One year passed.
Year 6664.
School life went on as usual—classes, noise, routine boredom. Nothing seemed out of place. Nothing felt wrong.
One afternoon, the Nohara house was unusually calm.
Shin—fifteen now—sat on the living room floor, half-lying, half-wrestling with Shiro. The dog growled playfully, tail wagging as Shin tried to pin him down with one arm while Hinata laughed uncontrollably nearby.
"Shiro, traitor!" Shin accused as the dog escaped his grip and ran straight to Hinata, licking her face.
Hinata squealed. "Shin-nii! He's cheating!"
"I raised him better than this," Shin muttered dramatically, pulling Hinata back into his arms.
Across the room, Hiroshi sat on the sofa, tea in hand, calm and unbothered, eyes half-focused on the steam rising from his cup.
In the corner, Akari stood near the counter, carefully mixing chemicals into a vial, movements precise, expression focused. The air smelled faintly metallic—nothing unusual for the house.
Then—
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang.
Akari paused.
"I'll get it," she said, setting the vial down.
She opened the door.
Several figures stood outside, dressed neatly, posture disciplined. At their center stood a woman with ash-pink hair tied loosely behind her head, sharp eyes scanning the interior of the house with undisguised interest.
She smiled politely.
"Ms. Nohara," the woman said. "I'm Selene Ashcroft."
Behind her, the emblem of Pale Orchard was clearly visible on their coats.
Shin looked up the moment he heard her voice.
Their eyes met—for barely a second.
Something cold ran down Shin's spine.
He stood up immediately.
"Hina," he said casually, lifting her into his arms. "Come with me."
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I said so."
He didn't wait for permission.
Shin carried Hinata into the next room and closed the door gently behind them. Shiro followed, ears alert, standing between Shin and the door like a silent guard.
Back in the living room, Akari let the visitors in.
They sat.
Selene crossed her legs elegantly, folding her hands over her knee.
"We represent Pale Orchard," she said smoothly. "You may have heard of us."
"I have," Akari replied flatly.
Selene smiled wider. "Good. That makes things easier."
She gestured lightly. "We recently acquired a rather… rare artifact. Something recovered from an Architectures base."
The word Architectures hung in the air—heavy, deliberate.
The Architectures were known as Cristarions, they were the one who built the Genesis Nexus.
Hiroshi finally looked up.
Akari's fingers tightened slightly.
Selene continued, unfazed. "It is unstable. Dangerous. But with the right expertise—your expertise—we believe its potential could be unlocked."
Akari shook her head. "No."
Selene blinked. "No?"
"I don't work on human experimentation," Akari said calmly. "And I don't work with stolen Architectures technology."
Selene's smile thinned.
"You misunderstand," she said softly. "This isn't a request."
One of the men behind her stepped forward slightly.
Hiroshi took another sip of tea.
Akari met Selene's gaze without flinching. "Leave."
Selene studied her for a long moment.
Then she leaned back.
"I see," she said. "Threats won't work on you."
Her eyes flicked briefly toward the hallway—toward the closed door.
"Very well," Selene said, standing. "We'll leave for now."
She paused at the door and glanced back.
"This offer won't disappear, Ms. Nohara," she said quietly. "Neither will we."
The door closed behind them.
The house returned to silence.
Akari closed her eyes for a second.
That evening.
The sky was painted in warm orange and fading blue, the kind of calm that made the world feel harmless. Shin sat on the grass at the park, legs stretched out, while Hinata chased Shiro in clumsy circles, her laughter ringing far louder than the other children's.
"Shiro! Come back!" Hinata shouted.
Shiro deliberately slowed down just enough for her to almost catch him, tail wagging, eyes bright.
Shin leaned back on his hands, watching them with half-lidded eyes.
"Careful," he called lazily. "If you fall, I'm blaming Shiro."
Shiro barked once, offended.
Parents sat on benches nearby, chatting quietly. Other kids ran past, shouting, playing, living their simple little lives. For a while, everything felt… normal.
One by one, families began to leave. The sun dipped lower. Streetlights flickered on. The park grew quieter, emptier.
Soon, it was just Shin, Hinata, and Shiro.
Shiro suddenly stopped.
His ears perked up.
A low growl rumbled in his chest.
Shin noticed instantly. He sat up straighter, eyes narrowing.
A black van rolled to a stop near the curb.
No markings. No lights inside. Engine still running.
Shiro stepped forward, teeth bared.
"Easy," Shin murmured, placing a hand on his head. "Relax."
The van door slid open.
Men stepped out.
Masks covered their faces. Their movements were efficient, practiced—too clean for something innocent.
Hinata froze.
"Shin-nii…?" she whispered.
Shin stood up slowly, keeping her behind him.
"Hey," he said casually, hands in his pockets. "Park's closed. Didn't you guys read the sign?"
No answer.
Shiro lunged.
"Shiro," Shin said sharply.
The dog froze mid-lunge, teeth bared, muscles trembling.
"Stop," Shin added, voice low but firm. "Don't fight."
Shiro turned his head slightly, looking back at him—confused, angry, protective.
"…It's okay," Shin said again. "Stand down."
The growl faded.
Shiro stepped back, forcing himself still, every instinct screaming otherwise.
That was the moment the men moved.
Fast.
One grabbed Shin from behind, a cloth pressed over his face. Another seized Hinata before she could scream, lifting her effortlessly. Shin tried to twist, but his vision blurred instantly.
"Don't resist," Shin whispered urgently, pulling Hinata close with one arm as his strength drained. "Shiro—stay calm."
The dog barked once, sharp and desperate—but didn't attack.
Strong hands hauled all three of them toward the van.
The door slammed shut.
The engine roared.
And the black van vanished—with Shin, Hinata, and Shiro inside.
