Shu Ouma began his training with Funeral Parlor — the same grueling regime as in the original story.
For the Funeral Parlor members, of course, this was all routine. Their old sloppiness had been largely beaten out of them after Gai dressed them down thoroughly, and why wouldn't it be — they were children who had grown up amid poverty and illness. The difference between them and Shu Ouma, who had been raised in comfort and ease, was fundamental.
Shu began wilting almost immediately. His stamina couldn't keep up; he couldn't even hold a rifle steady, let alone shoot straight. But there was nowhere left for him to go. When he'd made the decision to leave with Inori that night, he had abandoned everything — his school life, the thin and colorless ten years he had spent being Shu Ouma.
"I can't… I just can't anymore…"
He felt like his limbs had been filled with lead. He dragged himself back to his bunk and collapsed — and the sheer weight of mental exhaustion made everything feel slightly unreal, like he was drifting through someone else's dream.
Only three days in, and they had already etched themselves into him more deeply than any other period of his life. Shu had always avoided physical activity; his baseline fitness was probably below the average high schooler. He suffered more for it in training. But he knew he had to hold. This was the price of staying at her side.
Speaking of which… is Miss Inori still angry at me?
He closed his eyes. The memory of that night drifted back.
What had she meant, calling herself his sister? What had she really meant by everything she'd said? And those images he'd seen — were they hallucinations? Residue from watching too many horror films?
Could it be she felt the same way about him…? No — it couldn't be that simple.
No.
For three days he hadn't managed to get a single glimpse of Inori. And she was the whole reason he'd thrown away his comfortable life to suffer through this. He needed to find her. He needed to ask her, clearly, what had happened that night — what all of it meant.
And he had made another decision too, quietly, while no one was looking.
He wanted to tell her how he felt. He knew he wasn't worthy of standing beside her yet. But one day — someday — he would become a man she could respect. He would make sure of it.
Shu took a deep breath. The physical hardship had, at least, tempered his resolve. He was going to find Inori and say what needed to be said.
He stepped out of his room and found the place deserted. No Ayase Shinomiya, no familiar faces among the members — everyone had vanished.
"Huh? Did they… did they go out on a mission?"
He eventually found a boy in the mess hall with a mop, and got his answer.
"Yes. About an hour ago, Leader Gai took Miss Inori and the others out on an operation."
"The objective of this operation is a Leukocyte control facility located at the bottom of the Tsukino-se Reservoir."
"We will infiltrate the deepest point of the reservoir and shut down the control core."
The improvised briefing tent was packed. Gai Tsutsugami stood at the display screen explaining the operation plan to the assembled strike team. Inori Yuzuriha stood at the far edge of the room, arms folded, wearing the expression of someone paying close attention — when in reality she already knew every word before it was spoken.
The satellite network was managed by a quantum-encrypted ground control system, buried 200 meters below the target site.
"This is the device."
Kenji Kido worked at the laptop, bringing up a simulation model for everyone to visualize. The image showed a bubble-like structure suspended inside a stripped-wall conduit, orbiting a central point in a steady Möbius-loop pattern.
"The core is housed inside a superconducting magnetic containment vessel. Any physical contact will trigger lockdown mode — once that happens, it's completely inaccessible. In lockdown, the system accepts no external commands whatsoever. This means that to transmit a termination signal, we need to do it without making physical contact with the control core."
Kenji finished his briefing, picked up the paper cup of cola from the desk, and drank.
"Under those conditions, we'll need Inori's right hand and the gravity-control Void."
"But…" Quadrant pushed his glasses up and interjected, calm as ever. "OAU's reinforcements still haven't arrived, Gai. Aren't we moving too fast? The satellite control center is one of the enemy's high-priority defensive positions — we don't have the numbers for this."
"We'll be fine."
Gai shook his head.
"With Inori here, we have enough. Besides, our goal isn't to eliminate the enemy — it's purely to destroy the control mechanism. Headcount comparisons are meaningless."
"The operation begins at sundown. Everyone — get some rest first."
Inori sat on a wooden crate, both hands propping her chin, staring at the quiet current of a stream.
The rest of the team was tense about the upcoming assault on the satellite base. Inori, meanwhile, was already thinking three steps ahead. According to the story's progression, GHQ would sense the danger from this operation and move to transfer the Origin Stone still held inside Japan to their headquarters overseas. Gai would learn of this plan and attempt to use the Void of Souta Tamadate to reclaim it — only to be beaten to it by Shuichiro Keido.
