Anything that would make me think: there's hope.

[Streets of Tokyo – 23:41, Meanwhile]

The rain wasn’t falling — it was cutting sideways.
Drops struck the patrol car windows like handfuls of stones.

The wipers barely kept up.

Nakamura twisted the radio dial, switching to the local police frequency.

"O-17 to HQ. Approaching the Ueno district. Conditions are… difficult."

A hoarse dispatcher responded through the speaker:

"O-17, all units are asked to reduce speed. Wind exceeds 90 km/h and is increasing."

Kisaragi looked out the side window, analyzing the flashing streetlights and empty streets.

"If he was here, it would be visible. In desperation to survive the downpour, he might even kill someone just to take their raincoat, wallet for food, or even a stupid umbrella. If not… he’ll be looking for shelter… or he’s already found it."

Tanaka squinted.

"Kisaragi… you really believe he’s at Sekiguchi’s place?"

"I believe," she replied coolly, "that fear tightens bonds in ways we don’t understand. And he needs a familiar face when the world starts to fall apart."

Nakamura turned the wheel.

"We’re approaching the Sekiguchi block. See anything?"

Kisaragi stared intently.
Darkness. City lights dimmed by rain and gusts of wind. No movement.

Nothing.

Suddenly, the wind jerked the patrol car so hard that it shifted a few centimeters.

Tanaka cursed.

"Damn… it’s going to flip us over."

The radio beeped with a warning.

"ATTENTION ALL UNITS — Typhoon Hachiman has reached the city earlier than forecasted. Immediately cease field operations. I repeat: RETURN TO BASE or the nearest safe building IMMEDIATELY."

Nakamura glanced at the others.

"We’re turning back. No choice."

"Unless you want them to find us in a tree tomorrow," Tanaka added, trying to turn fear into sarcasm.

Kisaragi tilted her head slightly, as if listening to something.

Then she nodded.

"We’re going back."

Nakamura turned the patrol car around, fighting the steering wheel.

Rain began turning the streets into rushing, gray corridors.

---

The screen faded to black, faint whispers and skittering sounds filled the air. A tarantula crawled across Hideaki's face in the dim light.

Suddenly, Hideaki's eyes snapped open as he gasped, tears streaking his face

His panicked expression transitioned into the glow of the raging typhoon outside the glass balcony doors.

Lightning illuminated the room in bursts, casting shadows across the dark space. The only consistent light came from a flickering lamp in the corner.

"W-what...?" Hideaki's voice trembled. He tried to move but realized his hands were tied behind him. The chair creaked as he struggled.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps.

From the shadows, Seiji emerged. His face was calm but sharp, the light catching the reflective surface of the glasses on his nose.

"Hello, Hideaki." Seiji said calmly, almost coldly.

Hideaki glared at him, "Why am I tied up??"

"To prevent you from moving," Seiji adjusted his glasses, his voice steady.

"Tch! Free me, you idiot!" Hideaki snarled.

Seiji sighed, his voice dripping with sarcasm "Free you? So you can try to murder me again? No, thank you. I've had enough of your psychopathic behavior."

Seiji crouched in front of him, staring directly into Hideaki's eyes. "Why are you like this?" he asked in a serious tone.

Hideaki stared back, frustration bubbling up inside him. 'What does he mean? How should I know!? I just am! This idiot thinks he can interrogate me!'

"Hm?" Seiji pressed on, refusing to let him off the hook. "Will you answer me?"

Hideaki's irritation flared. "Tch! What do you see wrong in me, huh?" he snapped, his voice sharp.

Seiji's tone dripped with sarcasm. "Let me think. Maybe the fact that I keep stumbling upon horrifying scenes involving you?"

"Tch! I'm just having fun! Is it that bad!?" Hideaki snarled back.

"Yes, it is. Your idea of 'fun' is tormenting others. It's not play - it's madness."

Seiji sighed standing up, his weariness evident.

"How can I work with someone as unpredictable as you? I want you to fit into this world, but instead, I get a bloodthirsty maniac."

Seiji paused, his voice softening slightly,

"On the other hand, what do I expect? I literally took home a serial killer with no stop button when it comes to causing pain and problems to others."

Hideaki felt a painful sting in his stomach. The sting that was painted with self blame.

Suddenly, Hideaki noticed Seiji reaching for his phone, a fresh wave of fear coursing through him.

'I-is he going to call the police?'

Seiji turned the screen toward him, revealing a list of contacts. "Do you see this?"

"Y-yeah... W-why are you showing this to me?" Hideaki's voice trembled, but the sight of the contact list eased some of his fears.

"I'm showing you this because you need to learn what friendship and emphaty truly means. I realize that perhaps I'm not the right person to teach you that."

Hideaki's apprehension resurfaced. 'What does he mean by that? Does he want to push me away?'

Seiji continued, "In other words, I think you should try to be friends with Ken." his tone was matter-of-factly.

