Chapter 4: The Yellow Sentinel’s Hunt

Yellow Sentinel moved first.

A burst of golden light shot forward like lightning exploding at ground level.
Saiga barely had time to react.

He ducked, grabbing Souta’s wrist and dragging him with a sharp pivot.

“Why aren’t you fighting back!?” Souta shouted as they sprinted between trash bins.

“Because I’m not fighting a Sentai! And—”

Another shockwave blasted the wall beside them.

“—I DIDN’T BRING MY ASTRAL DEVICE!”

Souta stared at him in disbelief.

“Y-You WHAT!? You’re a Sentai without your equipment!?”

“I WAS JOGGING!”

“THAT IS NOT AN EXCUSE FOR A HERO!”

A shadow landed behind them—
Yellow Sentinel.

Her visor gleamed like a hawk’s eye locking onto prey.

“Found you.”

She raised her pistol.

“Buster Mode.”

“BUSTER MODE — ACTIVATED.”

Rubber bullets stormed through the alley, ricocheting like angry hornets.

Saiga yanked Souta left—
Right—
Over a crate—
Below a metal pipe—

A frantic parkour escape with zero dignity.

“Why is a Sentai trying to kill me!?” Saiga yelled.

“ASK HER!!” Souta screamed back.

They burst into the nearest police post, panting.

“HELP! A Sentai is trying to kill us!”

The officers froze mid-coffee-sip.

“…A Sentai?”

Before anyone processed it—

The ground trembled.

Yellow Sentinel entered.

The room erupted with shouts and weapons drawn.

“Sentinel Yellow! LOWER YOUR WEAPON!”

She sighed beneath her helmet.

“…This is ridiculous.”

Within minutes, Saiga and Souta were escorted to the main police station for questioning.
Online, #YellowSentai exploded.

“SECOND NEW SENTAI!?”
“THE SAGA CONTINUES!”
“WHO IS NEXT!?”

Saiga sat in the metal chair, tapping his foot anxiously.

The door opened.

Natsumi Kanzaki stepped in—hair tied, expression sharp enough to cut steel.

She didn't sit.

“Running from a Sentai? No Device? Amateur behavior.”

Saiga groaned.

“I told you. I was jogging.”

“Real Sentai don’t jog without preparation.”

“I’M NOT A SENTAI!”

She leaned forward.

“You were yesterday.”

Silence.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Why didn’t you fight me?”

Saiga stiffened.
His breath hitched before he answered.

“…Because I’ve already lost someone once.”

A flicker of surprise crossed her face.

Saiga stared at the floor.

“Arakawa Minato died right in front of me.”
“He was stronger than I’ll ever be. And even he couldn’t make it.”

Natsumi did not interrupt.

So Saiga continued.

His voice was quiet, but heavy.

“If someone like him could fall… then someone like me?”

His hands curled into trembling fists.

“I’m not ready to stand beside anyone. Not yet.”

The room stilled.

Saiga inhaled deeply.

Then—

“If I join a team now, I’ll drag them down.”
“Hope is heavy. People die when I fail to carry it.”

Natsumi’s eyes widened.

He looked up at her with raw honesty.

“Before I fight beside anyone… I have to become someone who can protect them.”
“I don’t want another Minato.”

His voice soft but firm:

“Not because I need strength.”
“But because others deserve someone strong enough to stand with them.”

Natsumi exhaled slowly.
Something changed in her eyes—
Understanding, maybe.
Respect, perhaps.

“…You may go home for today.”

Saiga blinked in surprise.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Her voice softened. Just a little.

“You’re grieving. Grief shapes warriors differently than fear does.”

She looked away.

“…People who break also rebuild. Sometimes stronger.”

Saiga stepped outside to find Souta and his mother waiting.

His mother bowed repeatedly.

“I’m so sorry—my son dragged you into—”

“No,” Saiga cut in softly.
“I dragged him into danger.”

Souta stepped forward, eyes shining.

“Saiga… when you retire someday…”

He clenched his small fists.

“I’ll become a Sentai. And I’ll lead everyone.”

Saiga froze.

A quiet smile formed.

He ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Then work hard for that dream, Souta-kun.”
“You can do it.”

Souta nodded strongly.

A future hero in the making.

Night fell.

A piercing alarm echoed through a shattered bank in downtown Tokyo.

Glass littered the floor.
Steel vault doors were peeled open like cans.
Officers fired desperately—

PING—CLANG—ZRRRK
Bullets bounced harmlessly off the creature inside.

A tall, thin humanoid stood there.
Too thin. Too long. Too silent.

A rat-like head with oversized incisors.
Blood-red eyes glowed with animal calculation.
Black-gray fur clung to cracked stone-like skin.
Claws carved through metal with ease.

He wore remnants of a torn business suit—
A ghost of his former humanity.

Calmly, he filled a sack with bank notes.

Police shouted:

“Drop the money! S-Stop right there!”

He didn’t look at them.

He simply turned.

And disappeared into the sewer system.

Dragging millions in cash.

Tokyo trembled.

RAT-MAN had surfaced.