Chapter 1:
Rebirth
Traits
Chapter 1: Rebirth
"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster." \- Friedrich Nietzsche
THE AWAKENING (2021)
The last thing he remembered was the sky—a crisp, cold blue—then the searing heat as everything ended. A gunshot. To the head. 2018.
(Narrator) Ah,the classic prelude to a truly dreadful morning! Imagine the jet lag of dying, only to wake up three years later with a pop quiz on civic law. A real bargain, wouldn't you agree?
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A sharp, insistent sound drilled into his skull, pulling him from the visceral memory of his own death. His eyes fluttered open to the dim, sunlit haze of a classroom. The scent of chalk dust and floor polish. The bored faces of classmates. And standing over him, a silhouette of immense, mundane authority.
"Saito-kun. Are you planning to sleep through the entire lecture on modern civic law? How utterly… mundane."
Takumi Saito’s head throbbed, a painful, nauseating drumbeat that felt far more real than this dreamlike classroom. A dream? No. The pain is too sharp. This is real.
I died. I'm alive. This body... is new.
"Sorry, Sensei," he mumbled, his voice rough with a disuse that hadn't actually happened. He was, in this life's memories, a model student. His current headache begged to differ.
The rest of the school day was a blur of fragmented thoughts and escalating pain. By the final bell, the dull ache had become a symphony of agony. Flashes of other lives, other deaths, stabbed at his consciousness.
Stab wounds in Kyoto, 1908. Poisoned milk in Tokyo, 1915. A firebombing in 1945. A gunshot to the head in 2018.
"Hey, Saito-kun, are you okay? You look pale. Should we walk home together?" a classmate asked, concern etched on his face.
Lie. I must lie. "Don't worry about me," Takumi forced a smile that felt like a crack in porcelain. "I'm fine. Just a headache." He walked away, struggling to put one foot in front of the other, his hand pressed against his temple.
The journey home was a marathon of torment. Each step sent another jolt of memory through him. He finally reached the familiar door.
"Tadaima," (I'm home) he called out, his voice barely a whisper.
"Okaeri," (Welcome back) his mother's voice floated from the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready soon! Don't forget to come down!" Her voice faded into a background hum of maternal nagging as he practically crawled up the stairs to his room.
He locked the door, the click of the bolt a feeble barrier against the storm in his mind. He rushed to his desk, yanking open a drawer with trembling hands. He pulled out a blank notebook and a pen, slamming them onto the desk as he booted up his computer.
The dates flashed behind his eyes, a relentless ticker-tape of doom. His fingers flew across the keyboard, searching, confirming. 1908. 1911. 1915. His pen scratched across the paper, a frantic, desperate scrawl. He wasn't even aware of what he was writing; it was a pure, panicked exorcism.
(Narrator) And here we have it,folks! The moment a young man consciously compiles his own multi-volume obituary. It's not a hobby I'd recommend!
The pain was unbearable—not just the headache, but the torment of reliving thirty-two deaths. The fear. The betrayal. The finality. He felt it. Oh, he felt it all.
When the frantic energy finally subsided, he collapsed back from his desk, gasping. His eyes fell upon the paper. It wasn't nonsense. It was a list. A chronological record of death cases. His deaths. And with that realization, the full weight of every single life and every single end crashed down upon him.
Takumi Saito, the seventeen-year-old model student, curled on the floor of his childhood bedroom and screamed—a raw, guttural sound of pain, loss, and cosmic despair that echoed through the house.THE INVESTIGATION DEPARTMENT B SCIU HQ (2030)
(Narrator) Now,let's fast-forward nine years! Our protagonist has traded his school uniform for a detective's badge and a mountain of emotional baggage. Welcome to the Special Crime Investigation Unit—where the coffee is stale, the paperwork is endless, and your coworker might just be an immortal vessel of divine vengeance. Fun!
The SCIU HQ in Tokyo was a monument to modern efficiency, but Investigation Department B was its chaotic, rebellious heart.
The room was about the size of a classroom, but any resemblance to order ended there. It was a glorious disaster zone. Case files, photographs, and books were scattered across the floor like autumn leaves. A large red bulletin board dominated one wall, covered in a spiderweb of connecting strings, suspect photos, and evidence notes, just like in the movies. To its left, a whiteboard bore the words "TEAM WORK" in colorful, bubbly letters, as if drawn by a particularly enthusiastic high school girl.
