Harumi's Secret

The hum of the sparring room’s fans filled the air, blending with the faint whir of the facility’s lighting. Kaito stood in the center of the padded space, his arms slightly trembling as he adjusted his stance. Sweat dripped down his brow, a testament to the relentless drills he had been attempting for the past hour.

With a sharp inhale, he leaped into the air, twisting his body in a maneuver that once came effortlessly to him. For a fleeting moment, he felt the rush of freedom that flight always promised. But as he reached for the apex of his turn, his muscles faltered. Pain shot through his back, sharp and unforgiving, throwing off his balance. He hit the mat with a thud, his breathing heavy with frustration.

By the door, Naoko leaned against the frame, watching silently. Her sharp eyes missed nothing—the tension in his movements, the stiffness in his posture, and the unmistakable grimace that followed each attempt. She crossed her arms, a flicker of concern flashing across her face before she pushed herself off the wall and walked toward him.

“You know, Kaito,” she began, her tone light but carrying an edge of firmness, “if you keep throwing yourself around like that, you’re going to need more than a sparring mat to break your fall.”

Kaito pushed himself up on one knee, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though the strain in his voice betrayed him.

Naoko crouched beside him, her gaze softening. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, you know.”

He looked away, the shadow of old wounds—physical and emotional—darkening his expression. “It’s not about proving anything, you wouldn’t understand.”

She stood, offering a small, knowing smile. “I don’t need to. Sometimes, strength isn’t about how hard you push. It’s about knowing when to let yourself heal.”

As she turned to leave, she almost collided with Moka, who was just entering the hallway leading to the sparring room. Moka paused, her eyes flickering with curiosity as she glanced past Naoko toward the sound of Kaito’s strained movements.

“Is Kaito in there?” Moka asked, craning her neck to peek inside.

Naoko stepped in her way, placing a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “It’s best if you let him be. I think he needs this—alone.”

Moka frowned, her lips parting to protest, but Naoko’s gentle but firm grip stopped her. “Trust me,” Naoko added, her tone leaving little room for argument. “Give him his moment. He’ll come out when he’s ready.”

After a brief pause, Moka nodded reluctantly. Naoko gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before walking off, leaving Moka standing in the hallway, her gaze lingering on the closed door of the sparring room.

Inside, Kaito took another deep breath, readying himself for another attempt.

Kaito pushed open the door to his room, his limbs heavy from the strain of training. The quiet of the quarters greeted him as he stepped inside, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound. Dropping his bag by the door, he made his way to the bed, collapsing onto it with a muffled sigh.

The ceiling above seemed endless as he stared at it, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. His thoughts, however, were anything but calm.

So much has happened...

The weight of recent events pressed down on him. Memories of past missions, the shadow of the syndicate, and the faces of those he cared about swirled in his mind. Emi’s laugh echoed faintly, a reminder of her absence that was sharper than any blade. His hands clenched instinctively at his sides, frustration simmering beneath his skin.

A faint buzz interrupted his reverie. He reached for his phone on the nightstand, the screen illuminating the dim room. A notification from Reina.

Opening the message, he read:

Reina: Hello, Kaito. How are you doing? I... I just wanted to say sorry for blaming you about Emi. It wasn’t fair. I know you’re doing your best for all of us and so…I’m sorry. Also, if you don’t mind me asking, when do you think classes will start again?

For a moment, Kaito stared at the screen, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. But no words came to him.

With a sigh, he set the phone down and leaned back, his head sinking into the pillow. Reina’s message lingered in his thoughts, her words a reminder of the responsibilities waiting for him. His leave would soon be over, and the academy, his students—they all expected him to return. But with everything going on, he wasn’t sure if he could.

How can I just go back? he thought, his brows furrowing. The academy felt so far away now, like a distant memory of a simpler time. But then there were his students—their determination, their trust in him. Could he really leave them behind?

His chest tightened as the question echoed in his mind.

Sitting up abruptly, Kaito swung his legs over the edge of the bed, running a hand through his damp hair. “I need to clear my head,” he muttered to himself.

He then freshened up, grabbed his jacket and left the room, his destination clear. If he couldn’t find answers on his own, maybe seeing the academy, the place where it all began, would help him sort through the chaos.

As he arrived back at the academy, the familiar sights and sounds brought a mix of comfort and unease. The bustling energy was missing, replaced by an eerie stillness in the halls.

After wandering for a while, he made his way to the hospital wing, his feet carrying him almost instinctively to the one person who might provide clarity—his mother.

Kaito’s footsteps echoed softly as he approached the hospital entrance, his mind still wrestling with unanswered questions. The sight of the familiar building brought a sense of unease and determination.

Near the entrance, Mrs. Hitomi, his mother’s caretaker, stood adjusting the strap of her bag. She noticed him approaching and offered a warm smile, though her eyes carried the weight of someone who knew too much.

“Kaito,” she greeted, her tone soft yet steady. “It’s good to see you. How have you been holding up?”

Kaito paused, meeting her gaze. “I’m... okay,” he replied, his voice quiet but firm.

Her expression softened further, understanding the unspoken weight in his words. “I heard about your student,” she said gently. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening briefly before he spoke. “It’s okay, it wasn’t anybody’s fault.”

Mrs. Hitomi tilted her head slightly, studying him before changing the subject. “Your mother’s doing better,” she said with a small smile. “It’s slow progress, but progress nonetheless. She’s able to sit up now.”