Two hours later.
The Nohara residence was quiet.
Too quiet.
Akari stood at the counter, carefully drawing a clear liquid into a syringe, expression unreadable. Her hands were steady. Her breathing was not.
Hiroshi sat at the table, tea untouched.
The landline phone rang.
The sharp sound cut through the room.
Hiroshi stood instantly and picked it up.
"Hello," he said.
A woman's voice answered—calm, amused.
"Good evening, Mr. Nohara," she said. "Are you wondering why your children aren't home yet?"
Hiroshi's grip tightened until the plastic creaked.
"…Who are you?" he asked.
The woman chuckled softly.
"I have your children," she said. "And I want Ms. Akari to work with me."
The line went dead.
For a heartbeat, there was no sound at all.
Then—
CRACK.
Hiroshi crushed the receiver in his hand, plastic shattering, wires snapping.
Akari turned slowly.
"Hiroshi," she asked quietly, eyes sharp. "What happened?"
He looked at her.
The calm expression he always wore was gone.
"Those bastards," he said, voice low and lethal, "touched our children."
Akari set the syringe down.
Her eyes darkened.
"…Then," she said softly, "it's time."
The shattered receiver lay on the floor.
Hiroshi didn't look at it again.
He reached for his phone instead—movements calm, precise, as if rage had already been compressed into something colder. He dialed from memory.
The call connected almost immediately.
"Yo," a familiar voice answered lazily. "What happened, bro?"
Hiroshi didn't waste a second.
"Yuya," he said. "Some bastards kidnapped my children."
There was no pause.
No confusion.
"What?" Yuya's voice snapped instantly sharp. "Who the f*ck are those motherf*ckers?"
Hiroshi said nothing more.
That was enough.
"I'm gonna beat the sh*t out of them," Yuya growled. "Get ready. I'll move."
The call ended.
Hiroshi exhaled once.
Then dialed another number.
This time, the line rang only once.
"Hiroshi?" came the calm voice on the other end. "You don't call at this hour unless something's wrong."
"There is," Hiroshi replied. "Someone kidnapped my children."
The silence that followed wasn't shock.
It was calculation.
"I see," Lin Xuan said evenly. "Do you need help?"
There was a faint pause.
"…Do you want me to kill them?"
Hiroshi's answer came without hesitation.
"No."
Another pause.
"I can deal with them easily," Hiroshi continued. "I just want you to handle the consequences."
Lin Xuan understood immediately.
"Alright," he said. "I will."
The call ended.
At Lin Xuan's residence, the atmosphere shifted the moment Lin Xuan lowered his phone.
Alicia, seated beside him, noticed instantly.
"Big Brother?" she asked. "What happened?"
Lin Xuan didn't look at her.
"Nothing," he said calmly. "Someone kidnapped Shin and Hinata."
Alicia froze.
Her breath caught sharply in her chest.
Before she could speak, Vaibhav—standing nearby—shouted instinctively,
"WHAT—?!"
He stepped forward, panic breaking through his control.
"M–Master! We should save them! Shouldn't we?!"
Lin Xuan finally turned.
His gaze was steady. Certain.
"No," he said. "We don't need to do anything."
Vaibhav stared at him, disbelieving.
"But—"
"Shin's parents will handle it," Lin Xuan interrupted gently. "They are strong enough."
Alicia swallowed, fingers tightening around the fabric of her sleeve.
"…They'll be okay?" she asked quietly.
Lin Xuan nodded once.
"Yes."
And for the first time since the call—
He smiled with the calm certainty of someone who knew that the people responsible had already crossed a line they could never step back from.
Beside Toyo Kindergarten stood a modest house—quiet, unremarkable, the kind people passed every day without a second glance.
Inside, Yuya was already moving.
Mitsuki watched him from the doorway as he checked his phone once, then slipped it into his pocket like the matter was settled.
"Yuya," she asked calmly, "what happened?"
He didn't look at her at first.
"Nothing, babe," he replied casually. "Some motherf*ckers dared to mess with us."
That finally made her eyebrow lift.
"…Us?"
Yuya grinned, sharp and dangerous. "They dared to touched children."
Mitsuki exhaled slowly.
"Well," she said, tone light but eyes cold, "looks like we'll have to cancel our plan then."
Yuya chuckled as he grabbed his jacket.
"Who said we're cancelling?" he replied. "We'll do it on the way."
Mitsuki smiled.
Not kindly.
At the Nohara residence, the atmosphere had turned suffocatingly still.
Hiroshi stood before an open cupboard hidden behind a false wall. Inside were tools that never belonged in a peaceful home—knives of different lengths, balanced daggers, throwing blades, and at the center, resting on a velvet rack—
A black katana etched with thin red markings along the blade.
Hiroshi didn't hesitate.
He slipped the knives and daggers into concealed slots along his outfit with practiced ease. Every movement was precise, efficient. No wasted motion. When he lifted the katana, the air seemed to grow heavier.
He secured it across his back.
Then he pulled on an expressionless mask—plain white, cracked down one side, as if something had once struck it with enough force to nearly shatter it.
There were no markings. No symbols. No emotion carved into it.
Just emptiness.
The man who wore it was no longer the calm father drinking tea.
He turned.
"Akari," he said evenly. "Are you ready?"
She stood near the counter, already dressed in a form-fitting combat suit, sleeves tight around her arms. One by one, she slid syringes into specialized holders—clear liquid, pale blue, crimson, metallic silver.
Each one carefully labeled.
Her hands didn't shake.
"Yes," Akari replied quietly.
She met his gaze.
No fear. No hesitation.
Only resolve.
The house fell silent again.
But far away—
Somewhere behind steel doors and false confidence—
Someone was about to learn what it meant to kidnap the children of monsters.