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Jin leapt from Border HQ back to Tamakoma Branch, his body a blur of motion as he sliced through the cool night air. The freedom of moving in this body always amazed him—so swift, so precise. But his mind wasn’t as unburdened as his steps.
Tachikawa’s voice echoed in his ears.
“You sold the Fujin. Why go so far to get a Neighbor into Border? What are you plotting?”
He couldn’t deny the truth in Tachikawa’s question. He had sold the Fujin, a piece of Mogami-san’s legacy, all for a future no one but him could see. The weight of that decision lingered, as heavy as the countless visions crowding his thoughts. But he’d made his choice.
As he pushed open the door to Tamakoma’s lounge, the familiar warmth of home washed over him.
“Welcome back, Jin-san!” Usami called, her voice bright and cheerful. “There’s some macarons here,” Usami offered, gesturing to the plate on the table. Yuma was already devouring them with enthusiasm.
“Welcome home!” Yuma echoed, his mouth full.
The scene was almost enough to let Jin breathe easy again. Almost.
Jin barely had time to say yo before Osamu turned toward him with his usual quiet politeness. “Good evening,” Osamu said, his tone steady as always.
And then it hit.
The world around Jin warped as his Side Effect activated, pulling him into a web of possible futures. Black, jagged objects surrounded Osamu. Blood, panic—Osamu’s school uniform was torn, and he wasn’t moving in the pool of blood. He can’t bail out like that. He’s… oh no. He’s not breathing?
Jin’s stomach twisted.
“You haven’t been around much, Jin-san,” Yuma said, snapping him back to the present. “What’ve you been up to?”
Jin buried the panic under a casual grin. Not now. Not here.
“An elite agent… is a popular guy,” Jin replied lightly, swiping a macaron and popping it into his mouth. “Yuma, how’s the trigger training going?” Scanning his visions on Yuma’s future.
Yuma grinned, pointing his thumb at Usami. “Shiori-chan’s been teaching me a lot.” Usami adjusted her glasses, looking pleased. Through a mouthful of macarons, the albino added, “The day I lead Konami-senpai in wins is nigh.”
Jin chuckled along, but his thoughts lingered elsewhere. Why wasn’t Yuma with Osamu in that vision?
“And you, Four-Eyes? How’s training?” Jin asked, shifting his attention to Osamu.
“Um, pretty good,” Osamu said.
“Torimaru’s been busy with his part-time job,” Usami chimed in.
“Yeah, but he still made me a training regimen.”
“Well, Kyosuke’s a good teacher. You’ll be fine,” Jin said. His words were steady, but his mind wasn’t. He studied Osamu, searching for any signs that might explain the grim futures he’d seen. Four-Eyes isn’t doomed. Not yet. I can change this.
Osamu’s future was like an ever-shifting labyrinth, with branches splitting and merging constantly. The sheer number of possibilities made Jin’s head ache, and the tension gnawed at the edge of his composure.
He reached for the last of the macarons, stuffing them into his mouth all at once. With his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, he gave a lazy salute. “Work hard, young’uns. The real deal will be here before you know it.”
“Good night!” Yuma called cheerfully.
“See you tomorrow,” Osamu added.
Jin waved and retreated to his room. Inside, the familiar sight of stacked Bonchi rice cracker boxes greeted him. He flopped onto his bed without hesitation, his body sinking into the mattress. First, his Fujin blade--Mogami-san's memento, and now this.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Jin murmured into the darkness, more to himself than anyone else. His words hung in the air like a prayer. The future is moving forward.
The gentle sound of the river and chirping birds stirred Jin awake. Sunlight filtered into his room, glinting off the mountain of Bonchi rice cracker boxes haphazardly stacked against the walls. He yawned and stretched, rolling out of bed with a lazy shuffle.
The serenity of the morning was a sharp contrast to the storm brewing in Jin’s mind. His Side Effect was always on. Always working. The moment he laid eyes on someone, possibilities unraveled before him, splintering into countless futures, some promising, others deeply troubling.
As he walked down the hallway, toothbrush in hand, he passed Youtarou half-asleep, riding atop Raijinmaru like a knight slumped in his saddle. Jin popped a lazy grin at the sight, his voice playful.
“Morning, knight. Sleepy today?”
Youtarou mumbled something incomprehensible, and Raijinmaru responded with a low grunt. Jin’s eyes softened. Youtaro's futures were peaceful, as always. A child untouched by the chaos of Border’s battles. At least he’ll be safe during the invasion, Jin thought, rinsing his mouth and shaking off the creeping tension.
