(The black chevrolet camaro glided like a ghost to a stop by the road at the edge of the Aokigahara Forest. After the low growl of the engine died out, only a deathly silence and the faint, indistinct sound of wind from deep within the forest remained.
Kuchiba Hiro sat alone in the driver's seat, his gaze piercing through the windshield toward the primeval forest that crouched in the night like an ink-black behemoth. A cold question circled in his mind: When the enemy is an invisible, intangible, and massive system rather than a specific person, to what extent must revenge go to be considered finished?
Is it killing all the henchmen sent to hunt him down?
Is it dragging out the specific official who coldly warned him over the phone or gave the order to silence him?
Or is it... uprooting and completely incinerating the entire system that birthed such a cold machine and allowed this 'necessary evil' to exist?
The boundary was despairingly blurred. Revenge seemed to have become a marathon with no finish line, capable only of continuously consuming lives.
But he quickly dispelled this moment of confusion. He didn't need a universal answer; he only needed to set a boundary for himself. A simple, direct, and cruel boundary.
In his heart, he laid down a blood-stained ruler:
Unless he died.
Or, unless the mastermind hiding behind the scenes personally appeared and knelt before his father's spirit to atone for their sins.
Until then, anyone who stopped him or tried to enforce that 'order'—no matter who they were, whether they knew the truth, or what kind of families and stories they had behind them—
As many as come, that many shall die!
Here, this sea of trees steeped in legends of death that ordinary people avoid, was his home turf. And he had the confidence to make this place the grave of all hunters.
He pushed the door open and stepped out. The cold night air, mixed with the scent of rotting plants and damp earth, rushed at him. He didn't take any lighting equipment, nor did he even spare a second glance at the car, walking straight into the dark, dense jungle, his figure instantly swallowed by the immense darkness.
The Aokigahara Forest at the foot of Mount Fuji was shrouded in an eerie aura due to its unique magnetic landscape causing compasses to fail, as well as its long-standing reputation as a'suicide sanctuary.'
The level of development here was extremely low, with most areas remaining in a primitive state. To outsiders, it was a deadly labyrinth; to him, it was a familiar hunting ground.
The deeper he went, the taller the trees became, blotting out the sky. Even during the day, the light was dim, and at night, it was so dark one couldn't see their own hand in front of their face.
A faint, indistinct miasma began to permeate the air (mostly accumulated gases from rotting trees). On the outskirts, one could occasionally see signs advising against suicide, inscribed with warm words.
Even on a famous crooked tree with twisted branches that was very'suitable' for hanging, a variety of colorful Tenga-style strokers were absurdly hung. They were covered in small notes with cynical yet somewhat sorrowful messages like 'If you have troubles, just feel good and be done with it' or 'Life is short, enjoy it while you can.'
Passing this familiar'spectacle', Kuchiba Hiro's pace paused slightly. His cold gaze swept over the newly added 'offerings' as if inspecting some serious exhibits. There was no particular reason; it was just that this scene, an intersection of extreme curiosity and despair, always held a bizarre attraction, making one wonder what new 'styles' had been added.
He knew this place like the back of his hand because he came here often.
Not to commit suicide, but to explore, to be alone, and to... meet his 'friends'.
He went deep into the forest, eventually stopping before a massive ancient tree that would take several people to encircle. The surroundings were silent, save for the wailing of the wind through the treetops.
He didn't make a sound, just stood there quietly, as if waiting.
A few minutes later, a rustling sound came from the nearby bushes. Then, in the darkness, pairs of glowing green or eerie blue points of light lit up.
First, several crows landed noiselessly on the surrounding branches, tilting their heads to look at him. Then, several wild dogs with mottled fur and knotted muscles paced silently out of the shadows. Their eyes were sharp and alert, yet they showed no hostility toward Kuchiba Hiro. Even above the canopy, the blurred figures of Raccoon dogs and foxes could be seen.
These were his 'friends' in the sea of trees.
A group of untamed 'residents' who had been rejected by human society or had actively chosen to stay away.
Kuchiba Hiro slowly crouched down, took some dried meat from his backpack, broke it into pieces, and placed them in his palm.
The largest crow was the first to fly down, landing on his arm and pecking at the food in his hand. Immediately after, a leading wild dog also slowly approached, carefully licking meat chunks from his other hand.
He stroked the crow's smooth feathers, looked at the wild dog's trusting eyes, and muttered to himself, as if announcing to these sole 'listeners':
"They will be here soon."
"My enemies."
"Please help me!")
The light screen clearly presented the scene of Kuchiba Hiro merging into the dark sea of trees and keeping company with wild beasts. That cold killing intent intertwined with the eerie atmosphere of the primeval forest, causing a chill to rise up the spines of all viewers.
He was no longer a fugitive.
He had become a part of the forest itself, a predator lurking in the darkness, waiting for its prey.
The unspoken communication between the boy and the crows, wild dogs, and even more forest creatures—transcending species—was like a massive boulder dropped into stagnant water, instantly stirring up unprecedented waves in the global public opinion arena.
The heavy, fearful, and oppressive atmosphere previously brought by the bloody killings was actually diluted significantly by this unimaginable development!
"Is... is this his superpower?! Communicating with animals?!"
"A real-life version of Snow White?! No, it's a dark fairy tale version of Snow Prince!"
"I take back what I said! This guy is awesome! (Voice cracking) This ability is too cool!"
"I'm crying from envy! What kind of dream ability is this! I want to talk to cats and dogs too!"
"Wake up, person above, he just killed two people... but... this ability really is cool..."
Countless viewers forgot their stances and their fear at this moment, leaving only intense curiosity and amazement for this ability that transcended common sense. Being able to communicate with animals was a fairy tale dream deeply rooted in the collective human subconscious. Now that it was presented in such a realistic way (albeit through the light screen), the impact was indescribable. Many people began to wildly imagine what it would be like to possess such an ability.
However, after the immense wonder came intense questioning and 'scientific' interrogation. Countless people who tried to explain everything with rationality jumped out and began to debate fiercely:
"Absolutely impossible! Animal intelligence is simply not high enough to understand complex human language! Let alone execute orders!"
"What's the scientific explanation? This violates the foundations of biology! The brain structures, auditory frequencies, and information processing methods of birds and mammals are completely different. How could they possibly understand abstract concepts like 'enemy' or 'help'?"
"Even the most strictly trained military or police dogs can only respond to specific, repetitive commands and scents! This is practically telepathy!"
"Agreed! This looks more like some kind of mental control!"
The debate on the internet instantly reached a fever pitch. The controversy over 'animal communication' even temporarily overshadowed the condemnation of the 'murderer' and the fear of the 'end of the world.'
Those who believed in the existence of superpowers saw this as ironclad proof.
Those who firmly believed in the supremacy of science considered it another malicious hoax by the light screen's creator or an unexplainable mystery.
More people were in a state of skepticism, finding it both miraculous and absurd.
But regardless, Kuchiba Hiro's image became more complex, mysterious, and even more daunting.