A warm, broad‑chested oniichan who is willing to take cursed children in as his own little sisters—cradled in his arms, she felt truly warm for the first time.
"Everyone stand back!"
Thud‑thud‑thud!
A barked order, followed by the dull thunder of heavy boots.
A squad of patrolmen surged forward, pistols and batons at the ready.
At their head waddled a pig‑faced commander with a beer‑belly that strained his uniform.
Chin raised arrogantly, he swept his gaze over Tatsuki's group, then jabbed a sausage‑like thumb toward the two piles of mangled meat not far away.
"That Cursed Child is a murderer—hand her over."
"I didn't kill anyone!" Aya answered truthfully.
"I say you did, therefore you did." The commander's eyes narrowed to slits.
He had long since had enough of this little beggar who showed up here every day.
Two men lay dead and he had no idea why, but a scapegoat had dropped right into his lap—no paperwork, no investigation, and the thorn in his side gone in one stroke. Perfect.
Aya opened her mouth to explain, yet Tatsuki raised a hand to stop her. He straightened, meeting the commander's stare with a flat, icy gaze. "I killed them."
"Oh?" The commander hadn't expected anyone to confess.
These people were dressed far too well, and the two tidy red‑eyed girls at their side were obviously Initiators. Better not get involved… He had planned to pin the crime on the white‑haired brat and close the case.
Well, if they wanted to stick their necks out, so be it. He grinned, greasy lips peeling back.
"I see— the Cursed Child did the killing and you're all accomplices." If they wanted to die with her, all the better. His beady eyes flashed murderous red.
"I can hear every single filthy word in your head," Tatsuki murmured, disgust curling his lip.
The men behind the commander, guns raised, were thinking the same: let the freak die.
Tatsuki had no desire to bandy words. He snapped his fingers.
The commander blinked, trying to shout the order to fire— and discovered he could make no sound. His vision lurched; his body spun in the corner of his eye.
Where his neck ended, there was no head.
In the time it took to blink, a dozen headless bodies tottered where they stood, and a dozen severed heads rolled across the pavement like kicked balls.
"Let's go," Tatsuki said simply, scooping Aya into his arms again. He offered no further explanation.
Pedestrians stepped over the spreading pools of blood without so much as a glance, as though nothing at all had happened.
"Well, that's Tatsuki's power for you," Exusiai chirped, entirely unperturbed. "He wouldn't off anyone decent."
"A technique I still can't parse," Reinhard admitted, having only caught the pressure‑shear of air that did the cutting—nothing of the curtain that hid the deed.
"A terrifying ability indeed…" Kisara Tendo whispered. Once again she had witnessed how overwhelming Tatsuki's strength was.
"Tatsuki‑oniichan… are you sure it's all right to go this far for me?"
He had restored her sight; now he had slaughtered an entire squad for her sake.
Aya's chest swelled with a warmth she had never known—yet fear gnawed her heart. Would she bring ruin down on him?
"Relax," he told her, smiling softly. "Your oniichan is very strong."
Nion and Enju flanked him, sharing a delighted look. Tatsuki‑oniichan is nothing like Rentaro—he says it, he does it. Having a brother like this… we really are lucky!
"What's our next move, Tatsuki‑kun?" Shinobu asked.
"You three are plenty capable—go hunt Gastrea. "Remember, the more we cull during this Apocalypse journey, the bigger the point payout."
"Roger!" Exusiai could hardly wait; in Lungmen she never got to open fire at will. The Apocalypse journey was her playground.
Reinhard laughed wryly. "Perhaps that is the only help I can offer this twisted world."
He now understood how deep the rot ran—Cursed Children ground beneath hatred and prejudice. All he could do was swing his sword.
Shinobu, Exusiai and Reinhard set off. Tatsuki wasn't the least worried; Shinobu had the Venom‑Venom Fruit, Exusiai's gun‑craft bordered on absurd, and Reinhard was Reinhard.
Kisara would only slow them down, so she accompanied Tatsuki to pick up food, then to the squat where Aya's little sister lived.
Yun—smaller, paler, but far more outgoing than Aya—scrambled straight up Tatsuki's torso, squealing "Oniichan!" He chuckled and let her perch.
The Gastrea virus that tainted their blood he could snuff out in an instant, yet he stayed his hand.