In the lounge, breakfast preparations were in full swing. Konami was in the kitchen, humming as she stirred the miso soup. Jin scanned the room casually. Yuma sat at the table, casually munching last night’s leftovers while Replica floated beside him, reprimanding Yuma about his fast eating pace.
Jin watched, smiling faintly. It was hard not to enjoy the energy of these two. But his mind wasn’t at ease. His Side Effect was already working. He scanned Yuma.
The futures hadn’t changed. Yuma wasn’t by Osamu’s side when it mattered most.
Jin’s smile didn’t falter, but the weight in his chest grew heavier. The future’s looking bleak, he thought. I have to do something.
His thoughts were interrupted by Chika and Osamu’s arrival.
“Good morning,” Osamu said politely.
Jin’s Side Effect flared. Still the same. Osamu’s future was still spiraling toward that tragic endpoint. No changes through the night. Of course it didn’t.
But when he shifted to Chika—
“Good morning!” Chika greeted softly, her cheerful demeanor brightening the room. “Today, I’ll have my C-rank uniform setting from Usami-san,” she announced happily, her voice soft but brimming with excitement.
Jin’s stomach dropped.
The future twisted and flashed before his mind’s eye. Chika wasn’t herself. She was a cube—a small, lifeless trion cube.
“Chika-chan!” Konami called from the kitchen, cheerfully holding up a bowl. “We cooked extra rice for you!”
Jin snapped out of it, his trademark grin sliding back into place. “Good morning, young’uns,” he said with forced ease.
But inside, his thoughts churned. Osamu’s future was bleak, and now Chika’s had taken a horrifying turn. He couldn’t let them see his concern—not here, not now.
I need to act fast.
Jin didn’t waste any time. He left Tamakoma earlier than everyone else, deciding to head straight to Border HQ. Yuma had offered, “You could just ride with us and Reiji-san,” but Jin brushed it off with a lazy grin.
“Elite agents gotta work faster than everyone else,” he said, excusing himself without much ceremony.
His goal was clear: observe the people in the town and the agents at HQ. He needed to find any signs, any clues about the upcoming invasion.
So far, the signs were mixed. At least 120 civilians would have been injured, but no one was facing certain death—not yet. That’s good, I guess.
Upon arrival at HQ, he slipped through the busy crowd, his casual demeanor hiding his true purpose. “Morning,” he greeted with his usual nonchalance. His voice was soft, and his posture relaxed, giving no hint of the heavy weight his Side Effect placed on him.
Everyone at HQ greeted him in return, treating him like just another agent. No one would guess what Jin was truly doing.
He made his way to the top floor of the open hall, overlooking the agents hustling to get in their rank battles. With no school day in the way, everyone was eager to rack up points as early as possible. Jin took advantage of that, watching, waiting.
Then a voice came from behind him. “Yo.”
Jin’s eyes narrowed slightly, surprised. He wasn’t expecting anyone to approach.
The future he saw for this person— it’s the same as Chika’s —hit him immediately.
“Suwa-san,” Jin greeted, keeping his tone casual despite the weight of his Side Effect’s recognition. “How’s everything coming along?”
“See there?” Suwa pointed down to the floor below, where Arashiyama’s squad was stationed near the virtual battle area. “The C-ranks are using the training space today. I’m helping oversee things alongside Arashiyama and his team.”
Jin followed Suwa’s gesture and glanced at Arashiyama’s future. Predictably, there was nothing unusual—fighting, protecting, the usual heroics. But then…
“Kitora…” Jin’s eyes widened slightly as his visions shifted. A trion cube. THE Kitora? Abducted?
He quickly scanned further, catching glimpses of C-rank kids in their training uniforms. Some of them shared the same vision: turning into cubes. His stomach tightened, though his outward demeanor betrayed none of it.
“Hm? What about Kitora?” Suwa asked, frowning slightly at Jin’s pause.
“Nah. Just talking to myself.” Jin waved it off with his usual grin. “Anyway, I’ve got meetings with the higher-ups. See you around, Suwa-san.”
Without waiting for a reply, Jin strode toward the east building, his eyes darting subtly as he passed agents and staff. Glimpses of their futures came to him in flashes: a boy wielding a staff, a girl with terror in her eyes, an agent down with a fatal injury. Each vision clicked into place like pieces of a grim puzzle.
Feeling a little heavy in the head, he reached for his trigger holder. I guess it’s time I switched back to my normal body for a bit. He deactivated his transformed body in hopes for a bit of trion recharge.
From across the hall, he caught sight of Miwa Shuji. Something in Miwa’s future stood out—something Jin was about to hone in on—when a sudden wave of dizziness hit him.
