Ep 35 - A Monster is Born

The observation lab inside Tojo Sayako Medical Research Facility glowed with a sterile calm that felt almost artificial. Soft white lights washed over rows of humming monitors, their steady rhythm blending with the faint, ever-present scent of disinfectant. Everything was clean. Too clean.

Milena leaned over a terminal, her sharp eyes tracking streams of data as they scrolled endlessly downward. Kanzaki stood a few steps behind her, hands clasped, posture stiff, unease written plainly across his face. Michelle and Trella hovered nearby, while Maya scribbled notes by hand, the scratch of pen against paper was the only sound that didn’t belong to a machine.

Milena frowned. “Hm. That’s strange… The C110 sequence has markers I’ve never seen before.”

Maya leaned closer, squinting at the screen. “Maybe Yamada invented something new?”

Milena let out a quiet, humorless breath—half a smirk, half a warning. “If he did, then Einstein’s back from the grave. These markers… they’re adaptive. They shift like they’re alive.”

Trella folded her arms. “That sounds like trouble.”

“It is trouble.” Milena tapped the screen, pulling up another panel. “Adaptive genes mean the serum can evolve on its own. It’s learning what the host body needs.”

Milena clicked through another panel. A cluster of graphs spiked.

Milena’s voice lowered. “And look here — this isn’t cell regeneration. This is reconstruction. The serum doesn’t heal the body… It rebuilds it.”

Michelle’s jaw tightened. “So the girl we met… might not even be fully human anymore.”

Kanzaki stiffened instantly. “Please don’t say that. She’s a child, not a specimen!”

Milena softened, just a bit. “I didn’t say she wasn’t human, Professor. I said she might not be entirely the same kid anymore.”

Silence settled between them, thick and heavy, broken only by the hum of equipment.

Trella scrolled through another file. “Wait, Yamada’s reports don’t match this data. These results were edited — timestamps, dose records, half of the logs are missing.”

Michelle didn’t hesitate. “He’s covering something.”

“Should we call him in?” Maya asked.

Milena nodded once. “Yeah. I want him to explain this in person. And I want every dose record pulled.”

Michelle nodded and pulled out her phone. A moment later, she lowered it. “He’s already in the building. Coming up now.”

Trella gave a thin smile. “Perfect. I love when the guilty walk right into the room.”

A few beats of silence again. Professor Kanzaki turned toward the window, staring through the glass as if the answers might be hiding somewhere beyond it. “I still can’t believe this… I trusted him. I thought he was building a cure for the incurable.”

Milena’s voice was quiet, almost sympathetic. “Maybe he still thinks that. Sometimes the worst people start with the best intentions.”

The door opened. Yamada stepped in, coat slightly wrinkled, eyes ringed with fatigue. He looked at the screens, then at Milena and Michelle. “What is going on here? Why are you still in my lab?”

Michelle turned the monitor toward him, the modified genome glowing on the display. “You tell us. And this isn’t your lab anymore.”

***

White light flooded the test chamber. Machines whispered in quiet rhythm as Yuno sat on a reinforced examination chair, thin wires running from her skin into translucent monitors blooming with shifting color. Through the one-way glass, Kanzaki, Liza, and Talia watched. Each carried a tablet, expressions carefully neutral.

“Muscle recovery’s still accelerating,” Kanzaki said. “No sign of fatigue.”

“That’s impossible,” Liza replied. “She hasn’t slept in twenty hours.”

Talia was checking data. “The metabolism is compensating for it. She’s running like a reactor.”

Inside the room, Yuno lifted her arm when told and flexed. Her face was calm, obedient, but her eyes darted now and then to the mirror.

“Do you want me to hold it longer?” she asked.

“Five more seconds, please.”

Yuno nodded, counting silently. The muscles in her forearm tightened, veins stood out under the light.

Liza read her vitals and frowned. “Heart rate is stable. Neural conductivity—wait… Drop, then spike.”

“Artifact?” Kanzaki asked.

Talia shook her head slowly. “No. That's an emotional response. But to what?”

Yuno lowered her arm. She glanced at the mirrored wall again, irritation flashed briefly behind her gentle smile. They keep staring like I’m a puzzle. Like they’re afraid to touch the edges.

“I hate this silence,” Kanzaki murmured. “It’s like she’s listening to us.”

“She can’t hear through the glass,” Liza said, though her voice lacked conviction.

The monitor spiked again. Yuno tilted her head slightly, as if reacting to something unheard. Her voice was polite, perfectly measured. “How much longer will these tests continue?”

“Until the readings settle,” Kanzaki answered. “We’re verifying your recovery pattern.”

Recovery, Yuno echoed silently, almost amused. That’s a generous word for it.

“Professor,” Liza said, tense, “her core temperature’s dropping.”

