The rain had finally stopped, but the tension in Haratu's mind thundered louder than any storm.
He sat in his office long after everyone else had gone. The folder labeled "Project Hades" lay open on his desk, its contents spread like the dissection of his own memory.
Kazuki Ren. Subject K.R.
2009. Government-sponsored psychic research. Temple fires. Memory fragmentation.
None of it made complete sense. But what shattered Haratu most was the photo inside—he and Kazuki, standing side by side, not as enemies… but as friends.
He didn't remember that friendship. Not clearly.
Why?
Was his memory altered?
He lit a cigarette—something he rarely did—and let the smoke coil upward in silence.
Then, a knock.
Ryoko entered, holding a USB drive.
"This was in the evidence box from the vault," she said. "It's old. Pre-2010 encryption."
Haratu plugged it in.
A password prompt.
He stared for a long moment, then typed in:
"KAIROS."
Click.
The screen flickered to life.
A single video file. Date-stamped: March 22, 2009.
He pressed play.
---
The footage was grainy, shot on a handheld camera. It showed a dark room lined with wires, devices emitting soft beeping noises. In the center, a young boy sat strapped to a chair—eyes closed, face peaceful.
Kazuki. Younger. Frailer.
A voice—flat and professional—spoke offscreen.
> "Test Subject K.R. shows increased sensitivity to thought-loop constructs. Memory dislocation persists beyond induced simulations. Temporal responses… show reverse-mirroring potential."
Then came the shocking part:
Kazuki opened his eyes and whispered:
> "The first murderer will die seven days later. The second—fourteen. The third—twenty-one."
Haratu froze.
"That's the pattern of the murders."
Ryoko's voice trembled. "He predicted them… years ago."
"No," Haratu muttered. "He lived them… again and again."
Before they could discuss more, a call came through.
Fujimoto from Forensics.
"We found another body."
Haratu stood instantly. "Who?"
"Detective Asakura. One of the original investigators from the temple fire case in 2009."
Ryoko blinked. "That case was buried."
"And now someone's unearthing it."
The crime scene was quiet—too quiet. Police had cordoned off the alley behind an old warehouse near the eastern district. Detective Asakura's body lay slumped against a brick wall, hands clasped as if in prayer.
Ryoko knelt beside him, inspecting the surroundings. "No sign of struggle. No footprints except his own. And no blood."
Haratu's gaze was drawn to the pattern scorched on the wall behind the body: a spiral burned into the bricks—charred black in perfect symmetry.
"Same as the temple fire symbol," he muttered.
Asakura had been one of the lead investigators of the Kazuki fire case—one of the few who pushed to shut it down. Now, he was dead, as if justice had finally caught up… or something else.
Haratu's phone buzzed again. A text.
From an unknown number:
> "The fire never went out. You just stopped looking at the smoke."
—K.R.
"Let's go," he told Ryoko. "We're going to the old temple."
---
Thirty minutes later, they arrived at the ruins of the burned temple—now overtaken by moss and weeds. The remains of wooden beams, shattered statues, and scorched prayer scrolls created an eerie maze.
Haratu walked silently, recalling fragments he didn't know he remembered.
"I came here before…" he whispered.
Ryoko looked over. "When?"
"I don't know. But I feel it."
Suddenly, Ryoko's flashlight flickered over a hidden stone tile. Inscribed on it: HADES-04.
Beneath it, a trapdoor.
It creaked open.
Stairs descended into darkness.
Haratu led the way.
---
Below the temple, they entered a forgotten lab—metal walls, rusted instruments, and tubes filled with dark, preserved liquid. Along the walls were files… tapes… labeled:
SUBJECT K.R.
MEMORY CONTAINMENT PROTOCOL
EXPERIMENT 7: REVERSE TIME LOOP.
In the corner was a shattered mirror.
But it wasn't a mirror.
It was a portal frame.
