Only a few stone throws from the waterfront in Toyosuna, Mihama Ward, the Yorusada Mall was a large, glass-roofed hanger, quarter of a mile long. Connected by an excellent trainline into Tokyo, it was the furthest one could go north-east without actually leaving the city limits itself. In no time at all, the Mazda Capella pulled up outside the southern entrance. The car park was littered with abandoned vehicles, and the surrounding streets were oddly deserted. Whatever had happened within was enough to scare away any bystanders, either fleeing for their lives, or calling for help.
Rinkaku Harigane sprang from the passenger side and slid over the bonnet, scanning ahead. “There’s no mistaking it. That’s three more people in there than just Kinuka and Juusei.”
“Mind the bodywork, Harigane!” Nagora Ibuse wrenched himself from the car and seized the boy by his hood. “Anything that happens to her comes out of my salary.”
“Tough.” Rin slapped his hand away. “Really not my concern. Do they not pay you enough in the force?”
“That’s besides the point! This girl’s police property. If I find a single scratch on her later, there’ll be hell to pay, you urchin.”
“You can tell Hell to fuck off, in that case. I’m flat broke.” Rin pocketed his hands and swaggered forwards. Ruri meanwhile silently lifted themselves from the sedan’s cramped backseat and strode alongside, stretching out their neck and rolling a shoulder. Rin looked back. “What’s the holdup, detective? Calling for backup?”
“No backup’s going to help in this situation.” Ibuse sighed. “I’d just be putting more officers in harm’s way. I can’t allow that.” Giving his car a pained, parting grimace—apologising on Rin’s behalf—he joined them on their walk through the car park. “You sensed three people inside, did you?”
“Three more than there should be.” Rin frowned. “Distinct signatures, I mean. Normal people give off some residual psychic energy, so I can detect their presence like shaking sand in a bottle of water: no clue how many grains there are, but I know they’re there. Psyche users are different: their signatures are larger, denser too. It’s like dropping metal beads in that same bottle of water. When you shake it, you can easily tell the two apart.”
“That’s a strange analogy.”
“I don’t hear you offering a better explanation!” Rin looked up at Ruri for approval. Their quizzical side-eye provided little comfort. The boy pulled a face. “The normal signatures are weak, but they’re still there. I suspect they’re unconscious somehow, so there’s a chance they’ll be able to recover from whatever happened. I’m more worried about the girls, though. Their signatures are fading.”
Another of the signatures came into focus. Rin’s eyes widened. This one, he recognised.
“I can’t use Framework at the moment,” he announced, terse. “I’ll need you both to back me up. Let’s move.” Rin broke into a sprint. Ruri and Ibuse followed hot on his heels. The boy had neither the time nor bother to stop and open the door, and so crashed straight through the glass with a crackling fist. Two bodies had been strewn across the floor at the far end of the entrance hall. The signature Rin recognised stepped up into the light. Dentaku Bango, haughty and cold, stopped once he caught sight of the three.
“Bango?!” Ibuse cried. “What are you doing here?”
“Please don’t mind me, detective. My colleague and I will leave once we’ve collected what we came for.”
“JPRO’s been pretty proactive in their recruitment. Seemed they wanted to make it personal right from the start.” Rin grimaced, then shouted across the hall. “Now’s your chance to turn tail, Bono!”
“Harigane.” Bango raised an eyebrow, pointing to his cheek. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”
Rin furiously rubbed at his cheek with a finger. The mark Aiko’s black lipstick had left on his skin admittedly still stung a little. Worse still, the mark refused to lift. “Don’t take another step towards them, Bango! Leave, or I’ll show you the door.”
Bango took no notice, slinging Juusei’s bleeding body over his shoulder.
A flush of irritation crept under Rin’s skin. “Don’t ignore me!”
Without warning, Ruri charged. The giant’s thunderous footfall resonated through the foundations, psychic energy arcing across their body.
“Theia Subject 837.” Bango raised an eyebrow. “I was asked to take you in as well, though that might be beyond our logistical capacity for now. It’s a shame Ms. Mokuzo is already deployed.”
It was almost pitiful how outmatched they were. In the blink of an eye, a myriad of psychometric statistics overlaid Bango’s vision as clear as day: the magnitude of Ruri’s movement vectors, their current velocity, and the distance between them. This was a passive effect of his specialty: Number Demon (数鬼 Kazuoni). It was simple to calculate the minimum factor he’d need to scale his own velocity in order to evade with minimum energy wasted. Ruri’s pale blue eyes glowed with a vengeful fire, locking themselves in motion. At the very last moment, however, Bango simply sidestepped with movement so fast it blurred. Ruri crashed through a window, unable to stop in time.
Rin’s mouth hung open. Bango had been fast before, but never to this extent.
“I don’t sense any time distortion.” The clockface engraved into Ibuse’s right eye glowed. “He’s incredibly fast, but that’s all there is to it. Those two are the girls; I recognise them. If all you’ve said is true—that Bango really has turned—we shouldn’t delay.”
