“Are you out of your mind?! We have to save those people!” Arata’s voice rang out, sharp and filled with urgency, his eyes wide with incredulity. He took a step forward, his body tense, as if ready to spring into action at any moment.
Alex’s face tightened, his lips forming a thin line as he tried to maintain his composure. “And what? Get ourselves killed?” he retorted, his voice rising defensively. “The Commander has given his order. We wait until Squad A gathers, and they will take care of the situation.” He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to project an air of authority and confidence.
Arata’s frustration was palpable. He ran a hand through his hair, his movements jerky and agitated. “What if it’s too late by that time?!” he shot back, his voice tinged with desperation. His eyes bore into Alex’s, searching for some sign of understanding or agreement.
“It won’t be. If the Commander has said we need to wait, he will work it out,” Alex said firmly, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He tried to hold Arata’s gaze but eventually looked away, the weight of his responsibility pressing heavily on him.
Arata let out a long, frustrated sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. “What a hopeless leader you are,” he muttered under his breath, the disappointment in his voice cutting through the room like a knife.
“What?” Alex’s head snapped up, his face a mix of confusion and hurt. His eyes widened, and he took a step back as if physically struck by Arata’s words.
The room, which had been lively and filled with the sounds of camaraderie just moments before, fell into a heavy silence. Lila’s eyes darted between Alex and Arata, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, a look of concern etched across her face. Dan stood still, his usually animated expression replaced with a serious frown, his fists clenched at his sides as he watched the confrontation unfold.
Elio’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he tried to process the argument. He stood with his arms crossed, his posture rigid and tense. Carly hovered nearby, her wings slightly drooped, her revolver hanging loosely at her side. She bit her lip, her gaze flickering nervously between the two men, clearly unsettled by the sudden shift in the room’s atmosphere.
“Let’s not fight, Arata. We are a team, remember? We need to work together, and if we fight, nothing good is going to come of it,” Carly interjected, her wings flaring slightly as she stepped between Arata and Alex, her voice filled with a pleading earnestness. She looked up at Arata, her eyes wide with concern and her hand gently resting on his arm, trying to calm the storm she saw brewing in him.
Arata’s gaze softened momentarily as he looked at Carly. He let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. “It’s not about that, Carly…” he began, his voice lowering as he turned his eyes back to Alex, the intensity returning. “You know, Alex… You are not a leader. Yeah, the Commander has taken you as a leader… But all you do is command without strategy.”
Alex’s face tightened, his jaw clenching as he listened. He opened his mouth to respond, but Arata continued, cutting him off. “You know what’s even more frustrating?” Arata’s voice grew sharper, his words like daggers. “The fact that you are such a suck-up that the Commander probably likes the shit out of you.” He took a step closer to Alex, his eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and disappointment.
Alex’s eyes widened in shock, the words hitting him hard. He glanced around the room, seeing the team watching the confrontation. His face flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment.
“That’s why he never pointed out anything about your leadership but rather kicked me out instead.” Arata’s voice was bitter, a disappointed smile playing on his lips. He shook his head, the frustration evident in every line of his body. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, his body practically vibrating with the intensity of his emotions.
“Whatever, I can’t sit around when people are in danger. If you can’t, I will go fight,” Arata declared, his voice firm and resolute. His eyes blazed with determination as he took a step toward the door, his body radiating defiance.
Alex’s face contorted with frustration, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I will take away your authorization to transform if you do,” he warned, his voice hard and unyielding. The words were sharp, slicing through the tense air between them.
Arata turned back to face Alex, a bitter smile curling on his lips. “So that’s how it is… Do what you want. As a ringmaster, it is my duty to protect people. For all I care, you can take away my powers, but that won’t stop me from helping people.” His voice was calm, but underneath, there was a fierce, unyielding resolve.
Alex’s eyes flashed with anger, his voice rising in a rare display of emotion. “RYUKI ARATA, YOU ARE MAKING A MISTAKE!” he shouted, the sound echoing through the room. His face was flushed with frustration and fear, a vein throbbing at his temple.
“Mistake?” Arata stops in his tracks, turning on his heel to face Alex. His eyes burn with fury as he strides back, closing the distance until he’s right in Alex’s face. “You want to talk about mistakes?” His voice drips with sarcasm and bitterness. “Oh, let’s start with leaving two amateurs with a very important person. When they tried to contact you, what were you doing? Having sex with your co-worker!” Arata’s lips curl into a derisive smile as he shrugs, mocking the absurdity of the situation.
Alex’s face pales, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly, unable to find a retort.
Arata’s eyes narrow as he continues, his voice gaining intensity. “Okay, you want to know more? How about this: during the whole Bat Vampire incident, not once did you command me or even contact me. In fact, none of you did.” He points an accusatory finger at everyone, his gaze sweeping across the room. “It’s like I was the only one concerned with the incident.”
