That morning at Division 3

“We made it just in time for the coffee break,” my partner cheered.

“I can’t wait to feel its warmth and aroma…” I replied, pressing the elevator button.

Both caffeine addicts, we returned to the Cellos building. It was Monday, and after the emotional rollercoaster of the weekend, I was grateful to the universe for the return to routine.

“I’m glad we managed to trace the source of that last infection,” she said.

“Yeah, another successful case for the Shimizu-Tore duo…” We bumped fists as the elevator ascended. “That said…”

“What?”

I let a few seconds pass before answering, fully aware of the bitter pill I was about to serve.

“We still have six overdue reports…”

“Damn it, another entire morning locked in the torture chamber…” she muttered as the elevator doors opened.

“Pretty much…”

“Well, let’s start the week by tackling that,” she said as she stepped out first, offering me her hand. “Fewer things to worry about for the rest of the week.”

Does she want us to walk into the office holding hands? Fewer things to worry about…

“What’s the matter? After spilling your heart to half the office the other night, you’re shy now?”

I couldn’t help but smile.

“Shy? I’m just humble; I don’t like flaunting how much luckier I am than everyone else,” I joked, taking her hand.

As we crossed the threshold, we were met with discreet smiles.

Only Carlos and Hiro made eye contact with me, but all four smiled as they worked. They were relieved to see that the fresh blood in Division 3 would continue as before. That the days of uncertainty would fade with the arrival of summer, and before we all knew it, normalcy would return.

A little later, I found myself with Irina, Carlos, and Hiro, taking a break in a corner of the office.

“Good morning, tragic hero,” the poet smiled, coffee in hand.

My partner continued her work ahead of schedule, insisting that she’d draft all the report scripts in exchange for speaking less in front of the camera later...

“Hiro, how can he be a tragic hero if he got a happy ending?” Carlos retorted.

“Huh? You’re right…”

“What are you talking about?” Irina asked, curious.

“Nothing, nothing,” they joked in unison.

“Good morning.”

“How’s work treating you, Isayama?” the elegant woman commented, leaning against the wall. “Everyone says you and Katy have adapted well to the job.”

“And to more than just the job…” Hiro muttered mischievously.

“Yes, honestly, this past month and a half, I’ve learned a lot. Every case is a world of its own, and I always try to take something new away from them,” I answered responsibly.

Maybe Katy’s model student syndrome was rubbing off on me.

“I’m glad. If you ever need help with anything, Felix and I are always here for you.”

“Thank you, Irina.”

She’s warmer than I expected. I have to admit, she always intimidated me a little…

“Oh, by the way, Isayama, could you help me with a couple of cases later? Without Shinpei, I have a lot more work…” We turned momentarily as Katy dropped a pen on the floor.

“How clumsy…” She murmured.

I didn’t think much of it.

“Of course. If you want, I can stop by your desk at twelve-thirty, and you can explain what you need,” I replied.

“Thanks. Don’t worry, they’re not—”

“Excuse me, can I have everyone’s attention, please?” A man entered the office.

His commanding voice froze the entire room.

Dressed in a suit, he radiated authority. He was likely a higher rank of the company.

“Listen carefully,” he insisted. “I am Oros Miyata, and I bring extremely important news from Cellos Robotics’ central administration.” He paused.

Central administration?

“Your section leader, Shinpei Yamamoto, passed away early this morning.”

“What?!”

Those words twisted the faces and hearts of everyone present. Silence reigned; no one dared to move.

“His final hours were spent in an induced coma, ensuring a peaceful passing.”

“No way… Shinpei…” Carlos murmured, his voice barely a whisper. Ryunosuke also looked like he couldn’t believe it.

“Wait a second!” Hiro shouted.

Sh-Shinpei, dead?

I refused to accept it.

“What do you mean Shinpei’s dead?! He was supposed to come back soon!” the poet exclaimed.

I could do nothing but recall his tired face the morning he collapsed.

The trembling of his hand.

His sadness as he noticed the coffee tasted different.

Joining Hiro’s disbelief, Felix slammed his desk in frustration.

How could Shinpei…?

“I’m sorry, but at Cellos Robotics, we respect the Yamamoto family’s privacy,” Oros responded. “That concludes the announcement. Irina Kaft is hereby appointed as the new section leader of Division 3 Contagion Investigators.”

“Huh?” Irina and the rest of us were equally stunned.

No one said another word.

Their faces showed confusion. Frustration. Sadness.

“Understood! I’ll do everything I can to keep this division at the level Shinpei left it,” Irina declared.

Irina…

“Shinpei…” Carlos murmured again, frozen.

None of us could have imagined that, of all people, our strong and just leader would be the one to die.

Overwhelmed by the situation, what puzzled me most was that, among all the sad faces, Katy’s showed fear.

Staring at the pen in her hand, her eyes revealed an eerie terror of the void. It was like the expression she had when she spoke of her mother’s trauma.

Fear that caused her to drop the pen onto the desk again.

I watched from a distance as she struggled to pick it up.

Of all the possible emotions, Katy reacted to Shinpei’s death with fear…

What will become of us now?

…

That afternoon, Shinpei’s funeral was hastily arranged. Overwhelmed by grief heavier than the coffin carrying our comrade, everyone from the office attended to support his family.

Sunk in sorrow, the most harrowing sight was the devastated faces of Shinpei’s young son and wife. I was disheartened by how well I understood their pain—the bitterness of losing the lighthouse guiding your life.

Still, something didn’t add up, and my past in medical school knew it…

With so many implants, Shinpei’s chances of infection should have been minimal… Does this mean the fifth evolution can infect artificial body parts?

The funeral was held at a cemetery on the outskirts. Barely over twenty people attended.

In silence, the seven investigators watched as Shinpei’s coffin passed by one final time.

It doesn’t make any sense… How can something infect what isn’t biological? Damn it…

I drowned in my own thoughts.

Through the gray wind, I faintly heard the cries of our leader’s son. Panic and irreparable frustration reminded me of the countless other children I’d seen fall victim to the S-Flu as an investigator.

This isn’t right… Shinpei’s death isn’t right…

Shinpei’s coffin descended slowly. We stood silently, faces weary and defeated, watching as the man who had been our leader disappeared into the earth.

The fifth evolution… What the hell is happening with the fifth evolution?

I remembered my father’s tired face.

A simple implant malfunction, the hospital had said…

Yamaguchi-sensei’s lost gaze.

What if what killed Shinpei and my father wasn’t an evolved S-Flu?

Overwhelmed, I abruptly distanced myself from the others.

Under Katy’s concerned gaze, I walked away, manipulating the hologram on my wrist.

I need answers… and fast.

A few steps away through the grass, frustrated, I brought the hologram to my lips and gave a single, clear instruction:

“Call Tatsumi Kageyama. Now.”