> Open The Door
> 開門 Kaimon
From Rin’s perspective, Ibuse seemingly teleported right across the hallway. The man lunged at Bango, seizing him by the collar. Again, the boy swerved just out of the way. His movements had such extreme velocity, each caused a small vacuum.
“I didn’t expect you to become involved, detective.” Bango shook his head. “Then again, I’m not surprised either. I wouldn’t advise continuing down this path, especially if you’re still under the impression you’re acting alongside the rest of the police.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ibuse righted himself, staring dumbfounded. “What happened to you, Bango? Why get involved with these people? Someone like you, I just don’t understand!”
“Making full use of opportunities, detective. That’s how I was raised. JPRO offered me a way to hone latent talent I would’ve never thought possible. To turn down their generosity would’ve been a waste.”
“You’ve got it wrong. Don’t let yourself be blinded like this, Bango!” Ibuse cried. “Don’t you know what JPRO is? What they’ve done?”
“I know exactly what they are. I simply don’t care.” Those words and Bango’s stony expression both sent chills down Ibuse’s spine. “My goal has always been to become the greatest mathematician the world has ever known. JPRO has set me on that path, and I intend on following that through to its end, irrespective. They are a stepping stone for me, nothing more.”
A shadow descended over Bango. Ruri towered behind him, silent rage cemented into their face. The giant lunged for Juusei with both arms in a crushing tackle, but Bango was once again far too swift. Blurring to Ruri’s side, he delivered a strike, charged with blue aura, into their midriff. “Try not to wear yourself out.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
A wave of psychic energy dissipated from Ruri’s body in an instant. Their pupils dilated, knees buckled, and the giant collapsed.
Ibuse steadied himself, combing a hand back through his hair in rapidly increasing exasperation. “If Gus Ishimatsu succeeds in dismantling society, he won’t stop there. Millions, maybe more will die in the struggle that’ll follow. If you won’t listen to sense, surely you recognise the significance of those numbers?”
“I respect your efforts, detective, but please save your breath. Trying to use my own rhetoric against me won’t work. I’ve seen the truth. Fermat claimed he could see the world in its true form through the mathematical lens. No-one really believed him; it’s since been devalued to neat little analogy, but it’s true. He, and all the greats have seen this truth like I have!” The boy’s eyes shone with mania. “Millions of people are nothing compared to the sextillion grains of sand on earth, or the septillion stars in the observable universe alone. By numbers alone, humanity is nothing.”
Ibuse blinked, disgusted. “Is that how you really feel?”
“It is.”
“And your friends? What about your family? What if they get caught in the inevitable crossfire?”
“Then that’ll be a shame. I don’t share Mr. Ishimatsu’s ideals, but I don’t need to. His point makes itself: if modern society is fragile enough to crumble under its own weight, then it should be left to do so. I truly don’t care either way.”
“You know, it really pains me to hear such cold words coming out of the mouth of someone so young, so talented.” Ibuse bit his lip. “Makes me wonder just how many other young people think like you do. We—the older generation—have clearly failed, allowing our children to grow up with such a bleak mindset. Someone with talent like yours should be helping others, helping to improve the world, not siding with some doomsday cult! That kind of nihilism, that lack of hope: it’s not right! Can’t you see that?”
“Your righteousness goes beyond all logic.” Bango looked pitying. “It’ll only get you hurt in the end.”
“Thought you’d be mature enough to know—” Ibuse’s shouts reached crescendo— “that there’s more to life than logic, kid!” Dashing at the boy, it pained him greatly to draw back his fist. Yet, duty called.
Before the man could even initiate Back Beat, however, Bango vanished from sight, only to appear behind him. “I plead guilty to assaulting an officer.” That same blue aura glowed around his fist. “Forgive me, detective. It’s nothing personal.”
> Exhaust
> 减叩 Genkō
He struck Ibuse in the small of the back. The man crumpled, collapsing feet away from Ruri.
Bango stood upright, and tugged at the collar of his shirt. His objective had been to incapacitate only. He felt sorry for the detective and his zealous justice. Directed at anyone else, his arguments would be compelling. Ibuse, however, must’ve misjudged his character during the police interview, or simply tried appealing to a more compassionate part of him that didn’t exist.
Dentaku Bango was very aware that something was very wrong with him. So long as he’d been alive, he’d never considered himself capable of true empathy. Aged eight, one day at elementary school, someone who considered him a friend felt compelled to confide in him their grief of their father’s tragic passing. Five minutes later, the girl left in floods of tears, leaving a stony-faced Bango sat confused on the bench. He had never considered her, nor anyone else, a friend. He had never needed to. It simply didn’t matter to him. The doctors had diagnosed him with social pragmatic disorder at the age of ten. That had shed a lot of light. Strangely, they were adamant on informing him that he wasn’t alone with this disposition. To him, that knowledge was irrelevant. It wasn’t a comfort; it wasn’t a pain. It was simply the same everything else: a fact.
