The Calm before The Storm

[At Home]

Later, all three were in the living room.

Akemi had spread her small travel bag on the floor, sorting through clothes and plushies from the festival with a soft hum.

Seiji glanced at the clock on the wall, his expression tightening just slightly.
21:10.

"Akemi," he said in his usual straightforward tone, "don't take too long. Your train to Chichibu leaves at ten. We need to leave in about twenty minutes."

"I know, I knooow," she groaned dramatically, waving a hand. "You act like I'm five."

"You act like you're five," Seiji replied without hesitation, crossing his arms.
"But if we miss the train, you'll be calling me to fix it, so just — focus."

"Ugh, fine!" Akemi puffed her cheeks, but she sped up her packing.

Hideaki slumped on the couch, arms crossed, still visibly salty from earlier.
"Tch... I'm going to nap. I'm exhausted." Hideaki's voice was full of irritation.

"Exhausted? You barely did anything at the beach. And you took a nap."

"So what!? That doesn't mean I can't feel tired!"

---

After ten more minutes, Akemi zipped her bag closed, lifted her suitcase and hopped to her feet.

"Okay! I'm ready!"

"Good," Seiji said, already slipping on his jacket. "Let's go. If we leave now, we'll make it with a few minutes to spare."

"You're such an old man sometimes," she teased, poking his arm.

"Better an old man than someone incapable of catching a train," Seiji retorted.

Then, he turned his attention to the next challenge: Hideaki.

Buried under the blankets like a mole, Hideaki groaned when Seiji shook him lightly.

"Five more minutes..." Hideaki muttered.

Seiji sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 'Of course. Why am I not surprised?'

"There's no time for five more minutes," Seiji said, keeping his voice level but firm. "We need to get Akemi to the train station. Get up."

Hideaki barely responded, mumbling incoherently before sinking deeper into the pillow.

Growing more irritated, Seiji pulled the blanket off him.

"Listen, tomorrow when I'll go to work, you can sleep in my bed all day. But right now, we need to move." His words were sharp, cutting through Hideaki's resistance... Until...

"Tch! No! Let me sleep!" Hideaki snarled, clutching at the blanket with surprising tenacity. "I want to sleep..."

Seiji paused sighing, 'Time for another approach.'

He cleared his throat,

"If you get up now, I'll buy you a cinnamon roll later."

Hideaki's eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright like a spring. "C-cinnamon roll?"

Seiji smirked, barely suppressing his amusement. 'Predictable.'
"Yes, but only if you get up right now. And-" Before he could finish, Hideaki was already up, pulling on his shoes.

'Thank you, Hideaki's insatiable sweet tooth.'

Akemi burst out laughing. "Oh my god, Hideaki... Are you seriously need someone to bribe you with sweets to get you to wake up?? How are you alive?"

"Tch! No! And ask him!" Hideaki pointed accusingly at Seiji.

"I ask myself that every day," Seiji replied calmly, tying his shoelaces.

Then, they all three started walking toward the door.

***

[Ueno Train Station]

Outside, the warm summer air was slowly cooling as the three made their way through Ueno's evening streets. Neon signs flickered, cicadas buzzed, and the city hummed with life even at this late hour.

When they reached Ueno Station, Seiji checked the display board.

"Track 7. Departure at 22:00," he confirmed. "You have ten minutes. Go in now so you won't be rushing."

Akemi stood in front of them with her bags, smiling warmly.

"Thanks for the weekend. Really. It was fun."

Seiji softened just a little, the edges of his expression relaxing.
"Get home safely. Message me when you arrive."

"Yes, yes, Mr. Responsible," she giggled, then turned to Hideaki.
"And you— don't fight with him while I'm gone, okay?"

Hideaki looked away. "I wasn't fighting. He started it."

Seiji raised an eyebrow. "I literally didn't—"

"Okay! Byeee!" Akemi cut in quickly, waving before disappearing through the ticket gates.

The two men stood there for a moment in silence.

Hideaki exhaled.

Seiji turned to him.

He didn't want to experience repetition of his roommate's psychopatic tendencies from last night, so just for sure, he asked him... "You're not going to attack me in the middle of the night again, are you?"

"No... Damn it..." Hideaki grumbled, shoving his hands into pockets.

