Nestled within Meiji no Mori Minō Kokutei Kōen (Minoh Quasi-National Park) in Minoh City, Osaka, the tranquil beauty of Minoo Falls conceals a dark secret:
Kiichiro Numabuchi is hiding here.
—Or more accurately, he was hidden here.
Recently, Osaka has seen a string of brutal murders. Though Numabuchi is not the killer, he is the target of the killer's revenge. The true murderer imprisoned Numabuchi in the attic of a remote mountain cabin, planning to pin the crimes on him after completing their act of vengeance.
Trapped in Darkness
Handcuffed and confined in the attic, Numabuchi sat curled in a squat, dozing restlessly.
The man who had locked him there used to come daily, bringing him store-bought lunchboxes and bottled water—just enough to keep him alive. But he hadn't shown up since the day before.
Starving and dehydrated, Numabuchi grew weaker by the hour. In the attic's pitch-dark isolation, time became meaningless.
Then, a sound.
Footsteps—below.
Numabuchi slapped the attic floor in desperation, trying to make noise. Whoever was beneath seemed to take notice. After some rustling, the attic hatch creaked open.
A rugged-looking man appeared, flashlight in hand.
"Food… Water…"
The stranger wasn't the man who had imprisoned him, but Numabuchi didn't care anymore. He pleaded desperately:
"Please, I beg you, just give me something to eat…"
"Here."
The man's eyes were eerily calm.
He pulled two onigiri and a bottle of water from his coat—convenience store items—and tossed them up to Numabuchi, who caught them with trembling hands. He tore open the wrappers and devoured the food ravenously.
In his desperate hunger, he failed to notice something odd: a capsule hidden in one of the rice balls.
By the time he realized, it was too late.
"What… did you feed me?"
Panic overtook him as he tried to force himself to vomit—but he failed.
Within moments, APTX4869, now dissolved in his stomach, began to take effect.
His body burned. An excruciating heat surged through him, as though every bone were melting. He clutched his abdomen in agony, unable to even scream.
He collapsed, violently trembling.
The stranger stood motionless, unfazed by the suffering before him. As Numabuchi writhed, the cuffs on his wrist scraped deeper into his skin.
Then—
A sudden release. The cuffs slid off.
Steam hissed from his body as his form shrank into that of a child.
Drenched in sweat, he panted heavily, looking down at his small hands in utter disbelief. His mind reeled with fear and confusion.
"If you don't want to die, come with me."
The stranger finally spoke.
Still dazed, Numabuchi hesitated—but followed.
The Experiment Succeeds
In an abandoned warehouse, Hayashi Yoshiki looked down at the now miniaturized Kiichiro Numabuchi with unmistakable satisfaction.
"Congratulations, Kiichiro Numabuchi."
He ignored the fear on the boy's face, simply admiring the outcome:
"Rejuvenation. To experience that personally… I wonder, how does it feel?"
"Y-You're… from that organization!"
"Oh?"
Hayashi Yoshiki's smile softened, but his tone held menace.
Numabuchi's face twisted in horror. His limbs trembled.
"That aura… I'll never mistake it."
"That's why you think I'm one of them?"
"..."
He had no answer.
There was no malice in Hayashi Yoshiki's gaze—no overt threat in his body language.
But it didn't matter.
Numabuchi felt terror.
His instincts screamed. His heart raced.
Those eyes…
That cold, clinical stare—it was just like Gin's.
Emotionless. Analyzing him like an experiment, not a human being.
Yet in some ways, Hayashi Yoshiki's gentle tone made it worse. The absence of rage or bloodlust was itself chilling.
The Attempted Betrayal
Numabuchi slowly reached behind his back.
Hayashi Yoshiki noticed—he already knew there was a knife hidden there, likely planted for this very situation.
"Really? I thought you'd be grateful."
"You're a murderer on the run. Hunted by police and the Organization. Now that you've become a child, you can start over."
"What do you say?"
"Help me with one small task, and I'll say nothing."
"You can disappear. Reinvent yourself. Begin again."
He spread his hands, offering peace.
But in that motion, Numabuchi saw an opening.
He leapt.
In a flash, the five meters between them vanished. The knife was in his hand, mid-strike—
He had the perfect angle.
This will kill him!
But then—
"What a pity."
Those quiet words hit like a brick.
Numabuchi froze in midair.
His momentum crumpled, and he fell to the ground. The knife clattered from his grip.
"..."
A few seconds passed.
Numabuchi stood up slowly, eyes blank.
He retrieved the knife—but no longer tried to use it.
He said nothing.
He didn't run.
He simply stood there, silent, numb.
Hayashi Yoshiki looked at him one last time before walking away, utterly uninterested now.
The End of the Subject
Later that night,
Kiichiro Numabuchi wandered to a secluded area.
Still hollow-eyed, he drew the knife.
With no emotion, he plunged it into his throat—
—and collapsed, lifeless.