Bango had never been ignorant of the importance of emotion. It was crucial aspect of human nature, he understood that well. He just couldn’t relate. Yet, that fact had never bothered him. He didn’t consider himself broken, or incomplete; rather, he felt blessed to be unbothered by problems that found themselves easily resolved under his lens of dispassion. Ever since, he’d been put through extensive psychological education, but not for his sake. Those masks had been for the convenience of everyone else. He didn’t resent it in the least. It was a useful tool. Others were more likely to act in his favour if he set them at ease. It was a truth that permeated society: cooperation, for fear being alone. Biological factors aside, that was what truly separated humanity from other social animals. If he didn’t wear these masks, he’d be denying himself a world of opportunities, bestowed by the hands of others. There was no rationality in pursuing such a self-defeating path.
Despite Bango’s ironclad rationality, however, his soul itself bore one crucial flaw: a crack driven so deep into his psyche, it had become the driving obsession behind all actions, carving its way deeper still into his skull. A primal desire to surpass one individual in particular and only them, to impress them, a desire for acknowledgement he had never felt before, nor could understand in the slightest. Despite all attempts at conscious control, he had no choice but to give in, but all that had wrought him was more pain.
The only person that had ever managed to elicit such raw emotion, such anger, from him; the one whose dazzling outline had been seared into his retina for so long; the idol in whose shadow he had cowered against the blaze of sun, now came to rest five feet away. In a miniscule span of time, faster than even Bango could process, several still frames of Rinkaku Harigane in-motion had processed along the corridor, swiping the girl from Bango’s shoulder.
Bango’s eyes widened at the sudden absence of weight. He whipped around.
“Man, you’re heavy,” Rin groaned, shifting Juusei’s limp body in his arms, bridal-style. “Then again, not sure if that says more about you or me.” He tapped the back of the girl’s head. “Come on, can you wake up already? I doubt you’re the type to be into this, anyhow. Would be much easier than me having to shove you into the trunk as well.”
“When did you get there?” Bango’s brow furrowed. “Answer me, how did you move so fast?”
“Who knows.” Rin shrugged. “You came for her, right? For Juusei.”
“Not just her.” Bango noticed the significant absence nearby, but no surprise registered on his face. “But, Amibari’s missing. You must have taken extracted her already. Clever. I see those two were just a distraction.” Bango tugged at the corner of his sleeve. “The brief of our mission was collection; however, if left no alternative: elimination.”
“Eliminate both of them,” Rin repeated. “Even Amibari? You know she healed you, right? You were bleeding out, back at the facility. She sewed shut the cut down your front, or else you would’ve croaked from bloodloss. The only reason you're standing here right now is because of her kindness. She's far kinder than I can ever hope to be. No-one asked her to do that, no-one made her, but she did. We’ve known each other for so long. This is how you’re going to thank her?”
Bango’s jaw clenched. “That was her decision.”
“Ouch.” Rin sucked air through his teeth. “I’ll tell her you said that, then. I’m sure it’ll bring a smile right to her worn-out, partially unravelled face.”
“Hand over the test subject.”
“She’s not just a test subject.” Rin glowered. “Juusei Kanon. Say her name. You’d better commit it to memory, because I know she’s already got a bullet with your name on it. You and the rest of your creepy, glassy-eyed phantom troupe.”
“I didn’t realise you’d become so sentimental,” Bango sneered. “In all of three days, you’ve lost your edge. I’m surprised.”
“I wish I could say the same.” Rin shook his head. “But you never change. You never will. You’ll always be that desperate, pathetic little coward.” Shifting Juusei’s limp body in his arms, he began walking back towards the exit. “I’ve already said it once, I’ll say it again now. I’ll say it as many times as I need to. Grow up, Bango.”
It happened once more. That unavoidable rage flooded Bango’s veins. Blood thundered through his head, a furious, relentless pulse. His hands clenched, nails digging into his palm. Muscles in his jaw tightened. His psychic energy erupted into violent spikes.
“This is the last time you scorn me!”
Rin ignored him and kept walking.
“Look at me!”
Rin did not look back.
“I’m not going to waste away chasing your shadow!” Bango roared. “I’ve basked in the light; I’ve seen you for what you are, you bronze fraud!” Psychic energy crackled down his legs, and Bango broke into a sprint. Jaw practically unhooked, vocal chords stretched to the point of tearing, the boy screamed at the top of his lungs. “I am not afraid of you anymore!”
Reams of current electrified his hands into blades. Bango leapt at Rin’s back. He wanted to drive his fist straight through the boy’s chest, see his blood coat the walls. He wanted to beat Rin’s head against the brick. He wanted to gouge out the boy’s eyes and force them to look at him for who he truly was. For, ever since that day, Rinkaku Harigane had never looked at him, but rather looked right through him. Ever since that day, it was as though he, in the boy’s eyes, had completely ceased to exist.
Worst of all, he knew why.
In that moment, it wasn’t rage that burned up Dentaku Bango’s face, but the inferno of shame.