"Ow."
Inori rubbed the reddened back of her hand, lips pressed into a pout.
— You could have just used the Zero-G Void to redirect the satellite's gravity and guide it into the ocean. Why did you insist on hitting it with your fists? King Crimson's damage feeds back to you, you know.
"You don't get it. That's called style."
— I will never understand you, little Inori.
Since Mana shared Inori's body, any pain Inori felt was reflected back to her as well. Fortunately, King Crimson's destructive output was high enough that even after pummeling the satellite with that many consecutive strikes, the feedback only amounted to some swelling and redness across the back of her hand—without even breaking the skin.
Of course, it had helped enormously that the gravity had been working in her favor throughout—King Crimson's role had really been one of supplemental propulsion. The Void had done the actual heavy lifting.
Inori stood on the beach. She pulled off her jacket and left it in the sand, now wearing only a short-sleeved shirt with her arms bare. Her shoes sank into the soft ground with every step as she made her way toward the water's edge.
The falling Leukocyte satellite had been pushed as far out to sea as she could manage, and the Zero-G Void had served as a cushion during its final descent. Despite having been pounded relentlessly, Inori had ultimately guided it to a gentle landing on the ocean floor.
Her method might not have been as dramatic as the original story—Shu drawing Inori's evolved Void as a giant sword and blasting the satellite apart—but it was, without question, the superior choice. No one had noticed what was happening in the sky. The network signal had flickered out for a few moments before quietly coming back online.
She raised both arms high above her head and stretched as far as she could, trying to work out the low ache that had settled into her arms after all those hits. She was a Stand with an E-rank Persistence stat—it was only reasonable to feel tired after punching a satellite into the sea.
Inori looked out at the dark water. Far in the distance, across that vast black expanse, tiny points of light dotted the surface.
Almost there. Just a little further, and she would reach the summit of this world.
(③)
After Mana had appeared and Epitaph's power was restored to her, there was only one thing Inori wanted: to eradicate the Apocalypse Virus and everyone who sought to use it to forge the Crown of Sin. That was the promise she had made to Mana—and the oath she had sworn to herself long before that.
— If the law cannot reach the Apocalypse and those who stand above it, then King Crimson will.
"Oh—right. There's something important I need to do."
Something surfaced in her mind. She reached into her pocket immediately, pulled out her phone, and dialed Gai's number from Diavolo's account.
His side of things should be wrapping up by now—pulling out of the battle, gathering the unit, counting casualties. The operation had succeeded, in a manner of speaking. GHQ wouldn't be able to use the Leukocytes again for the foreseeable future. That was enough.
"What is it? You're calling at a time like this."
Gai's tone was less than friendly.
"Oh~ Lovely fireworks tonight, Gai Tsutsugami."
Inori let her voice settle into a pitch as close to Diavolo's as she could manage, and paired it with a light, easy laugh.
"Get to the point."
"Just offering my congratulations." Inori shifted her weight, keeping the flippant tone going. "And—you used something of mine. Don't forget to return it when you're done."
"Something of yours? ...You bastard!"
Gai hadn't caught on immediately, but realization struck him fast. The something the man was referring to—that was Inori, wasn't it?
"She is a human being. A living, breathing girl!"
"Hmph."
Inori listened to his indignation and let out a quiet, contemptuous laugh.
He was expressing concern for her—she knew that perfectly well. But she still had to say something worse, something that would get under Gai's skin and rattle whatever composure he was holding together. It was fate. An unavoidable necessity. The instant that thought crossed her mind, her chest ached so sharply she nearly couldn't hold back a laugh.
"A person only grows after conquering the immature parts of themselves. That applies to you just as much as anyone else, Gai Tsutsugami."
Inori was getting more comfortable with this voice by the day—and more convincing.
"That petty way of thinking of yours—it isn't even as good as rat droppings in a latrine. One day, it's going to get you killed. But then again, you are only seventeen. Your naivety is nothing more than dead weight chained to your own feet."
"..."
Gai was genuinely thrown by the sudden, elaborate insult—and for a moment couldn't find a word to say in response. Because, as much as he hated to admit it, the man wasn't wrong. Even after taking so many lives, he still couldn't be completely cold. He still couldn't look at his subordinates as pieces to be spent—and certainly not when it came to Inori, who wore the same face as Mana.
"In my eyes, every person is only a tool. And as for Inori…" A quiet, knowing laugh. "That girl—she is an exceptionally useful thing."
"From a variety of perspectives… that's all."
Inori let that last line land with perfect timing—a finishing touch, like the dot completing a brushstroke.
Silence fell on the other end. She could only imagine what Gai looked like right now—likely spiraling, his composure in ruins, his thoughts full of their conversation by the river before the operation. In his mind, that girl who had started to look so much like Mana was now in the hands of some faceless stranger who—
How strange, Inori thought. She had told herself she was done playing these games. But the moment he showed how much he cared, she couldn't resist needling him—and the satisfaction was almost impossible to contain.
— Little… Inori?
Mana, watching every moment of this from within, was at a complete loss.
This was a masterclass in baffling behavior.
— What on earth are you thinking? Why are you deliberately provoking Triton?
— Because it's fun. Don't you think so, my dear Mana?
— He… I feel terrible for him.
Mana's feelings toward Gai weren't romantic—they were purely those of old, genuine friendship. She simply had a severe little-brother complex.
"...Diavolo."
Gai finally said the name—Inori's alias—and his voice was barely holding steady. Whatever control he still had sounded like it was hanging by a thread.
"I will not let Inori return to your side. Our arrangement ends here."
Gai had made the decision through clenched teeth, and it had taken real resolve to say it. The collaboration with Diavolo had brought Funeral Parlor advantages they'd never had before—generous resources, logistical support, up-to-the-minute intelligence on GHQ. But this man had crossed a line that Gai would not walk back from. The one woman he had ever truly loved was Mana, and even a girl who only shared her face—he would not allow anyone to degrade her.
"Oh? Is that so?"
Inori received this without surprise.
"And do you think she'll quietly come along with you?"
"I planted something rather interesting inside her body. Without me, her condition will deteriorate—haven't you already noticed she's been a little off while she's been with you?"
— The "off" behavior he's referencing: the extended sleep periods and the seemingly unprompted muttering—both caused by Mana's presence.
But that explanation, reaching Gai's ears, would be processed as something far worse—poison, perhaps, or something he hadn't even thought of yet.
"...You scumbag!"
"She is a weapon I cultivated with considerable care—capable of wielding the Void. Did you honestly think I would let her stay at your side without something to hold over you?"
Inori turned back toward the ocean. Her eyes held quiet amusement. A large wave came rolling in and crashed against the rocks nearby with a deep, resonant boom.
"What do you want from me—Diavolo, what do you actually need from me?"
Gai's voice had lost whatever was left of its composure. He was alone under a tree somewhere, and Inori could picture it: bloody knuckles from where his fists had found the bark, the damage driven by something too large to hold in. The picture this "Diavolo" had painted for him—she could feel how thoroughly it had gutted him.
"Your loyalty."
"I just—I just want to find a way to free her! Who are you, really? What are you chasing, Diavolo? What do you want from me and Inori?"
The questions came rapid-fire, but Inori had no intention of answering them. She simply switched tracks, exactly as Diavolo would.
"The Origin Stone."
The words dropped without preamble, and on the other end, Gai went quiet.
"Your last move made a lot of noise—GHQ's central command has noticed. They've been planning to move it out of Japan for some time now."
"I think you already know what the next step should be."