The Grayest Morning

After scrubbing the bloodstains away, I slumped into my chair.

Coffee in hand, I prepared to review everything I’d learned so far.

Yamaguchi-sensei’s discoveries change everything...

I glanced toward my bed, where she was still resting. I could only hope that sensei’s notes would light the way forward.

I projected the hologram from my wrist onto the table, placing it beside his stained notebook. Taking the first sip of coffee that night, I braced my eyes for the beating they were about to endure. It was far too early to let the world lose all meaning.

Let’s see, where do I start?

I opened a new document and faced my exhaustion.

I could cross-reference the advanced symptoms my father exhibited with Yamaguchi’s... The list had been consistent in all three cases I’d witnessed so far: full-body tremors, memory loss...

I typed relentlessly.

According to sensei, the biological weapon would hollow out your brain until it completely shut down...

I rummaged through the scrawls on the paper.

Bingo.

The list went as follows:

“Based on studies conducted on the limited number of available patients, the virus’s function is to target the central system of spinal implants, gradually weakening all host functions. The progression observed in the seven cases available to me follows this sequence exactly:”

- Initiation phase: mild attacks on the motor system.

- Spinal phase: early neurological issues like taste deterioration and hand tremors.

- Point-of-no-return: the program focuses on attacking the host’s cranial system, altering small memories.

- Dark phase: the infected loses all memory, unable to recognize their surroundings, until fading into the void of death.

In practical terms, it was like formatting a hard drive.

It doesn’t say anything about Yamaguchi’s bleeding... That symptom also differs from my father’s deathbed and the details we were given about Shinpei’s death...

I searched the surrounding pages, but found nothing about it.

Hmm, so that means...

I recalled the drones above us—not just hours earlier, but also the strange sightings from the past month.

The enemy is human... That means they accelerated the virus’s progression to kill him prematurely...

The memory of the drone that chased us to the car during the Kenzo Miura pursuit also resurfaced.

“That must have been when they spotted me with Katy...” I muttered to myself, slipping into a strange and bitter paranoia.

But who would do something like that? How did Yamaguchi-sensei reach that conclusion...?

I opened another blank document. By now, the coffee had gone cold.

Title: BlackBrain: The Case of the Darkened Minds.

How did he figure it out? He must’ve thought about the motive behind the murders...

I skimmed through every single page.

What do Shinpei Yamamoto, Hikaru Tore, Yamaguchi-sensei, Kenzo Miura, and Katy have in common...? Damn it!

“Why?” I typed nervously into the document. “How does it work?”

As I typed, I reread the notebook.

Possible Correlations:

- Age of affected individuals: inconclusive.

- Deterioration timeline: varies between four and six weeks.

- Brand of spinal implants: Cellos, Luminous, Cambra, Ulitex. Inconclusive.

- Economic status: inconclusive.

Shit...

- Occupation: many affected individuals had jobs related to the implant industry, but this isn’t conclusive yet.

- Gender: inconclusive.

- Blood type: inconclusive.

What the hell are they trying to accomplish with this?

I transferred every bit of data I’d read into the document. Even if nothing of value emerged now, all the information came with attached sources, so it might prove useful later.

There has to be some variable connecting all the affected...

I also listed the names of all those involved, along with Yamaguchi-sensei’s horrific end.

“The virus can be overloaded for a quicker and more violent death.”

“The virus degrades your senses and then attacks your memory. In the end, it leaves your mind empty.”

“The virus was created by humans...”

“...its purpose is...”

I stared at the blank light, unable to confront the situation due to my exhaustion.

Its purpose is...

My prosthetic trembled from the accumulated stress.

Its purpose...

…

Hours passed, but I found no answers.

Three cups of coffee later, I was startled by the light filtering through my window, beyond the horizon.

It’s already morning...

The document on my hologram had grown significantly, but nothing substantial. I’d been going in circles for far too long.

Circles of self-answered questions, hollow paragraphs, and childish conjectures about a serial killer murdering for fun… That the pattern behind the deaths was the lack of a pattern, that it was all was just randomly executed.

“But why go to so much trouble?”

I continued my monologue in characters as if my hands were possessed.

“Implants: who would try to target implanted people?”

“Who would hate people with implants so much?”

“Of course, them.” I wrote.

At last, I found a thread to pull, something to stir my weary gaze.

Them...

My red eyes sharpened, recalling those who protested outside our building.

Their shouts and flares.

“The activists... For example. They hate implants.”

Their clashes with the police. Their insistence.

“But would they really kill? Weren’t they advocates for saving lives?”

I typed furiously.

“Him...”

I remembered that normal morning with Katy at the mall. The sudden attack on the projectors displaying implant ads.

The hooded figure who smiled in my direction...

“Touji...” I murmured.

“The young man from the piano bar,” I finished the sentence in the document.

“Anti-implant groups aim to ban the use of implants,” I typed, feeling a hint of fear. “To ban implants, they’d try to show society their dangers. Dangers like a new disease capable of killing even with spinal implants.”

“Would they murder innocent people to achieve this?”

“Weren’t they supposed to be peaceful?”

“Touji loved humanity...”

Perhaps a more extremist faction of the anti-implant groups...

“Killing innocents to fulfill ideals.”

Wait...

I plunged my mind back into the plaza of Jiguroka Hospital. Surrounded by the blood of his death, the lights and the shouts.

Simple protesters couldn’t do something like that.

A wave of fear washed over me.

“How would mere protesters design a weapon like that one?”

“How did the surveillance drones know where we were?”

“Who called the quarantine team?”

“What was Ilya Reutermann doing with them?”

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Startled, I turned toward the bed.

The sound of the alarm cut violently through the room.

Breathing nervously, I watched as Katy turned it off, still groggy.

Without saying a word, she curiously got out of bed and walked toward me. Her lost gaze calmly studied everything around her.

Completely battered by the night, I waited for her to reach me.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty...”

“W-who are you?”

Silence.

My heart twisted. I felt the blood drain from my body.

“How did you get into my room?”

“I... I...” I tried to answer, but it was useless.

My worst nightmare had come true, and I had no idea how to face it.

Suddenly, Katy’s expression also showed terror, to the point where heavy tears spilled from her eyes.

Struggling with her frustration, she embraced me tightly.

“Huh?” My mind was still adrift.

“Isayama... I’m scared...” she sobbed into my shoulder.