Chapter Twelve – The Mission Part Two
Tokyo city was full of people who were always moving.
(Tokito) and (Kanami) stood just outside the academy's imposing main gate, the electronic lock clicking shut behind them with a definitive thunk. The transition was jarring. One step from the sterile, controlled silence of the academy grounds, and they were plunged into the roaring, living organism of the metropolis.
The noise hit first—a symphony of traffic, distant sirens, the murmur of countless conversations, the tinny music from storefronts. The air was different too, warmer, thick with the scents of exhaust, frying food, and the faint, underlying dampness of a vast city.
In addition, the sunlight, along with the pleasant coolness in the atmosphere, caused many people to wear slightly heavy clothes so they could move.
It was a bright, clear autumn day. The sun was high but carried little warmth, casting sharp, long shadows. People bustled by in jackets, scarves, light coats—a sea of muted colors and purposeful motion.
At the same time, (Tokito) also noticed a large number of students who were carrying out some missions while helping some people.
His red eyes scanned the crowded sidewalk. Here and there, he spotted patches of familiar navy blue. A girl with hydrokinetic abilities was carefully watering public flower beds, an old woman signing a digital pad. A burly boy with enhanced strength was helping a shopkeeper move heavy crates. They were all performing their D-Rank "community service," their expressions ranging from bored to resentful to earnestly eager.
He looked at Kanami.
"Follow me. We will go to that café."
He pointed with a slight tilt of his chin to a small, nondescript café across the wide street, nestled between a pachinko parlor and a convenience store. It had large windows and looked moderately clean.
The two sat in the café. (Tokito) ordered breakfast for the two of them.
They took a booth by the window. The vinyl seats were cracked but clean. The air inside was warm and smelled strongly of cheap coffee, fried eggs, and disinfectant.
Scrape. Thump. The sounds of settling in.
A tired-looking waitress took their order without comment. Two coffees, two basic breakfast sets.
And after that, he said in a quiet voice:
"The mission we will go to will not be a normal mission."
He kept his voice low, barely above the hiss of the coffee machine and the low hum of conversation from other patrons.
(Tokito) decided to explain some matters regarding the mission.
He needed to bring Kanami into the plan, at least partially. He couldn't just drag him blind into a fight with a C-Rank villain. Well, he could, but it would likely end with a knife in his own back.
In the end, this mission is very dangerous. We will face a super villain.
He stated it plainly, letting the weight of the words hang in the greasy air between them.
In addition, (Tokito) himself does not possess combat skills.
The admission was a risk, but a calculated one. My weakness was an observable fact. Trying to hide it during a fight would be impossible. Better to frame it as a choice, a role.
Therefore, he will certainly depend heavily on Kanami's skills, who will be the main attacker.
I was delegating violence. Making him the sword while I positioned myself as the brain.
At the same time, he will try to exploit that to impose mystery around his personality.
My lack of direct combat could be spun as arrogance, as holding back, as having a power too esoteric or devastating to use casually. It was a narrative I had to cultivate.
At the same time, he will try to make his actions seem as if he is testing Kanami's strength.
Another layer. The "mysterious leader evaluating his new recruit" trope. It would explain my observational distance during the fight.
---
Kanami was calm after he and (Tokito) sat in the café.
His face was its usual mask of polite attentiveness. But his eyes, those bright green pools, were busy.
He first began with a look at the café.
This was a natural part of him. He confirmed everything, if it was normal.
His gaze swept the room: the exits (front door, back door likely to the kitchen), the other patrons (two salarymen arguing quietly, an elderly couple, a student typing on a laptop), the staff (the weary waitress, a bored-looking cook visible through a service window). He noted sightlines, potential threats, avenues of escape.
Swivel. Glance. Pause.
After confirming that the place was normal and not as if it imposed some ideas about theories or had delusions of grandeur…
He didn't think this was a trap. The café was too ordinary, too public. An ambush here would be messy and inefficient.
He sighed with relief, but did not show that.
The sigh was internal, a release of minor tension.
After the white-haired boy sat in front of him and took a sip of the hot coffee he had ordered…
(Tokito) lifted the thick, white ceramic mug. Steam rose, fogging his pale face for a second before he blew on it gently and took a sip. The bitter, acidic taste was a stark anchor in the surreal morning.
Slurp.
Kanami grabbed his glass of juice and took a sip from it.
The orange juice was overly sweet, from concentrate. He drank it mechanically, the cold liquid a contrast to the warm, dense air of the café.
Gulp.
Before he heard (Tokito)'s voice saying:
"Our real mission will be to capture a criminal of Rank C."
The words were delivered casually, between sips of coffee, as if discussing the weather.
After hearing this matter, Kanami did not show any confusion.
His face remained placid. His sip of juice didn't hitch. His green eyes just watched (Tokito) over the rim of his glass.
But inside, there were several thoughts in his head.
His mind, the supercomputer, began processing.
– It is not permitted for students who are in our rank now to undertake an external mission of that level.
The rule was clear in the manual. D-Rank missions were strictly non-combat, low-risk community tasks. Engaging a C-Rank villain was far outside their mandate.
– So how does he want us to capture a villain of this rank?