That was the beach training arc from the original. And it was her window to kill Keido.
If she missed it, if he got his hands on the Origin Stone — the next step would almost certainly be deploying that acoustic-dispersion device to spread the Apocalypse Virus and trigger a second Lost Christmas.
She needed to move before he could act.
There was also the question of how to handle "Diavolo's" reaction to the deception she'd been running on him — reusing the same approach as before felt too cheap. She'd figure it out later.
"Hey, little Inori."
"What?"
No one else around. The only person who would address her like that was Hare or Mana.
"Your ability to see the future — doesn't it feel strange to you?"
"What are you talking about?"
Inori looked up at the sky. The crisp, soft light was cut into fragments by the leaves overhead, dappling across her in shifting pieces.
"Because it's contradictory, isn't it?"
"The future you see isn't necessarily fixed. Say Epitaph shows you dying in this battle, so you pull out of the operation — then what you saw was false, wasn't it?"
"…Mana, do you have too much free time?"
Inori laughed despite herself.
"Yes, I really do."
Mana didn't argue. She admitted it cleanly.
"So I've been thinking about this the entire time. Can you explain it to me?"
"The future I see will happen — without exception. What I can't control is the path it takes to get there. Say Epitaph shows me taking a bullet. Then I use King Crimson to erase the moment I get hit — and the future's outcome changes."
Last night, when Inori had used Epitaph for the first time, she'd seen the image of Ayase coming to knock on her door. She had opened the door and waited, seemingly changing the fact of the "knock." But not long after, Ayase had turned around and come back anyway — because Gai had asked her to relay a message, letting Inori know she could take the next two days to rest at home.
Inori didn't know that chain of events beforehand. But the fact of the knock had been inevitable. Only Time Erasure — or some other Stand ability that could interrupt causality — could change a future that Epitaph had already determined will occur. That was the nature of Epitaph.
"Epitaph shows a future that will occur — and with that, I change the outcomes that are against me. That's what Epitaph does."
"I still don't really understand."
Mana struggled with the conceptual tangle. In truth, it wasn't complicated — she was just thinking in circles, getting caught on the apparent contradiction between foreseeing and changing. There was nothing else for her to do, really — aside from sleeping, which was the only other option. But Inori's conversation a few days ago had opened a window she hadn't expected: the hope that this catastrophe could be changed. The hope of pulling Shu Ouma free from the fate of Adam.
Hope bred anticipation. Anticipation made sleep feel impossible. Like a soldier on the eve of their very first true battle, she simply could not close her eyes.
So she turned her thoughts in circles, and that was all. It wasn't as if Inori was going to lend her the body anyway.
"But I don't need to understand it," Mana said finally, and her voice brightened. "As long as you know how to use it without making mistakes, that's enough."
Her relief was genuine. The world even felt a little fresher — the air, the light, the sound of the water—
Wait.
Inori's expression went sharp.
"Little Inori! What are you doing? Why did you suddenly—" Mana was completely thrown. The feel of having a real body again — the cool stream air against her skin, the soft light, the sound of the water — all of it reaching her in a way it hadn't in years.
"Letting you breathe some fresh air. Is that a problem?"
A split-second switch.
This wasn't the first time. After a few rounds of practice, Inori had learned to manage the transition with ease — a relationship that called to mind Diavolo and Doppio, in its own way.
"I'm not going to let you go stir-crazy, Mana. When you're in a bad mood, I feel bad too. If you keep brooding, it wears me out."
Inori answered lightly. There was still time before the operation, and she could reclaim control whenever she chose.
Though, looking at this — there was no need to rush.
The one standing here in the open air was Mana Ouma. Mana without any stain or impurity. Just Mana.
"…I suppose that's true."
"Inori… who are you talking to?"
The cold, flat male voice made Mana flinch. She turned.
Standing there: golden hair, all in black. Gai Tsutsugami.
"T— Gai?"
— What do I do? Little Inori, swap back, quickly!
— It's all right, my dear Mana. Say a few words to him. He was your childhood friend, wasn't he? Just don't do anything I wouldn't like.
— And don't forget — I can see your future.