His vision blurred, the strain of processing too many futures at once catching up to him. He reached for his sunglasses, an effort to separate his normal and precognitive visions, but before he could steady himself, he felt a warm trickle from his nose.
“Oops,” he muttered, swaying slightly, his body threatening to give out.
A strong hand caught him from behind before he could fall.
“Jin,” Tachikawa’s familiar voice sounded, sharp with concern. “You’re overheating this early? I swear, you need to eat something other than those rice crackers.”
Jin chuckled weakly, tilting his head back to look at Tachikawa with a sheepish grin. “Ahaha, you know my favorite breakfast.”
“It’s not funny.” Tachikawa’s frown deepened as he noticed the streak of blood streaming from Jin’s nose. He sighed, muttering under his breath before pulling at the hem of his jacket.
“Ah, no, you don’t need to—” Jin started, but Tachikawa ignored him, wiping his nose with the edge of his black jacket.
“Blood won’t be noticeable on black anyway,” Tachikawa replied dryly.
He reached into his jacket pocket and tossed a small package at Jin, who caught it reflexively. “Here, take this. Replenish before the meeting.”
Jin blinked at the mochi daifuku in his hand, his grin returning as he unwrapped it. “Thanks, Tachikawa-san. You’re pretty reliable, huh?”
“Just don’t collapse mid-meeting.” Tachikawa crossed his arms, watching as Jin took a bite. “And seriously, stop pushing yourself so hard.”
“Can’t make any promises,” Jin replied lightly, though his smile softened with genuine gratitude. “But I’ll keep it in mind.”
As Tachikawa turned to leave, Jin leaned against the wall, popping the rest of the mochi into his mouth. His thoughts returned to the visions. Kitora. The C-ranks. And Miwa… the pieces are moving fast now.
He straightened up and adjusted his sunglasses. No time to slow down.
“What do you want… Jin?”
Miwa’s mufflers danced in the breeze atop Border HQ’s roof. Jin approached from behind, a bag of Bonchi rice crackers in hand, wearing his usual lazy grin.
“Kazama told me you were sulking,” Jin began nonchalantly, crunching into a cracker.
Miwa’s jaw tightened. Ever since Tachikawa’s and his squad failed to secure Yuma’s Black Trigger under Kido’s orders—foiled by Jin’s uncanny ambush—he had been nursing a quiet frustration. But Jin didn’t seem to care about tact, especially now.
“Shuji,” Jin continued, his tone unusually direct, “I need a favor.”
“Not interested. Find someone else.”
“Come on, hear me out.” Jin’s voice remained calm, unbothered by the curt reply. “During this large-scale invasion that’s coming, our Four-Eyes is going to run into some serious trouble. I need you to help him out.”
Miwa froze. He’d been expecting something irritating, but this?
“Mikumo?” he asked, finally turning to face Jin, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Why me? What about the people at Tamakoma? Or you? Or his Neighbor buddy?”
Jin tilted his head, but his grin didn’t falter. He’d seen it earlier, a fragment of a future branching in his mind when he passed by the black-haired boy: Miwa, standing with his trigger drawn, Osamu crouched behind him. Dark shapes closing in.
It had clicked then—why Miwa mattered. Jin didn’t get every answer from his Side Effect, but when pieces fit together, he trusted his instincts.
“I’d help if I could, but this time… you’re the only one who can reach him,” Jin said.
Miwa’s irritation flared. “He’s an agent. If the glasses can’t handle himself, he shouldn’t even be on the frontlines. Maybe you should just keep him locked up at Tamakoma where he belongs—”
“You know, Kido-san’s debating who to give Fujin to,” Jin interrupted smoothly, his tone disarmingly casual. “If you help me out, I’ll recommend you.”
Miwa blinked, taken aback. “What?”
“I mean it,” Jin said, crunching another rice cracker as if they were just chatting about the weather. “With Fujin, you’ll have the power you need to avenge your sister. You want that, don’t you?”
Miwa’s fists clenched. His sister. Jin had touched a nerve he didn’t want exposed. That pain, that desperate need for power, burned inside him every day. And Jin knew it. Of course he did. The brunette always knew which strings to pull.
“Give me a break! Ownership of the Black Trigger isn’t up to you!” Miwa snapped, his voice rising with anger. He turned on his heel and stomped toward the rooftop door.
One more push.
“I’m sure you’ll save Four-Eyes,” Jin called after him, his voice as steady as ever. “That’s what my Side Effect says.”
Miwa paused for the briefest moment. Without looking back, he pushed open the door and disappeared inside, leaving Jin standing alone under the evening sky, calmly eating the last of his crackers.