“She’s not cold,” Kanzaki replied. “Look at her skin—no gooseflesh, no shiver reflex.”

The air felt heavier now. The hum of the lights slipped out of sync with the machines.

“It’s like she’s… tuning to the equipment,” Talia whispered.

Yuno breathed in slow, precise rhythm. Her reflection in the mirror seemed a fraction behind her movement.

They think the serum changed me, she thought. They’re wrong. It showed me what was already there.

She looked straight into the mirror — through it — and smiled, gentle and terrifying all at once.

“End session,” Kanzaki said sharply. “Now.”

Liza hesitated. “But we’re mid-sequence—”

“Now.”

Yuno stood, her movements were fluid, almost feline. She tilted her head again, inquisitive, almost amused, as the lights flickered back to full brightness.

“Am I done being measured?” she asked softly.

Kanzaki didn’t answer. The intercom cut. The faint hum of the monitors filled the silence.

Not yet, Doctor, she thought calmly. But soon—you will be.

***

The lab felt darker now, filled with nervousness. Yamada sat at the table, hands clasped, trembling just enough to betray fear. His lab coat is wrinkled, collar damp with sweat. Across from him stood Michelle and Milena, shadows of two very different kinds of authority.

“You were lead on the prototype trials,” Michelle said. “You know what that means. Every change in the sequence, every omitted stabilizer is your signature.”

“I didn’t omit anything,” Yamada insisted weakly. “The stabilizers weren’t necessary in microdoses. I—I thought I’d found balance. You have no idea how many lives this could have saved.”

“Balance?” Milena cut in. “Have you ever seen what imbalance looks like, Doctor? Because I have.”

He looked up at her and understood. It was the look of a man realizing he’s being judged, not heard. “You don’t understand… It worked,” he said desperately. “The tumors dissolved, the tissue rebuilt, the serum adapted. It learned.”

Milena leaned in, her voice was low but slicing. “And what did it learn to do, exactly? Heal? Or replace?”

Yamada faltered. He looked toward the mirror wall. On the other side, Yuno watched, her eyes followed the conversation.

“We’ve seen your data. You kept a secondary sequence hidden,” Michelle said. “‘Project Tsukiyo.‘ You mind telling us what it was meant to do?”

Yamada’s voice cracked. “That wasn’t a project… It was a safeguard. A way to keep her stable—”

Milena cut in. “Then where is it? Where’s the formula?”

He said nothing.

“You deleted it,” Michelle said.

“No.” His voice cracked. “I destroyed it. Because I realized what it was doing to her.”

Milena froze. That last sentence hit her harder than she expected.

Behind the glass Yuno listened, catching fragments of voices through layers of silence and machinery. — stable… destroyed… her… Her pulse quickened. Not from fear, but from clarity.

“He ruined it,” she thought. “All those hours. All that pain—for nothing. He calls it healing. I call it breaking.”

She leaned closer to the glass, her reflection staring back at her with the same calm, patient eyes. Her lips barely moved as she whispered to it.

“I want to talk to him. Just once.”

***

The questioning wound down. Milena paced silently while Michelle gathered her notes. Kanzaki’s voice crackled through the comm speaker. “There’s a request from Yuno. She’s asking to see Dr. Yamada. Privately.”

Milena frowned. “That’s not exactly standard procedure.”

“She said she wants to thank him.”

Michelle glanced toward the observation glass, unease tightening her shoulders. “Professor, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“If it gives us context for her attachment to him, it could help. Five minutes. I’ll monitor the vitals.”

Milena hesitated. Then she exhaled—long and heavy. “Fine. Five minutes. Keep a team nearby.”

Yamada looked up, confused but relieved. “She… wants to see me?”

Michelle met his eyes, expression flat. “She’s awake, Doctor. Try to keep it that way.”

He nervously nodded and stood up. Yuno sat quietly on the examination bed, cables were now detached, hair fell into her face like a curtain. When Yamada stepped in, she looked up slowly, smiled almost too warmly.

“Doctor. You came.”

The door hissed shut behind him. Outside, behind the glass, the monitors hummed. The heartbeat was steady, vitals clean. Kanzaki noted the data. Inside, Yuno’s hands rested politely in her lap.

“You said once… that pain means I’m still alive.”

Yamada’s expression faltered. “Yuno… I—”

She rose, took one slow step closer and smiled. “You were right. I felt so much pain.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. Beautiful, convincing, false. “It made me alive in ways you can’t imagine.”

Her hand moved gently, brushing his arm with something that felt like forgiveness.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You should have let me die, Doctor.”

She grabbed his throat.

On the monitors the vitals spiked. Red lines cut across screens. Kanzaki’s eyes widened.

“What the— open the door! NOW!”