The logistical problem was significant. Even finding such a villain required resources they didn't have.
Kanami didn't say anything, but he thought about this matter and waited for (Tokito) to finish his speech.
He took another slow sip of juice, his expression one of polite interest, giving nothing away.
(Tokito) understood this matter, and therefore began to explain.
He set his coffee mug down with a soft clink on the Formica tabletop.
"I have information about a criminal called (The First Hand). He is a criminal of Rank C."
He reached into the inner pocket of his uniform jacket—a deliberate, unhurried movement.
With a simple movement, (Tokito) took out a file.
It wasn't a physical file, but he tapped his smartwatch, and a small holographic display projected above the table, visible only to the two of them. It showed a dossier page.
Fzzzt. The soft hum of the hologram.
Kanami read it quickly.
His eyes, sharp and analytical, darted across the glowing lines of text, absorbing the data at a speed that betrayed his trained mind.
Before he sighed.
Fffh.
"This criminal does not seem very strong. But since he is above our level, isn't it illegal for us to go and capture him? It might get us involved in legal problems, and we might not even get the points."
The objection was practical, not moral. He wasn't worried about breaking rules; he was worried about the rules breaking them—about getting arrested, expelled, or worse, having their mission voided and gaining nothing.
The file that Kanami held and read contained information about the criminal and his rank, in addition to his ability.
The hologram displayed: Alias: The First Hand. Last Known Rank: C. Status: Active. Primary Ability: Suspected Paralysis/Stasis Effect. Caution: Avoid direct eye contact.
And that was the subject Kanami focused on more than anything else.
The ability. That was the key variable in any engagement.
It is known that people who possess superpowers do not show them or even use them, so the files that are displayed for super criminals might be incomplete.
Official records were often vague, filled with "suspected" and "reported." Criminals guarded the specifics of their powers as fiercely as their identities.
But he was surprised that the file listed by (Tokito) was organized and precise.
The details were startlingly specific. Not just "paralysis," but nuances.
Even describing the name of the ability, which should not appear significantly. Even stupid people realize that it is important not to reveal their special abilities.
He himself had never revealed the specifics of his own ability, its nature, or its effectiveness to anyone else. It was Survival 101.
Therefore, once again, he felt that the person in front of him was very distinctive and possessed great information-gathering abilities.
The impression deepened. This wasn't just luck or a single good source. This was systematic intelligence.
Perhaps he possesses a multi-purpose ability, and this type of ability is very rare and very difficult to find.
The thought was awe mixed with wariness. An ability that granted perfect information? That was a top-tier support power, the kind that made you invaluable—or a primary target.
In the end, he could only sigh.
He had no thread that allowed him to deduce anything concrete. The white-haired boy was an enigma wrapped in a mystery, served with a side of unsettling red eyes.
And since he had agreed to carry out the mission, he could only express his initial cracks—his practical objections.
He set his juice glass down. Clink.
(Tokito) did not show any emotion. He relaxed himself on the café's comfortable seat.
He leaned back, stretching his arms slightly along the back of the booth, a picture of casual confidence that he absolutely did not feel in his churning gut.
And said:
"No need to worry about the points. We are now carrying out a mission of Rank D. We are not breaking any law. The only thing is that we might be subjected to a sudden attack by a criminal, and by pure coincidence, we were able to capture him. That is what the authorities will think, isn't it?"
His speech was calm and sarcastic, as if he took a deep breath before saying something surprising he had read from a magazine.
He was outlining the alibi. The legal fiction. We weren't hunting; we were defending ourselves during our legitimate, boring D-Rank mission. A fortunate accident.
Kanami's eyes widened a little at this idea.
The green irises dilated slightly. It was a clever, cynical loophole. Blatant, but plausible. The authorities would likely be more interested in the capture of a C-Rank villain than in nitpicking the technicalities of how two D-Rank students happened to be there.
But after that, he smiled and understood what was going on.
A cold, understanding smirk touched his lips. He appreciated the cleverness, the audacity.
Hmph.
"So the whole matter is that by coincidence of searching, we will meet the criminal of Rank C, and by coincidence of searching, we will be able to capture him. And of course, that will give us points, isn't that right?"
He played along, repeating the farce with a trace of amusement.
(Tokito) moved his hand as if moving a current of cold air, but theatrically.
He made a vague, waving gesture with his pale hand, fingers splayed. A tiny, almost invisible puff of cool, damp mist accompanied the motion, vanishing instantly. A pointless, dramatic flourish.
Swish. Poof.
Said quietly while shrugging his shoulder:
"There are many coincidences all over the world. Why shouldn't such a coincidence happen to us, isn't that right, my partner?"
He leaned on the word. Partner. It was a test, a manipulation.
In the end, (Tokito) said the word 'partner' to refer to his relationship with Kanami, and that to make Kanami think in this way.
He was trying to build camaraderie, or at least the illusion of it. To soften the edges of their purely transactional, suspicion-laden alliance.
---
On the other hand, Kanami finished drinking his orange juice.
He drained the last of the overly sweet liquid, the ice cubes clinking against the glass.
Clink-clink. Gulp.