The centerpiece was a large conference table buried under laptops, speakers, and takeout containers. In the back, large computers hummed next overstuffed file cabinets. The walls were a bizarre collage of anime posters, motivational quotes, and sports team flags. Sticky notes formed a yellow fungus on every available surface. The large windows were wide open, letting in the bright Tokyo sun and a view of the sprawling city below. The only sounds were the squeaky rotation of a ceiling fan and the steady hum of the air conditioner.
On the door, a silver plate read: "SCIU INVESTIGATION DEPARTMENT B." Below it, someone had scrawled in marker: "Please leave."
In the far-right corner of the room, at the back of the conference table, sat Takumi Saito, now 27. He was fast asleep, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded. A book titled "HOW TO HATE MORE" by tomatoes tee was covering his face. The soft sound of his snoring blended with the room's ambient noise.
The door creaked open. Haruto Kurosawa, 26, peered in, his glasses magnifying his nervous eyes. He tiptoed through the mess, his movements timid. He reached Takumi and tapped him gently on the shoulder.
"S-Saito-senpai? Wake up," Haruto stammered, sweating slightly.
Takumi stirred, the book sliding off his face to reveal features sharpened by time, yet shadowed by a perpetual tiredness. "What is it, Haruto?" he asked, his voice low and laced with a dark mood.
"T-The General... he's late. It's already 12:30. Lunch? We should go..." Haruto managed to say, shaking under Takumi's gaze.
Takumi glanced at the clock. "Yeah. Let's go." He rose tiredly from his seat, his tall frame unfolding with a sigh.
As they walked down the bustling SCIU hallways, passing busy agents and offices, Takumi asked, "Why hasn't the old man shown up? He said this meeting was important."
Haruto, walking beside him, replied, "M-Matsunaga-General always schedules meetings and then doesn't attend them himself in the end..."
"He seemed serious this time," Takumi mused. "I wonder what he wants."
Haruto nervously suggested, "S-Since the General isn't around... maybe we could skip the cafeteria? Go to a restaurant? You... you promised, senpai."
Takumi sighed deeply. "...Fine. Okay."
A few minutes later, they were in Haruto's car. As they drove, Haruto asked, "Senpai, why haven't you bought a car? You're the highest-paid junior employee. You could afford a sports car."
Lie. I need a lie. Takumi looked out the window. "Haven't been in the mood for driving. Prefer public transport. Or this." The truth? A car explosion in Osaka, 1973. I remember the smell of burning fuel and flesh. Never again. He continued to embellish the lie effortlessly, his mind generating forty-five different scenarios before settling on the most plausible one. Soon, the rhythmic motion of the car lulled him to sleep.
"Senpai! Senpai, wake up!"
Takumi was jolted awake by Haruto's panicked whisper. "What? Are you nervous about the food?"
Haruto, pale-faced, slowly pointed a trembling finger at Takumi's window.
Takumi turned and saw her. Ayaka Misora, 25, his childhood friend, standing outside the car. She was the assistant manager of the very restaurant they had chosen—the Himura Hotel. Her expression was initially intense, suspicious, her eyes boring into the vehicle.
(Narrator) And cue the dramatic soundtrack!Nothing says "relaxing lunch break" like a run-in with a yandere childhood friend who may or may be connected to the cult you're investigating!
Takumi rolled down the window. Instantly, Ayaka's face transformed into a sunny, joyful smile. "Takumi-kun! I was expecting you! I saw your name on the reservation list. I've been waiting. And who is this... girl you're with?" Her eyes shifted to Haruto, and for a split second, the deadly glare returned, causing Haruto to shrink in his seat.
Takumi whispered to Haruto, "Calm down. I know her." He then turned back to Ayaka. "This is Haruto, my coworker. And he's not into 'those kinds of things,' so relax."
Ayaka's smile remained radiant. "Of course! Right this way, you two!" She led them to their table with unnerving cheerfulness.
As they ate, Ayaka frequently checked on them. "Is everything alright? Do you need anything else?"
"No, we're fine, Ayaka-chan. Thank you," Takumi said. He couldn't help but notice Haruto staring at her whenever she walked away.
"Got a crush, Haruto?" Takumi teased.
Haruto blushed furiously. "N-No! I mean... she's scary, but... she's cute. She hides her figure in those baggy clothes, but... she's okay. D-Does she... have a thing for you, senpai?"
(Narrator) Oh,Haruto, you sweet, naive summer child. "A thing" is a mild way of saying "a potentially homicidal obsession fueled by decades of attachment." But details, details!
