[July 25, 2005 — 3:44 A.M. | 19th Ward, Abandoned Courtyard]
The silence snapped like glass.
Hoshino rose from cover, coat sweeping aside, quinque already unsheathed. The blade gleamed under the pale light, broad and jagged, the captured essence of a dead Kōkaku given steel form.
"Bastion!" His voice cut the air like a verdict. "On record. A+ — and climbing."
Hayato's father exhaled slowly, his shoulders rolling back. Plates spread from his spine, tearing through cloth in a cascade of crimson-black armor. His arms thickened, plated slabs locking into place until he stood a wall of iron and hunger.
He pushed Hayato's shoulder hard. "Run."
Hayato's heart lurched. His legs moved before his mind caught up, sprinting toward the alley mouth. His mask burned hot against his face, breath ragged. I can't just leave him—
"Stop!"
The command cracked behind him, sharp and unfamiliar. Shimizu.
She darted from the shadows, quinque already drawn — a slender spear-type, light and fast. Her face was pale with nerves, but her grip was steady. She blocked the alley mouth, weapon leveled straight at his chest.
Hayato skidded to a halt, shards flaring instinctively from his back in a jagged spray. His breath came fast, hands trembling. Tou-san told me to run—
Her eyes locked on him. "Smaller one confirmed!" she called, voice taut. "Sir, the partner is—"
She lunged.
Hayato's eyes widened, the spear whistling toward him. He twisted, shards snapping up to intercept — sparks flew as kagune met quinque, the impact rattling his small frame. He stumbled back, lungs burning.
The next strike would have pierced him.
But it never landed.
His father's roar shook the courtyard as his armored form crashed between them. A plated arm swung wide, striking Shimizu with bone-shattering force. She flew back across the ground, her spear skidding into the shadows.
"GO!" his father thundered, plates glowing faintly under the moonlight.
Hayato's chest clenched. He stumbled backward, then turned and ran, shards still quivering at his sides. His legs burned, the alley stretching long and dark before him. His mask grew wet with sweat and tears he refused to wipe away.
Don't stop. Don't look back. He told me to run—
But he did. Just once.
He glanced over his shoulder as he turned the corner.
His father stood like a fortress in the courtyard, crimson plates gleaming, Hoshino's blade sparking against his armor in a clash of steel and kagune. Shimizu lay groaning at the edge, dragging herself toward her weapon.
The wall had not fallen. Not yet.
Hayato turned away and kept running, his heart hammering in time with the sound of metal striking armor echoing behind him.
[July 25, 2005 — 3:46 A.M. | 19th Ward, Abandoned Courtyard]
Steel shrieked against crystal. Sparks lit the night as Hoshino's quinque crashed against the plated wall of the father's Kōkaku armor. The older ghoul did not yield an inch. His movements were heavy but certain — each strike like a landslide, each block a fortress slamming shut.
Hoshino's jaw clenched as he pressed forward. His arms burned from the recoil of every impact. He's denser than the reports said… thicker plating. Damn it, the bastard really is a wall.
The father swung, a plated forearm slamming into Hoshino's guard. The blow cracked the ground beneath his boots, driving him back two steps. Another strike came down — Hoshino twisted, blade catching it at an angle, but the sheer force rattled his bones.
Shimizu coughed wetly as she dragged herself up from the dirt. Her spear glowed faintly in her shaking hands, blood running down her chin. "S-sir—!"
Her cry cut off in a choked gasp.
The father's massive arm snapped out, plating closing around her waist like a vice. He hauled her off her feet, holding her between himself and Hoshino.
Hoshino froze, blade raised. "Damn you…"
The father's crimson eyes glowed behind the mask. His voice rumbled low, distorted through armor. "You came to hunt. Hunt me. Not the boy."
He hurled Shimizu forward like a shield, the force slamming her into Hoshino's chest. The two crashed back, tangled, the quinque blade skidding against the ground with a shriek.
The father surged forward, plated fists raised.
Hoshino gritted his teeth, shoving Shimizu aside at the last possible moment. His hands snapped along the quinque hilt, twisting the mechanism. The weapon flared with light, its jagged edges splitting outward, the blade unfolding into a heavier, broader form. A secondary mode — designed for Kōkaku encounters.
The courtyard shook as the new blade met the ghoul's armored strike. Sparks erupted in a blinding arc. For the first time, the father staggered back, plates cracking along his forearm.
Hoshino's lips peeled back in a snarl. "Not unbreakable after all."
[Alleyways, 19th Ward]
Hayato ran, boots slapping against wet stone, lungs burning. His shards twitched with every breath, begging to be called, but his father's words rang louder in his skull. Run. Run.
