It was a grey morning.
The sky hung heavy with unmoving clouds, and the air was still. Suguru Geto walked across the gravel path that led through the old temple ground, his long coat brushing faintly against the wild grass lining the stones. His phone buzzed only once that morning.
Nanami: "Come to Sector 9. Now."
He arrived within minutes.
Nanami stood silently beside a black body bag, arms folded, eyes emotionless behind his glasses. There were faint streaks of dried blood across his left sleeve. The mission zone was quiet—uncannily so. Even the crows seemed to avoid it.
Geto's heart sank. He knew before Nanami even said a word.
"…Who is it?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
Nanami looked away. "Haibara."
Geto blinked. "No. No, he was—he was just—" He stepped forward, as if refusing to believe it until he saw it with his own eyes.
Nanami slowly unzipped the body bag halfway.
Geto didn't move.
There he was.
Haibara.
That smile was gone now. Forever.
"…What happened?" Geto's voice was hollow.
Nanami's tone was flat. "There was a cursed spirit attack. A family was trapped in the house. Haibara went in alone to shield the kids while I handled the exorcism. It was going smoothly until… another one emerged. Strong. Very strong."
He looked at Geto.
"He didn't hesitate. He saved all of them."
"But he didn't save himself," Geto muttered.
Nanami nodded slowly.
Geto stared at the body, eyes glazed, lips trembling ever so slightly. "He… saved them. The people who fear us. The people who spit on us behind closed doors. The people who will never know his name."
Nanami remained silent.
Then he added, "Maybe only Satoru Gojo should be sent for field missions now."
Geto laughed. But it wasn't joyful. It was bitter.
"Of course. The 'strongest' should go. And the rest of us? We're just supposed to smile and clean up the blood?"
Nanami didn't respond.
Geto zipped up the bag again and stood tall.
He didn't cry.
But something in him cracked.
He looked at the sky—and for the first time, found it unbearably dull.