the paintings was blown away, and the sound of bullets competed with someone’s war cry.

Rentaro also shot his XD gun as if possessed, but after a while, he was out of ammo and the slide stop popped up, and everyone there had fired all of their bullets. In the strange silence filled with the pungent smell of gunpowder smoke that followed, the cries of the unfortunate people here and there who had been hit with stray bullets could be heard.

“No way…” Rentaro swallowed his bitter spit along with the out-of-this-world sensation that he felt.

In the middle of the table riddled with bullet holes, the masked man and the girl looked down at everything around them. All the high-ranking people in attendance froze as if numb.

Kagetane placidly spread his arms. “It’s a repulsion force field. I call it Imaginary Gimmick.”

“A barrier…? Are you really human?” said Rentaro.

“I assure you I am human. However, in order to generate this, most of my organs have been replaced with Varanium instruments.”

“Instruments…”

“Let me tell you again who I am, Satomi. I am Kagetane Hiruko, former member of the Ground Self-Defense Force’s Eastern Force, 787th Mechanization Special Unit, of the New Humanity Creation Project.”

Mikajima’s eyes widened in surprise. “The special unit created to counter Gastrea during the Gastrea War…? It actually exists…?”

“You are free to believe it or not,” said Kagetane. “Well, what am I trying to say, Satomi? Basically, I was not fighting seriously at all before. Sorry.”

Kagetane came silently in front of Rentaro, and like he was performing a magic show, he used a white cloth to cover the palm of his hand, counted to three, and pulled it away. When he did, a box tied with a red ribbon appeared. Putting it on the table, he lay a hand on the astonished Rentaro’s shoulder. “It’s a present for you,” he said. “And now, I will take my leave of you. Fall into despair, civsec. The day of extinction is at hand! Let’s go, Kohina.”

“Yes, Papa,” said the girl. The two walked calmly to the window, broke it, and jumped down as if this were completely natural.

Everyone in the room, including Rentaro, could not move for a while. No one said a word about chasing after them.

It was the first time Rentaro thought he might be killed with a glance. Just don’t vomit, he told himself as he bore down with all his might on the nausea that was rising from the pit of his stomach.

Rentaro gave a start as someone suddenly laid a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he saw Kisara with a stern expression on her face. “Satomi, I demand an explanation. Where have you met this man?”

“Well…,” Rentaro hesitated.

In the silence, Mikajima’s anger got the best of him, and he banged on the table with his fists. “Lord Tendo. The New Humanity Creation Project—was what that man said true?”

“There is no need to answer that.” The boulderlike Kikunojo replied immediately, unwaveringly.

As a heavy silence fell, a man in a half-mad state suddenly burst into the meeting room. “It’s terrible. The president is…!”

The shrill voice belonged to the lanky secretary who was always with President Ose, who was absent from the meeting. He was deranged, and his shoulders heaved as he panted and his eyes bulged. “The president was killed in his house! Th-the head of the corpse is nowhere to be found!”

Everyone’s gaze went to the box that had been set in front of Rentaro. Each side of the box was about thirty centimeters long. Rentaro untied the ribbon with shaking hands, and lifted the lid.

After facing it for a while, he slowly lowered the lid.

He had only met the man two or three times on the job, but in the midst of so many bloodthirsty civsec officers, he was a man who never stopped smiling, so Rentaro remembered privately liking him. His balled up fist shook, and he was filled with so much rage it made him dizzy. “That bastard…!”

“Quiet!” At the Seitenshi’s clear voice, Rentaro slowly raised his face that was frozen in an expression of rage. “The situation has taken a rather unusual direction. Everyone, allow me to add a new condition to fulfilling the job. Please retrieve the case before the man trying to get the case does so. If you do not, terrible things will happen.”

Kisara glared at the Seitenshi. “You will explain just what is inside the case, won’t you?”

The Seitenshi closed her eyes and bit her lip lightly. “Very well. Inside the case is the Inheritance of the Seven Stars. It must be sealed. If misused by wicked people, it could destroy the Monolith barrier and cause a Great Extinction in Tokyo Area.”