A machine once used for memory viewing—now dead, except for a single blinking light.
Ryoko approached the computer beside it and hit "Power."
A file opened:
PROJECT KAIROS: Final Entry.
And there, in Kazuki's voice:
> "If you found this, then I've already looped. Again. The cycle can't break until the source is erased. Not the memory. The emotion."
> "Find her. Before I forget again."
Haratu's eyes widened.
"Her…?"
A name appeared.
Mika Hayashi.
Classified: Subject Zero.
Ryoko gasped. "She died in the fire, didn't she?"
Haratu shook his head slowly. "What if… she didn't?"
Haratu stared at the name: Mika Hayashi.
The name ignited something deep inside him. Not just recognition—remorse.
He turned to Ryoko. "I knew her."
Ryoko blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Not just from a case. Personally. Before I was a detective. Before everything." He gripped the console, trying to stabilize his breath. "She was the one who saved me when I had nothing. But the fire… I thought she'd died."
Ryoko's expression softened, but before she could respond, a low humming echoed through the underground room.
The mirror-like portal frame flickered.
It glowed faintly.
And then, a voice—not recorded—echoed from within.
> "You broke the cycle, Sota. But can you accept the truth?"
A figure appeared within the glass: a woman in a white coat, her long black hair tied back, her eyes glowing faintly violet.
Mika.
But she was… younger. Preserved. As if time hadn't touched her.
"Haratu Sota," the figure said, almost like a whisper in his mind, "You have seen the symptoms. But you still fear the cause."
"What are you?" Haratu asked, gripping the sidearm at his hip but not drawing it.
"I'm the memory of Mika Hayashi… before she became Subject Zero."
The light pulsed.
"Your investigation—this spiral of murders—it's the side effect. The echoes of Kairos."
Ryoko stepped forward. "Kairos? The time experiment?"
Mika nodded. "Kazuki Rena, Mika Hayashi, and several others were part of a project funded to alter perception of time using memory manipulation. It was abandoned after the fire. Or so they said."
Haratu looked down at the file again. "But someone… someone continued it."
"Someone perfected it," the projection said. "And now, the cycle is feeding on those who were once connected to it. Anyone with memories altered by Kairos becomes vulnerable. They either forget… or die."
Haratu clenched his jaw. "Who?"
The light pulsed again, but weaker this time.
> "He's close to you. A shadow. Watch your partner."
Before either of them could react, the projection shattered into shards of light, and the portal went dark.
Ryoko turned to Haratu. "What did she mean—'watch your partner'?"
Haratu didn't answer.
He was already thinking of the one person who had helped him gather files… trace sources… and yet remained suspiciously out of reach during the last few incidents.
Kyoji Ren.
The analyst.
The tech genius… and the one who suggested bringing Haratu in at the start.
---
Back in their office, Haratu tore through files—Ryoko assisting in silence.
They pulled Kyoji's case records.
Work logs.
Surveillance footage.
One video stood out—dated two weeks before the first murder.
Kyoji was seen entering a decommissioned Kairos research site… at 3:00 a.m.
Alone.
And leaving with a briefcase.
In the next image, his eyes flickered with an unnatural violet hue—just like Mika's in the portal.
"He knew," Haratu said. "He knew and he never told us."
Ryoko clenched her fists. "He used us."
"No," Haratu said. "He's still using us. The victims weren't random. They were people who stood in the way of uncovering the original Kairos records."
Ryoko's eyes widened. "He's covering the past."
Haratu nodded. "But there's more. I think… he's trying to recreate it."
---
As they prepared to confront Kyoji, Haratu opened a locked drawer in his desk—inside, a photo.
It was old, faded.
A teenage Haratu, smiling beside a girl.
Mika Hayashi.
A note was scribbled on the back:
> "If you forget me, promise me you'll remember this smile."
He stared at it, heart heavy, and slid it into his coat pocket.
"I won't forget again," he whispered.