Discharge

[Morning]

Daisuke tried to report the night episode.

"He was talking about knives. About killing. He shouted so that…" Daisuke squeezed his notebook, pointing to the word he had written: “DANGEROUS.”

The physiotherapist glanced at the page, then shrugged. "Patients in pain often ramble, especially at night. Drowsiness, medication, fatigue — it happens."

"What if his Magic Ability causes something serious to happen? I saw blood dripping from his fingers. But this morning when the nurse changed his bandages, there were no signs of wounds! As if the wounds… had healed on their own!" Daisuke pressed.

The ward doctor adjusted his glasses and looked at him coldly. "That’s natural regeneration. After a three week rehabilitation and strict exercises it's normal to Magical channels began working again. I would be worried if nothing was recovering."

"But Doctor, his behaviour, his magic... It's all too concerning!" Daisuke retored back.

The doctor gave him a long, level look.
"Fukuda-san... Calm down. There's nothing to worry about. I assure you. Don’t look for a sensation where there is none."

Daisuke felt a wall of disbelief he couldn’t break through.

Passing the operating rooms, he ran into Dr. Watanabe. Seeing that the doctor wasn’t busy at the moment, he decided to ask him.

"Doctor Watanabe," Daisuke began, trying to keep his voice level.

Watanabe turned and straightened his glasses. "Yes? Fukuda-san?"

"Patient Miyahara… he’s… he’s insane. And I don’t mean only when he tried to attack one of the nurses. I… I saw what he does at night. I heard his… his awful, almost maniacal cackle… I saw at night what he did with his hands… his wounds closed by themselves, and his magical energy began returning. I'm asking you again... Do you really think it’s right to fully help him knowing who he is?" Daisuke's words came out sharp, each one a practical probe.

Watanabe listened without interrupting. When Daisuke finished, he leaned back slightly, then beckoned him nearer with a quiet motion, as if the corridor itself required low voices.

"Fukuda-san… Your concerns are valid. But you know I cannot act otherwise. Refusing treatment… refusing to help… even to a serial killer, is also a decision. If I choose not to help, I would not be able to meet my own eyes in a mirror.
Regardless, know that I have not avoided responsibility.
I weighed it — every hour, every procedure. But I also believe in the possibility of rehabilitation. Every day of careful observation, every controlled intervention, increases the chance that he will truly improve rather than relapse."

"But Miyahara..." Daisuke started,

Watanabe lifted his hand, signaling Daisuke to pause,

"Miyahara-san is a wanted serial killer." He finished for him, "I do not deny the risk you point out." he paused, choosing words carefully, then added, softer: "But know too that he is suffering. His body, his mind… if I can help, I cannot look away. It is a burden I carry."

Daisuke glanced at his notebook, at the kanji fragment “Dangerous.”. 

The corridor tightened as Daisuke pressed the point that had been gnawing at him. "And if he hurts someone after he leaves the hospital? What then?"

Watanabe's face did not harden; it grew only more resolute. "Then I will have done everything I could to prevent that outcome. I cannot control what happens outside these walls. I can only control what happens here. As a physician, my duty is to offer care where care is possible. Refusing him would be a decision — and that decision has consequences too."

Daisuke opened his mouth, ready to retort, and instead enumerated facts, each like a small stone heaved into the conversation. "But he threatened to kill people. He nearly killed a nurse with his behavior. There was no police consultation — no official report filed by this hospital. You're effectively returning him to the streets with their knowledge erased. That’s not protection, that’s risk. You’re enabling him to regain the very power he could use to hurt others. Think about everyone else's safety!"

"I understand your doubts. Anyone in my position would have them just as strongly. But.." Watanabe looked intently at Daisuke, then leaned in a little closer: "This is not a matter of convenience or an easy choice." He added.

Daisuke opened his mouth again, a sharp breath escaping him — half gasp, half protest. For a moment he just stared at Watanabe, the words caught in his throat.

Then, slowly, his expression shifted. The anger did not fade, but beneath it came something else: the cold recognition that Watanabe would not be moved.

His fingers tightened around the notebook until the edge pressed into his palm. "…I see," he muttered at last, voice low, almost resigned.

But in his mind, the kanji still burned: Dangerous.

Daisuke sighed, lowered his gaze and walked away.

'Doctor… if you truly put one man's welfare above everyone else's safety, I will find out why. I'll collect the evidence and report it to the proper authorities. If anyone here put the law or people's safety second, I will make sure they answer for it.'

---

A week later, when Hideaki was about to be discharged, Daisuke tried to access the system. He wanted to compare the graphs of magical channels from the nightly measurements.

But… there was nothing.

Patient profile: not found.

Report files: access error.

Camera recordings: deleted.