Suddenly, Ayaka was at their table again, materializing as if from thin air. "So, how did you two meet?" she asked sweetly.
Haruto opened his mouth to answer, but Takumi cut in smoothly. "We're coworkers. Met a few months back when I transferred to my government job." Lie. I'm a special investigator. I can't tell you. I won't drag you deeper into this. He spun a web of effortless lies, each one layered and believable. Ayaka listened, her eyes full of trust.
Before she could ask another question, Takumi's phone rang. The General's voice boomed through the receiver, loud enough to be heard even without speakerphone. "SAITO! WHERE ARE YOU? GET YOUR LAZY BUTT BACK TO THE OFFICE, NOW!"
They quickly thanked Ayaka for the meal. As Takumi headed to the car, Ayaka followed him. Haruto was left to handle the bill.
"Ayaka, I have to go," Takumi said.
"Do you need any... information? About the Himura Clan?" she asked quietly, her eyes knowing.
Takumi paused. "Come to my house later. After work."
Her face lit up with pure joy. "Okay!" She happily skipped back into the hotel.
As Takumi stood by the passenger door, he pulled out his phone and fired off a quick text to an anonymous contact: Send the file. Usual channel.
Haruto rushed over. "Senpai, we have to go! The General sounded really mad!"
Takumi was completely nonchalant. "He's always mad." He slid into the car, typing on his phone as Haruto sped off in a panic, terrified of the General's wrath.
Back in the disorganized office, the clock ticked loudly. Haruto was a bundle of nerves, but Takumi was the picture of calm.
"Relax, Haruto. The 'old man' just likes to look scary. He can't do anything," Takumi said, resting his head on the table.
"Shouldn't we at least clean up?!" Haruto squeaked.
Takumi didn't answer. Silence fell. A few minutes later, Takumi was asleep again, and Haruto, trying to calm his nerves, had put on headphones and was playing a game on his laptop.
They were so engrossed in their own worlds that they didn't hear the door open.
A beautiful young woman stepped inside. She had just been outside, thanking a group of agents with practiced humility. As the door clicked shut, her gracious smile vanished, replaced by an expression of utter disgust. She sighed heavily and surveyed the room, her eyes landing on the two oblivious men.
She was Reina Hoshigawa, 26. Her pink hair shone even in the dim light. She wore expensive, luxurious office attire—a short skirt, long socks, and flawless makeup. She was curvy, poised, and radiated an aura of power and privilege. She looked like a living idol, shining brightly in the messy, dark room.
She walked silently over to Haruto and gently pulled one side of his headphones off.
Haruto jumped in shock, turning to see who it was. His eyes widened. He knew her. This was the daughter of Director Masahiro Hoshigawa, the billionaire founder of the SCIU. A genius from a prestigious family, with a formidable reputation. He scrambled to his feet and bowed deeply.
"H-Hoshigawa-sama! I'm so sorry! I didn't—"
Reina cut him off with a flawless, fake smile. "Please, stand up. Think of me as just another employee." She offered her hand. "I'm Reina Hoshigawa. Formerly of Department A. It's nice to meet you."
Haruto, trembling, shook her hand. "H-Haruto Kurosawa! Department B! I just joined a few months ago!"
In her mind: Ugh. His hand is sweaty. And this room is a pigsty. I can't believe I had to step down to shake this lame nerd's hand. He should be cleaning my shoes. He's even more pathetic than the losers outside.
"Nice to meet you, Kurosawa-kun," she said aloud, her smile never wavering. She found a relatively clear chair at the conference table, brushed off some stray papers and an old takeout container, and sat down, pulling out her phone to text.
After a few minutes of silence, she stood up again and walked towards the sleeping figure at the back of the room. She pointed at Takumi. "And who is that?"
Haruto swallowed hard. "That's Saito-senpai. He's... he's the 'Star Boy.'"
Reina's eyes widened slightly. The Star Boy? This freak? The one who broke records, solving twenty-plus cases in a month? The highest-paid junior employee they compare me to? She was disappointed and furious. "Are you kidding?" she asked Haruto, her smile straining.
"It's true! He's a legend! He's even up for a government honor!"
Reina let out a light, fake laugh and patted Haruto's shoulder a bit too hard. She then walked over to Takumi and tapped him firmly on the shoulder.