Seiji nodded. "I'll keep your word." Then added after a while.
"How did you like the beach?"

"It was n-nice... Until your stupid friend arrived... Tch-!"

"Ken?"

"Yeah..."

"You don't like him?"

"He's... Weird..."

"Heh, he'd probably say the same thing about you, especially after the time you attacked him with a knife."

"He was lucky I didn't aim for his fucking heart! If I had, he'd be dead before you could bring out your stupid spiders to 'rescue' him!" then, his face darkened evilly "I think I know what I'll do next time he will come! Hehehehe!"

"One more threat like that, and those spiders will be crawling on your face. You might want to reconsider your thoughts."

"No! Shut the fuck up with that shit talk! And keep those damn spiders locked away, or you'll see my bloody blade on them real quick!" Hideaki turned offended.

Seiji let out a sigh, "You know, for someone who's supposedly terrifying, you get offended pretty easily," he muttered, his tone dry and slightly amused.

"SHUT UP!!" Hideaki yelled, shotting him a death glare.

Seiji gave him a deadpan stare.
"And this was supposed to scare me? I only remind you that we're on public, so don't try doing anything pathetic here."

As the train pulled away, he caught the mischievous glint in Akemi's eyes. She waved energetically, her expression hinting at some romantic scheme brewing in her mind. Seiji shook his head.

'There she goes, shipping everyone again. She's incorrigible.'

The moment Akemi disappeared from view, Seiji turned on his heels to the exit from the station, gazing at Hideaki who walked beside.

'His violent tendencies... how do I even begin? Therapy's out of the question - the risk is too high. At least for now... Maybe I could keep him in isolation longer, but he'd grow restless.' Seiji's mind wandered through various scenarios, 'He's already unpredictable. And then there's—'

Suddenly Seiji felt Hideaki tugging at Seiji's sleeve impatiently. He turned his head to him.

"Buy me a cinnamon roll now," Hideaki demanded.

"I will, but first..." Seiji started walking toward a nearby kombini store. "We need to stock up before the typhoon hits. People panic and clear out the shelves like it's the apocalypse. Let's get it done before the rush."

"But my cinnamon roll-" Hideaki began, his tone rising with frustration.

Seiji sighed, his voice flat. "You'll get it. Stop whining."

The distance to the store became relatively shorter.

Hideaki followed begrudgingly, clearly displeased at having to wait.

"Can't we eat instant soups that you have?" He suddenly asked.

"No. Eating only them is unhealthy in long term. I experienced it myself some time ago..." he remembered not so pleasant memories from the toilet. Then composed himself and continued "Besides, you once tried to cook instant noodles without water."

"THAT WAS ONE TIME!"

"Still, it was making instant noodles. And I'd rather you eat some normal food. You need to have strength to kill me later. Not to mention to being able to get up from the couch, hehe." He shot him mischievous gaze.

Hideaki stopped walking.

Seiji turned to him.

"Hey, Mr. Offended. Stop acting and come." He said, his tone dry.

Hideaki still kept standing in one place. His face looking visible pissed.

Seiji sighed heavily
"Either you come with me, or I won't buy you that cinnamon roll."

Hideaki groaned, scowling, and muttered something indistinct, clearly begrudgingly accepting it. "Tch... fine..."

Seiji didn't respond further, just started entering grocery store, and Hideaki followed, dragging his feet but silently acknowledging he had no choice.

---

Once the shopping was done, Seiji handed Hideaki the cinnamon roll. The transformation was immediate: the grumbling killer turned into a picture of bliss, savoring each bite with voracious rush.

Seiji rolled his eyes, an exasperated smirk playing on his lips.

'How can someone so dangerous be pacified by a pastry? He's a walking contradiction.'

He shook his head, amused but also a little exasperated, as Hideaki found pure happiness in something so simple.

Seiji glanced at the watch.

"It's late. Finally time to rest..."

The soon came back home.

]Tokyo's General Hospital - Security Office]

Daisuke returned to his office in the hospital, sat down at his computer, and went through every report, entry and exit log, work email, and archived patient list.

He was looking for any possible connection between Seiji Sekiguchi and Tokyo General Hospital — whether as a visitor, a guest, a relative of a patient, or in any other capacity.

He checked dates and hours, access codes, and security footage.

But it was nothing.