And after that said:
"By coincidence… but I wonder where we will be able to find such a criminal with such a coincidence?"
He set the empty glass down, his expression turning more pointed, more probing.
Then he looked with his green eyes at (Tokito).
"I don't think it will be easy for anyone to find such a suitable situation, isn't that right, partner?"
The word 'partner' felt strange to Kanami, but in some way, since he had decided to join and form a team with the young man in front of him, he decided to go with the flow a little and test the movement of the water before making his final decision.
He was matching the theatricality, playing the game, while his mind calculated the odds and the risks.
(Tokito) had taken out a piece of paper and handed it to Kanami.
It was a small, folded note, old-fashioned in the digital age. He had written it earlier in his room, transcribing the details from his manga memories and his spoiler-filled notebook.
Kanami, in turn, read it carefully and in a moment.
He unfolded the note. The handwriting was neat, in Japanese. His eyes moved rapidly down the lines.
Before he sighed and said:
"You really possess a lot of information, isn't that right, (Tokito Kaito)?"
The use of the full name was deliberate, a mirror of how (Tokito) had used his. A subtle power play, an assertion that he knew the name behind the white-haired mask as well.
(Tokito) shrugged his shoulder and his red eyes took on a sharp, cunning shape.
The shrug was casual, but the look in his eyes was anything but. They glinted with a knowing, almost predatory light.
"Not really. Information, to me, is the essence of the foundation. And I always depend on it. I think you understand that, (Kanami Kyoto)."
The statement was delivered as a core philosophy, another piece of the enigmatic persona I was constructing. I am not strong; I am informed. And in this world, information is the truest power.
He met Kanami's assessing gaze and held it, my red eyes unwavering against his green.
---
(Kanami's Perspective)
The information he obtained from the paper he held simply indicated that the person called (The First Hand) was present in a place near the poor residential neighborhoods in Tokyo.
His mind mapped it instantly. The shitamachi areas, the older, cramped districts with narrow alleys, aging apartment blocks, and a higher tolerance for unofficial activity. The underbelly of the glittering city.
Of course, this place is the ideal hiding place for most criminals, especially the weak ones.
It made sense. A C-Rank villain wasn't a kingpin; he was a medium-sized fish who needed murky water to survive. He wouldn't operate in the upscale Ginza or the heavily-patrolled government districts.
Nevertheless, Kanami was not ready to lower his defense.
His internal alarms were still at a low hum. Trust was a currency he spent very sparingly.
Lowering defenses means an opportunity to be stabbed in the back with a knife.
The lesson was bone-deep. His life as Specter had been a masterclass in betrayal.
In addition, the ability that was in the paper belonging to the criminal called (The First Hand) was very interesting.
He refocused on the note's contents, the part that mattered most.
– (The First Hand) – Age: 22 years – Special Ability – Stasis –
Ability Effect – The user can freeze any person he sees for seconds, depending on the physical strength difference between the two, the user and the opponent. The ability can also last for a longer period if the user continues to stare at the opponent.
– Alert – The power of stasis is sufficient to stop a person's movement completely, and it can even affect physical functions like breathing, eye movement, or even the lungs in cases of intense concentration. –
Kanami took a deep breath.
Inhale…
This ability, when reading its effectiveness, confirmed that it was a very good power and could reach the point of being called an exceptional ability.
It was a classic, potent control ability. Not flashy, but brutally effective in a one-on-one confrontation. A fight-ender.
He can freeze any person just by looking and make him still.
The range was implied to be line-of-sight. No projectiles, no wind-up. Just a look, and you're a statue.
In addition, this ability is characterized by the ability to stop some senses in addition to internal organs in a state of intense concentration.
The details were terrifying. It wasn't just motor paralysis. With enough focus, he could induce sensory deprivation or even internal suffocation. It was a power that could kill without leaving a mark.
Such an ability could easily create a very strong criminal or even a good hero if he used this power well.
The duality was clear. In the hands of a hero, it would be perfect for non-lethal takedowns, hostage situations, and precision arrests. In the hands of a criminal, it was a tool for robbery, assault, and murder made effortless.
He refolded the note, the paper making a soft crackle.
He looked across the table at (Tokito), who was finishing his coffee with an air of detached calm.
The pieces were on the table: a dangerous target, a clever legal loophole, a mysterious leader with perfect intelligence, and himself—the designated weapon.
The mission was insane. The risk was monumental.
But the potential reward… 3000 points. A massive leap forward. And the continued favor of this walking information repository, who might hold the key to the Phantom Organization.
Kanami made his decision. He wouldn't lower his defenses, but he would advance cautiously, knife in hand, eyes open.
He placed the folded note on the table between them and gave a slow, deliberate nod.
"By coincidence," he repeated, the ghost of that cold smirk returning. "It seems we are about to have a very fortunate day."
The game was on. The hunt for a C-Rank villain, under the guise of helping little old ladies, had officially begun.
---
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End of Chapter.
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Author's Note:
Thank you for reading as our duo begins their perilous charade,hunting a villain with a power far beyond their official pay grade. Your readership is the only stable element in this house of cards built on lies and stolen plot points. ❤️ :)
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