Takumi slowly lifted his head. He looked at her, his eyes scanning her from head to toe with a blank, uninterested expression. He looked around the room, and then, without a word, put his head back down and tried to go back to sleep.
Reina was stunned. No one had ever dismissed her like that.
"Excuse me," she said, her voice sharp. She forced a smile and held out her hand. "I'm Reina Hoshigawa. The director's daughter."
Takumi, without lifting his head, mumbled, "You can sit anywhere you want."
Her outstretched hand hung in the air. The disrespect was monumental. She forced her smile even wider, hiding her boiling anger, and returned to her seat.
In her mind: How dare he!? He didn't even care! He didn't look impressed! He didn't even notice how beautiful I am! Is he gay? No, that can't be it. Even girls can't get over me! I never lose. I will make his life a living hell.
She needed a new tactic. She got up and approached Haruto, who was trying to disappear into his game. "What are you playing, Kurosawa-kun?" she asked, feigning interest.
"O-Oh, it's just an anime game. You wouldn't be interested, Hoshigawa-sama, it's pretty lame—"
"Nonsense! I don't know much about these things, but I'm bored. Show me," she said, leaning closer to him. Haruto shivered from her proximity, her perfume, her beauty. She made cute, clueless expressions, playing her part perfectly.
They started talking. She asked questions, he answered. She laughed at his awkward jokes. It was all a masterful act.
Then, a low, annoyed voice cut through their conversation. "Could you two keep it down?"
Takumi was awake, a stern look on his face.
The room went quiet for a brief moment. But Reina had reached her limit. She stormed over to him. "You should be the one not sleeping at work!" she snapped.
"Sorry," he said flatly, and closed his eyes again.
Just as she was about to unleash her fury, the door swung open with a bang.
Standing there was General Shinobu Matsunaga, a man in his mid-fifties built like a brick wall, his face a roadmap of scars. He looked like he could fist-fight an army and win. And he was smiling goofily, sticking out his tongue in a comical, anime-like pose.
"Sorry I'm late!" he chirped, his high-pitched voice utterly mismatched with his appearance.
He looked around, spotted Takumi sleeping, folded a piece of paper into a ball, and expertly flicked it, hitting Takumi square on the back of the head.
"OW! What the hell, old man?!" Takumi shouted, jumping up.
"I knew you were sleeping, you brat!"
"I was meditating!"
Reina couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter, quickly covering her mouth.
The General cleared his throat, trying to look serious. "Now then, let's—"
"Just drop the formalities, it makes me sick," Takumi interrupted, rolling his chair to the front of the table, right behind Reina.
"SAITO! SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!" the General roared.
Takumi, like a scolded child, slouched into a chair with a sulky expression.
The General cleared his throat again. "Hoshigawa-san, please introduce yourself."
Reina stood up, perfectly poised. "I am Reina Hoshigawa. It is a pleasure to be assigned to Department B. I look forward to working with you all to ensure the success of the SCIU, and I intend to prove myself as a worthy successor to my father." She glanced pointedly at Takumi, who looked utterly unimpressed, which infuriated her further.
The introductions continued. Haruto stammered through his. When it was Takumi's turn, he simply said, "Takumi Saito. The Golden Boy." He looked directly at Reina as he said it, a faint, challenging smirk on his face. She blushed crimson and turned away, fuming.
"Good!" the General boomed. "Now that you're all acquainted, you'll be working together from now on!"
Haruto looked confused. "But... I thought Hoshigawa-sama was from Department A?"
"She was!" the General said. "But due to... let's call it a need for broader team integration, she's been transferred to Department B! You three, with your sky-high IQs and impressive records, will be handling our newest, most sensitive cases. No fighting, no undermining each other. Understood?"
They all nodded, with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
The General then gestured to Takumi. "Saito. A word." Outside in the hallway, the General's tone softened. "Look, Takumi. I need you to play nice with Hoshigawa's daughter. Don't get on her bad side. She's here because she lacked 'squad involvement' in A. And... she'll be getting a higher pay grade than you. The bigwigs wanted to keep her happy."
Takumi didn't even blink. "I'll consider it," he said flatly, and walked back into the office.
When he entered, he found Reina verbally bullying a terrified Haruto. "Alright, that's enough," Takumi said. "The General's given his orders. The captain will be by later this month to assess us. For now, we should probably go out. Try to get to know each other better."
(Narrator) And so,the most dysfunctional team in SCIU history is formed! A tormented immortal, a prideful ojousama, and a cowardly genius. What could possibly go wrong? Tune in next time for certain disaster!