Arata steps back, his shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. “Oh, you want more? During the whole school situation, once you were contacted and you reached the school, you didn’t rescue a single student. You were more concerned about finding me? Oh, come on, Alex. You and I both know that was a lie.” He sighs, his expression a mix of frustration and disappointment. “You clearly didn’t know what to do in that situation.”
Alex’s face contorts with a mix of anger and shame. He struggles to find words, his eyes darting around the room, looking for support or a way out of the confrontation. The tension is palpable, the room filled with the unspoken acknowledgment of Arata’s points.
“On the bridge, you froze when fighting the big guy. When we were fighting the water guy, your commands were sloppy. Oh, but everyone’s happy because it didn’t cost anything. It’s fine, there won’t be any issues.” Arata chuckles, but the sound is bitter, laced with disappointment.
Alex flinches at the words, his face a mask of shock and defensiveness. He opens his mouth to protest but finds no words to counter Arata’s accusations.
Arata’s eyes are piercing as he continues, his voice steady but cutting. “You know, as a leader, you haven’t done a thing related to being a leader. You are nothing but a disappointment.”
Each word is a knife, and Alex’s shoulders slump under the weight of the criticism. He looks around the room, hoping for support, but finds only silent agreement in the eyes of his teammates. The air is thick with tension, and the atmosphere has shifted from a camaraderie to a somber reckoning.
Arata turns to leave, his steps deliberate and heavy. But he pauses, turning back with a final look of disdain. “By the way, Carly, Lila, I know you both don’t care about me, so don’t pretend like you do. Even when Elio was kidnapped and I was injured, you didn’t seem concerned about that but rather you were crying because you knew there was no way to rescue him, Carly.” His finger points accusingly at Carly, whose face flushes with guilt and anger.
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Her eyes widening in shock and hurt. She opens her mouth to speak but is silenced by Arata’s next words.
“After you knew he was safe, you just showed me a middle finger and called me an Undergrounder.” Arata’s sigh is heavy with sorrow and frustration, the weight of unspoken grievances hanging in the air.
“What if I am? Will you kill me? Will you hunt me down? I am helping people more than you, so tell me, will you kill me if I am an Undergrounder?” Arata explodes, his voice echoing through the room with raw intensity. His fists clench at his sides, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and pain.
Alex takes a step back, clearly taken aback by Arata’s outburst. He opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out, his face a mask of confusion and hurt.
Arata’s gaze shifts to Lila, who is about to speak. “Oh Lila, you don’t need to talk.” He cuts her off, his voice sharp and dismissive. “We all know you want nothing more than Alex’s dick, so get the fuck out of my face.”
The tension in the room is palpable, everyone holding their breath, waiting for the next explosive statement.
Arata turns to Elio, his expression softening slightly. “Sorry, Elio, but this is just what I feel, bro.” His voice is quieter now, a hint of regret seeping through the anger.
Elio nods, his face calm and understanding. “I understand,” he says softly, his eyes meeting Arata’s with a look of solidarity.
“Jenny, Dan. I am sorry, but I have to rescue those guys. This hostage situation, it’s something I need to do before it’s too late.” Arata’s voice is firm, his resolve evident in his determined expression.
Jennifer steps forward, her eyes filled with understanding. “We understand, Aru.” She reaches out, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. Her lips curve into a soft, encouraging smile, even as concern flickers in her eyes.
As Arata walks away, his footsteps echoing through the room, everyone watches in silence. The weight of the moment is heavy, the tension palpable. Jennifer sighs deeply, the sound filled with a mix of frustration and sadness. “He isn’t wrong even in the slightest… Yet you guys still don’t look guilty whatsoever.” Her voice is sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife. Her gaze sweeps across the room, taking in the indifferent faces of her teammates.
“You all look like you have no remorse for people. I don’t know what the hell kind of organization I got stuck with.” Jennifer’s words are laced with bitterness as she walks towards a nearby table, her steps purposeful. She pulls out a chair and sits down heavily, her hands clenching the edge of the table. Her frustration is evident in the tense set of her shoulders and the hard line of her jaw.
Elio looks up from his research, his eyes meeting Jennifer’s for a moment before he speaks. “I am also with Arata on this one. He isn’t wrong this time.” His voice is calm but carries a weight of conviction. He turns back to his table, his hands moving methodically as he resumes his work, though his mind clearly remains on the unfolding situation.
Dan moves to sit next to Jennifer, his large frame filling the chair. “Me too. I think he has had enough and understandably so. You guys have been pressuring him too much. Especially, after his ring was on the line.” His voice is steady, but there’s an edge of protectiveness as he speaks. He glances around the room, his eyes hard as they settle on Alex and the others.
“It’s alright, Alex. I am sure he will be back,” Lila says, her voice trembling slightly despite her attempt to sound confident. She forces a smile, but her eyes betray the anxiety gnawing at her.