Daisuke sat staring at the empty screen, cold sweat dripping down his neck. "As if he was never here…" he whispered.

At the same time, Seiji entered the ward with a bag slung over his shoulder. 

His eyes held their usual cold focus, but beneath the surface a flicker of uncertainty smoldered.

'All of Hideaki’s data is in the hospital… I’m surprised the police never found out about it earlier. They could have stumbled on him during routine checks, interrogations, or even just verifying whether a hospital doesn't have any suspicious patients. And yet… no one asked. Something’s wrong.'

Before heading upstairs, he stopped at the reception desk.
"I’d like to request the discharge papers for Miyahara Hideaki," he said, his tone clipped and precise.

The receptionist frowned, clicking through her terminal. After a long pause, she shook her head.
"I’m sorry, sir. I can’t seem to locate them in the system. There should be a file, but… it’s missing. Maybe it wasn’t uploaded properly."

Seiji narrowed his eyes.

Seiji narrowed his eyes.
"How about checking the archives?"

"I’ll do it right away. Please wait a little." She gave a quick nod and began typing rapidly on the keyboard, searching through the archive files. But again… nothing.

"There’s no information about such a person in the archives either. Are you sure you’re giving us the right name? Maybe you’re mistaking him for someone else?"

"No, I’m absolutely sure it’s his name," Seiji said calmly. But in his mind, the situation was already looking bad.

'There's no record in the system anymore. No one knows he was even there for those three weeks...'

The data on Hideaki’s night episodes, his health status, his Magic Ability — all of it had vanished from the system. No one could check his history or monitor his progress anymore.

'It's as if someone deliberately covered up all the hospital records.'

He thought when suddenly, he overheard voices behind him. 

A woman, apparently from the information office, was speaking calmly to Dr. Watanabe:

"The system has been cleared, as per procedure, Watanabe-san… We won’t have access to any records or patient files for Miyahara."

Watanabe nodded, adding nothing more.

Seiji frowned slightly as he listened. 

'And everything became clear.'

Watanabe adjusted his doctor's coat and turned to the nurse. "Let's get back to him. His roommate should be here in a moment." And with that they took their way upstairs.

Seiji looked at the markings on the wall that described which rooms were above, but one sign stood out significantly: Rehabilitation department / physiotherapy

'If he is still in this hospital, he should be there.'

He took a deep breath, and followed the doctor upstairs, hoping that he will lead him to Hideaki. Meantime, his mind already calculating scenarios and strategies to keep Hideaki under control.

Upstairs, Hideaki stepped out of the rehabilitation room, his hands in fresh bandages, dressed in a hospital sweatshirt and jeans. At first glance, he looked calm.

"All ready, Miyahara-san?" The nurse handed him a bag with medication and documents.

"Yes," Hideaki replied. His hands were clean, the bandages fresh.

Dr. Watanabe stepped closer, leaning slightly toward Hideaki, looking him straight in the eyes. His tone was calm, but carried weight.

"Miyahara-san… everything we’ve achieved here now requires caution. Your magic isn’t gone, but it’s still vulnerable. At home, you must continue your exercises — fingers, coordination, breathing, magic channels flow — but never overexert yourself. One mistake, one rash action… and everything we’ve rebuilt could crumble."

Watanabe gave a faint smile, adding some encouragement:
"I know you can be patient. What you learned here will stay with you, if you remain careful and mindful. Remember — control is stronger than power. Every step matters now."

Seiji stood beside them, observing both doctor and patient, noting every detail in his thoughts.

'So it’s just as I predicted. Home exercises.'

Hideaki nodded slowly, cautiously, as if the doctor’s words sank deep into his mind.

"Alright… I understand," he whispered, hoisting the bag onto his shoulder. Then he gazed at Seiji, who was observng them with crossed arms.

Watanabe turned toward Seiji:
"Sekiguchi-san, welcome. Miyahara-san is ready to leave the hospital. The rehabilitation process went without much hardships. Now it’s up to you both how these improvements are carried forward. I know this may raise doubts… but I believe with proper support and supervision, Miyahara-san's health will remain good."

Seiji gave a small nod, stepping closer. "Thank you for the help, doctor." He turned to Hideaki "Let’s go." He said and took the documents.

Daisuke stood at the far end of the corridor, half-hidden in shadow. He followed them from a safe distance. His heart pounded, every step Hideaki took seemed too smooth, too normal.

'By day, he plays the model patient. Everything looks like nothing ever happened… But I know what he did at night. And no one will believe me…'  he thought, tightening his grip on the notebook.

Seiji opened the elevator door. Hideaki stepped in first, his steps steady on the metal floor.

The nurse tried to smile at Daisuke. "Everything’s fine. The patient is healthy, rehabilitation was a success."