"Damn it..." he muttered.

"I thought maybe the police missed something. Maybe I missed something..."

He ran a hand down his face, exhausted, frustrated, increasingly irritated by his own helplessness.

"And I wanted so badly to be even more useful..."

He glanced at the clock.

It was already past midnight.

Suddenly, the door to his office opened.

Kaji Satoshi walked in — a coworker, still in his work jacket, holding a cup of coffee.

"Fukuda-san? You're still here? Your shift ended two hours ago."

He glanced at Daisuke's phone.

"Isn't your fiancée worried about you?"

"She is..." Daisuke answered, clenching his teeth. "But she also knows I can't just let this go."

"Let go of what?" Satoshi raised a brow. "Wait... Is this about that investigation Watanabe was involved in?"

"Yes," Daisuke said shortly.

"But that case is closed. The administration gave you a commendation, the media talked about it... Why keep digging?"

"You don't understand, Kaji-san... Not everything is solved..." Daisuke muttered darkly.

"So what's left unfinished?"

Daisuke looked at him with a serious gaze. "Him."

"Him?"

"Miyahara Hideaki."

"That serial killer? You... Wait, hold on. Don't tell me you're trying to catch him on your own?"

"No... Not alone... I want to help them however I can."

"...You mean the police?"

"Yes."

Satoshi approached, placed his hands on Daisuke's desk, and looked at him with a slightly worried expression.

"Fukuda-san... seriously. I get that this whole thing pulled you in. But the police are handling it. And you..."

He paused, searching for the right words.

"You're just a hospital security officer. Not a detective."

Daisuke's hands tightened on the edge of the desk.

"I know who I am," he said coldly. "But I also know what I saw. And what Watanabe did."

Satoshi exhaled loudly.

"But Watanabe is behind bars. And those other people? That's not your fight anymore."

"I can't just leave it," Daisuke replied, not even looking at him now, just staring at the monitor. "Not when I could still be useful."

Satoshi rolled his eyes.

"Fukuda... let it go. Really. I don't want you getting into trouble. Or worse, interfering with the police. Do you know how that would look? The news will say you're that guy who tried to play hero and—"

"Kaji-san."

Daisuke cut him off more sharply than he intended.

His voice trembled slightly.

"Stop."

Satoshi's eyes widened — he had seen Daisuke stressed before, but rarely angry.

Daisuke stood up.

"You're not in my head. You don't know what I've lived through or what it looked like up close. So please... don't tell me what should be 'enough' for me."

A tense silence fell.

Satoshi scratched the back of his head, then stepped away.

He sighed heavily.

"Alright, Fukuda-san... Alright."

He raised his hands in a yielding gesture.

"I won't stop you. Do what you think is right. Just... be careful, okay?"

Daisuke didn't respond.

Satoshi nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

The click echoed, leaving the room silent again.

Daisuke slowly sat down.

He stared at the empty logs for another moment, then reached for his phone.

He hesitated for a second.

But finally, he dialed Aoi.

She picked up after two rings.

"Daisuke? Where are you? It's late... Is everything okay?"

"I'm still at work. Don't worry, I'm fine. But... Aoi..."

He swallowed.

"I think... I should go talk to Sekiguchi tomorrow. Pretend I'm from the police. Maybe he'd say more if he thought it was routine questioning."

A heavy, suffocating silence filled the other end of the line.

"...What?" her voice trembled.

"Daisuke, no. Absolutely not. That's a terrible idea."

"But maybe then—"

"No," she repeated firmly, more firmly than usual.

"It's dangerous, pointless, and... just don't do it. There are other ways. You can't go there pretending to be a police officer!"

'And you especially can't talk to Seiji alone...'  she added in his mind. 'Not if you two would start talking about me...'

She swallowed, forcing herself to calm down.

Daisuke leaned back, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Aoi... I just want to help."

"I know," she answered softly. "But not like this. Please... promise me you won't go. I... I'm worried about you." — she lied. Not entirely, but enough. Her voice was so full of emotion that it cracked.

Aoi exhaled shakily.

"Just... trust me, okay?" she added quietly.

Daisuke finally sighed.

"...Alright. I won't go. I promise."

But despite the promise... he felt no peace.

Only frustration.