Relief flickered across Kaito’s face. “That’s good to hear,” he said earnestly. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for her. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “It’s the least I can do. Your mother’s a fighter, Kaito. She’s been through so much, but she’s still holding on. That’s strength right there.”

He gave her a small, appreciative smile. “It means a lot. Truly.”

With a nod, Mrs. Hitomi stepped aside. “Go on. She’ll be happy to see you.”

Kaito entered the hospital and navigated the familiar corridors until he reached his mother’s room. Pushing the door open, he paused for a moment, taking in the scene before him.

Harumi sat upright on her bed, a soft pillow supporting her back. On the small table beside her rested a glass of lemonade, the condensation glistening in the sunlight streaming through the window. Her gaze was fixed outside, watching the sky with an almost wistful expression.

“Mom,” Kaito called softly as he stepped inside.

She turned at the sound of his voice, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “Kaito. You’re here.”

He walked closer, his movements deliberate. “Of course. How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing better,” she replied, her voice light but with a trace of weariness. She gestured to the lemonade. “Mrs. Hitomi insisted I drink this. Something about keeping me refreshed.”

Kaito chuckled softly. “She’s thorough, that’s for sure.”

Harumi’s smile lingered as she studied her son’s face. “And you? How have you been holding up?”

Kaito’s steps faltered slightly, but he quickly masked his hesitation. “I’m okay,” he said, his tone steady.

Her expression turned somber. “I heard about your student. That must’ve been hard.”

He nodded, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting hers again. “It was. But we’ll get through it. You don’t need to worry about me, Mom. Just focus on your recovery.”

Harumi tilted her head, her smile returning faintly. “You’re always so selfless, Kaito.”

He pulled up a chair and sat beside her, his hands resting on his knees. After a moment of silence, he glanced at her. “You know, I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately.”

Harumi raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Like what?”

Kaito hesitated, then leaned forward slightly, his voice lower. “Things relating to your condition... and Operation Eclipse.”

The mention of the name made her smile fade. Her eyes dropped to her hands, which she clasped tightly in her lap. “I guess I should’ve expected this,” she said softly. “Eventually, you’d want to know.”

Kaito reached out, gently taking her hand in his. “Mom, I’m trying to uncover the truth,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “I need you to tell me... what really happened back then.”

Harumi closed her eyes for a moment, her shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. When she opened them again, there was a shadow of pain in her gaze, but also a quiet resolve.

“Alright,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You deserve to know.”

Harumi’s gaze shifted to the glass of lemonade beside her, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the blanket covering her lap. Her voice was quiet at first, almost as though the memories themselves were weighing her down.

“It all started when the report came in,” she began.

Kaito leaned forward, his focus sharp as he listened intently.

“One day, I was summoned to the commander’s office for a briefing,” Harumi said. “It wasn’t unusual to be called in for missions, but this one felt... different. There was a tension in the air that I couldn’t quite place at the time.”

She closed her eyes briefly, the memory vivid in her mind.

“When I arrived, a few other senior officers were already there. The commander looked grim, as though what he was about to say carried the weight of the world. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He started by explaining that several civilians had been disappearing—randomly, without any apparent pattern. Initially, the police treated it as a series of unrelated kidnapping cases and launched their investigations.”

Harumi’s tone darkened slightly. “But no matter how hard they tried, the police couldn’t find a single lead. Weeks turned into months, and with no progress, they closed the investigation.”

Kaito frowned, his brow furrowing. “Closed it? Just like that?”

Harumi nodded, her expression bitter. “Yes. And after that, the situation only worsened. More people went missing, and the disappearances became more frequent. With no other options, the military was called in to take over the case.”

She paused, her fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket. “Our own investigations led us to one significant breakthrough. We found someone—an escapee. A young man who had somehow managed to get away from... wherever they were keeping him.”

Kaito’s eyes widened slightly. “What did he say?”

Harumi’s gaze turned distant, as though she could still see the haunted figure before her. “Nothing,” she said softly. “The poor soul was so traumatized that he couldn’t speak. He’d flinch at the slightest movement, his eyes darting around as if he expected someone to come for him at any moment.”

She took a deep breath before continuing. “Since questioning him wasn’t an option, we conducted a full medical examination. And that’s when we uncovered the horrors he’d endured. His body bore the evidence of inhumane experiments—tests so cruel and invasive that it was a miracle he was even alive, let alone able to escape.”

Kaito felt a chill run down his spine. “Experiments...”

“Yes,” Harumi confirmed grimly. “We didn’t know exactly what they were trying to achieve, but it was clear that someone—some group—was kidnapping civilians and using them as test subjects. The scale of it was unimaginable.”

She leaned back slightly, her eyes meeting Kaito’s. “From what little we could piece together, we suspected that their base of operations was somewhere in the Kiso Mountains. That’s when the commander decided it was time to act. He briefed us on the situation and made it clear that we’d be going on a raid to investigate and, if possible, capture those responsible.”

Harumi paused, her voice softening. “At the end of the briefing, the commander informed me and two other officers that we would be leading the mission. The plan was straightforward but risky: we would divide into three groups, each tasked with investigating different parts of the mountains. The objective was to find the base, gather evidence, and apprehend the perpetrators.”

Her expression darkened further, her voice carrying the weight of what was to come. “We knew the risks, but none of us could have imagined what awaited us in those mountains.”