But the sounds followed him. Metal on armor. Shouts. The ground itself trembling under their clash.
He stumbled against a wall, mask hot with sweat, chest heaving. His thoughts tangled, sharp and cruel.
I left him. I ran. While he fights them, I'm running like prey.
His fists trembled. He pressed them to the ground, knuckles scraping stone.
I'm weak. I couldn't even stop the girl. If he dies—
His breath hitched, sharp and ragged. His red eyes flickered in the dark.
If he dies, I'll never forgive myself.
The clash roared louder behind him. He turned his head toward the sound. His father was there — bleeding, breaking, but unyielding. His father, the wall that never fell.
Hayato clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He stood, shards glowing faintly across his back, jagged edges trembling in the night.
And he turned around.
[July 25, 2005 — 3:49 A.M. | 19th Ward, Abandoned Courtyard]
The courtyard rang with violence.
Hoshino's quinque — a broad, jagged Kōkaku blade — clashed against the father's crimson plates. The ghoul's body was encased in heavy armor, slabs of kagune overlapping like stone, his fists crashing down like hammers. Every strike sent shockwaves through the ground.
Hoshino gritted his teeth, arms shaking from the force. This is why he's A+. He doesn't bend.
The father swung wide, plated arm smashing against the blade. Sparks exploded, and this time cracks spidered across the crimson armor at his chest. He staggered half a step, growling.
Shimizu's breath caught. He can hurt him…
But then the air changed.
The cracks along the father's chest didn't stay cracks. They spread, pulsing red-black. New plates erupted jagged and uneven, crawling across his shoulders, his throat, even along his jaw. His left arm thickened, armor warping into claws, his silhouette swelling monstrous. His crimson eyes flared wild, no longer steady, but burning with unstable hunger.
"K-kakuja…" Shimizu whispered, her spear trembling in her grip.
Hayato's father roared — not a word, but a sound that rattled brick and bone. He lunged, clawed arm slamming into Hoshino's guard. The force drove the investigator back, boots carving trenches into concrete.
Shards of kagune rained down, cutting shallow lines across Hoshino's coat. His face tightened, but his stance held.
Shimizu staggered back, fear clawing at her. I've never seen one up close… an A+ with kakuja… that means potential S…
Her eyes flicked to Hoshino — his jaw set, his blade steady despite the onslaught. And in her chest bloomed a sharp, terrible thought: If he hadn't been demoted after Narita… he'd be Associate Special by now. He's stronger than the files say. Stronger than command admits.
Still — the wall was pressing him back.
[Nearby Alleyway]
Hayato stumbled to a halt, chest burning, shards quivering faintly at his back. The sounds of the fight rolled through the night like thunder. He crept to the edge of the alley and froze.
There — in the courtyard — his father stood in that form.
The plates had grown wild, jagged, layered thicker than armor should. His face half-hidden behind crawling crimson, claws carving through the air." He was kakuja, slipping out in the heat of battle.
Hayato's chest clenched. He'd seen it once before — controlled, deliberate, when his father showed him what cannibalism had cost. But this wasn't that. This was the mask of control torn away, rage bleeding through.
And Hoshino — battered but unbroken — met him blow for blow. Sparks screamed as blade and claw collided. The ground split under their feet.
Hayato's breath caught, his hands trembling at his sides.
He told me to run. But how can I? He's losing himself… and I'm too weak to stop it.
His eyes burned hot behind his mask.
Do I keep running? Or do I stand with him, even if it kills me?
The night gave no answer — only the sound of steel screaming against kagune, and the roar of a wall that refused to fall.
[July 25, 2005 — 3:55 A.M. | 19th Ward, Abandoned Courtyard]
The fight roared louder with every clash. Hoshino's blade screamed as it met the father's clawed kakuja arm, sparks bursting in violent showers. The air stank of blood and kagune, thick enough to choke.
The father swung heavy, kakuja armor grinding as it extended down his spine, jagged shards punching deep gouges into the ground. Each strike landed harder, faster, wilder.
Hoshino gritted his teeth, arms burning. His blade rattled under the force, the recoil numbing his fingers. His chest heaved, lungs dragging air in ragged bursts. Damn it… he's stronger than the reports. I can't—
The father roared, crimson plates flaring, and slammed both arms down in a crushing blow. Hoshino crossed his blade, the impact exploding concrete beneath him, shards of stone spraying into the night. He staggered, his knee buckling under the force.
The ghoul loomed over him, monstrous, eyes glowing wild.
And then—
"Move! Move! Engage target!"
Voices split the night. Flashlights cut across the courtyard.
Hoshino's eyes widened. The father stilled, jagged plates rising like spines.