"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster." \- Friedrich Nietzsche
THE AWAKENING (2021)
The last thing he remembered was the sky—a crisp, cold blue—then the searing heat as everything ended. A gunshot. To the head. 2018.
(Narrator) Ah,the classic prelude to a truly dreadful morning! Imagine the jet lag of dying, only to wake up three years later with a pop quiz on civic law. A real bargain, wouldn't you agree?
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A sharp, insistent sound drilled into his skull, pulling him from the visceral memory of his own death. His eyes fluttered open to the dim, sunlit haze of a classroom. The scent of chalk dust and floor polish. The bored faces of classmates. And standing over him, a silhouette of immense, mundane authority.
"Saito-kun. Are you planning to sleep through the entire lecture on modern civic law? How utterly… mundane."
Takumi Saito’s head throbbed, a painful, nauseating drumbeat that felt far more real than this dreamlike classroom. A dream? No. The pain is too sharp. This is real.
I died. I'm alive. This body... is new.
"Sorry, Sensei," he mumbled, his voice rough with a disuse that hadn't actually happened. He was, in this life's memories, a model student. His current headache begged to differ.
The rest of the school day was a blur of fragmented thoughts and escalating pain. By the final bell, the dull ache had become a symphony of agony. Flashes of other lives, other deaths, stabbed at his consciousness.
Stab wounds in Kyoto, 1908. Poisoned milk in Tokyo, 1915. A firebombing in 1945. A gunshot to the head in 2018.
"Hey, Saito-kun, are you okay? You look pale. Should we walk home together?" a classmate asked, concern etched on his face.
Lie. I must lie. "Don't worry about me," Takumi forced a smile that felt like a crack in porcelain. "I'm fine. Just a headache." He walked away, struggling to put one foot in front of the other, his hand pressed against his temple.
The journey home was a marathon of torment. Each step sent another jolt of memory through him. He finally reached the familiar door.
"Tadaima," (I'm home) he called out, his voice barely a whisper.
"Okaeri," (Welcome back) his mother's voice floated from the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready soon! Don't forget to come down!" Her voice faded into a background hum of maternal nagging as he practically crawled up the stairs to his room.
He locked the door, the click of the bolt a feeble barrier against the storm in his mind. He rushed to his desk, yanking open a drawer with trembling hands. He pulled out a blank notebook and a pen, slamming them onto the desk as he booted up his computer.
The dates flashed behind his eyes, a relentless ticker-tape of doom. His fingers flew across the keyboard, searching, confirming. 1908. 1911. 1915. His pen scratched across the paper, a frantic, desperate scrawl. He wasn't even aware of what he was writing; it was a pure, panicked exorcism.
(Narrator) And here we have it,folks! The moment a young man consciously compiles his own multi-volume obituary. It's not a hobby I'd recommend!
The pain was unbearable—not just the headache, but the torment of reliving thirty-two deaths. The fear. The betrayal. The finality. He felt it. Oh, he felt it all.
When the frantic energy finally subsided, he collapsed back from his desk, gasping. His eyes fell upon the paper. It wasn't nonsense. It was a list. A chronological record of death cases. His deaths. And with that realization, the full weight of every single life and every single end crashed down upon him.
Takumi Saito, the seventeen-year-old model student, curled on the floor of his childhood bedroom and screamed—a raw, guttural sound of pain, loss, and cosmic despair that echoed through the house.THE INVESTIGATION DEPARTMENT B SCIU HQ (2030)
(Narrator) Now,let's fast-forward nine years! Our protagonist has traded his school uniform for a detective's badge and a mountain of emotional baggage. Welcome to the Special Crime Investigation Unit—where the coffee is stale, the paperwork is endless, and your coworker might just be an immortal vessel of divine vengeance. Fun!
The SCIU HQ in Tokyo was a monument to modern efficiency, but Investigation Department B was its chaotic, rebellious heart.
The room was about the size of a classroom, but any resemblance to order ended there. It was a glorious disaster zone. Case files, photographs, and books were scattered across the floor like autumn leaves. A large red bulletin board dominated one wall, covered in a spiderweb of connecting strings, suspect photos, and evidence notes, just like in the movies. To its left, a whiteboard bore the words "TEAM WORK" in colorful, bubbly letters, as if drawn by a particularly enthusiastic high school girl.
