The river continued flowing beneath the bridge with complete indifference to the questions suspended above it.
Water never cared whether humanity found meaning inside existence or merely invented comforting stories to survive another generation.
It simply moved, carrying scattered reflections of the moon between concrete embankments built decades earlier by people whose names had already disappeared into history.
Cars occasionally crossed distant intersections, their headlights briefly illuminating the dark water before vanishing behind apartment buildings where ordinary families finished dinner.
None of them would ever know that only a few streets away, two men capable of destroying entire cities are talking like two normal people.
Inei remained leaning against the bridge railing, both hands resting comfortably inside the pockets of his trench coat.
The cigarette still hung from the corner of his mouth, though it had long since gone out. He had forgotten to light another. That alone annoyed him more than he cared to admit. It had been years since another person's words had interrupted his habits instead of merely his schedule.
Beside him, Omoshiro rested both forearms upon the cold metal barrier overlooking the river, saying nothing. Theta had withdrawn almost completely from the surrounding city. Instead of listening to thousands of lives simultaneously, it now listened only to the slow rhythm of one older man's heartbeat, noticing how strangely calm it remained despite everything that had happened only minutes before.
Inei sighed through his nose.
Inei – "You're still here."
Omoshiro looked toward the river instead of him.
Omoshiro – "Yea."
Inei – "I was hoping you wouldn't make me acknowledge it."
A faint silence followed.
Then Omoshiro asked with complete sincerity.
Omoshiro – "Why?"
Inei closed his eyes.
Another sigh escaped him, heavier this time.
Inei – "Because conversations are exhausting. People don't ask questions because they want answers. They've already decided what they believe before opening their mouths. I'm simply expected to decorate their certainty with prettier words."
Omoshiro considered that.
Omoshiro – "You think I'll do the same?"
Inei – "I think you're human."
He finally looked sideways.
Inei – "Statistically, that's enough."
Omoshiro nodded once, accepting the answer without offense.
Omoshiro – "You're probably right."
That response made Inei pause.
The older man studied him for several long seconds before quietly speaking again.
Inei – "You don't seem interested in proving yourself."
Omoshiro – "No."
Inei – "Why?"
Omoshiro tilted his head slightly, genuinely considering the question instead of answering automatically.
Omoshiro – "Because I don't know who I'd be proving myself to."
Inei couldn't help it.
A tiny laugh escaped him.
It wasn't mocking.
It sounded... surprised.
Inei – "That's either the wisest thing you've said... or the most naïve."
Omoshiro – "Can it be both?"
Several quiet minutes passed while neither felt obligated to continue.
Omoshiro found himself strangely comfortable with that. Akashi filled silence by laughing. Tenka filled it by analyzing. nei simply allowed it to exist, as though silence was the answer.
Eventually Omoshiro spoke again.
Omoshiro – "Can I ask you something?"
Inei – "You've been asking me things for the last ten minutes."
Omoshiro – "This one's different."
Inei nodded.
Inei – "Go on."
Omoshiro's eyes never left the river.
Omoshiro – "When did you become a nihilist?"
Inei laughed.
He reached into his pocket, took out another cigarette, rolled it thoughtfully between his fingers and never lit it.
Inei – "That's the first mistake everyone makes."
Omoshiro looked at him.
Omoshiro – "Which is?"
Inei – "That one day I 'became' something."
He shook his head.
Inei – "People imagine there's always a dramatic moment. A betrayal. A death. A tragedy. They think philosophies are born because one must suffer."
Inei – "I didn't wake up one morning believing existence lacked objective meaning."
A pause.
Inei – "I simply Don't Care."
He tapped the cigarette gently against the railing.
"I believed history made humanity wiser."
"Then I watched history do the opposite."
"So I removed that one."
His eyes drifted downward.
"Eventually..."
"...there wasn't much left."
Omoshiro listened carefully before asking another question.
Not to challenge.
To understand.
Omoshiro – "Did removing those beliefs make you happier?"
Inei answered instantly.
Inei – "Making me happy our not does not matter."
Omoshiro – "Then why keep them removed?"
Inei blinked.
The simplicity of the question caught him slightly off guard.
Inei – "Because whether i like it our not something that just happens alot of times in arrow normaly the truth."
He looked directly at Omoshiro.
Inei – "Would you rather believe a comforting lie than an uncomfortable truth?"
Omoshiro remained silent.
A long silence.
Long enough that Inei assumed the conversation had finally reached its natural conclusion.
Then...
Omoshiro – "I don't know."
Inei waited.
Omoshiro continued.
Omoshiro – "Not only about God."
He looked toward the river again.
Omoshiro – "About almost everything."
