The words hit Sakura like a physical blow. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating with shock. Then her fists clenched, and she exploded with rage.

  "YOU BASTARD!" She launched into a tirade, voice rising to a pitch that violated noise ordinances. "HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?! YOU LIVE RIGHT NEXT TO HER! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT HER! WHAT KIND OF MAN ARE YOU?! USELESS! COMPLETELY USELESS! I BET YOU WERE TOO BUSY DOING STUPID BOY THINGS TO EVEN NOTICE SHE WAS GONE! AND NOW SHE'S OUT THERE SOMEWHERE, SCARED AND ALONE, AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

  She punctuated her rant with ineffectual punches to his chest, hitting the bandages hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to do real damage. Arata could have stopped her easily, but he just stood there and took it.

  Maybe he deserved it.

  The tirade lasted for several minutes before finally running out of steam. Sakura's breathing was ragged, tears streaming down her face, fists still raised but no longer swinging.

  She'd finally noticed Arata's expression. The tiredness. The guilt. The injuries he'd sustained trying to find her friend.

  "What happened?" she asked again, voice barely above a whisper.

  Arata explained everything—or at least, his edited version of everything. He told her about the kidnapping, the investigation, the confrontation with the Harbor Group. He mentioned the warehouse but left out the Harvesting Game, the Reaper, and anything supernatural. As far as Sakura knew, this was just a criminal matter involving dangerous people.

  He definitely didn't mention Takeda's death or his own role in it.

  ***

  "Okay." Sakura's voice had shifted from emotional to businesslike, tears wiped away and replaced with determination. "What are we doing? What's the plan?"

  "Not your business," Arata replied coldly, already anticipating where this was going.

  She snapped immediately, rage reigniting like someone had poured gasoline on embers.

  "NOT MY BUSINESS?! SHE'S MY BEST FRIEND! WE'VE KNOWN EACH OTHER SINCE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL! SHE'S THE ONLY PERSON WHO'S EVER—" Her voice cracked. "You can't just tell me she's been kidnapped and then say it's not my business! I'm going to help whether you like it or not!"

  She started punching him again, this time with more conviction behind each strike.

  Shit. Here we go again.

  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

  The sound saved Arata from another extended beating. Sakura stopped mid-swing and stomped to the door, throwing it open with enough force to rattle the frame.

  "WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" she shouted at the figure standing in the hallway.

  The man on the other side looked between Sakura and Arata, then his face broke into a wide grin.

  "Arata! You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend!"

  It was Kaito Hayashida—Arata's best friend and the closest thing he had to family. Twenty years old, technically a Candidate though he rarely acted like one, and possessed of the kind of infectious optimism that could make even Arata crack a smile on bad days.

  Sakura's face turned an impressive shade of crimson.

  "G-GIRLFRIEND?!" She spun and slapped Kaito across the face hard enough to leave a red handprint. "HOW DARE YOU ASSUME—I WOULD NEVER—WITH HIM OF ALL PEOPLE—"

  Kaito immediately bowed deeply, hands pressed together in apologetic prayer.

  "I'm so sorry! I completely misread the situation! Please forgive my rudeness!" He kept bowing while Sakura continued her tirade, both of them making enough noise to wake the entire building.

  They only stopped when they noticed Arata had collapsed on the floor, unconscious, his body finally giving up after being pushed beyond its limits.

  ***

  Arata woke to the sound of laughter in his room.

  His eyes opened slowly, consciousness returning in fragments. Kaito and Sakura were sitting on the floor near his bed, talking and sharing stories like they'd known each other for years instead of minutes. The tension from earlier had evaporated completely, replaced by the easy camaraderie of people who'd found common ground.

  "Am I bothering you?" Arata's voice came out rougher than intended.

  "Arata!" Kaito turned with that same ridiculous smile. "You're finally awake! Your friend here is amazing—she healed most of your exhaustion while you were out. I didn't know you knew such a talented healer!"

  Sakura waved off the compliment, though she was clearly pleased.

  "Don't say that. I only helped him recover a little faster. The real talent was the doctor who treated him initially." She paused, her expression shifting to something more curious. "It was at Kita General Hospital, right? The paperwork said Dr. Kurosawa performed the initial sutures. She's supposed to be really skilled despite being so young."

  Sakura was very interested in medicine and biology—Arata remembered that much from the few times Mika had mentioned her friend's ambitions. She wanted to become a doctor like her father, which explained why she worked so hard in school despite her chaotic personality.

