The chilling encounter with The Vigilante's leader had solidified one terrifying truth for Shoji, Taiga, and Minami: their enemy wasn't some shadowy entity confined to the Desert of Regrets, but an insidious presence woven into the fabric of Minazuki itself. The vague hum of unease from before had sharpened into a cold dread. They knew what The Vigilante did, and now they needed to understand who they did it to.
Their investigation intensified. No longer were they just casually asking about new wellness groups; they were actively listening for whispers of specific changes in people. Minami, with her sharp intuition, focused on public spaces—the library, the shopping arcade, the local parks—searching for subtle shifts in demeanor among their peers and acquaintances. She looked for eyes that were too placid, smiles that didn't quite reach, or a disturbing lack of reaction to things that should evoke strong emotion. Taiga, ever the social butterfly, subtly steered conversations, asking if anyone knew someone who had suddenly become "different" or "found extreme peace" after a period of stress. Shoji, meanwhile, instinctively sought out the emotional voids he sometimes felt, small pockets of cold emptiness that hinted at a soul stripped bare.
Days turned into a week. They heard fragmented anecdotes – a classmate who'd abruptly dropped out of a stressful club, a local shop owner who'd gone from perpetually anxious to unnervingly serene, a once-passionate artist who'd abandoned their craft for "simpler pursuits." Each story was a subtle tremor, leading them closer to the epicenter of The Vigilante's influence.
Then, Taiga heard a specific rumor about Kenji. Kenji was a classmate of theirs, known throughout the school for his almost pathological academic anxiety. He'd often be seen hunched over textbooks in the library, his brow perpetually furrowed, muttering to himself about upcoming exams, his hands trembling slightly. He'd stress over every minor assignment, convinced he would fail, despite consistently decent grades. His fear of not getting into a good university was a palpable aura around him. The rumor was simple: Kenji had suddenly... changed. He wasn't anxious anymore. He was "fine."
Shoji, Taiga, and Minami decided to approach him after school. They spotted Kenji in the schoolyard, sitting alone on a bench, not studying, not talking to anyone, just staring blankly at the setting sun. His posture was perfectly relaxed, almost too much so. There was none of his usual restless energy, no nervous habit of biting his lip or tapping his foot.
"Hey, Kenji!" Taiga called out, his voice perhaps a little too loud, trying to inject some normalcy into the unsettling scene.
Kenji turned, his head tilting slowly. His eyes, once darting with worry, were now calm, almost vacant. A smile, polite and shallow, spread across his face, but it didn't crinkle the corners of his eyes. It was like looking at a perfectly rendered photograph of a smile.
"Taiga. Shoji. Minami," Kenji acknowledged each of them by name, his voice even, flat, like a recording. "How are you all?"
The normalcy of his words was unsettling. Shoji felt a cold prickle of unease. Minami's brow furrowed, her gaze assessing Kenji's unnervingly still form.
"We're good, Kenji. Just checking in," Shoji said, trying to keep his own voice steady. "We heard... you've been doing well. School's not getting to you anymore?"
A slow, deliberate blink from Kenji. "No. The burdens have been lifted. I have found my true peace." He spoke of it like a detached observer discussing a historical fact. There was no inflection, a stark contrast to the frantic energy he once radiated.
Taiga shifted his weight, his usual boisterousness completely gone. He remembered Kenji from last semester, just before midterms. Kenji had been on the verge of a panic attack over a history presentation, convinced he would stumble, sweat, and forget everything. Taiga had spent hours talking him down, reassuring him. He even remembered Kenji showing off his meticulously color-coded notes, a small, proud, but anxious smile on his face.
"Hey, Kenji," Taiga ventured, a lump forming in his throat. "Remember that history project, last semester? You were so stressed about it, we stayed up until dawn... you were so proud of your notes."
Kenji looked at him, his smile unwavering, his eyes still blank. "Oh, that. Yes, I recall the event. It was a period of considerable anxiety. But it no longer holds sway." He spoke of it like a detached observer discussing a historical fact. There was no warmth, no self-deprecating humor, no echo of the relief he'd felt. The memory, once shared, now felt hollow.