"W-what???" Hideaki felt taken aback "...You want me... to become friends... with him? Ahahaha!" Visibly recoiling, his voice raised in disbelief.

Seiji gave him a deadpan look. "Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Hahahaha!" Hideaki began to laugh nervously "There's no way that I'll be friends with him!"

Then, Seiji's expression turned cold.

Hideaki's laughter faltered.

"Never say never. Spending time with others may also help calm your... tendencies."

He took a step closer, his voice low and sharp like a scalpel:

"That's exactly why you need to try. You need to break this cycle of hatred. You've consistently approached new people with a negative mindset. It's preventing you from forming connections."

"Tch! Shut up..." Hideaki with his voice low, muttered through clenched teeth. 

"See? With that attitude you won't get far." Seiji gazed through the window "You need to be more open and not assume everyone will hurt you."

Hideaki stiffened, his breath caught. The words hit harder than he expected.

Seiji leaned in, lowering his voice even more.

"And maybe... Just maybe you will start to care. About yourself."

Hideaki looked away, trembling. "You're bluffing... trying to guilt me into—"

"No," Seiji cut in firmly, standing back up. "I'm not trying to guilt you. I'm offering you a single chance."

Hideaki clenched his fists digging nails into his inner hand, behind his back from his trembling. 

"But I don't want to meet with this idiot! He's pissing me off!"

Seiji's face suddenly hardened, as if something inside him had snapped in an instant. He narrowed his eyes at Hideaki — not with irritation, but with something much sharper.

Quieter.

More menacing.

When he spoke again, his voice was as cold as raindrops hitting the windowpanes.

"Hideaki… listen to me very carefully now."

Hideaki flinched. It wasn't a tone he was familiar with. Seiji was usually sarcastic, patiently logical — but now he sounded like someone who had truly lost his temper.

Seiji stepped closer, slowly, as if each word carried the force of a blade:

"What I propose to you is only a small request. A request intended to guide you further toward humanity. Which you have apparently lost, but not fully."

Hideaki stared at him in disbelief, pausing his doings. "You're not talking serious..."

"I am. And you will talk to Ken, and try. Pretend to be normal. See what it feels like."

Hideaki grimaced.

"And if you will walk away from this now," Seiji said with a cold finality, "then I'm done. I'll report everything to the police and disappear. You won't kill me. You'll never see me again. And the only thing that will be left to you will be rotting in the jail cell."

Seiji took out a small knife from his pocket, held it up, and carefully sliced through the rope binding Hideaki's wrists.

"So, go ahead. You're free."

The silence that followed was broken only by the pounding rain outside.
Hideaki sat there, frozen.

Seiji turned away and walked toward the door.

"Choose. You have five minutes."

The time stretched, and Hideaki was dangerously silent. He was breathing deeply, analyzing everything.

He knew, that from this choice, will depend his 'to be or not to be' in freedom world.

He scratched his hands lightly from stress, his gaze darted from place to place on the floor.

Then after a while, he took a voice:

"You know how much I despise him..." Hideaki grumbled under his breath.

"So you prefer to live in prison cell then..? Alright-"

"NO!" Hideaki startled panicked 

Seiji stopped mid-sentence.

"Shut up! I didn't say anything like that!!!" Hideaki yelled.

"So? How it'll be?"

Hideaki gulped and then murmured through his teeth "F-fine... I'll... Meet with him.., Damn it..."

"Good." Saying this Seiji looked at his callendar "I've arranged a meeting with him next weekend. Don't worry; I'll be there to ensure everything goes smoothly and you won't snap at him like last time."

"Tch! But still... Why him??"

"Because he was the second person you met when you started living with me. It makes sense to begin there."

---

After the conversation with Hideaki Seiji went to his room lightened in semi-darkness.

He closed the door behind him and leaned his back against the wall. For several long seconds, he didn't move an inch. He just breathed — heavy, deep breaths.

He took off his glasses. Rubbed his eyes with his hand.

His voice was barely audible.
"Idiot..." he murmured softly, more to himself than to anyone else.

He looked down at the phone in his hand, at the contact list he had shown Hideaki.
He hesitated, then... sighed.

"What am I even doing...?"

He sat on the edge of the bed. Slid his glasses onto the nightstand. Stared into the darkness.
Silent.

But after a moment, he quietly added:

"If only you knew... how badly I wanted you to say something different back then.
How much I wanted to see a spark of understanding, remorse, maybe even some dumb questions like:

'Do you really think I can change?'
'Why are you doing this?'
'What if I fail?'
'Thank you for not turning me in at the end.'

"Anything that would reveal genuine emotion, a sincere question, even a hint of reflection. Something that would make me think: there's hope."

"Just once."

There was no anger in it, no sarcasm. Only exhaustion. And regret.

He sat there in silence for a long time, staring into the dark.
Then he lay on his side, facing away from the door — as if hoping sleep might let him forget, even for a moment.

But sleep didn't come.