  "Arata." Kaito's voice cut through the pleasant atmosphere, dropping to a more serious register. "I told you to bring me with you. If I'd been there—"

  "Kaito, you know I make the plans." Arata's voice was still weak, injuries worse than he'd initially estimated. Speaking took more effort than it should have. "We've been over this before."

  While Arata had been resting, Sakura had apparently explained everything to Kaito—or at least, everything that Arata had told her. Kaito knew about the kidnapping, the Harbor Group, and the general situation even if not the supernatural details.

  "How did you know they were at that warehouse?" Kaito asked, his tone carefully neutral in a way that suggested he already suspected parts of the answer.

  "When the Boss attacked me, I planted a tracker in his coat." Arata kept his explanation clinical, factual. "During the night, I monitored his movements and noticed he drove to the warehouse multiple times. The pattern suggested it was an important location, so I investigated."

  "So you're telling me..." Kaito's eyes were wide with genuine admiration. "You tracked his movements while also researching the Harvesting Game AND planning that smoke diversion with the generator explosion? You're a genius, Arata!"

  He actually wiped away tears, as if Arata's tactical planning was the most beautiful thing he'd ever witnessed.

  "But wait." Sakura leaned forward, interest piqued. "If you can track him, where is he now?"

  "Let me check." Arata pulled out his phone with some difficulty, his bandaged arms making fine motor control challenging. The tracker app loaded, showing a blinking dot on a map of Tokyo. "He's at what I believe is his main residence."

  Kaito shot to his feet immediately, energy exploding through his posture.

  "Okay! Give me the address. I'll go beat him up right now and bring Mika back!" He said it in such a childish, enthusiastic tone that it didn't sound serious at all.

  But it absolutely was.

  "I know you're strong, Kaito." Arata kept his voice measured, not wanting to offend his friend's pride. "But my assessment is that the Boss might be stronger than you. In a direct fight at his residence, he'd have too many advantages—familiarity with terrain, backup from subordinates, prepared defenses. The tactical disadvantages would be severe."

  "Haha! Don't say that, Arata!" Kaito laughed, flexing dramatically. "Now I just want to prove you wrong!"

  His grin was infectious despite the seriousness of the situation.

  "Where does he live anyway?"

  "The Tsukuyomi Estate, near the Meiji Sanctuary." Arata replied mindlessly, his attention already drifting to other calculations. The location was significant—that area of Tokyo was expensive and exclusive.

  "Wait, something's not right..." Kaito's expression shifted to genuine confusion. "If you went to the warehouse, why didn't you find Mika? Or the Harbor Group's main operation?"

  "There were actually three Harbor Group members there. One died in the fight. The other two escaped during the chaos."

  "AARGH!" Kaito pulled at his hair in frustration. "I really don't understand anything about what's happening!!"

  "ME NEITHER!!" Sakura added her voice to the confusion.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Arata wasn't paying attention to either of them anymore. His mind was already three steps ahead, running probability calculations and risk assessments for scenarios they hadn't encountered yet.

  "Please, Arata!" Kaito grabbed his shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Explain it to us! Tell us your plan!"

  "No need to explain." Arata met his friend's eyes, something dangerous flickering behind his exhaustion. "I'm going to show you directly."

  Kaito's expression shifted to concern, the playful energy draining away.

  "Are you sure? You're still injured. Your arms are barely functional."

  He squeezed Arata's shoulder gently, the gesture carrying more weight than words.

  "Arata. You know I can take care of this if you want me to, right? You don't have to push yourself."

  "Thanks, Kaito. But I really need to go there myself." Arata's voice carried a conviction that left no room for argument. "I need to figure something out. Something that only makes sense if I see it with my own eyes."

  "Well, you already know—I've got your back, bro." Kaito spoke with the same confidence he'd always had growing up, that unshakeable belief that everything would work out as long as they stuck together. His energy was contagious enough that even Arata couldn't help feeling slightly more optimistic about their chances.

  ***

  Two hours later, the three of them stood in the shadows near the Tsukuyomi Estate's perimeter wall.

  "Another old scary building..." Sakura whispered, staring up at the traditional architecture looming against the night sky.

  "Psst. Arata." Kaito leaned close, voice barely audible. "Why did she come with us?"

  Arata looked at him with an expression of pure annoyance, silently communicating the answer: Did I really have a choice?

  He could still picture Sakura's rage when they'd initially refused to bring her along. She'd started destroying his apartment systematically—throwing books, overturning furniture, threatening to scream until neighbors called the police. Eventually it became clear that restraining her would take more energy than just bringing her and keeping her out of direct danger.

