The night pressed against the warehouse walls, the air thick with damp and the distant hum of the city beyond. A single bulb swung overhead, casting long, flickering shadows across the concrete floor. Mejiro leaned against the cold metal wall, arms folded, dark katana resting against his leg. His eyes scanned the room, calm but alert.
Five figures filled the space. The old man stood near a stack of crates, his posture frail but commanding. The President of the party, tall and sharp-eyed, paced slowly. Kenji remained silent, leaning against a pillar, his expression unreadable. The fourth member, a man of imposing frame and quiet authority, stood near the shadows, watching everything unfold. And Mejiro, silent, leaning on the wall, absorbing the tension in the room.
The old man cleared his throat, voice low, deliberate. "I spent four years in that prison. Four years where the world thought I was gone, forgotten. But during that time… I saw their plans. The government's reach, their manipulation, their cruelty—they are preparing for something immense. Something far worse than any of us anticipated."
The President stopped pacing and crossed his arms. "We know parts of it, but you've seen more, old friend. Tell us everything you uncovered. Every detail matters. Every move they make is calculated."
The old man nodded, stepping closer to the center of the room. "They are infiltrating every level of society. Their influence stretches from the streets to the upper echelons of power. Citizens are monitored constantly. Dissidents are silenced without notice. And they're preparing for… a consolidation of control unlike anything in history. The things I learned, the experiments… some of them are already in motion. People will disappear, entire sectors will fall under their direct command, and the city—our home—will become a prison within a prison."
Kenji shifted slightly but said nothing. The President's gaze was steely, absorbing every word. The fourth member's hands rested loosely behind his back, his expression neutral but attentive. Mejiro remained leaning against the wall, silent, letting the gravity of the revelations settle over him.
"They know about us," the old man continued, voice growing firmer. "About the opposers. They are hunting the majority now. Many cannot move without being tracked. Any attempt to act openly could mean death. You have to understand… their power is not just numbers or weapons. It is information, control, and fear."
The President's jaw tightened. "We will not cower. But caution is required. The city is a trap. Every step outside these walls could be your last if you're not careful."
The president's arm rested on the old wooden table and spoke, "Our next mission won't be easy, we have to take down this government no matter what."
The old man turned his gaze to Mejiro, eyes piercing in the dim light. "And you…" His voice lowered, almost a whisper, yet it cut through the room like a blade. "You will have to be careful. Every move you make, every word you speak, carries weight. The government has eyes everywhere, and there are forces even I could not anticipate during my imprisonment."
He paused, letting the silence stretch between them. Then, finally, his voice dropped to something almost intimate, meant only for Mejiro.
"Because… you are one of the Seven Opposers."