chapter 0.5 — ss2
Shibuya — Tokyo
Under the thick, acrid scent hanging over the aftermath of last night's "Night of Terror," the once-vibrant district of Shibuya lay in ruin. Streets that had long symbolized Tokyo's prosperity were now stained in a half-charred blackness. Burned silhouettes—nothing more than brittle, curled remnants—marked where bodies had fallen, leaving behind only desiccated, sooted hands reaching from the ground like silent witnesses.
High-rise towers that once gleamed with life now stood as hollow, blackened husks.
Nothing remained of their original form—only soot, smoke, and the echo of what had existed before.
The deep roar of armored engines shattered the uneasy silence.
Convoys of armored vehicles passed through JSDF barricades—barricades intended less to defend the city and more to keep civilians far away from the truth. Behind them were massive trucks carrying containers the size of small houses. Their exteriors bore the Mitsubishi logo… yet inside, they represented something far darker—an arm of the government tasked with burying any trace of what had truly happened.
The tires crushed the charred remains of anomaly creatures scattered across the street before stopping in the middle of a ruined plaza. Cold storage containers hissed open. Men and women in dark suits stepped out—faces covered by masks, hands shielded by pristine white gloves. They moved with rigid precision, kneeling beside the carbonized bodies of civilians, whose forms had been burned so completely that no features remained.
Soldiers dragged the corpses of anomaly entities toward armored trucks, while others meticulously erased any evidence of the creatures' existence. AK-74 rifles were placed deliberately on the ground to fabricate the scene of a conventional terrorist attack. Some weapons were intentionally smashed to imply struggles and chaos, crafting the illusion of a human-caused massacre rather than the involvement of something… unnatural.
Nearby, a middle-aged man sat slumped as makeup artists transformed him into the image of a traumatized survivor. His hair was intentionally tousled, his eyes darkened into panda-like smudges to make him appear exhausted and hollow. He mumbled his lines repeatedly, rehearsing the script he had been assigned—every sentence calibrated to fit the government's narrative.
Another staff member tugged at his shirt, cutting shallow slits to mimic torn fabric.
Camera crews checked every device—every lens, every monitor—ensuring no mistakes would compromise the illusion.
When the man finally signaled he had memorized the script, a staff member draped a soft blanket over his shoulders and guided him into a medical van. The NHK reporter—specially summoned for this staged broadcast—stepped into view, adopting the perfectly neutral tone that had been used thousands of times in similarly fabricated "terror attack" reports.
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NHK Reporter
> "I am a reporter from NHK. Last night, extremist Islamic terrorists launched an attack and opened fire on civilians in Shibuya, Tokyo—causing severe casualties and widespread destruction. By 1:00 AM, units of the Japan Self-Defense Forces successfully suppressed the shooters and began rescue operations for civilians trapped under the debris…"
The camera slowly shifted toward the "survivor"—the actor sitting weakly inside the medical van. His expression was crafted with expert precision: dazed, fearful, trembling in a way almost indistinguishable from someone truly surviving trauma.
The NHK reporter inhaled deeply, continuing flawlessly along the memorized script.
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NHK Reporter
> "This is Mr. Suzuki, found by JSDF medics inside a company building south of Shibuya following the attack. Sir, if you don't mind… could you tell us what happened, and how this incident has affected you?"
The actor immediately shifted into a posture of avoidance and terror—voice quivering, hands clutching his head as though pushing away unbearable memories. His performance was so convincing that anyone watching would believe it completely.
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Actor
> "Oh… God… They— they stormed into our company…"
He curled forward, shaking violently, tears dripping onto the blanket as though mourning coworkers he had truly lost. The NHK reporter placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, reciting the next lines in the script with the perfect balance of empathy and professionalism.
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NHK Reporter
> "Please try to stay calm, sir. We understand your pain… but your testimony will help us condemn future acts of terrorism."
Still trembling, the actor slowly sat upright, delivering the next line in a voice so raw and broken it almost felt real—despite being nothing but fabrication.
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Actor
> "They killed my coworkers… shattered them… ruined everything…"
A sharp, piercing whistle suddenly cut through the air.
A split second later—
A blast rang out.
The actor's head ruptured—red mist spraying across the vehicle. The reporter's eyes widened in pure horror as fragments struck his face.
Chaos erupted instantly.
Soldiers from Kuroi Sakura shouted orders while shielding the reporter, pushing him toward cover as gunfire cracked and dust filled the air.
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Soldier 1
> "Turn off the cameras! No civilians can know about this—!"
Before the cameras were fully shut down, another explosive sound tore through the plaza.
The NHK reporter's head erupted in a violent flash. Blood splashed across the armored soldiers as his body collapsed lifelessly onto the pavement.
Kuroi Sakura soldiers dove into nearby buildings—but then came the unmistakable metallic ping of grenade pins being pulled.
Objects rolled to their feet.
A series of blinding detonations followed—white light consuming everything, knocking the soldiers unconscious before they could react. A thick hiss of gas spread through the air.
From the shadows of the surrounding buildings, figures emerged.
Men in brown suits, wearing black sunglasses and white gloves.
On their backs were the initials:
FDC — Freedom Detective Council
Some immediately opened the military trucks and photographed the remains of anomaly creatures. Others documented the blackened civilian corpses, the falsified AK-74s, the remnants of Kuroi Sakura's equipment—capturing thousands of incriminating details with clinical precision.
They worked methodically, silently—like phantoms exposing the rot beneath the world's illusions.
The Freedom Detective Council.
Those who seek the truth hidden in the shadows of the anomalous world,
and who believe—above everything—
that what is concealed must be revealed.
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[To be continued]
The secret revealed by the author:
season 2 will be much more intense and chaotic than season 1, with the freedom and fiery intensity of battles like war anthems.