The centerpiece was a large conference table buried under laptops, speakers, and takeout containers. In the back, large computers hummed next overstuffed file cabinets. The walls were a bizarre collage of anime posters, motivational quotes, and sports team flags. Sticky notes formed a yellow fungus on every available surface. The large windows were wide open, letting in the bright Tokyo sun and a view of the sprawling city below. The only sounds were the squeaky rotation of a ceiling fan and the steady hum of the air conditioner.
On the door, a silver plate read: "SCIU INVESTIGATION DEPARTMENT B." Below it, someone had scrawled in marker: "Please leave."
In the far-right corner of the room, at the back of the conference table, sat Takumi Saito, now 27. He was fast asleep, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded. A book titled "HOW TO HATE MORE" by tomatoes tee was covering his face. The soft sound of his snoring blended with the room's ambient noise.
The door creaked open. Haruto Kurosawa, 26, peered in, his glasses magnifying his nervous eyes. He tiptoed through the mess, his movements timid. He reached Takumi and tapped him gently on the shoulder.
"S-Saito-senpai? Wake up," Haruto stammered, sweating slightly.
Takumi stirred, the book sliding off his face to reveal features sharpened by time, yet shadowed by a perpetual tiredness. "What is it, Haruto?" he asked, his voice low and laced with a dark mood.
"T-The General... he's late. It's already 12:30. Lunch? We should go..." Haruto managed to say, shaking under Takumi's gaze.
Takumi glanced at the clock. "Yeah. Let's go." He rose tiredly from his seat, his tall frame unfolding with a sigh.
As they walked down the bustling SCIU hallways, passing busy agents and offices, Takumi asked, "Why hasn't the old man shown up? He said this meeting was important."
Haruto, walking beside him, replied, "M-Matsunaga-General always schedules meetings and then doesn't attend them himself in the end..."
"He seemed serious this time," Takumi mused. "I wonder what he wants."
Haruto nervously suggested, "S-Since the General isn't around... maybe we could skip the cafeteria? Go to a restaurant? You... you promised, senpai."
Takumi sighed deeply. "...Fine. Okay."
A few minutes later, they were in Haruto's car. As they drove, Haruto asked, "Senpai, why haven't you bought a car? You're the highest-paid junior employee. You could afford a sports car."
Lie. I need a lie. Takumi looked out the window. "Haven't been in the mood for driving. Prefer public transport. Or this." The truth? A car explosion in Osaka, 1973. I remember the smell of burning fuel and flesh. Never again. He continued to embellish the lie effortlessly, his mind generating forty-five different scenarios before settling on the most plausible one. Soon, the rhythmic motion of the car lulled him to sleep.
"Senpai! Senpai, wake up!"
Takumi was jolted awake by Haruto's panicked whisper. "What? Are you nervous about the food?"
Haruto, pale-faced, slowly pointed a trembling finger at Takumi's window.
Takumi turned and saw her. Ayaka Misora, 25, his childhood friend, standing outside the car. She was the assistant manager of the very restaurant they had chosen—the Himura Hotel. Her expression was initially intense, suspicious, her eyes boring into the vehicle.
(Narrator) And cue the dramatic soundtrack!Nothing says "relaxing lunch break" like a run-in with a yandere childhood friend who may or may be connected to the cult you're investigating!
Takumi rolled down the window. Instantly, Ayaka's face transformed into a sunny, joyful smile. "Takumi-kun! I was expecting you! I saw your name on the reservation list. I've been waiting. And who is this... girl you're with?" Her eyes shifted to Haruto, and for a split second, the deadly glare returned, causing Haruto to shrink in his seat.
Takumi whispered to Haruto, "Calm down. I know her." He then turned back to Ayaka. "This is Haruto, my coworker. And he's not into 'those kinds of things,' so relax."
Ayaka's smile remained radiant. "Of course! Right this way, you two!" She led them to their table with unnerving cheerfulness.
As they ate, Ayaka frequently checked on them. "Is everything alright? Do you need anything else?"
"No, we're fine, Ayaka-chan. Thank you," Takumi said. He couldn't help but notice Haruto staring at her whenever she walked away.
"Got a crush, Haruto?" Takumi teased.
Haruto blushed furiously. "N-No! I mean... she's scary, but... she's cute. She hides her figure in those baggy clothes, but... she's okay. D-Does she... have a thing for you, senpai?"
(Narrator) Oh,Haruto, you sweet, naive summer child. "A thing" is a mild way of saying "a potentially homicidal obsession fueled by decades of attachment." But details, details!