“Hey, those ladies we just passed—” Jin started.
Jin walked through Border HQ’s corridors alongside Arashiyama, his gaze scanning the staff and agents bustling past. He glimpsed a group of female operators from the communications center heading in the opposite direction. Crushed by debris… and those men… chased by a rampant unidentified Trigger user…
“Hm? Oh, you mean the operators?” Arashiyama said, following Jin’s gaze. “They’re really helpful, always keeping things running smoothly.” Then, catching Jin’s expression, he added with a grin, “But seriously, quit ogling their butts or whatever it is you’re thinking.”
“Haha, you know me. I’m more of a butt guy than a boob guy,” Jin replied with his trademark grin, covering for the grim realization of their futures.
Arashiyama’s face softened. “Anyway, you’re feeling better, right? Don’t push yourself too hard.”
“Thanks,” Jin said simply, grateful for the unspoken understanding. But having someone concerned about him never made him feel good, especially if that someone was the busiest man of Border, being in charge of PR and TV commercials.
Once he’d excused himself, Jin made his way toward the communication center, passing a group of men from the technical department who greeted him warmly. From an outsider’s perspective, Jin looked as carefree as ever, appearing and disappearing throughout HQ, chatting casually with everyone. Nobody could tell he was working, piecing together fragments of futures to prevent casualties.
He peered into multiple futures as he moved:
- A civilian tripping and barely avoiding an oncoming car.
- An operator staying just a second too long in the wrong spot during the invasion.
- A young C-rank trainee—barely older than a middle schooler—turning into a trion cube.
The strain started to take its toll. Jin’s vision blurred, and a familiar wave of dizziness hit him. Two full days of nonstop precognition were catching up to him.
“Oh no, I’ve overdone it again,” he muttered, waving goodbye to the last group of staff members he’d greeted and ducking into a dark corner by the hall. He leaned against the wall, trying to steady himself. Just a few minutes of rest…
But he miscalculated. His Side Effect wouldn’t let him rest—not here, not now. Glimpses of Osamu flashed through his mind: gruesome deaths, increasing in frequency. Jin cursed inwardly. That kid’s been charging into danger like a bulldozer ever since I met him, but he’s getting bolder when it comes to protecting his friends.
The vividness of the visions made his knees buckle. Osamu’s organs looked scattered all over the ground. He should’ve been used to gruesome deaths ever since Mogami, but this one particularly made him want to puke.
He couldn’t afford to collapse here—not where someone might see him. He foresaw the concern, the questions, the gossip spreading among agents. His pride wouldn’t allow it.
Stumbling forward, Jin spotted an exit near the stairwell. If I can just get outside…
But his escape route shifted. Shinoda-san was heading his way, and a crowd of C-ranks would flood the hall right after him. Jin swiftly rerouted, but another vision stopped him cold. The Tamakoma kids… they’re coming this way.
Caught between overloading his visions and physical exhaustion, Jin made a quick decision. He took the stairs, hoping to avoid everyone—only to find one person standing in his way.
“Oops…” Jin mumbled, his body giving out. Nosebleed streaming, he swayed on the last step before collapsing forward.
Border’s No. 1 attacker caught him effortlessly.
“What did I tell you?” Tachikawa said, sounding equal parts exasperated and amused. Jin barely registered the concern in his voice before he lost consciousness.
Jin stirred at the sound of Tachikawa’s voice, low and teasing.
“Oh, well, good morning, Mr. Nosebleed.”
Blinking, Jin looked up, slightly disoriented but relieved to see Tachikawa’s familiar face. Of all people, Jin didn’t mind Tachikawa finding him like this. His future was always clean—straightforward destruction of enemies, no grim endings. Tachikawa’s presence was oddly comforting.
“Thanks, Tachikawa-san,” Jin said weakly, managing a faint grin.
“You’re welcome. But I forgot to activate my trigger when I caught you. Look at my shirt now,” Tachikawa complained, gesturing at the bloodstains on his light-colored shirt.
“Ahaha, sorry about that.” Jin chuckled weakly.
Tachikawa rolled his eyes, pulled a spare daifuku from his pocket, and tossed it at Jin. “Here. Replenish before you keel over again.”
Jin caught it and unwrapped the mochi. “You really came prepared, huh? Thanks. Oh, and, Tachikawa-san?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t tell anyone, especially the higher-ups,” Jin said, taking a bite.
“Your secret’s safe with me, as long as you keep quiet about me spilling kinako powder in the hallway,” Tachikawa smirked.
“Pfft, anyone would’ve known it’s you!”
