"I need you to do something for me first."
Inori Yuzuriha held Shu's reddish-brown eyes steady and said it plainly.
"Is it some kind of test…? I'm probably not great with guns, but I can learn, I'd really try—"
Shu forced up a smile and tried to look ready. He was nervous and excited in equal measure; if he pulled off whatever this first assignment turned out to be, surely her opinion of him would go up?
"Mm~ nope."
Inori made a soft humming sound, shook her head, and let a very gentle smile bloom across her face.
"Nothing so dangerous. This is a very special task—one that only you can do."
"Only… me?"
Shu had no idea what that could possibly mean. He genuinely couldn't identify any particular skills he possessed. He wasn't athletic. He knew nothing about firearms. His mind was decent—though he hadn't really noticed that himself. The fact that Inori had risked exposing herself to recruit him was already baffling enough; he couldn't begin to guess the reason.
What he didn't know was that a far more difficult ordeal than anything he was imagining was waiting just ahead.
"What kind of task is it?"
"Mm, explaining it is a bit complicated." Inori paused—she genuinely didn't know where to begin—and fell back on her usual approach: act first, explain later. "Come to Funeral Parlor's base with me first." She stood, brushed breadcrumbs off her skirt, and smiled her particular secretive smile. A clean turn, and she was already heading for the door.
"Now?"
"Yes. Now."
"Stay behind me. Not too close, not too far—don't attract attention."
"...Okay!"
Shu scrambled to follow. He watched the sweep of pink hair swaying with her brisk stride, caught a drift of shampoo, clean and pleasant, and was just beginning to let himself quietly appreciate it when she spun around without warning and jabbed a finger directly into the bridge of his nose.
"Not that close! Didn't I just say that?"
"S-sorry!"
He pressed a hand to his reddening nose and answered in a miserable voice.
...
The quarantine zone wasn't far—five stops on the train from here. Shu flicked through news feeds on his phone the whole way, peripheral vision trained on Inori the entire time. She was younger than him, and yet the composure she carried, the quality of her presence—none of it belonged to someone her age, or any high school girl he'd ever encountered.
Before he'd met Inori, he'd admired her from a distance. After she'd transferred in, he'd started to fall for her. Now, after everything that had happened, he was genuinely afraid of her—and carrying all three feelings at the same time was genuinely exhausting.
What he didn't know was that worse torments were queued up ahead.
They moved through a stretch of worn-down residential blocks in the quarantine zone. With the area empty at this hour, Inori let him close the distance, and Shu fell in just behind her, sweeping anxious glances in every direction, not daring to say a word. Because they were heading straight to Funeral Parlor—a wanted organization, hunted across the entire country.
Gradually, a space opened ahead that looked like a field base. Young men and women in matching combat uniforms moved throughout it—most of them around Shu's age, some running drills, more unloading supplies from a line of large trucks.
"Good afternoon, Inori-senpai—!"
"Inori, you actually came by today?"
"Big sis Inori! So happy to see you!"
The moment they spotted her face, everyone brightened. Inori returned the greetings easily, and the warmth that moved through the space around her told Shu exactly how much she was respected here.
Of course. Even in an elite organization like Funeral Parlor, she moves through it like she belongs completely. Since he'd been brought here by Inori herself, he'd probably be looked after by the other members too, right? The thought settled some of the knot in his stomach.
He was still turning that over when Inori veered off course and headed toward the trucks where supplies were being unloaded.
Standing near them was a man with long gold hair and a coat draped over his shoulders. Even in profile alone, he was striking—the kind of face you'd remember. Gai Tsutsugami. The name surfaced instantly. That was GHQ's only publicly known Funeral Parlor identity: Gai Tsutsugami, their leader.
"Gai~"
Inori walked up and called his name without any particular ceremony.
"Oh—Inori." A flicker of surprise. Inori rarely came around when there wasn't an operation running. She'd drop in occasionally when she was in a good mood, usually bringing back intelligence on Diavolo. "Didn't expect to see you… and this is…?"
He'd been about to look past her without much thought—and then he saw the boy standing behind her. He stopped. Something surfaced in his eyes: terror, and the blank disorientation of someone who couldn't make sense of what they were seeing.
"Shu Ouma," Shu said, stepping forward with a polite nod. "Happy to meet you, Gai."
He hadn't noticed the reaction. Gai only held it for a moment. Whatever it was, he worked through it fast—short seconds, and he'd already traced the shape of it. He didn't acknowledge Shu yet. He looked at Inori instead, expression settling into something resigned and a little raw.
She was wearing her usual easy smile, the one she always had.
"You're saying this is why Diavolo sent you to that school?" His voice was quiet. "Makes sense."
"Not sure what you're referring to. Anyway—Shu is one of us from now on. Can you sort out his assignment, Gai? Tell him what he needs to do."
Without waiting for an answer, she turned back to Shu and gave him another smile.
"Gai will walk you through everything. When you're done, I'll come get you."
"No—please don't go out of your way—I can find my own way back—"
"Don't use formal speech with me." Inori straightened her expression—pulling up something close to a replica of the original Inori's measured calm. "Just call me Inori. And I'll call you Shu. We're partners from today on."
She let a beat pass.
"Give it your best shot."
A warm hand landed briefly on his shoulder as she moved past him. Shu's reddening face, and the frantic joy he was just barely keeping contained behind his eyes—she clocked all of it in one glance before she turned away. In the next instant, a conspiratorial smile settled across her face.
...
Shu and Gai had drifted off somewhere together and seemed to be having a good enough conversation—both their faces had eased into something approaching warmth. Shu's looked genuine. Gai's was clearly a performance—Gai probably felt the way you'd feel if you'd gone to use a perfectly good bathroom and a pig's head had clambered up out of the toilet to greet you.
A childhood companion. And the very person whose existence had been the catalyst for Mana Ouma's descent into ruin—Gai had assumed he'd never see him again in this life. Finding him here, now, like this… Diavolo was something else. Unfathomably deep. The thought of him sent a chill through Gai's chest. He'd found out even something like this?
Gai made a quiet, firm decision: he was going to find a way to get that mask off Diavolo's face, no matter what it took.
Meanwhile, Inori had positioned herself in a blind spot behind one of the railings, camera in hand, and was quietly documenting the conversation from across the compound.
"Good. That's the material I needed."
She scrolled to the video file she'd just captured, expression composed and pleased.
"Now I've left you with no choice, Shu Ouma."
She sent it—from Diavolo's account—directly to Major Rowan.
All that was left was to wait for good news~