...11/09/2009 Friday; Dawn...
Minato appeared at the top of the stairs, his serene expression contrasting with the exhaustion hanging in the air. His eyes quickly landed on the embrace between Hiro and Fuuka, and he approached silently at first.
Hiro sensed his presence even before looking, as if he just knew Minato was coming.
He slowly loosened his arms around Fuuka and stepped back, turning his gaze to Minato as he came closer.
Fuuka also turned her face, still a little flushed, trying to keep her composure.
Minato stopped just a few steps away from them.
"How are you, Hiro?" Minato asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
"Uh..." Hiro brought one hand to his neck, massaging it slowly, his expression weary. "I'll survive. The Kirijo Group is sending someone to pick up Mitsuru and take care of us." He paused, looking toward the staircase. "What about the others?"
Minato crossed his arms, his eyes drifting behind him, back toward the stairs he'd just climbed. "Junpei wasn't too hurt, so he went to sleep. Yukari took Ken to his room... then she said she'd get some clean clothes and take a bath."
"Yeah..." Hiro sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Not everyone got hurt here, huh..."
Fuuka glanced at him, curiosity in her voice, though still gentle.
"I forgot to ask... what happened after I passed out?"
Hiro scratched his head, his fingers dragging through dirty hair. "Well... a lot happened."
Aigis stepped forward, her calm gaze fixed on Minato.
"Should we tell them what happened?"
"No." Minato shook his head, not hesitating. "It's better to wait until Mitsuru recovers."
"Besides, we'll have to report everything to Chairman Shuji..." Hiro added, his voice firmer, though fatigue still shone in his eyes.
Fuuka lowered her gaze, a worried crease forming between her eyebrows.
"That's true..."
"Hiro-san," Aigis turned to him, her stance alert. "I recommend you clean yourself before the medics arrive. Being clean will make treatment easier."
"Right..." Hiro looked down at himself—his shirt torn, dried blood staining it from shoulder to hem. "But I think they're almost here..."
Just as he finished speaking, the screech of tires tore through the night silence. Everyone turned toward the front door.
Moments later, beams of headlights cut through the windows, white streaks slicing through the dorm like restless eyes.
Several dark cars pulled up in front of the building. The sound of doors opening, muffled voices, and firm footsteps followed, then the front door slammed open.
Men in black suits rushed in, their eyes sweeping the room with military precision.
"There she is," one of the guards said, spotting Mitsuru unconscious on the couch.
Akihiko and Shinjiro stepped aside in silence, clearing the path. The men surrounded Mitsuru. One of them, wearing leather gloves, gently lifted her into his arms with care and respect.
Then another man entered—different from the rest.
He wasn't running. He walked with surgical calm. His polished shoes barely made a sound on the floorboards.
His jet-black hair was flawless, and his golden eyes, like melted glass, held a steady, unreadable calm. His impeccable black suit clashed with a vivid red vest, and a golden "K" was engraved elegantly on his tie.
He approached Hiro, Minato, Aigis, and Fuuka. As he reached them, he stopped—and bowed respectfully.
"I apologize for the sudden entrance. We came as quickly as we could once we were informed of your condition," he said, voice firm but courteous.
Hiro furrowed his brows, glancing sideways at Minato, confused.
"Okay... And who the hell are you?"
The man straightened with the same precision as his bow. He placed a hand on his chest.
"My name is Giyu Shinkai. I am the bodyguard and head of security for Takeharu Kirijo. It is a pleasure to meet you, members of S.E.E.S."
Minato's gaze shifted to the guards carrying Mitsuru in silence.
"Where are you taking her?"
"To the hospital, where she can rest immediately," Giyu replied without hesitation. "I've received direct orders to ensure that all of you receive proper treatment as well."
Akihiko stepped closer, his expression still sharp with vigilance.
"But... what about the Shadow attack? Is anything being done?"
"Our scientists have already been dispatched to investigate the incident," Giyu replied with a slight nod. "For now, your priority is to rest."
