The cold reality of Kenji's vacant eyes still haunted Shoji. Hours after parting ways with Taiga and Minami, the image lingered, a stark reminder of The Vigilante's true horror. Now, alone in his room, the business card Rei Hoshino had given him felt like a tangible connection to that chilling emptiness. He pulled it out, studying the elegant, simple design. The clean lines, the minimalist logo – it all spoke of serenity, a perfect lie. Kenji's former self, once a vibrant (if anxious) splash of color in the mundane canvas of their school, had been reduced to a colorless outline, a hollow echo. It sent a shiver down Shoji's spine.
"Are you still staring at that thing?" Hakuo's voice cut through the silence, startling Shoji. The small creature, perched on Shoji's desk lamp, tilted his head. "It's just a piece of paper, but I can practically feel the void radiating from it. The aura of that man... it's unsettling. It's like a black hole of feeling, pulling everything towards itself."
Shoji tossed the card onto his desk, as if it burned his fingers. "Unsettling is an understatement, Hakuo. Kenji... he was just gone. His fear, his passion, his whole personality. Wiped clean. Rei Hoshino said he found 'peace.' This isn't peace, Hakuo. It's... it's a corpse walking around, wearing a smile." Shoji's voice was low, laced with a raw mix of horror and anger. "You said they eliminate Shadows. But this is more than that, isn't it? They're taking everything. What kind of 'cure' leaves someone so utterly empty?"
Hakuo hopped down, pacing on the desktop, his small claws making soft clicking sounds. "Indeed. A Shadow is merely a manifestation of suppressed regret or emotion. It can be dealt with, reconciled, integrated. Like a wound that needs to heal, not an arm to be amputated. But what this 'Vigilante' does... they don't reconcile. They sever. They don't purify; they hollow. They believe true peace lies in utter absence, in a sterile void. But that is the furthest thing from true peace."
Hakuo stopped, looking earnestly at Shoji. "True peace isn't the absence of feeling, Shoji. It's the harmonious balance of joy and sorrow, triumph and regret. It is through facing our fears, confronting our mistakes, and learning from our regrets that we grow. To remove regret is to remove the very capacity for growth, for deeper understanding, for empathy. It turns a living soul into a placid, empty vessel. A husk in the real world, as you so rightly observed."
Hakuo paused, his gaze fixed on the business card. "And that man, Hoshino... he possesses a unique kind of stillness. A profound, almost perfect tranquility that is wholly unnatural. It's dangerous, Shoji. He genuinely believes he's offering salvation. That kind of conviction, devoid of doubt or empathy, is far more terrifying than any roaring Shadow. He doesn't just eliminate regret; he eliminates the need for it. He seeks to impose a false utopia of emotional barrenness, under the guise of compassion."
Shoji ran a hand through his hair, the enormity of The Vigilante's twisted philosophy pressing down on him. "So, what do we do? We know they're active. We know they're 'curing' people like Kenji. We heard him talk about 'audio files.' Is that how they pull them into the Desert?"
"Perhaps," Hakuo mused. "It would make sense. A subtle lure, pulling the manifestation of their sorrow out, where his enforcer can finish the job. We need to understand their methods, Shoji. Not just what they do, but the precise how. Only then can we truly oppose them and prevent more people from becoming empty echoes."
A few days later, the weight of Hakuo's words, coupled with the lingering image of Kenji's empty smile, clung to Shoji like a second skin. He found himself constantly scanning faces in the crowd, searching for that tell-tale placidness, that unnerving stillness. It was a constant hum of dread beneath the surface of his daily life.
Needing to clear his head from the oppressive thoughts, he decided on an evening walk. The city lights began to prickle through the deepening twilight as he ambled down a quiet, tree-lined path that followed a gentle canal, away from the bustling main streets. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and distant cooking. He wasn't thinking about anything specific, just letting his feet carry him, the familiar rhythm a small comfort. Hakuo, a quiet, watchful presence, was nestled securely in his backpack.
He rounded a bend, the soft glow of a distant lantern casting a warm pool of light ahead, and froze. Sitting on a simple wooden bench, facing the water, was Rei Hoshino. He was alone, impeccably dressed, his posture perfectly serene as he simply watched the calm flow of the canal. The scene was idyllic, almost too perfect. There was no one else nearby, the evening quiet broken only by the distant hum of traffic.
Rei seemed to sense his presence. He turned, his placid smile already in place, a ripple of unsettling calm spreading from him. "Ah, the young man from the other day. What a pleasant coincidence. Taking a moment to find some peace in the evening, I see?" His voice was smooth, inviting, genuinely friendly, yet Shoji felt an instinctive chill.
Shoji swallowed, his heart giving a small lurch, not of fear, but of profound unease. Just answer normally, he told himself, remembering Hakuo's sharp warnings from the bag, which now felt a little too urgent, a muffled rustle. He kept his expression neutral, offering a polite nod. "Something like that, sir. Just clearing my head after school. It's been a bit... hectic."