Seeing Jin’s color returning, Tachikawa wasted no time. “You up for a rank match after this?” he asked with a grin.
“Nope.”
“Come on, Jin, you owe me one.”
“Sorry for being troublesome, then.” Jin pushed himself up, waving Tachikawa off as he started to walk away.
Tachikawa watched him go, resting a hand on the back of his neck. “You know, I’ve never thought you were a troublesome guy.”
Jin paused, turning back slightly, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
“I have thought you’re a difficult guy, like, countless times,” Tachikawa clarified with a shrug. “And, to be honest, I’m thinking that right now.”
“What’s your point?” Jin muttered, averting his gaze as he walked, sounding quietly annoyed. Is he dissing me right now?
“But,” Tachikawa continued, his voice softening, “the reason you overthink things, make preparations, act alone, or get down on yourself… isn’t it because you don’t want others to get hurt?”
Jin stopped, staring at the floor.
“And this whole ‘I’m such a pain to deal with’ act you pull?” Tachikawa added, crossing his arms. “That’s just your way of not wanting to burden people, isn’t it?”
“You’re awfully talkative today, Tachikawa-san,” Jin replied, his voice tinged with amusement, though his expression was unreadable.
“I mean it,” Tachikawa said firmly, his gaze unwavering. “You’re a way better guy than you think you are.”
Jin stood still, his back to Tachikawa. The silence stretched until finally, he muttered, “…Got it.”
Tachikawa smiled faintly, satisfied. “That’s a Tachikawa-certified guarantee, you know. So don’t sweat the small stuff.”
Jin let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. Genuine concern, from someone who truly understood him—it didn’t feel so bad coming from Tachikawa.
“Thanks,” he said softly, his steps lighter as he walked away.
“Kido-san.” Jin reported as he tapped his own right ear. “There won’t be any more enemy attacks. It’s safe to send medical teams to the east and south of HQ.”
Six operators dead in the communications center. Four serious injuries, including Osamu’s. And…
“Tachikawa here in the east. I’ve disposed of all the Neighbors, but some trainees are still missing. A bunch of them must’ve gotten kidnapped before I got here.”
“Azuma reporting from the south. We’re also missing fifteen trainees. They were taken while we were dealing with the humanoids.”
Jin closed his eyes. That’s a lot, but…
“Kido-san. There could’ve been cases where A-rank and B-rank agents got kidnapped… and lots of civilians could’ve died…” He paused. “Everyone did very well.”
“I see… All right. Well done.” At Kido-san’s reply, Jin closed the communications.
It’ll be fine. The future is moving forward. All that’s left…
“Yo.”
Yuma, crouching as he lifted debris here and there, looked up.
“Jin-san.”
“Can I help?”
“Sure.”
Jin began lifting some debris as well.
“I’m… sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Not just Professor Replica… I can’t even foresee when Four Eyes is gonna wake up. I’m the one at fault, so… I’m sorry.” When his mom died, and Mogami-san too, Jin had felt this depth of emotion—and it kept happening, no matter how hard he tried.
“Don’t beat yourself up, Jin-san… and you’re way better than you think you are.”
You’re a way better guy than you think you are. Tachikawa’s voice rang in his mind.
“Replica did what I told him perfectly. And Osamu would have taken the same actions he did because, well… he’s Osamu. I guarantee it.”
That’s a Tachikawa-certified guarantee, you know. So don’t sweat the small stuff. Tachikawa’s voice echoed again. Aaah, that’s why I get comfortable around Yuma, like I am around him. I wanna see him.
“Oh, and… You said Osamu will live, right? That’s more than enough. Plus, I know you were busy enough to keep everyone safe.”
Jin’s pupils widened slightly, surprised.
“Your lies and smiles weren’t boring.”
Having his younger junior worry about him made him chuckle in defeat.
“Ahaha, I guess I still have a long way to go then.”
“I’ll be fine looking for Replica on my own. You’ve got somewhere to be, right, Jin-san?”
“Huh? Nah, I could—”
“No use hiding it from me, Jin-san.”
Sigh. The albino sure can’t be fooled.
The door to the apartment creaked open.
“Yo, been a while.” The familiar dark-haired bedhead greeted him, gnawing on a stretched mochi.
Jin flopped onto the sofa next to him, face down, deactivating his trigger. “Sorry, let me just…” Before he could finish, Tachikawa grabbed his head and patted his silky brunette hair.
“Yeah. Our precog did a good job. I can tell. And he shouldn’t sacrifice much-needed sleep.”
Amidst the cushions, Jin chuckled.
As he drifted off to sleep, Tachikawa’s husky voice faded out in his mind.
“Good night, Jin.”