“Yeah, where does he even have to go? He definitely will be back,” Carly sighs, though her shoulders droop, and her face reflects the uncertainty she tries to mask with her words. She fidgets with a pen, twirling it absently in her hand.
Alex stands rigid, his face a mask of frustration and determination. “I will take his transformation authority before he does something stupid.” His voice is cold, and his eyes hard as he strides purposefully towards the door. Each step echoes with the weight of the decision he’s about to make.
Jennifer watches Alex leave, her expression a mix of anger and disbelief. “This isn’t how a leader should act,” she mutters under her breath, loud enough for the others to hear. She folds her arms, her nails digging into her sleeves as she struggles to contain her emotions.
Dan places a reassuring hand on Jennifer’s shoulder. “We’ll find a way to fix this,” he says softly, though his eyes remain fixed on the door Alex just exited. His jaw is clenched, and a muscle twitches in his cheek, betraying his own frustration.
Elio’s hands hover over his work, his usually steady fingers now trembling slightly. “I hope Arata doesn’t do anything rash,” he murmurs, his eyes distant as he envisions the possible consequences of Arata’s actions. He takes a deep breath, trying to refocus on the task at hand but finding it difficult.
Thronjaw stands in the dimly lit warehouse, his imposing figure a dark silhouette against the flickering lights. The room is filled with the terrified whispers and subdued sobs of 240 hostages, all employees of a prominent gaming company. The harshness of their situation is only heightened by the stark, metallic surroundings and the ominous aura of their captor.
Thronjaw, a menacing figure whose very presence commands fear, prowls through the space with a predatory grace. His eyes gleam with a twisted sense of satisfaction as he surveys his captive audience. The sheer scale of his threat becomes palpable in the cold, oppressive silence of the warehouse.
With a deliberate, almost theatrical flourish, Thronjaw pulls out a large, grimy container filled with cold, unappetizing food. He sets it down with a thud, the sound echoing ominously through the cavernous space. He then methodically begins to dish out the revolting slop onto makeshift trays, his movements precise and almost ceremonious.
A sense of dread hangs heavy in the air as Thronjaw approaches a group of hostages huddled together, their faces etched with fear. With an unsettling calmness, he thrusts a tray of food toward them, his eyes locking onto theirs with a sadistic gleam.
“Time for your meal,” Thronjaw announces, his voice cold and devoid of empathy. The hostages stare at the food in horror, the smell alone making their stomachs churn. Despite their protests, Thronjaw shows no mercy. He picks up a spoon with deliberate slowness, scooping up the unappetizing mixture and shoving it forcefully into the mouth of a young man.
The man struggles, gagging as he tries to turn his head away, but Thronjaw’s iron grip ensures that he has no choice but to swallow. The young man’s eyes well up with tears, and he can barely contain his revulsion as he chokes down the food. Thronjaw watches with a twisted smile, savoring every moment of their discomfort.
Nearby, a middle-aged woman, her face pale with fear, clutches her stomach. She has been injured during the initial capture, and the wound on her side has not been properly treated. Thronjaw notices her distress and saunters over, his footsteps echoing ominously. He kneels beside her, and with a cruel smirk, he taps her injured side with his boot, causing her to cry out in pain.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Thronjaw taunts, his voice dripping with malice. “Maybe this will make it worse.” He then forcibly grabs the woman’s arm and shoves a tray of food into her lap, making it clear that she has no choice but to eat. As she struggles to take a bite, he leans in close, his breath hot and heavy against her ear. “You see, this is what happens when your heroes fail you. They’re too weak to save you, so you suffer.”
The warehouse is filled with the sounds of muffled sobs and the occasional cry of pain. Thronjaw relishes in the fear and helplessness surrounding him, his menacing presence a constant reminder of their grim reality. He moves through the room, dispensing food and cruelty in equal measure, his actions a stark demonstration of his ruthless power.
As he continues his reign of terror, the hostages’ spirits are broken further with each passing minute. Their hope for rescue seems to dwindle as Thronjaw’s sadistic games drag on, leaving them to grapple with the harsh reality of their situation. The tension in the air is palpable, their every moment marked by the fear of what might come next from their merciless captor.
The white house stands pristine and still under the first light of dawn, its two floors gleaming softly. Arata, looking determined but a touch anxious, stands before the entrance. He raises his hand and presses the doorbell. The chime rings out, breaking the early morning silence.
The door creaks open slowly, and an elderly Asian woman appears in the doorway. Her eyes widen in shock as she takes in the sight of Arata. Her face, once serene, is now a canvas of disbelief and overwhelming emotion. Her hand trembles slightly as she clutches the edge of the door.
Old Woman: 「竜樹？本当にあなたなの？」
(Ryuki? Is this for real?)
Arata’s face softens into a gentle smile, though his eyes reveal a complex mix of emotions—nostalgia, regret, and hope.
Arata: 「こんにちは、お母さん… 久しぶりだね。」
(Hi, mom… It’s been a while.)