Suddenly, Ayaka was at their table again, materializing as if from thin air. "So, how did you two meet?" she asked sweetly.
Haruto opened his mouth to answer, but Takumi cut in smoothly. "We're coworkers. Met a few months back when I transferred to my government job." Lie. I'm a special investigator. I can't tell you. I won't drag you deeper into this. He spun a web of effortless lies, each one layered and believable. Ayaka listened, her eyes full of trust.
Before she could ask another question, Takumi's phone rang. The General's voice boomed through the receiver, loud enough to be heard even without speakerphone. "SAITO! WHERE ARE YOU? GET YOUR LAZY BUTT BACK TO THE OFFICE, NOW!"
They quickly thanked Ayaka for the meal. As Takumi headed to the car, Ayaka followed him. Haruto was left to handle the bill.
"Ayaka, I have to go," Takumi said.
"Do you need any... information? About the Himura Clan?" she asked quietly, her eyes knowing.
Takumi paused. "Come to my house later. After work."
Her face lit up with pure joy. "Okay!" She happily skipped back into the hotel.
As Takumi stood by the passenger door, he pulled out his phone and fired off a quick text to an anonymous contact: Send the file. Usual channel.
Haruto rushed over. "Senpai, we have to go! The General sounded really mad!"
Takumi was completely nonchalant. "He's always mad." He slid into the car, typing on his phone as Haruto sped off in a panic, terrified of the General's wrath.
Back in the disorganized office, the clock ticked loudly. Haruto was a bundle of nerves, but Takumi was the picture of calm.
"Relax, Haruto. The 'old man' just likes to look scary. He can't do anything," Takumi said, resting his head on the table.
"Shouldn't we at least clean up?!" Haruto squeaked.
Takumi didn't answer. Silence fell. A few minutes later, Takumi was asleep again, and Haruto, trying to calm his nerves, had put on headphones and was playing a game on his laptop.
They were so engrossed in their own worlds that they didn't hear the door open.
A beautiful young woman stepped inside. She had just been outside, thanking a group of agents with practiced humility. As the door clicked shut, her gracious smile vanished, replaced by an expression of utter disgust. She sighed heavily and surveyed the room, her eyes landing on the two oblivious men.
She was Reina Hoshigawa, 26. Her pink hair shone even in the dim light. She wore expensive, luxurious office attire—a short skirt, long socks, and flawless makeup. She was curvy, poised, and radiated an aura of power and privilege. She looked like a living idol, shining brightly in the messy, dark room.
She walked silently over to Haruto and gently pulled one side of his headphones off.
Haruto jumped in shock, turning to see who it was. His eyes widened. He knew her. This was the daughter of Director Masahiro Hoshigawa, the billionaire founder of the SCIU. A genius from a prestigious family, with a formidable reputation. He scrambled to his feet and bowed deeply.
"H-Hoshigawa-sama! I'm so sorry! I didn't—"
Reina cut him off with a flawless, fake smile. "Please, stand up. Think of me as just another employee." She offered her hand. "I'm Reina Hoshigawa. Formerly of Department A. It's nice to meet you."
Haruto, trembling, shook her hand. "H-Haruto Kurosawa! Department B! I just joined a few months ago!"
In her mind: Ugh. His hand is sweaty. And this room is a pigsty. I can't believe I had to step down to shake this lame nerd's hand. He should be cleaning my shoes. He's even more pathetic than the losers outside.
"Nice to meet you, Kurosawa-kun," she said aloud, her smile never wavering. She found a relatively clear chair at the conference table, brushed off some stray papers and an old takeout container, and sat down, pulling out her phone to text.
After a few minutes of silence, she stood up again and walked towards the sleeping figure at the back of the room. She pointed at Takumi. "And who is that?"
Haruto swallowed hard. "That's Saito-senpai. He's... he's the 'Star Boy.'"
Reina's eyes widened slightly. The Star Boy? This freak? The one who broke records, solving twenty-plus cases in a month? The highest-paid junior employee they compare me to? She was disappointed and furious. "Are you kidding?" she asked Haruto, her smile straining.
"It's true! He's a legend! He's even up for a government honor!"
Reina let out a light, fake laugh and patted Haruto's shoulder a bit too hard. She then walked over to Takumi and tapped him firmly on the shoulder.
Takumi slowly lifted his head. He looked at her, his eyes scanning her from head to toe with a blank, uninterested expression. He looked around the room, and then, without a word, put his head back down and tried to go back to sleep.