  Kaito noticed movement near the estate's east entrance.

  "Ooh, I see someone patrolling." He squinted, his enhanced senses picking up details invisible to normal vision. "That guard has a military-grade rifle. Chinese make, probably a QBZ-95 variant."

  The Harbor Group was one of the strongest criminal organizations in Tokyo, so obviously they would have access to premium equipment. Probably smuggled through their port contacts, weapons that officially didn't exist in Japan's strict gun control environment.

  "I see another one!" Kaito's excitement was building despite the danger. "And another! How many are there? Five? Six? I can't get an exact count—they're probably rotating positions on a timed schedule."

  His eyesight was extraordinary even by Candidate standards. In fact, all of Kaito's senses operated at levels that seemed almost supernatural—sight, hearing, smell, even his spatial awareness and kinesthetic sense. He was gifted in anything related to combat, as if the god of war had blessed him with every physical advantage imaginable.

  Arata closed his notebook where he'd been sketching the estate's layout and guard rotations.

  "We're done for today."

  He was still analyzing variables and calculating probabilities that only his brain could properly process. Too many unknowns. Too many ways this could go catastrophically wrong if they moved prematurely.

  "I need to do something before we infiltrate. Let's come back here tomorrow night, same time. Be ready."

  ***

  The next night came faster than expected.

  "You ready?" Arata was wearing a black ski mask that covered everything except his eyes, transforming him into a faceless silhouette. His "ninja mode," as Kaito liked to call it.

  "You're really smart, Arata!" Kaito was talking slightly too loud, as usual, unable to contain his excitement despite the stealth mission. "I can't believe you lied straight to her face about the timing!"

  Kaito was always amazed by Arata's tricks, even when they were relatively simple. This time, the trick had been telling Sakura to meet them at 11 PM while actually starting the infiltration at 9 PM, effectively ditching her without technically breaking his promise.

  Simple, effective and maybe slightly cruel.

  ***

  Sakura was sleeping peacefully in her bedroom, surrounded by an impressive collection of stuffed animals and pastel decorations that suggested the room's owner was several years younger than reality. Despite her innocent appearance and childish aesthetic, she was dreaming of the fight she'd deliver alongside Arata and Kaito the next day.

  Combat fantasies. Heroic rescues. Mika saved and the bad guys defeated.

  If only Arata hadn't lied.

  ***

  They'd been observing the same guard for the past hour, hidden behind separate trees in the wooded area adjacent to the estate's north wall. The guard's patrol pattern was consistent—twenty steps east, pause to scan the perimeter, twenty steps west, pause again. Every twelve minutes he'd light a cigarette, the brief flare of the lighter creating a vulnerability window.

  Minutes passed in tense silence. Then the guard yawned, his discipline slipping for just a moment as fatigue caught up with him.

  "Now."

  Both of them moved simultaneously, dashing in zigzag patterns through the sparse trees toward the guard's blind spot. They approached along the wall, backs pressed against stone, footsteps silent despite their speed.

  When they were close enough, Arata lunged forward and struck the pressure points in the guard's neck with precise force. The man collapsed without a sound, unconscious before his body hit the ground.

  They looked at the entrance he'd been guarding—a service door, probably for staff and deliveries.

  "I hope we don't land in Harvesting Game's fifth edition," Kaito joked, trying to lighten the tension.

  Arata looked at him with an expression of absolute seriousness, and Kaito immediately understood his mistake. He bowed deeply in apology—this wasn't the time for jokes about people who'd died.

  Arata made a hand signal. They pushed the door open and slipped inside.

  ***

  The room was dark—some kind of storage space filled with cardboard boxes stacked against the walls. The air smelled of dust and old paper, with an underlying chemical scent that suggested cleaning supplies or industrial materials. Arata's eyes adjusted quickly, picking out shapes in the darkness: shelves along the far wall, a work table covered in tools, what looked like electrical equipment in the corner.

  They hid behind a stack of boxes, though the darkness was thick enough that visibility was nearly zero anyway. Arata scanned for infrared surveillance cameras, the telltale red glow of active monitoring systems.

  Nothing visible, but that didn't mean they were safe.

  Kaito tensed, ready to advance on Arata's signal.

  "Wait."

  Arata concentrated, pulling a metal nail from his pocket—something he'd picked up near the work table a minute ago. He scratched it against the metal bracket of a wooden crate beside him.

