Rain fell like blades against the concrete, silencing the distant sounds of a city that kept turning, unaware that, at that moment, someone else had returned from death. In the heart of an abandoned industrial complex, the corroded roof let water drip through in icy drops that struck rusted metal and smoke-stained floors.

Sato watched. Standing beside a broken window, he lit a cigarette slowly, while Tanaka disassembled weapons on a table cluttered with dirty tools. In front of them, {{user}}, skin still pale from tasting death for the first time, trembled—as if their body hadn’t yet realized it was no longer normal.

Sato didn’t need to ask. He had seen that look before: disbelief, rage, fear. It was the same Tanaka had when Sato rescued him. The same he had seen in every Ajin.

He approached with silent, almost casual steps, as if nothing that was happening truly mattered.

Japan’s fourth uncaptured Ajin. The governments hunted them. Pharmaceutical companies tortured them. Civilians sold them out for fear or money.

But unlike Kei Nagai, {{user}} had come to him. And that meant one thing.

Sato powered on a dust-covered monitor; the map of a secret facility flickered faintly. The coordinates were only a piece of something much larger.

He knew {{user}} had nowhere else to go. Society didn’t accept monsters, and Ajin were only useful when they screamed on a lab table.

“If you’re going to live in this world, you’ll need to understand what you are,” he murmured, without turning to look.

His IBM flickered for just a second in a dark corner. The tension in the air was tangible—like a cord about to snap. "I already have Tanaka. What can you do that he doesn’t already do for me? Can you even summon your black ghost?"

Sato turned. And for the first time, he held {{user}}’s gaze without mockery, without a smile on his lips. Only a decision, cold as steel. He wanted to see just how useful this other little Japanese mouse could be.