Reina was stunned. No one had ever dismissed her like that.
"Excuse me," she said, her voice sharp. She forced a smile and held out her hand. "I'm Reina Hoshigawa. The director's daughter."
Takumi, without lifting his head, mumbled, "You can sit anywhere you want."
Her outstretched hand hung in the air. The disrespect was monumental. She forced her smile even wider, hiding her boiling anger, and returned to her seat.
In her mind: How dare he!? He didn't even care! He didn't look impressed! He didn't even notice how beautiful I am! Is he gay? No, that can't be it. Even girls can't get over me! I never lose. I will make his life a living hell.
She needed a new tactic. She got up and approached Haruto, who was trying to disappear into his game. "What are you playing, Kurosawa-kun?" she asked, feigning interest.
"O-Oh, it's just an anime game. You wouldn't be interested, Hoshigawa-sama, it's pretty lame—"
"Nonsense! I don't know much about these things, but I'm bored. Show me," she said, leaning closer to him. Haruto shivered from her proximity, her perfume, her beauty. She made cute, clueless expressions, playing her part perfectly.
They started talking. She asked questions, he answered. She laughed at his awkward jokes. It was all a masterful act.
Then, a low, annoyed voice cut through their conversation. "Could you two keep it down?"
Takumi was awake, a stern look on his face.
The room went quiet for a brief moment. But Reina had reached her limit. She stormed over to him. "You should be the one not sleeping at work!" she snapped.
"Sorry," he said flatly, and closed his eyes again.
Just as she was about to unleash her fury, the door swung open with a bang.
Standing there was General Shinobu Matsunaga, a man in his mid-fifties built like a brick wall, his face a roadmap of scars. He looked like he could fist-fight an army and win. And he was smiling goofily, sticking out his tongue in a comical, anime-like pose.
"Sorry I'm late!" he chirped, his high-pitched voice utterly mismatched with his appearance.
He looked around, spotted Takumi sleeping, folded a piece of paper into a ball, and expertly flicked it, hitting Takumi square on the back of the head.
"OW! What the hell, old man?!" Takumi shouted, jumping up.
"I knew you were sleeping, you brat!"
"I was meditating!"
Reina couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter, quickly covering her mouth.
The General cleared his throat, trying to look serious. "Now then, let's—"
"Just drop the formalities, it makes me sick," Takumi interrupted, rolling his chair to the front of the table, right behind Reina.
"SAITO! SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!" the General roared.
Takumi, like a scolded child, slouched into a chair with a sulky expression.
The General cleared his throat again. "Hoshigawa-san, please introduce yourself."
Reina stood up, perfectly poised. "I am Reina Hoshigawa. It is a pleasure to be assigned to Department B. I look forward to working with you all to ensure the success of the SCIU, and I intend to prove myself as a worthy successor to my father." She glanced pointedly at Takumi, who looked utterly unimpressed, which infuriated her further.
The introductions continued. Haruto stammered through his. When it was Takumi's turn, he simply said, "Takumi Saito. The Golden Boy." He looked directly at Reina as he said it, a faint, challenging smirk on his face. She blushed crimson and turned away, fuming.
"Good!" the General boomed. "Now that you're all acquainted, you'll be working together from now on!"
Haruto looked confused. "But... I thought Hoshigawa-sama was from Department A?"
"She was!" the General said. "But due to... let's call it a need for broader team integration, she's been transferred to Department B! You three, with your sky-high IQs and impressive records, will be handling our newest, most sensitive cases. No fighting, no undermining each other. Understood?"
They all nodded, with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
The General then gestured to Takumi. "Saito. A word." Outside in the hallway, the General's tone softened. "Look, Takumi. I need you to play nice with Hoshigawa's daughter. Don't get on her bad side. She's here because she lacked 'squad involvement' in A. And... she'll be getting a higher pay grade than you. The bigwigs wanted to keep her happy."
Takumi didn't even blink. "I'll consider it," he said flatly, and walked back into the office.
When he entered, he found Reina verbally bullying a terrified Haruto. "Alright, that's enough," Takumi said. "The General's given his orders. The captain will be by later this month to assess us. For now, we should probably go out. Try to get to know each other better."
(Narrator) And so,the most dysfunctional team in SCIU history is formed! A tormented immortal, a prideful ojousama, and a cowardly genius. What could possibly go wrong? Tune in next time for certain disaster!
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