Figures poured from the alleys — a full strike squad, quinques at the ready. Their boots pounded against stone, rifles snapping into place, barrels glowing faintly with anti-ghoul ammunition.
"RC signature confirmed!" one shouted. "It's him — Bastion!"
Hayato's father's head whipped around, crimson eyes narrowing. More Doves… how?
Hoshino's face twisted, not with relief, but with fury. "Who called them?!"
His answer came from behind him, trembling and small.
"…I did."
Shimizu stood leaning against a wall, her spear pressed to the ground to steady herself. Blood streaked her temple, but her voice carried just enough.
"I sent the call the moment the fight started. We couldn't risk losing you, sir. They mobilized quickly from the 2nd."
The father's lip curled in a snarl behind his armor. Hayato, crouched in the shadows of the alley, froze. More Doves. Too many. Tou-san—
But Hoshino's fury wasn't aimed at the ghoul in front of him — not yet. His jaw clenched, his teeth grinding.
"You stupid girl…" His voice was low, shaking with rage. "Do you know what this means? When this is over, they'll write their names on the report. They'll take the credit. They'll say they cornered Bastion. Not me."
Shimizu's eyes widened faintly. "Sir, we had no choice—"
"I had him!" Hoshino roared, his voice cutting sharper than steel. "He was mine to crack!"
The squad tightened their circle, rifles locking onto the kakuja ghoul. Orders snapped back and forth, their formation practiced, efficient.
The father's plates shuddered, spreading wider, his body preparing to break the ring. His crimson eyes burned through the mask, flicking once toward the shadows where Hayato crouched, unseen.
And Hayato's chest clenched, torn between fear and rage.
If they take him now… if they kill him…
His shards flared faintly, trembling with indecision.
[July 25, 2005 — 3:58 A.M. | 19th Ward, Abandoned Courtyard]
The courtyard boiled with movement.
"Form up!" a squad leader barked. Floodlights snapped on, throwing the father's monstrous form into harsh white glare. His kakuja plates shimmered, jagged, crawling further down his body. The walls of armor looked like a second skin stitched from rage.
"Quinques up! Contain the target!"
Rifles leveled in a tight arc, red laser sights crossing his chest.
The father crouched low, breath hissing through crimson plating. His gaze flicked once to the alley mouth — to the place where Hayato hid — before snapping back to the Doves.
Hoshino shoved Shimizu aside, his blade raised. His face was a mask of fury, veins straining at his temples. "Don't interfere!" he barked. "He's mine!"
But the squad didn't hesitate.
Gunfire roared. Bullets sparked off the kakuja plating, some lodging deep, others deflected into the walls. The father snarled, crimson shards spraying from his back in a vicious arc. Two investigators cried out as the shards tore through their armor, cutting deep.
The formation faltered.
The father surged forward. His massive claw slammed into one man, crushing his ribs before he could scream. Another swung a quinque — a curved axe — but the ghoul's plated arm swept it aside, shattering the weapon in half.
The squad scattered, their line broken. Shouts rang through the courtyard — orders, panic, the sound of boots retreating against broken stone.
Hoshino roared in frustration, blade raised. "Damn you all — hold the line!" He lunged at the father, his jagged quinque biting into a crack in the kakuja plating. Sparks burst, shards flying.
The father staggered, blood seeping, but his claw smashed down, driving Hoshino to one knee.
[Alleyway]
Hayato shook, crouched in shadow, the floodlights washing the courtyard in blinding white. His mask dripped with sweat, his breath shallow and ragged.
He saw everything.
His father, monstrous, tearing through soldiers. Hoshino, refusing to fall. Shimizu, pale, clutching her spear and staring in disbelief.
And the squad — trained, armed, disciplined — breaking like brittle glass.
Hayato's chest ached. His father's voice rang in his ears: Run.
But another voice cut sharper, louder. You're weak. You've always been weak. And if you stay here cowering, you'll watch him fall.
His shards trembled, glowing faintly. His nails dug into his palms until they bled. His whole body screamed to stay hidden. But his heart — his pride — burned hotter.
"No more…" he whispered under his breath, his voice muffled by the mask.
He surged forward.
His shards burst free, jagged wings of crimson glass flaring in the floodlights. His small frame tore through the shadows, eyes burning.
The squad froze at the sight. "T-two targets confirmed!" one shouted. "Smaller ghoul in support!"
Hoshino's head snapped toward the motion, eyes widening faintly.
And the father — his crimson glow faltering for just a moment — stared in shock.
"Hayato!"
His voice thundered, raw and furious, even through the distortion of his kakuja.
"I told you to run!"
But Hayato didn't stop. He charged, shards screaming through the air, into the chaos that had become their war.