He wanted to act. He wanted to help. Especially after what Tanaka had told him. But in reality, he had no authority.

'Damn it...'

He cursed in his mind.

'For now... guess there's really nothing more I can do here...'

After hanging up, he stared at his phone for a long time.

He wanted to help.

He wanted to do something.

He wanted to be needed.

But most of all — he hated this helplessness.

In the dark reflection of the monitor, he saw something he had been carrying for years.

Anger.

And a memory that had never left him.

---

It was night. Daisuke was a kid back then.

His family home was quiet. Everyone was asleep.

But that one night...

A thief broke into their home.

Daisuke woke up to get himself something to drink.

He went to kitchen and saw a stranger rummaging through a drawer.

He stood in the doorway, holding a plastic toy badge.

"Stop! Police!" he shouted with childlike determination.

The thief turned around and... laughed.

Loudly. Cruelly.

As if the whole thing was some stupid comedy sketch.

"Get lost, kid."

Daisuke started screaming, crying, calling for help.

He woke his parents.

His father came running first, trying to shield them.

And then the thief — panicked, desperate — grabbed something heavy.

And swung it.

Since that night... the images are haunting Daisuke's mind:

his mother's scream,

the impact,

blood on the floor,

and how he tried shaking their shoulders, begging them to get up.

And the thief ran.

That day, Daisuke understood:

criminals are not afraid of a child's badge.

They're not afraid of screams.

They're not afraid of anything... until someone truly stops them.

That's why he became a security guard.

That's why he never gave up of becoming a police officer.

That's why he hates anyone who hurts others.

And that's why the thought of Hideaki Miyahara was burning inside him.

---

Daisuke stared at the empty screen.

In a whisper, almost silent, he said:

"Criminals... murderers... I hate you so much."

---

[The next day]

An echo from the television filled Seiji's apartment. It was late evening, and rain was pouring outside.

Seiji was working on his computer, typing on the keyboard, while Hideaki stretched out on the couch, lazily glancing at the screen.

Then a bright title appeared: 「天気予報」 – Weather Forecast.

The image changed to a neatly dressed young weather announcer standing in front of a large map of the Kanto region.

Her voice was polite, but noticeably tense:

"Good evening. We're bringing you the latest information regarding Typhoon Hachiman, which is approaching Tokyo faster than previously forecast."

An animation of a massive swirling storm front appeared on the screen.

"This category four typhoon is currently located about 180 kilometers southeast of the coast of Chiba Prefecture and is moving northwest at approximately 35 km/h."

The camera zoomed in on the map.

"It is expected to hit the Kanto region in the late night hours or early morning. The strongest wind gusts may exceed 150 to 170 km/h, accompanied by heavy rainfall capable of causing flash floods and waterlogging."

Hideaki shifted on the couch, furrowing his brows at the severe indicators.

"We advise all residents of Tokyo and surrounding areas to prepare immediately: secure your windows, avoid unnecessary outings, and from midnight onward — do not go outside at all."

A red warning banner appeared at the bottom of the screen:

'Meteorological Warning: Category 4 Typhoon — Extremely Dangerous.'

The weather announcer continued, her tone carrying a sense of gravity:

"After 11 PM, we expect a rapid increase in wind speed and heavy rain. Local authorities urge everyone to follow emergency announcements and remain in safe locations."

Hideaki sighed quietly.

Seiji glanced at the screen for only a moment before returning to his work.

The announcer concluded:

"We will provide further updates in thirty minutes. Please stay cautious."

The screen switched back to the news program.

Seiji sighed, then calmly commented:

"Good thing we did the shopping yesterday." After a brief pause, he added coolly, with a hint of sarcasm, "If we'd left it for today, I would've had to bribe you with some pastry again just to get you off the couch."

"Tch! Th-that's not true!" Hideaki turned his head toward him, pretending to be offended.

"Tell that to the cinnamon roll you ate yesterday," Seiji muttered as he returned to the keyboard.

For a moment, silence settled in, broken only by thunder outside.

In the flash of lightning, Hideaki's face lit up for a second — and then the fake-offended smile disappeared, replaced by something far darker.

He stared at the TV screen with a hard gaze, as if the storm outside and all the announcer's warnings sounded more like a promise than a threat.

"Heheh..." He let out a sadistic chuckle under his breath.