Chapter Sixty-six: Cause of Death

Beneath the canopy of trees, Mio Ito gazed at the man stepping down from the car. Hearing his deferential tone, the young woman tilted her head.

“It seems you already know who I am,” she remarked.

Mio Ito had no intention of concealing her true identity. Yet, after her evolution, her appearance and features had grown increasingly distant from her former self. If one were to place a photo of her past self beside her present, no one would suspect they were the same person.

Thus, when Ishii Sanzan greeted her by name, there was a flicker of surprise in her eyes—though it lasted only a moment.

“Miss Ito, you’ve appeared on camera more than once. Your height, hair color, and body ratio haven’t changed much. And we found Mrs. Nami Ito in Arakawa Ward. She’s currently residing in a psychiatric hospital.”

As he finished, Sanzan glanced out of the corner of his eye at Mio Ito’s expression, but her face betrayed none of the turmoil he had expected.

“At this point, what’s the use in saying all this?” Mio Ito’s smile was devoid of emotion, her eyes crystalline and cold.

“I’m more curious about you—who are you, and why have you come to see me?”

“Ah…” Sanzan hesitated, stepping aside to clear a path, aligning the open door of the van directly with Mio Ito.

“Miss Mio Ito, my name is Sanzan Ishii. I serve as Secretary of Internal Security to the Cabinet. I’ve come at the Prime Minister’s behest, to bring you somewhere and show you something.

“I believe what you’ll see may help you determine your future path. What do you think, Miss Ito?”

With the poise of a perfect attendant, Sanzan extended his left hand toward the van’s interior, his gaze steady on Mio Ito.

She studied him thoughtfully.

The two regarded each other in silence.

Yet Sanzan could feel sweat slowly beading along his back. A primal sense of danger, as though a Stone Age man facing the unblinking gaze of a saber-toothed tiger, prickled across his skin.

It was the ancient warning, etched into human genes for over a million years, that instinctive alertness to peril.

In truth, having seen Mio Ito’s power through countless recordings, Sanzan now fully understood the terror she represented. If possible, he would have abandoned all decorum, turned on his heel, and ordered the driver to speed away from this path at once.

Yet, despite the chilling atmosphere, Sanzan held his ground, meeting Mio Ito’s gaze even at his own risk.

Not merely because of the Prime Minister’s mandate or the expectations of the Social Democratic Party’s upper echelons.

He understood with bleak clarity that, even if he fled, the girl before him would easily overtake him. No matter how far he ran—even out onto the main street, a kilometer away—he would still become, with a single thought from her and a sweep of that elegant, eerie red line, yet another of the “redeemed.”

They stared at one another for a long time.

At last, the girl’s lips curved in a faint smile.

“How interesting,” she murmured.

Without hesitation, she turned and lightly sprang into the van.

“Very well, let me see what it is you think I should find so promising.”

Behind her, Sanzan finally felt the release of tension, his limbs nearly buckling beneath him. He wiped the cold sweat from his brow, gripped the van’s door handle, and climbed inside, seating himself stiffly beside Mio Ito, heaving a silent, deep sigh.

“Extraordinary beings… it’s simply unfair. Next time, I’d rather face IS executioners in the Middle East than carry out another mission like this before such a dangerous individual.”

The door closed. The wheels rolled onward, crunching fallen leaves as the van set off on its appointed course.

…

The van wound through the tree-lined path, then merged onto the riverside expressway, gradually leaving the heart of Tokyo behind.

They crossed overpasses and departed the main roads, journeying farther and farther from the city center. Outside, streetlights flickered past the windows, casting shifting shadows upon Mio Ito’s face—now illuminated, now obscured.

She pressed her lips together, half-smiling, her beauty tranquil and serene.

Even knowing the scale of her power, even aware of the bloodshed she had wrought, Sanzan was shaken by her breathtaking beauty when his gaze happened to catch her calm profile.

“How…” he wondered, “how can a girl so beautiful possess such monstrous strength?”

He closed his eyes, the question flickering briefly before he banished it. He reminded himself of what the Prime Minister had told him before he set out, and pushed aside all irrelevant thoughts.

He bore a heavy responsibility—one that might determine the fate of Japan. Now was not the time for idle distractions. Besides, he was a man in his early thirties, long past the age of adolescent infatuations.

So Sanzan simply sat in silence, waiting for the wheels to halt and their journey to end.

He did not know their destination. The only certainty was that it lay in some remote place. By the time they finally arrived, a faint light was already glimmering on the horizon—the night had broken into dawn.

“So this is the place?” Mio Ito peered through the window at a modest, three-story building, half-hidden among the weeds, its appearance bleak and shabby.

Sanzan was first to step out, opening the van’s door for her with a courteous bow.

“That’s right. Miss Ito, please step out.”

Without a word, the girl descended, her feet landing on the damp ground, the fresh, slightly metallic tang of the countryside filling her lungs.

The first rays of sunlight crept across the sky, bathing the building in pale light, highlighting the gray-blue stains of age and neglect upon its walls.

“It’s inside,” Sanzan said. “Please, follow me.”

He led the way, guiding Mio Ito into the building.

As they walked, he spoke: “This is the Marunomachi police substation. Most of the local residents moved away years ago, leaving only a few elderly behind, so the station is understaffed. There’s only one officer on duty here, and he also serves as the chief.”

His words rambled like the talk of a man deep in his cups, making little sense, his intentions unclear.

But Mio Ito’s eyes narrowed slightly.

A distant memory stirred, vague but persistent.

They climbed—first the ground floor, then the second story—until Sanzan finally pushed open the door at the end of the hall.

Inside, behind a conference table, sat a middle-aged man with graying hair, dressed plainly, his manner nervous and uneasy. He stared at Mio Ito as she entered, mouth slightly open in astonishment.

“You’re… you’re that child from the Hiroshi family, little… little Mio?”

At the sight of him, a memory long buried resurfaced in Mio Ito’s mind. Her eyes, which had been narrowed, relaxed. Gazing at the familiar features, she smiled.

“So it’s you, Uncle Sazan Kishibe.

“I remember—it was you who came to our house to tell me about my father’s death, wasn’t it?”

The man let out a guilty sigh and bowed his head in silence.

At his side, Sanzan, who had quietly stepped forward, now held a stack of documents in his hands.

Facing Mio Ito, he bowed deeply and spoke without preamble:

“Miss Mio… do you wish to know the true cause of your father’s death?”

(End of chapter)