From the moment he arrived, he had sensed the virus was nothing but energy—chaotic, directionless, forcing evolution down monstrous paths. Energy could be controlled. When it came time to end this apocalypse, he would deal with it all at once.
"Kisara, I'll leave Aya, Yun and Nion in your care for a bit."
"Oniichan, where are you going?" Yun clutched his arm, afraid the dream would shatter once he walked away.
Tatsuki ruffled her hair. "Only to speak with this district's ruler. If I'm going to change the world, I should at least greet her."
Enju had heard of the Seitenshi. She puffed out her chest. "Leave it to me! I'll keep them safe."
"Thanks, Enju." Tatsuki rose.
Just before he stepped out, Kisara asked in a low voice, "What would it cost… to have you kill Kikunojou Tendo?"
Given what she'd seen, she was certain he could slip past every guard and end the man who had murdered her parents. For revenge, she would pay any price.
Tatsuki's golden eyes slid her way, unreadable. "If a man is fated to die, he will." And he was gone.
A man fated to die…? Kisara laughed bitterly. Who decides such fate?
…
Inside a conference chamber, voices clashed like steel.
"Seitenshi‑sama, your New Gastrea Law is untenable!"
"Cursed Children are walking bio‑bombs—they can turn Gastrea at any moment! They must be strictly contained, not handed rights!"
"Agreed. At minimum they should be expelled beyond the Monoliths—make them fight Gastrea out there."
The ranting came from Tokyo Area's senior bureaucrats and politicians.
At the oval table's head sat the snow‑haired young Seitenshi, brows knit, heart aching. Tatsuki's words still echoed, yet these men hurled objections faster than she could parry.
Beside her loomed an aged man—sharp eyes beneath heavy lids—Kikunojou Tendo, her chief adviser.
When he cleared his throat, the chamber went silent.
"Peace, gentlemen."
They obeyed; for all their bravado, none dared cross this master strategist who in truth outranked the Seitenshi in clout.
The girl turned hopeful eyes on him.
"Granting Cursed Children equal human rights," Kikunojou intoned, "is proof of Seitenshi‑sama's compassion. I, for one, fully endorse the New Gastrea Law. Its presentation is timely, reasonable—indispensable."
A flicker of relief crossed her face. The others swallowed any rebuttal.
Knock knock!
Irritation flared. "A meeting is in session! Who—"
"Emergency situation!" came the anxious reply.
Kikunojou's smile was unreadable. "Enter."
A bespectacled man with a slanted fringe hurried in, bowed, then flicked a furtive glance at the Seitenshi—a gleam of something hot behind his lenses.
"Takuto Yasuwaki reporting. The Seven‑Star Relic has been stolen!"
"What?!" Chairs scraped as every politician bolted upright. The Seven‑Star Relic—ultimate classified material from the old Seven Stars settlement, a catalyst that could summon a Stage‑V Gastrea.
Face blanching, the Seitenshi demanded, "Yasuwaki, who took it?"
"A man in a magician's tailcoat, top‑hat, and a mask painted with a smile. True identity unknown. He had a Cursed Child with him—her ability repelled and even reflected bullets, we couldn't approach. Multiple officers and several Civil‑Security pairs were killed."
"I'm going," the Seitenshi declared.
"As your guard captain, allow me to protect you," Yasuwaki said, excitement flashing through him—another step closer to the saintly princess.
…
The vault that once held the Relic was carnage incarnate—bullet holes, blood, bodies strewn like broken dolls, the massive steel doors torn open. The Relic was gone.
The Seitenshi bit her lip. Disaster loomed over Tokyo Area.
…
Elsewhere in that same complex, a pale green‑blond girl stood over a dead, heavily built man. Her subdued dress matched her quiet air; twin braids framed eyes as calm and dark as the ocean at night. Your Promoter is dead? a gentle voice asked.
"Mm." She nodded. Kayo Senju, an Initiator, a Cursed Child. Her Promoter had been cut down by the masked man only moments ago.
She glanced around. Doctors, soldiers, panicked officials—none of them looked her way. Even the corpse beside her was ignored. Only the kneeling stranger saw her.
"How are you doing this?" she asked—not who he was, but how he made them invisible. She had already deduced what he did.
...
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