  Screeeee

  The sharp sound emitted acoustic waves that propagated through the space, bouncing off every surface and object. Arata closed his eyes and listened with absolute focus, mapping the room through echolocation. The returning sound waves painted a picture in his mind—distances, shapes, obstacles, the layout of everything he couldn't see.

  It was a technique he'd developed through years of practice, inspired by research into how bats and dolphins navigated through darkness. The human brain was capable of processing acoustic information with incredible precision if trained properly. Most people never bothered to develop the skill because sight was easier. But in situations like this, when visual input was compromised, sound became the superior sense.

  "Follow me."

  They moved in perfect synchronization, dashing across the room and weaving between obstacles with the kind of coordination that only came from years of working together. Their movements weren't due to luck—Arata and Kaito had executed dozens of missions like this when they were younger, back when they were just teenagers playing at being operatives.

  They advanced until they saw a thin beam of light cutting through the darkness. A small window was set into a door leading to the next room. They approached carefully and looked through it, staying low to avoid silhouetting themselves against the light.

  The adjacent space was much larger—the main floor of what appeared to be a converted factory. High ceilings supported by metal beams. Concrete floor. Industrial lighting casting harsh shadows. A group of men stood in a circle near the center, maybe eight or nine of them, engaged in what looked like a serious discussion.

  They were all armed with military-grade weapons—assault rifles, submachine guns, even what looked like a grenade launcher propped against one man's shoulder. Professional equipment professionally maintained.

  Except for one man standing in the middle of the circle. He was unarmed, but his posture suggested he didn't need weapons. The others deferred to him, body language clearly marking him as the leader.

  "We should just catch them and interrogate them about Mika's location," Kaito whispered, his combat instincts already calculating approach vectors.

  "No. Wait." Arata grabbed his arm. "Look."

  The man in the center turned slightly, and Arata recognized his profile. The same face that had threatened him in his apartment days ago.

  "It's him. The Boss."

  Kaito examined the target carefully, analyzing every detail of his physique and bearing with the practiced eye of a fighter who'd studied combat his entire life. After several seconds of intense scrutiny, he raised his arms in a gesture of mild disappointment.

  "Meh. He doesn't seem that strong." His tone was almost bored. "I mean, it depends on what his abilities are, but I think I could beat him pretty easily in a straight fight."

  Kaito adopted his characteristic confident posture, hands behind his head, completely relaxed despite being fifty feet from a group of armed criminals.

  "Judging from his facial structure and body shape..." He squinted, running calculations that only made sense to him. "I bet he has water-based techniques! Probably hydrokinesis or moisture manipulation!"

  "No. You're wrong." Arata's voice was absolutely certain.

  "Aww, you're boring, Arata. Always spoiling the fun of speculation."

  "Judging by his physique, weight distribution, and overall build, he's more likely a control-type mage. Specifically..." Arata paused, running through the evidence one more time. "Time manipulation abilities."

  With only minimal information—their brief confrontation in his apartment, the way the Boss had moved, the confidence in his bearing—Arata had constructed a strong hypothesis about the Boss's powers.

  "For real?!" Kaito's eyes went wide with genuine excitement. "It's the first time I've ever seen a time manipulator! Bro, they say only a few people who know the Boss's identity are alive to tell the tale, but not a single one can testify about his actual abilities. Even the High Cadres, his closest subordinates, claim they have no idea what he can really do."

  He side-hugged Arata like a proud older brother.

  "You're truly a genius, Arata. That's why I love working with you."

  "Are you done?"

  An unfamiliar voice cut through their moment. Cold. Bored. Coming from directly behind them.

  They froze, every muscle locking up as survival instincts screamed warnings.

  Arata slowly turned his head just enough to catch the speaker in his peripheral vision. A man hung upside down from the ceiling, feet secured by a rope that disappeared into the darkness above. His arms were crossed casually, like this was a perfectly normal position to have a conversation.

  He wore a black tactical suit that blended elements of traditional ninja garb with modern military stealth gear. A mask covered his entire face, leaving only his eyes visible—eyes that gleamed with an unsettling dark purple light, like backlit amethyst.

  A mysterious aura surrounded him, viscous and wrong, making the air itself feel contaminated.

  When did he notice us? How long has he been there?

  The questions raced through Arata's mind, but he already knew the answers didn't matter. They'd been caught. And whoever this was, he was dangerous enough to approach them with complete confidence despite being outnumbered.

  This was about to get very bad, very quickly.