Volume 3.5
(Toshiro sobu perspective. )
Chapter 6: The Six-Way Deadlock
December 30th, 2026.
Most people spend their lives searching for meaning.
I stopped searching a long time ago.
Meaning was a story humans told themselves so they could tolerate waking up every morning.
Purpose.
Justice.
Good.
Evil.
They were all masks.
Different names for the same illusion.
The truth was much simpler.
People moved.
People struggled.
People suffered.
Then they disappeared.
Like pieces removed from a board.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
I walked through the halls of the National Institute for Future Leaders.
Renko Sukamo followed several steps behind me.
Predictable as always.
Impatient.
Curious.
Human.
I entered the cafeteria.
The workers immediately looked toward me.
"You're all dismissed for today."
Confusion spread through the room.
One attempted to ask why.
I merely smiled.
Eventually they complied.
Humans were strange creatures.
Most of them obeyed authority without understanding why.
Perhaps that was comforting to them.
Renko approached me after the workers left.
"What exactly are you planning, Toshiro?"
I ignored the question.
There was no reason to answer.
People often assumed silence was secrecy.
In reality, silence was usually boredom.
A vibration came from my pocket.
I removed my phone.
A message.
The janitor.
Sorry sir. I know this sounds like an excuse, but my tire was slashed.
Interesting.
Not surprising.
But interesting.
I returned the phone to my pocket.
Renko had already seen enough of the message to become suspicious.
"Wait."
His brow furrowed.
"If the janitor isn't here..."
He stopped.
"...then who did I see earlier?"
A good question.
I continued walking.
Questions were often more useful than answers.
---
Minutes later, smoke drifted through the hallway.
The smell reached us before the fire itself.
Renko immediately started moving.
I did not.
We eventually reached the cafeteria.
Flames had begun spreading.
Small.
Controlled.
Deliberate.
Renko rushed toward a fire extinguisher.
"Don't."
He turned.
"What?"
"Don't."
The confusion on his face was almost amusing.
"We need to put this out."
I walked toward a nearby storage area.
Retrieved a container.
Oil.
Without hesitation, I poured it onto the flames.
The fire immediately grew.
Heat surged outward.
The room brightened.
For a brief moment the flames danced beautifully.
Destruction often possessed a strange elegance.
"TOSHIRO!"
Renko's voice echoed through the room.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
He reached toward the fire alarm.
I stopped him.
"Don't."
His expression hardened.
"Have you completely lost your mind?"
"If the alarm sounds," I said calmly, "the students will gather in the parking lot."
He stared at me.
Unable to understand.
That was expected.
Understanding required information.
And Renko lacked information.
So we left.
The fire would be handled eventually.
That wasn't my concern.
---
The camera room was silent.
Most of the surveillance system had been disabled.
Again.
Expected.
Predictable.
Human beings loved believing they were invisible.
Renko inspected the monitors.
"What is going on?"
I didn't answer.
Instead, I activated a different feed.
One camera remained operational.
A camera nobody knew existed.
The parking lot appeared on screen.
Several minutes passed.
Then I saw him.
A young man with reddish-orange hair.
Planting something beneath my vehicle.
A tracking device.
Nearby stood a student.
Kei Fushimiya.
Observing.
Watching.
Thinking.
Interesting.
The young man entered a van and disappeared.
I shut off the footage.
A smile briefly crossed my face.
The pieces were moving.
Exactly as they should.
---
December 31st, 2026.
Near midnight.
Snow covered the ground.
The year was ending.
Another meaningless cycle drawing to a close.
Renko walked beside me.
"I need to head home."
His voice sounded tired.
"I need to talk to my son."
I looked ahead.
"Your son will eventually become an important piece."
Silence followed.
Then:
"Why?"
His voice was quieter now.
Not anger.
Something else.
Fear.
Regret.
Perhaps both.
"Why does it have to be him?"
Humans were fascinating.
They willingly sacrificed strangers.
Yet hesitated when sacrifice reached their own doorstep.
"You already know the answer."
I continued walking.
"You're dismissed."
Renko stood there for several seconds.
Then left.
His footsteps gradually faded into the distance.
Soon I was alone.
---
The facility greeted me with silence.
Dust.
Darkness.
History.
I entered the designated room and waited.
Waiting was easy.
Time had never bothered me.
A vibration interrupted the silence.
Motion detector.
Someone had entered.
I glanced at the notification.
One individual.
Paul.
Expected.
I put away the phone.
Several minutes passed.
Another vibration.
Three people.
Interesting.
Not surprising.
But interesting.
Government personnel perhaps.
Or something similar.
The distinction hardly mattered.
Then another alert appeared.
Two people.
That one required no thought.
Aoi and Kei Fushimiya.
Of course.
The board was nearly complete.
I waited.
Then—
A fourth notification.
My eyes lingered on the screen.
Unexpected.
Not impossible.
Merely unexpected.
A fourth group.
Now that was interesting.
I placed the phone back into my pocket.
For the first time that evening, I felt genuine curiosity.
---
Minutes later the door opened.
Three people entered.
The young man from the parking lot.
A second man.
Dark hair.
Blue eyes.
Calm.
Observant.
Dangerous.
The third carried himself casually.
Almost lazily.
Yet appearances often lied.
The room grew quiet.
No one spoke.
No one needed to.
Midnight approached.
A new year waited just beyond the horizon.
Then another door opened.
The Fushimiya brothers entered.
Aoi.
Kei.
Their expressions shifted almost immediately.
Surprise.
Confusion.
Recognition.
Human emotions were wonderfully predictable.
I noticed something else.
The dark-haired man was smiling.
A small smile.
But genuine.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
For a moment nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Six individuals.
Six paths.
Six ambitions.
Six interpretations of the future.
All standing inside a forgotten room.
At the center of a game they didn't fully understand.
I looked around quietly.
The fire.
The tracker.
The missing janitor.
The hidden camera.
Every piece had arrived exactly where it needed to be.
Not because fate demanded it.
Not because destiny existed.
But because people were predictable.
They always had been.
That was the amusing part.
Humans desperately wanted to believe they were free.
Yet they followed patterns as reliably as machines.
I looked toward the group.
Toward the board.
Toward the pieces.
Toward the future.
A smile formed on my face.
This year was going to be entertaining.