"The world didn't end when the Gastrea came. It ended when we learned what we were willing to become to survive them."
The tunnels beneath Tokyo had been forgotten by most. Carved during the old subway expansions before the Gastrea War, they now served a darker purpose.
Rentarō grunted as he twisted the rusted wheel of an access hatch. With a groan, the seal broke, releasing a metallic stench thick with mildew and age. Enju dropped in first, eyes scanning. He followed, landing softly beside her.
The darkness swallowed them whole.
Only the flicker of Rentarō's retinal scanner painted the walls in dim blue. They walked in silence, the tunnel stretching forward like the throat of a beast.
"This isn't the right way, is it?" Enju asked, her voice quiet.
"No," Rentarō said. "But it's the safe one."
Safe. A meaningless word these days. Safety had become a privilege for the few—and a grave for the rest.
They reached an old utility station deeper underground. A flickering holo-sign buzzed on the wall: "Tokyo Infrastructure Authority — Subsector E15." Rentarō knocked on the panel twice, then once more after a pause.
A slot opened.
Eyes. Sharp, dark, distrustful.
"You've got ten seconds," a voice growled.
"I'm looking for Muroto Sumire," Rentarō said.
The eye narrowed. "She doesn't work with Civil Security anymore."
"I'm not Civil Security," Rentarō replied, removing his coat. The metal plating of his prosthetic arm glinted in the faint light. "I'm whatever's left."
The door creaked open.
**Scene Break**
Doctor Sumire hadn't changed much.
She was still sharp-tongued, still surrounded by old medical tech, and still smoking in places where smoking was definitely not allowed.
"You look like shit," she said, not looking up from her data pad.
Rentarō smiled faintly. "Missed you too."
Sumire finally looked up. Her eyes softened—just barely. "So, the rumors were true. You're alive."
He nodded.
"And Kisara?"
Rentarō hesitated.
Enju glanced down.
"Gone," he said. "She's building something. I don't know what yet… but she's not on our side anymore."
Sumire leaned back in her chair, exhaling a plume of smoke. "You think she'll come after you?"
"She doesn't need to," Rentarō said. "The Council will."
Sumire didn't speak. She didn't need to.
Instead, she walked over to a console and tapped in a sequence.
A holographic map of Tokyo flickered to life—outlined in red sectors, Gastrea zones, military checkpoints, and deep underground nodes.
"Rentarō," she said. "There's a resistance forming. Not soldiers. Survivors. Promoters, Initiators, ex-military, cursed children—anyone who remembers what justice actually meant before the Council took over. They're hiding in the ruins of District 14."
He looked up sharply. "District 14's a dead zone."
Sumire smiled grimly. "That's what makes it the perfect place to start a war."
**Scene Break — Elsewhere**
The Tendo estate had been rebuilt in less than a month.
Kisara Tendo stood alone in the dojo garden, watching the koi swim under the moonlight. She wore a black kimono embroidered with the phoenix of her family crest. The wind rustled the cherry blossoms that had bloomed far too early—an omen, perhaps.
Behind her, a man knelt—one of the Council's new enforcers.
"They confirmed it," he said. "Rentarō was seen in Sector E tunnels. With the cursed child."
Kisara didn't turn around.
"And?"
"He's connected with Sumire. We believe he intends to contact the resistance."
Kisara's expression didn't change. "Let him."
The man hesitated. "Should we… act?"
She finally turned. Her eyes, once soft, now carried the weight of execution.
"Rentarō Satomi will come to me on his own," she said coldly. "When he realizes justice can no longer be clean."
A beat passed.
"And when he does," she added, voice sharp as a drawn blade, "he will kneel—or I'll bury him beside the others."