Inei raised an eyebrow.
Inei – "Explain."
Omoshiro nodded slowly.
Omoshiro – "When I was younger..."
"...I thought certainty was intelligence."
"So I wanted answers."
He smiled faintly.
Omoshiro – "Suddenly I could hear thousands of people."
"They all believed different things."
"They all sounded convinced."
He laughed quietly.
"And they couldn't all be right."
He looked toward Inei.
"So I stopped trying to become certain."
Inei considered that.
Then asked quietly,
Inei – "And what did you become instead?"
Omoshiro – "Curious."
Another pause.
Omoshiro – "Curiosity hurts less than certainty."
Almost unconsciously.
Inei – "...No."
Omoshiro blinked.
Omoshiro – "No?"
Inei – "Curiosity hurts more."
He laughed bitterly.
"You just haven't lived with it long enough."
Omoshiro frowned.
Omoshiro – "How?"
Inei looked toward the city.
Thousands of windows glowed in the distance.
Inei – "Because curiosity never ends."
"You answer one question."
"It gives birth to three more."
"You solve those."
"Now there are ten."
"You spend forty years asking why people kill each other."
"You finally understand."
"And suddenly..."
"...you're forced to ask why they love each other."
He smiled without warmth.
"There is no graduation."
"No finish line."
"Only more questions."
Omoshiro quietly absorbed every word.
Then...
he asked something that even surprised himself.
Omoshiro – "If someone proved you wrong..."
Inei looked at him.
Omoshiro – "Would you be happy?"
The older man didn't answer.
Not immediately.
His eyes returned to the river.
The cigarette remained forgotten between his fingers.
Several minutes passed.
Finally...
Inei – "...I've never asked myself that."
Omoshiro didn't interrupt.
Inei continued almost absentmindedly.
Inei – "I've spent so many years defending my conclusions..."
"...that I forgot to ask whether I wanted them to be true."
His voice became quieter.
"Imagine discovering tomorrow..."
"...that the universe really does possess purpose."
"...that suffering truly leads somewhere."
"...that every death mattered."
He laughed softly.
"But if that's true..."
"...then I've spent twenty years teaching myself the opposite."
He closed his eyes.
Inei – "You're dangerous."
Omoshiro tilted his head.
Omoshiro – "Why?"
Inei looked back toward the river.
Inei – "I Dunno."
He exhaled slowly.
Neither Inei nor Omoshiro seemed aware of the passing time anymore. The conversation had quietly ceased resembling an exchange of opinions. Instead, it had become something both men rarely experienced—a place where they could expose ideas they had spent years constructing without immediately being dismissed or praised. For Inei, that alone felt disturbingly unfamiliar. He had grown accustomed to speaking at people because very few remained long enough to speak with him.
Inei finally broke the silence again, though this time his voice no longer carried the defensive sharpness that had accompanied his first replies. It had become slower, more deliberate, as though every sentence demanded careful excavation from somewhere he rarely allowed himself to visit.
Inei – "You know what I think humanity misunderstands most? It isn't death. It isn't suffering. It isn't even God. It's scale. People insist on measuring themselves against the universe, then become offended when they discover the universe doesn't answer back. Imagine standing before the ocean and asking whether it loves you. We call the universe cruel because it refuses to acknowledge us, but perhaps indifference isn't cruelty. Perhaps it simply isn't obligated to participate in our story."
He slowly rested both elbows against the bridge railing before continuing, his gaze fixed upon the water below rather than the young man beside him.
Inei – "Every civilization has invented the same lie in different languages. That history progresses toward something. That our species climbs. We draw arrows through time because our minds are incapable of accepting circles. We tell ourselves tomorrow will justify yesterday, and if it doesn't, then the day after surely will. But remove names, remove flags, remove technology... and what remains? Parents mourning children. Children burying parents. Men killing strangers after convincing themselves those strangers deserve death. Lovers promising forever despite knowing better."
Omoshiro listened without interruption. Theta quietly withdrew even further until only Inei's voice occupied the center of his perception. There was no urge to answer. The older man's words were not attacks requiring defense.
Inei continued.
Inei – "Do you know why I distrust hope?"
He didn't wait for an answer.
Inei – "Because hope has an older brother. Expectation. People confuse the two constantly. Hope whispers, 'Perhaps.' Expectation says, 'Certainly.' The distance between those two words has filled cemeteries. Entire nations have marched into wars believing tomorrow belonged to them because they expected justice to behave like mathematics. They believed the world owed them an outcome proportional to their virtue. Reality has never signed that contract."
His fingers tightened slightly around the forgotten cigarette.
