Static cracked through the comms room of the ship.
Then a voice—distorted, but unmistakably clear.
"You think you're in command," it said, smooth and cold.
"But it's me."
Silva turned around towards the screen.
"I've been watching ever since I stepped foot on this planet. What a coincidence—we ended up on the same world."
Silva's eyes got fierce.
A pause. A breath. Then a grin in the voice:
"To be honest, I don't really know why you're here. But I guess it doesn't matter."
"What matters is I will get to you and will finally get to kill you."
Silva didn't blink.
He stepped forward, voice steady.
"If you really can hear me..."
"Take my advice."
"If you're still as pathetic as before..."
"You should leave. Before I find out where you are."
The screen flickered. On the other end, Dolph only smiled. Then it went black.
Ginto stood beside the monitors, eyes flicking over fluctuating data.
"So," he asked, "what's your plan for finding him?"
Silva leaned on the console, still staring through the glass at Akira's still body.
"We can't," he said.
"Trying to track Dolph is pointless. He'll expose himself when he's ready."
"Right now, Akira's our priority."
Medical Bay
The rest of the crew stood silently in the room.
Tubes ran through Akira's chest, arms, temples, pulsing with life. Machines hissed softly around him.
Jinka crossed her arms.
"We can't just let him rot on machines like this," she said flatly.
Kiluar leaned on the rail.
"So what's your plan?"
"He's effectively dead."
He turned to Shinko.
"Is his mind doing anything at all? Dreaming? Activity?"
Shinko didn't hesitate.
"He's thinking."
Jinka blinked.
"What?"
"He's contacting," Shinko said.
"His mind is understanding the voice. He's communicating."
"His mind is trying to under something"
She turned, expression unreadable.
"His body's relying on us. While his mind is doing the work."
Jinka clicked her tongue in frustration.
Tokyo, Japanese Government Assembly
A sleek hall. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead.
An older official addressed the room.
"What do you all think is the reason behind this?"
Someone near the center shook their head.
"Is this really something we should be worrying about?"
Another leaned forward.
"We've talked about this already. This isn't something we can ignore."
Silence.
Then a young man stood. Neatly dressed. Glasses.
He walked to the projector, inserted a device.
"This—" he said, pressing play.
The screen showed footage: students running through blood-streaked hallways at Hayashi High.
"Footage from a school in Saitama"
Then another clip: a restaurant torn apart by some unseen force.
"A clip from a restaurant here in Tokyo"
He leaned on the nearest seat, looking down.
"These aren't isolated incidents."
"All these incidents and the destructive power of the creatures in here"
"This isn't something human."
Someone scoffed.
"This could all be edite—"
But the man snapped his head up, eyes cold.
"Why are you trying so hard to ignore this?"
"Is your lazy ass that worried about extra work?"
"Language, Kaminari," the speaker at the front said sharply.
Kaminari didn't blink.
"We need to respond. The special force you talked about."
"The one discussed at the international meeting. Collaborate with other nations. Accept this new task force and send our best people."
He tapped the footage.
"Whatever these things are... they're here, here in Japan.....or at least they were."
The conference was over.
Kaminari left the building, stepped into the backseat of his car, and exhaled, a long one.
He loosened his tie.
The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror.
"Home, sir?"
Kaminari hesitated. Looked out the window.
"...No. Take me to that coffee shop. The one by the crossing."
"Yes, sir."
The café was nearly empty. The chairs looked like they'd already been stacked once, then unstacked again for his sake.
Kaminari sat near the back. The cup in his hand was hot.
"How's the coffee, sir?"
He looked up.
The barista—young, calm-eyed, dark hair tied back neatly.
It was Alph.
"Great," Kaminari replied, giving her a quick once-over. "You're new here, right?"
The angle shifted—her polite smile didn't waver.
"Yeah. Just started."
Kaminari nodded, then sipped again.
"This is an odd hour to drink coffee",said as she wiped the table.
Kaminari took a sip and said
"Yeah, I need to get my body to get going."
"You seem stressed, sir," Alph said, wiping down the counter with slow, methodical strokes. "Not many people drink coffee this late. At least not with that face."
Kaminari chuckled softly.
"Workload. Meetings. You know how it is."
"Can't say I do," Alph replied. "But if work makes people drink coffee this late, I'm glad I'm not into it."
Kaminari gave a real smile this time, leaned back with the warmth of the mug in his hands.
"See you again," Alph said as he stood to leave.
"Yeah," Kaminari muttered, eyes lingering a moment longer than usual.
Home. At last.
He kicked off his shoes, threw his coat over the nearest chair, and peeled out of his dress shirt. He went to his bathroom, took his towel, and sat in his bathtub.
After he got out, he wore a t-shirt and sweatpants, sleeves pushed up as he washed his hands.
Went to kitchen, made him something.
Simple dinner. TV on in the background—some loud news segment about crime rates, or maybe celebrity drama.
After finishing up at his desk.
Stretch. Crack of the neck.
He popped open a soda can, took a long sip, and pulled up his desktop.
The footage.
High-res files, blown up frame-by-frame. Restaurant security video. Hayashi school carnage. Slow-motion filters and digital enhancement.
He leaned closer.
Paused.
There, in the corner of a frame, blurred but unmistakable.
The barista.
Alph.
He stared at the screen, his heart suddenly knocking once in his chest.
"What the-"
His hand reached for the keys.
Ran to his garage, took out the car to the cafe"
The cafe was closed.
He knocked anyway.
Nothing.
He called the shop's listed number. A woman answered—bored, late-shift voice.
"Sorry, we don't share employee contact info."
"This is urgent—"
"Sorry, sir. we can't help you with that."
Click.
Kaminari stood in the dark, phone lowered from his ear. Wind brushed past. The sign above the café flickered once.
He sighed.
A street-side noodle joint. Late night. Steam rising into neon shadows.
Kaminari sat across from a girl loose tie,half-empty beer mug, cheeks red.
She was laughing at nothing. Or everything.
"Still acting like a drunk samurai," Kaminari muttered. "I don't even know how to start with you."
"Just do your job, Mizuhi," she slurred, "Tell the girl you like her. She'll say yes."
"That's not—what?"
"The coffee girl. Just say hi tomorrow."
"Hinata, this isn't about that," he groaned, rubbing his forehead. "God, I called you here for a serious talk and you're three beers in."
"You know its not good for you."
"MIZUHI, lighten up. You're too not fun," she said, pointing at him with a noodle-stained chopstick. "Just chill. It's not that deep."
Mizuhi sighed, dragging a hand down his face.
"Whoever she is... that girl knows something."
Hinata laughed, wobbling slightly.
"You're paranoid. Mizu, stop watching so much security footage. It's rotting your brain."
"Come on. I'm taking you home," Kaminari muttered, standing up and pulling a few bills from his wallet.
"Thanks, Mizu~" Hinata chimed, drunkenly wrapping her arm around his as they walked.
"Make sure to be yourself, she'll definitely say yes."
He sighed again, deeper this time.