FOUR

Tokyo's buildings turned into tunnels and highways. Kuro saw how people on the sidewalk got replaced little by little by vehicles of all sorts. 

They were getting out of the city. 

Two patrolmen flanked him, another drove without distraction, and the lady with the short brown hair sat on the passenger seat. Kuro was relieved when he saw normal faces in the cops, but it meant only a small, even meaningless reprieve from the torture—he knew they didn't care.

He was but another sheet on the file, another anomaly for the books. Kuro knew how worthless he was to the cogs in the machine.

The lady named Shindo Aiko, however, was another thing entirely.

Everyone seemed so nervous around her, allegedly because of her apparent beauty. Kuro did not see any beauty in her.

Shindo-san checked on him. 

"Vu-kun, how're you holding up?"

Kuro did not respond. His eyes simply widened in terror, his hands pressed his knees, upon looking at her.

She did this at every stop.

"Vu-kun, we're almost there, ok?"

"Man of a few words, hmm?"

She tried to be nice, but Kuro hated every bit of it.

Whatever the cops saw in her, he only saw it.

At first glance, it resembled a dark blue skull, but the proportions were subtly off. The jaw stretched too far downward, unhinged in a way that suggested it could open wider if it wanted to. The teeth were thin, uneven, and packed too tightly together, like they were forced into place rather than grown. They crowded each other, overlapping in a silent, suffocating grin.

The eye sockets were the worst part.

They were filled with a deep, flat red. Looking into them felt like staring into something with no depth, yet somehow watching you back. There was no expression there, no emotion—just awareness. Cold, patient awareness. 

The face contorted towards him every time Shindo sought him out. It always startled him, no matter how many times it did it. It was impossible to get used to it, too, as each time the face got angrier, frustrated.

Since this started, Kuro had learned one thing: the faces never acted upon their disdain for him. They just stood there—a visual torture for him to appraise. Shindo was different. Each time she looked, Kuro's skin crawled, his sweat turned hot. A different kind of fear. She was dangerous.

As they drove into the airport, this dread felt each time more justified. At first, the patrol car did not enter the commercial access. Kuro rationalized that they would not just shove a criminal with the civilians for all to see, and he was grateful for that, given what had happened at the school. 

They then entered a warehouse with no plane or transit car to take him away, his mind spiralled—and rightly so.

"Do it," Shindo said.

Kuro's face was pushed to the side by one of the cops, exposing his neck. His eyes shot at his attacker. His hands blocked instinctively. Too late, the other cop seized them. Kuro saw how a needle swiftly pierced his skin, paralysing him from the sudden pain. 

Liquid, very cold liquid, was inserted into his skin. His eyes shot white, his mouth drooled. His hands and legs shook. Kuro was unsure if it was because of the liquid or the anticipation of certain death.

They released him. Observed him. His eyes came to the center and met the raging, void face that was Shindo Aiko. Its features twisted, blurred—receded?

Little by little, Shindo's real face, her real face, began to appear from the deformity that she once was. Kuro could not believe it. He blinked, stared. Shindo's now beautiful face, with her snow-white skin and short hair, her odd blue eyes, everything, was given to him like a blessing from the heavens.

For the first time, his pulse stabilized, his breathing stilled. He relaxed. Kuro softened so much that he even smiled and chuckled. He was speechless, yet he sought words to thank Shindo for what had happened— 

Prosecutor Shindo was not smiling. Her eyes darted across all of Kuro's body. She was concerned and speechless, but for different reasons.

"Prosecutor," one of the cops said, "he's not passing out."

Shindo's eyes shot dead at him, and the cop looked away in fear.

"Boss? Shouldn't this knock him in mere seconds?"

Kuro could not process their words and appreciate a clear sight at the same time. No hellish filter, no distorted faces aiming to torture him. He was overwhelmed but worried by the second.

Shindo Aiko breathed with frustration, yet with fascination lingering in her eyes. She finally gave Kuro a grin that sent a chill down his spine—perhaps because it was the first time in years he saw a very human smile, filled with ill intent.

"Vu Hikari," she suddenly grimaced, "you're quite the interesting boy—do it."

Before Kuro could react, a clean hit with a firm surface knocked him cold. 

Shindo saw his nose bleeding from the punch, and cleaned it with a handkerchief. "Very interesting indeed."

The prosecutor clicked her tongue. She pulled out her cellphone and dialed an unregistered number by memory. She heard the other side click, and she stepped out of the patrol car to gain some privacy, shutting the door firmly.

"This is Weiss. The next subject is ready. Yes, this is the last one to complete the batch for this year..."

She looked back at the car, "It's just this subject, sir, he resisted the serum... Yeah, you know it. I'll handle him personally."

A black van suddenly emerged from the hangar, and the cops swiftly pulled the unconscious Hikari and shoved him into it. Shindo walked to the van and was halted by two armed individuals, their faces concealed by black hoodies. 

"WEISS. Protocol 8128," she said, matter-of-factly.

The masked individuals looked at each other and slowly backed away, allowing her to get into the van. They watched the patrol car drive away seamlessly until it turned right and was out of their sight. They then got in, and the van drove away.