Minami leaned forward, her voice soft, almost a plea. "Kenji, what happened? What changed?"
Kenji's smile widened fractionally, becoming even more unsettling. "I sought guidance. I found The Vigilante. They helped me shed the unnecessary weight of my past. They showed me how to achieve pure serenity." His words were an exact echo of the leader's rhetoric, delivered with an unsettling, impersonal perfection.
"There is no more anxiety. No more failure. Only stillness."
He then looked at each of them, his placid gaze lingering. "You also carry burdens, don't you? Stress from school, from your... activities. Perhaps you too would benefit from releasing that weight. My serenity is quite profound. I can recommend their services, if you ever feel overwhelmed. Their methods are... quite effective."
Shoji felt a wave of cold horror wash over him. This wasn't Kenji. It was a shell, a puppet mouthing The Vigilante's promises. Taiga looked utterly devastated, his mouth slightly agape, staring at the empty eyes of his friend. Minami's hands clenched into fists, her composure barely holding, a silent anger simmering beneath her quiet exterior.
They excused themselves quickly, mumbling incoherent goodbyes, leaving Kenji sitting alone, perfectly still, his vacant smile fixed on the setting sun. As they walked away, the unsettling silence from Kenji seemed to follow them, heavier than any words. The truth of The Vigilante's "cure" wasn't just philosophical; it was personal, devastating, and irreversible. Kenji was a chilling testament to what awaited anyone who dared to seek "peace" from the wrong hands.
After school,
The cool evening air did little to dispel the dread that clung to Shoji, Taiga, and Minami as they hurried away from the school. They found themselves, by unspoken agreement, at their usual after-school hangout – a quiet, almost forgotten corner of a nearby park, nestled beneath a sprawling cherry blossom tree. The faint streetlights cast long, dancing shadows, making everything feel just a little bit more surreal.
Taiga was the first to break the heavy silence, his voice barely a whisper, completely devoid of his usual boundless energy. "That... that wasn't Kenji, was it? Not really." He kicked aimlessly at a loose stone, his gaze fixed on the ground. "He used to stress so much about grades, about getting into uni. Remember how he practically lived in the library? And now... it's like he doesn't even care." A shiver ran through him. "His eyes, man. They were just... empty."
Minami hugged herself, her eyes wide and troubled. "It was like talking to a ghost, or... a robot. So polite, so calm, but there was nothing behind it. Nothing alive. It makes sense now, what we saw in the Desert. The husks. They aren't just Shadows, are they? They're what's left of people's souls." She shuddered, picturing the vacant eyes of Kenji overlayed with the crumbling figures in the Cognitive world.
Shoji clenched his fists, the business card from Rei still feeling like a brand in his pocket. The serene face of the Vigilante leader, and Kenji's unnervingly placid smile, merged into a single, terrifying image. "They're not just fighting Shadows," he said, his voice low and grim. "They're erasing emotions. Erasing what makes people... themselves. Kenji was always so full of worry, yes, but also so much hope, so much drive. Now he's just... peaceful. And it's horrifying."
A cold determination settled over them, replacing the initial shock. This wasn't just another dungeon, another monster to defeat. This was a war against humanity's very essence. The stakes had just become intensely personal.
"We can't let them keep doing this," Minami declared, her eyes now burning with a quiet fury. "They're stealing people's hearts, just in a different way than those Shadows we usually fight."
Taiga finally looked up, his jaw set. "So, what's the plan? We can't just barge into their fancy 'counseling service.' And the Desert of Regrets is too big. We need to find their weak spot. How do they actually get people there? Beyond the counseling, I mean."
Shoji nodded, his mind already racing. The Vigilante's method was chillingly efficient, but it had a clear sequence: lure, identify, destroy. They had seen the lure and the result. Now they needed to understand the mechanics, the specific 'how.' "We need to find out more about those audio files Kenji mentioned," he said, a new resolve hardening his voice. "And what happens to people when they listen to them. There has to be a way to trace that, or to disrupt it. This isn't just about fighting Shadows anymore. This is about saving souls before they're emptied."
The city lights glimmered around them, oblivious to the silent, desperate war that had just become terrifyingly real for three teenagers beneath a cherry blossom tree.