The sound of a crack. Yamada’s body collapsed to the floor. Yuno stood over him, breathing slowly, expression tranquil. She knelt, carefully closing his eyes with gentle fingers. “Thank you… for everything.”

Then she looked up toward the mirrored glass, right where Michelle and Milena were rushing in, and smiled. The alarms screamed. Red lights washed the room in violent color. Yuno turned, muscles coiling, she was ready for the hunt.

Red strobes flashed through the lab. Yuno stood in the center of the wrecked test room breathing slowly, controlled, eyes sharp. Yamada lay motionless beside her. Michelle burst in with Milena close behind.

“Everyone out! Now!” Michelle screamed.

Milena grabbed Kanzaki by the sleeve, dragging the stunned professor away. “You want to live, move it!”

The second the door shut, there was silence, until the echo of running steps cut through it. Aiko slid through the doorframe, stance already low and tight. No hesitation. She saw the body and saw Yuno. “You shouldn’t have done that.,” she said quietly.

Yuno tilted her head and smiled faintly. Challenge accepted. Aiko hit first. A blur of precision kicks and punches. Yuno blocked and countered nearly perfectly, but she was reactive, not trained. Aiko swept, spinned mid-kick, but Yuno grabbed her leg. Using the momentum, Yuno pivoted a full 360 and slammed Aiko into a rack of instruments. The rack collapsed in a metallic roar. Aiko crumpled, dazed, bloody but conscious.

“Okay… she’s not normal,” she groaned.

Liza and Katya stormed in nextm in sync like seasoned operators.

“On me!”

“Go left!”

They rushed Yuno together. Liza jabbed, Katya grabbed, perfect teamwork. But Yuno moved like water through glass, slipping past their coordination, using their rhythm against them. She ducked under Katya’s swing, grabbed Liza’s shoulder and slammed her into Katya. Both hit the floor hard. Yuno breathed out once, almost satisfied, and ran.

She kicked through a door, it swung wide, smashing into Samira who was just turning the corner. Samira collapsed instantly — out cold, nose broken, blood on her cheek. Yuno paused only long enough to mutter: “Sorry. Wrong place, wrong time.”

She sprinted forward as the alarms echoed down the sterile halls.

In the main hall, the air felt different. Open, full of motion and power. Two figures stood in her path — black and white silhouettes in the red light. Aya, towering, muscles coiled, black tactical outfit and that long white mohawk blazing under the strobes. Beside her, Amelie. Pale, smiling that unsettling sadistic grin like she was enjoying this.

“Don’t break her too much,” Aya said. “Kanzaki might want what’s left.”

“No promises,” Amelie replied, grinning.

Yuno’s eyes widened. Not in fear, but in realization. These two aren’t normal. Their stillness felt wrong — predatory. She lunged first, tried Aya. A feint, a kick, a strike. Aya barely moved. Her arm shot out steel-fast and Yuno’s wrist stopped midair like she hit a wall.

Too strong.

Aya pushed, Yuno flew backward, hit a table, flipped and landed on her feet. She barely had time to breathe before Amelie was already moving. The goth loli blur glided in graceful, too smooth — a deadly dance. Yuno dodged by inches. A glass tray shattered against the wall where her head was.

Fast. Too fast. What are they?

Aya came again. Amelie laughed, spinning low. They moved like twin shadows, perfectly synced. Yuno couldn’t overpower them. She could feel it. Her only option was to think. Her eyes darted as she scanned the hall. A coolant line, a gas release valve, and an alarm sprinkler system. She ducked under another punch, rolled, grabbed a nearby tray and threw it at the valve. Hiss! A burst of freezing vapor erupted, filling the hall with fog.

“Clever girl!” Amelie laughed.

Yuno’s outline vanished into the mist. Aya rushed through, swinging blindly.

“Where is she—”

A sound — the crash of a side door answered her.

Yuno sprinted barefoot, faster than before, her breath was sharp and deliberate. She turned a corner and froze. The rest of the Fangs — Trella, Maya, Mei-Ling, Anya, Talia, all poured into the hall ahead. They formed a loose semi-circle. Exhausted, confused, tense. Trella stepped forward. “Don’t make us do this.”

Yuno’s eyes flicked between them, reading each stance, calculating. Then she just smiled.

“You couldn’t stop me even if you wanted to.”

She stepped back and ran toward the window.

“Stop her!” Michelle shouted from the background.

But it was too late. Yuno dived through the glass. A perfect roll midair. She landed cat-silent on the ground below, two stories down. The others reached the window while glass was still falling. Outside, the mist and sirens blurred her shape and then she was gone. The wind carried faint alarm echoes. In the distance, through the fog and flashing lights, a small silhouette slipped into the forest. She was gone.