Rei's smile didn't waver, a perfectly sculpted mask. "School life can indeed be quite demanding, can't it? A crucible of expectations, anxieties about the future, the weight of social connections. How do you find yourself coping with it all? Any particular burdens weighing on your mind, perhaps even keeping you up at night?" He gestured to the empty space next to him on the bench. "Join me for a moment. It's a remarkably peaceful spot, isn't it? The flow of the water, so constant, so calming."
Shoji hesitated for only a fraction of a second, his mind racing. He's probing. He's doing it just like Hakuo warned. He sat down, setting his backpack carefully beside him, subtly ensuring the zipper was ajar for Hakuo to get air, yet remain hidden. He felt Hakuo shift inside, a tiny weight of fury. "It has its ups and downs, like anything else, I suppose," Shoji replied, keeping his voice even, carefully choosing his words. "Sometimes things are stressful, sure, but you find ways to get through it. Friends help. Distractions. You know." He offered a non-committal shrug, trying to appear nonchalant.
Rei chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to lack true warmth, a mere exhalation of air. "Indeed. 'Getting through it' is one way to approach the human condition. A valiant effort, perhaps. But imagine, if you will, a life where the 'downs' cease to exist. Where the burdens simply... dissolve. Where every day is an embrace of profound tranquility, unblemished by anxiety or regret." He gazed out at the water, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lantern, appearing impossibly serene. "Many people suffer needlessly, you know. Clinging to the weight of their past, their regrets, their anxieties. They believe these emotions are inherent, part of them. But what if they are merely parasites, draining your vitality, clouding your potential?"
From inside the bag, Shoji heard Hakuo's agitated whisper, barely audible to him alone: "He's a viper, Shoji! His words are poison! He speaks of freedom but offers a cage of nothingness! Don't listen to him!" The tiny creature thrashed softly against the fabric.
Shoji kept his gaze fixed on Rei, feigning a thoughtful expression, his jaw subtly tightening. "I suppose some people just want to get rid of problems quickly," he said, trying to sound casual, avoiding any direct agreement, or disagreement for that matter. "But isn't some of that stuff... just part of being human? Like, you learn from mistakes, right? You can't really grow without some kind of challenge."
Rei turned his serene gaze back to Shoji, his smile deepening slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "A common misconception, but understandable. We are taught to endure, to 'cope,' to find 'lessons' in suffering. But what if there's a higher state? A pure, unburdened existence? Imagine the clarity, the boundless freedom, the optimal state of being when the mind is utterly free from the chains of emotional turmoil." His voice was incredibly persuasive, almost hypnotic in its calm cadence, painting a picture of an alluring, impossible utopia. "The suffering is not productive, young man. It is self-imposed. A cycle of regret that binds the spirit. True liberation comes from severing those ties, not merely managing them."
Shoji felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. This wasn't just a therapist; this was a man who truly believed he was doing good by systematically destroying people. He knew what "severing those ties" meant for Kenji: total, irreversible emptiness. Every calm word from Rei was a silent scream from Kenji's hollowed eyes.
After a few more moments of this unsettlingly calm discourse, Rei looked up at the sky, as if checking the celestial clock. "Ah, look at the time. The evening is drawing to a close. You should head back now, get some rest." He stood, his movements fluid and unhurried. He offered Shoji another of his unreadable smiles, this one feeling particularly pointed. "If you ever face any trouble, or if the burdens of life become truly too heavy to bear, you can always swing by my office. You know the place, right? The one on Minazuki Central. Hahaha. It's always open for those seeking genuine tranquility."
The casual chuckle, so utterly out of place with the chilling implication of his "service," sent a shiver down Shoji's spine that was not entirely from the evening air. "Uh, right. Thanks for the... chat," Shoji mumbled, rising quickly, gripping his backpack tightly.
Rei gave a final, knowing nod and turned, disappearing into the twilight as calmly as he had appeared, leaving behind only the unsettling echo of his serenity.
Shoji didn't wait. He practically jogged away, the sound of that serene chuckle echoing in his ears, chilling him to the bone. He pulled away from the canal, seeking the brighter, noisier main streets. He yanked the zipper of his backpack open slightly, allowing Hakuo to peek out, the little creature looking furious.
"Did you hear him, Hakuo?" Shoji whispered, his voice trembling slightly, his earlier composure completely shattered. "He's... he's terrifying. He doesn't even see what he's doing as wrong. He actually thinks he's helping. And he just tried to recruit me. He sees me as someone who needs to be 'cured'!"
Hakuo, his small face grim, nodded vigorously. "His conviction is absolute, Shoji. That makes him incredibly dangerous. He truly sees the world through a warped lens of 'serenity,' a world cleansed of humanity's beautiful mess. But he knows you now. He sees something 'interesting' in you, something resistant, perhaps. This won't be the last time you meet him. The game has begun in earnest, young man. And you are now a piece on his board."
Shoji looked back at the tranquil canal path, now empty. The peace Rei exuded was a mask for a terrifying emptiness. He knew now, with chilling certainty, that he was personally in The Vigilante's sights. The encounter wasn't just about discovery anymore; it was about being seen, being targeted.