Inei – "When I was younger, I thought disappointment meant my beliefs were incomplete. I kept searching for better systems, convinced there had to exist one idea capable of reconciling every contradiction. Eventually I realized something, Every unanswered question becomes someone else's fault. I stopped believing ideologies because I noticed they all feared the same thing."
Omoshiro finally spoke.
Omoshiro – "Being wrong."
Inei – "Exactly."
Another quiet breath escaped him.
Inei – "People say they seek truth. Most don't. They seek comfort. Truth is dangerous because it reserves the right to change you. Permanence is comforting because it allows you to remain exactly who you already are."
Omoshiro – "Then why are you still searching?"
He smiled bitterly.
Inei – "Maybe that's my contradiction."
He laughed softly at himself.
Inei – "I spend decades insisting existence contains no objective meaning... yet I continue observing it as though I expect it to surprise me. If I were perfectly consistent, I should have stopped asking questions long ago. Instead... here I am. Still, totally still."
His eyes drifted toward Omoshiro.
Inei – "Do you know what annoys me most about you?"
Omoshiro blinked.
Omoshiro – "No."
Inei – "You... genuinely want to understand."
He looked away.
Omoshiro – "Can I tell you something?"
Inei gave a tired nod.
Omoshiro – "When I met that person...The man you call monster"
He looked toward the stars.
Omoshiro – "I thought I was observing him."
A faint laugh escaped him.
"I wasn't."
"I was changing."
He folded his arms loosely.
"I kept thinking I was studying another person, but every question I asked about him slowly became a question about myself."
He turned back toward Inei.
"I think that's happening again."
The older man remained silent.
Omoshiro continued.
Omoshiro – "I don't think you're wrong."
Inei frowned slightly.
Omoshiro raised a hand before he could respond.
Omoshiro – "Not completely."
"I think everything you said exists."
"History repeats."
"People disappoint each other."
"Hope becomes death."
"I've seen all of that."
He paused.
"But..."
Another pause.
"I don't think you've proven those things are all that exist."
Inei didn't answer.
Inei – "Meaning?"
Omoshiro – "Come to the Federation."
The words were spoken so naturally that they almost disappeared into the night.
Inei stared at him.
Omoshiro continued.
Omoshiro – "Not today."
"Not tomorrow."
"Next week."
"You might find people that can atleast on some level, understand you."
Inei immediately shook his head.
Inei – "Terrible idea."
Omoshiro nodded.
Omoshiro – "Probably."
Inei – "Your organization would hate me."
Omoshiro – "Some would."
Inei – "Your analysts would monitor every step I take."
Omoshiro – "Definitely."
A longer silence.
Inei – "Your friend would challenge me every ten minutes."
Omoshiro actually laughed.
Omoshiro – "More like every five."
Even Inei couldn't suppress a small smile.
It disappeared almost immediately.
Inei – "You're making a remarkably poor argument."
Omoshiro shrugged.
Omoshiro – "I'm not trying to convince you it's comfortable."
He looked directly into the older man's eyes.
Omoshiro – "I'm asking whether you've become so certain about your endless end."
The older man lowered his gaze.
For a long while...
Neither spoke.
Finally...
He let out the deepest sigh of the evening.
Inei – "...One week."
Omoshiro remained silent.
Inei – "I'll visit."
He immediately added,
Inei – "Don't misunderstand."
"I expect to leave with exactly the same conclusions."
Omoshiro smiled.
Omoshiro – "Maybe."
"I don't know."
Inei rolled his eyes.
Inei – "Of course you don't."
The corners of his mouth almost lifted again.
They stood there another moment before Inei quietly turned away, hands returning to the pockets of his trench coat as he began walking back toward the sleeping city. His pace remained as unhurried as ever, yet something about it had subtly changed. He no longer looked like a man escaping conversation.
Halfway across the bridge, he stopped without turning around.
Barely above a whisper, speaking only to himself, he muttered,
Inei – "...What am I doing?"
He shook his head once, almost irritated by his own decision, before disappearing into the quiet streets beyond.
Omoshiro remained where he was.
The bridge suddenly felt much larger.
He slowly lifted his eyes toward the endless stars stretching above Japan, their light crossing incomprehensible distances before reaching someone who had spent most of his life believing existence was merely something to observe.
A quiet smile formed almost unconsciously.
Omoshiro, to himself – "...Why do I feel so alive?"
--
Enazumi descended without haste.
There was no pillar of light announcing his arrival, no overwhelming explosion of Yin tearing apart the devastated industrial district.
Yet despite the destruction stretching toward every horizon, Enazumi's clothing remained untouched, the faint evening wind carrying only a few strands of his dark hair across a face so remarkably still that it almost resembled carved marble rather than living flesh.