Daisuke only shook his head in silence. 'Don’t believe them… this isn’t success. This is the calm before the storm.'

He glanced at the reception desk, narrowing his eyes. 'Who the hell erased all that data…'

---

On the way to the exit, Hideaki trembled slightly, as if he could still feel the metallic scent of the air from his nightly exercises. Seiji sensed it subconsciously, but showed no reaction.

Daisuke observed them from far distance, when their silhouettes disappeared in the entrance door. He pressed the pen harder in his notebook and wrote:

„DANGEROUS. DO NOT TRUST.”

"Come on, let me check if everything’s in the bag," Seiji said. Hideaki rolled his eyes and with angered expression, handed the bag over for inspection.

When they finally stepped outside, the cool morning air wrapped around them. Hideaki took a deep breath and chuckled to himself madly.

"Finally, I'm again being able to track down this burglar and kill him for what he did to me!"

Seiji hearing that bonked Hideaki on his head.

"Ouch!" Hideaki yelled.

"You barely got out from the hospital, and first thing that you want to do is kill someone who almost killed you?"

"Y-yeah... I want revenge on him. Tch. He'll gonna taste his own blood for making me suffer! Ehehehe! And now with my Magic Ability working again, it would be a piece of cake!" He grinned wickedly.

Seiji narrowed his eyes "You were told not to overexert yourself. Especially with your Magic Ability."

"But I want to kill him! I want to watch his blood pour from his throat… see it spread, branching out like a tree... Red veins fanning across the pavement — beautiful. Ehehehe!"

"No. If you try to follow him, I will stop you. And I will not be gentle. Do you understand? Besides, if this guy has been robbing apartments, the police have probably already found him. And even if they haven’t, an investigation would take weeks just to figure out where he is. You’re not going to outsmart the police, so drop it and be greatfull that you can still walk and use your Ability."

"Tch-" Hideaki hissed and shoved his hands in his pants pocket, walking hunched next to Seiji.

---

As they walked, Seiji glanced at Hideaki's hands. Tightly hidden in pockets. "We will focus on continuing your rehabilitation back in the apartment, just as doctor said. I hope you're not planning on starting any more fights like that anytime soon."

"Tch! I-I'll try..." Hideaki murmured through gritted teeth.

"There is no 'I'll try'. I'd say, you're prohibited from repeating that stupidity. Unless you want to end up in the hospital again, but this time with a complete lack of your Magic Ability." Seiji replied.

"N-no..." Hideaki muttered, voice low but tense.

"That's what I thought." Seiji said and then added "By the way, when we'll be back in the apartment, we would have to talk about something."

"Huh?" Hideaki's eyes widened, he felt stress creeping over him.

[Meanwhile - Tokyo Metropolitan Police – Briefing Room] 

The folder was thin, almost embarrassingly so after so many days of work.

The air smelled of cold coffee and cigarettes brought in from the hallway.

Tanaka leaned back, exhaling.

"We’ve been busy, but it feels like digging in sand."

He flipped open his notebook and ran through the points:

1. Cross-district assault checks – "We reviewed every assault report in the city. Nothing recent matches the cut pattern… except for a handful of cases months back on the edges of Tokio city made by... Miyahara. But these were random victims. No links."

2. Archive digging – "Pulled older files, cross-referenced wound reports. Same story: the technique pops up here and there, some injuries match the “Miyahara’s signature,” but overall, they're scattered. No suspect names attached." 

3. Neighborhood patrols – "We had uniforms circling the area after dark. No strange activity. No repeat incidents."

4. Residence checks – "We skimmed through registration changes in that district. Who moved in, who moved out. All normal turnover. No one stands out."

5. ‘Paper checks’ – "Knife sales logs, pawn shop reports, the criminal database for anyone who uses similar methods. Nothing. Clean."

Tanaka snapped the notebook shut with a flat sound.

"That’s three weeks of legwork. And we’ve got nothing solid."

Kisaragi’s gaze was fixed on the thin file.

"Nothing solid… but the wounds line up with those older cases. The cases in which Miyahara Hideaki took a main role as the killer. I told you. He’s still out there. Somewhere close. It wasn’t random."

Nakamura rubbed his temples, then said quietly:

"Inoue-san is right. Right now, we’ve got no cooperating victim, no physical evidence, no hospital lead. Officially, the file says 'suspended due to lack of operational options.' Unofficially… we keep it warm. The moment something new comes up – we’re back on it."

"In other words, we sit and wait until someone else bleeds." Inoue murmured.

Kisaragi didn’t respond. Her gaze lingered on the thin folder, which seemed lighter with every passing day without new evidence.

Tanaka muttered darkly:

"So we wait. For another body."

No one answered. The silence felt heavier than the empty folder on the table.