Phoenix Capital — Yoshima Territory
October 18, 2102
08:21 Imperial Standard Time
The screen glowed softly in the dim room.
Takumi Arakawa's face filled it—calm, immaculate, Imperial—his voice composed as he spoke to the nation.
"…there is no anomalous entity. There is no threat to the public."
Kaede Yoshima did not look away.
He stood with his hands folded behind his back, posture straight despite the exhaustion carved deep into his face. The light from the broadcast reflected faintly in his eyes, but nothing else moved in him.
Behind him—
A sharp intake of breath.
A body shifted on the bed.
"…Father?"
Kaede closed his eyes once.
Slowly, he turned.
Ichiro lay propped against blood-stained sheets, skin pale, hair matted with sweat. His eyes were unfocused at first—searching, struggling to anchor themselves to reality.
"What… happened?" Ichiro asked hoarsely.
His throat burned. His chest felt hollow.
Kaede's voice, when it came, was calm.
"You disobeyed my orders."
Ichiro winced, pushing himself upright. His hands trembled slightly as he looked down at them.
"They were going to kill her," he reasoned. "Yamada said—"
"I gave you a direct command," Kaede interrupted.
Silence fell between them.
Ichiro took a breath. "Where is Yamada?"
Kaede held his gaze. "Alive."
Relief flashed—brief, fragile.
"…But," Kaede continued, "barely."
Ichiro's shoulders slumped. "Critical?"
Kaede nodded once. "He may never fully recover."
Ichiro closed his eyes.
"And the girl?" he asked quietly.
The room did not answer.
Ichiro opened his eyes again. "Father."
Kaede turned back toward the screen.
The broadcast continued—questions rising, voices overlapping. Somewhere in the crowd, a reporter raised the word Nightmare.
Kaede did not respond.
"…Father," Ichiro pressed. "The girl."
Kaede's voice was colder now. Sharper.
"While you were chasing someone you barely knew," he said, "the Hayashi clan was erased."
Ichiro froze.
"What do you mean… erased?"
Kaede finally looked at him.
"Dead," he said. "All of them."
The word hit harder than any blow.
"No," Ichiro breathed. "Akira—"
"—is alive," Kaede cut in. "And because of you, she will live the rest of her life as the last of her bloodline."
Ichiro's breath caught.
The image of the tournament flashed in his mind. The crowd. The cheers. Akira standing under the lights, unaware.
His hands clenched into the sheets.
"I didn't—" His voice broke. "I didn't mean for this."
Kaede stepped closer.
"Intent does not erase consequence."
Ichiro shook his head, eyes burning. "What about the engagement?" he asked suddenly, almost desperately. "What about the-"
Kaede's expression did not change.
"You don't have to worry about that anymore," Kaede's expression did not change.
A pause.
"Clearly."
Something inside Ichiro cracked.
He laughed once—short, hollow—then dragged a hand down his face.
"I'm tired," he said. "I'm tired of being this."
He gestured weakly at himself.
"A weapon. A threat. A name people fear."
His voice dropped.
"I don't know who I am anymore."
The broadcast volume spiked.
"…the so-called 'Nightmare of Kurogane'—"
Ichiro's head snapped up.
The footage appeared briefly on-screen—blurred, incomplete—but enough.
The bridge.
The bodies.
The eyes.
His stomach dropped.
"That was me," he whispered.
The room felt suddenly smaller.
"I was dying," Ichiro said. "I remember that. I remember the pain. And then—"
He stared at his hands again.
"Why am I not hurt?"
Kaede answered quietly.
"Because that blood," he said, "is not yours."
Ichiro looked up slowly. "What happened to me?"
Kaede hesitated.
"My greatest fear," Kaede said at last, "has come true."
Ichiro frowned. "What fear?"
Kaede exhaled.
"That my blood," he said, "and your mother's history… would condemn you."
Ichiro shook his head. "I don't understand."
Kaede's eyes darkened.
"Long before you were born," he said, "I was taken by the government."
Ichiro stiffened.
"I was an agent, hey were building soldiers," Kaede continued. "Not trained ones. Activated ones. Men who could become monsters when needed."
The screen flickered as Arakawa spoke of illegal experimentation.
Kaede's mouth tightened.
"Most died," he said. "The rest lost themselves."
"And you?" Ichiro asked.
"I survived," Kaede said. "And learned restraint."
A beat.
"You didn't," he added softly. "You inherited it."
Ichiro's breath shook. "Then how was it activated?"
Kaede shook his head.
"I don't know."
Silence swallowed the room.
Ichiro's voice dropped.
"I don't want this life anymore," he said. "I don't want to be a Yoshima. I don't want to be anyone's weapon."
Kaede did not respond immediately.
The broadcast continued behind him—questions piling up, speculation tightening like a noose.
At last, Kaede spoke.
"…Very well."
Ichiro looked up, startled.
"If that is truly what you want," Kaede said, turning to face him fully, "then I will give you a way out."
Ichiro's breath caught. "A way out?"
"A mission," Kaede said. "One last one."
He stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the floor.
"If you play your cards well," Kaede continued evenly, "you will no longer need to live as a Yoshima. You will not return to this life. You will not carry this name."
Hope—dangerous, fragile—flickered in Ichiro's chest.
"But," Kaede added, voice hardening, "if you fail…"
The room seemed to darken.
"You come back here," Kaede said. "To me. To the clan."
Ichiro swallowed.
"And you will die under its name."
Silence.
Ichiro met his father's gaze, steady despite the fear coiling inside him.
"…What do I need to do?"
Kaede did not answer.
Instead, he turned back toward the screen.
The broadcast cut abruptly.
A new image filled the display.
Bold. Imperial. Unmistakable.
IMPERIAL NOTICE — ACTIVE THREAT
SUBJECT DESIGNATION:
THE NIGHTMARE OF KUROGANE
STATUS: AT LARGE
BOUNTY AUTHORIZED:
A number appeared beneath it.
Astronomical.
Life-changing.
World-breaking.
Ichiro stared at the screen.
The Empire had put a price on his existence.
The room was silent.
And somewhere deep inside him, something stirred—
Not hunger.
Not rage.
Resolve.