With a simple snap of his fingers, five medics entered the dorm. They carried heavy bags marked with medical insignias, accompanied by an engineer hauling toolboxes.
One of the medics approached Hiro and gently took his arm.
"Let me examine you first, please."
Hiro let himself be guided to the couch, his feet nearly stumbling from exhaustion.
The dried blood on his shirt stuck to his skin, and the smell of smoke still clung to his hair.
Meanwhile, another medic spoke to Fuuka, checking her pulse and lucidity.
Minato remained quiet, nodding as he received instructions and questions. Upstairs, two medics ascended to check on the rest of the team.
On the other side of the room, the engineer stopped in front of Aigis. They exchanged a brief, silent glance before she nodded slightly.
"The first room on the right, second floor," Aigis said before he could even ask.
She turned and began walking, the engineer following close behind.
As they went, Aigis had already opened her chest panel with mechanical precision, revealing slightly damaged circuits.
The engineer didn't even need to ask—he was already preparing his tools before reaching the room.
On the couch, Hiro watched the medic open his kit with a calmness that clashed with the pain he knew was coming. His torn shirt, stained and stuck to his skin, was cut away with medical scissors and gently removed—revealing the torn flesh beneath.
Without warning, the medic pulled on a pair of gloves, grabbed a long pair of forceps, and, with the cold skill of someone who'd done this a thousand times, pressed the cold metal into the back of Hiro's shoulder.
"Ah—!" Hiro groaned, teeth clenched, trying to hold back a scream. The heat of the pain radiated down his back as warm blood ran along his ribs.
The forceps shifted deep in the raw flesh. He took a deep breath, his fist tightening against his thigh. The world seemed to shrink, centered on that pulsing point of pain—until a metallic click rang out.
The medic pulled out the object and examined it under the light.
"Some Shadow fangs were lodged in here," the man muttered, placing them inside a sterilized vial. "I'll remove all of them to avoid a potential Shadow infection."
Hiro nodded silently, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His eyes welled with tears—not from crying, but from sheer, restrained pain.
Then he noticed a shadow in front of him.
Looking up, he saw Giyu Shinkai standing there, hands clasped behind his back, watching him with those golden-glass eyes.
"Are you Hiro Mikoshi?" he asked, his voice firm and calm, as if the question was a mere formality.
"I am," Hiro replied, his face still strained with pain. "Why do you ask?"
Giyu gave a small nod, as if confirming something important, and reached into his suit. From inside, he pulled out a black-and-gold card, bearing the Kirijo Group's emblem in the corner.
"Kirijo-san asked me to give you this."
Hiro took the card with his fingertips. He could feel its weight—more symbolic than physical.
"Mitsuru's father...? And... what's this for?"
"It's an access card," Giyu replied, adjusting his flawless suit. "It allows unrestricted entry to Mitsuru-sama's hospital room. Kirijo-san wishes to speak with you. He'll be there soon."
Hiro froze for a moment. The words echoed louder than they should have.
He looked at the card in his hand, trying to understand the meaning behind the gesture. He hadn't expected Takeharu Kirijo to care about him... let alone want to speak to him in person.
The world around him dulled—the sound of the forceps scraping against his shoulder fading to background noise.
"I see..." he finally said. He carefully put the card in his pocket, as if storing something that might change his life. "Tell him I'll go. Probably after class."
"Very well. I'll inform Kirijo-san immediately. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll let you rest. Farewell, Mikoshi-sama."
The bow was brief and polished. Giyu turned and calmly walked up the stairs, as if the urgency of the world didn't affect him.
Hiro watched him for a moment. He took a deep breath as the man vanished upstairs. The metallic sound of the forceps returned to focus, and another fang was pulled from his shoulder.
With his free hand, Hiro pulled the card out of his pocket again. The dorm's artificial light made the golden details gleam.
A strange feeling swelled in his chest. Like something had changed. Like a new weight had been placed on his already aching shoulders.
"Takeharu Kirijo..." he murmured to himself. "I didn't expect you... to want to talk to me."
...THE END OF VOLUME 3...