Thank Yo:U O:Fficer Shinku Hayate!!

Xenox stood motionless, his glowing red eyes fixated ahead. His voice, devoid of emotion. “Awaiting further instructions.”

Vitron, stepped closer to his reanimated puppet. “Your single command is this…” He leaned in. “Go outside and begin slaying humans.”

Without hesitation, Xenox’s body jerked to life. His mechanical movements transitioned into a smooth, terrifying sprint as he bolted toward the hangar doors of the Mother Ship. From the walls a bizarre, newly constructed vehicle shaped like a silly, cartoonish duck with jet-powered wings fell.

Vitron chuckled, watching Xenox climb into the duck-shaped vehicle.

With a deafening roar, the vehicle’s jets ignited, and Xenox launched into the sky, the duck-shaped craft zipping through the air like a grotesque parody of a children’s toy.

Shinku and Gemu could only watch in horror as the vehicle disappeared into the horizon. Moments later, reports began flooding in on the Mother Ship’s monitors, showing live footage of Xenox’s rampage.

In a bustling city district, Xenox landed the craft in the middle of a crowded plaza. Without a moment’s pause, he leaped from the vehicle and began his grim work. His movements were fluid and calculated, slicing through the panicked crowd with mechanical precision. Screams echoed through the streets as people scattered, desperate to escape the slaughter.

Shinku’s tears streamed down his face. Gemu’s earlier words about humanity and the meaning of being alive swirled in his mind, clashing with the brutal reality unfolding before him.

Vitron, watched the chaos with a satisfied expression.

Meanwhile, the officers of District 1 were speeding through District 2, determined to reach the Mother Ship and stop Vitron. The streets were in chaos, with crowds fleeing in every direction. At the front of the group, Prog spotted Xenox soaring through the city in his jet-powered duck craft, leaving destruction in his wake.

“Xenox!” Prog shouted, his voice filled with rage. He turned to the officers trailing behind him. “Half of you go stop Xenox! He’s killing people! The rest of us will push forward to the airship!”

The officers split into two groups, one racing toward the source of the destruction and the other continuing their charge toward the Mother Ship.

Back on the ship, Vitron turned away from the exit, his interest in the carnage waning. “Good,” he muttered, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “I was getting tired of that stupid, pretentious science speech.”

His focus shifted back to Shinku and Gemu as he strolled toward them, his footsteps echoing ominously in the chamber.

“Now then,” Vitron said, his tone icy as his eyes locked onto his captives. “Where were we?”

Nub spoke up. “Ninety-five percent.”

Vitron leaned closer, his cruel grin faltering as he squinted at Shinku’s face. The shimmering trails on Shinku’s cheeks weren’t blackened streaks of oil, but clear, glistening water. “What’s this…?” Vitron murmured, his voice tinged with suspicion. His expression hardened as he stepped closer, studying the tears with intense scrutiny.

“No… that’s impossible,” Vitron muttered, his eyes narrowing. “Your data’s restricted. The firewall around you blocks all external manipulation. So how…?” His voice grew louder, almost frantic. “Those tears… they’re real. Real tears!”

Shinku’s trembling body only seemed to confirm Vitron’s mounting realization. The president staggered back, his composure cracking as he shouted, “What are you?!”

Through his sobs, Shinku screamed, his voice raw and desperate. “I’m human! I’m human! I’m human! I’m human! I’m human! I’m human!”

In the background, Nub’s voice cut through the tension, cold and detached. “Ninety-seven percent.”

The countdown hung over the room like a death knell, but Gemu wasn’t listening. His eyes were fixed on Shinku, his own tears welling up as he watched the boy’s body shake with emotion.

Shinku’s voice, choked with anguish yet laced with defiance, filled the room. “Being human… It’s so much more than breathing oxygen, more than digesting food. It’s about feeling, about fighting for something, about loving someone… caring for others and for yourself.” His tear-filled eyes locked with Vitron’s, who was frozen, transfixed by Shinku’s words.

“You brought Gemu here,” Shinku continued, his voice softening but no less impactful. “Why? To see his reaction? To get his approval?” He paused, his tone sharpening. “You care, Vitron. Deep down, you care. That’s something only humans do. You’re no different from me.”

Vitron’s expression twisted into a mixture of fury and disbelief. “You’re wrong! I’m nothing like you!”

Shinku shook his head, his tears flowing freely as he smiled somberly. “Humans… they want to help others, even when they’re lost. Even when it’s misguided. This—” he gestured around the room, the chaos, the destruction— “this is your idea of helping others. But it’s all built on fear, on insecurity.” His smile grew sadder. “You’re human, Vitron, but you’re an unhinged, broken one.”

Vitron staggered as if struck, his usual composure unraveling.

“You’ll never be perfect, Vitron,” Shinku whispered. “You’ve already lost. If life had gone on just a little longer, maybe you would’ve learned what makes you human. The way I did.”

Memories flooded Shinku’s mind—images of Kiriria’s smiling face, her tiny voice saying, “Thank you, Officer Shinku!” as he escorted her home to her mother. The warmth of a moment he thought he would have forever.

Gemu’s voice cut through his thoughts, desperate and pleading. “Kid! Don’t—!”

But Shinku didn’t falter. His smile widened, bittersweet and accepting. “I was born as a computer…” he said, his voice soft, resolute. “…but I can die as a human.”

The memories consumed him now: the dream of a quiet life, sitting at home with Kiriria, possibly getting into a relationship with Tackle. Playing with screw. Living, laughing, loving.

Shinku looked up at Vitron, his tears unending. “Without you… without all of this… I never would’ve understood what it means to be alive. So… thank you.”

Vitron stared, stunned into silence, as Shinku’s smile lingered for one final moment.

“Goodbye.”

Nub’s voice rang out, calm and final. “Ninety-nine percent.”

Shinku’s body trembled as his data was forcibly extracted, his life draining from him. Tears poured from his eyes as his mind raced with everything he could have had, everything he could have been. He thought of Kiriria, of dreams left unfulfilled, of fleeting moments that could never be reclaimed.

Vitron’s lips became a chilling smile, masking the faintest hint of something deeper—something shaken within him. “Goodbye, Shinku,” he said softly.

Nub’s voice echoed one final time. “One hundred percent.”

Shinku’s body went still. His eyes, once filled with determination, dimmed and went black. The silence that followed was deafening. The boy who had fought so hard to be human was gone.

Vitron stood over him, victorious yet hollow, as the reality of what had transpired settled over the room like a heavy fog.