The train had stopped.
Dead center of a long metal bridge, surrounded by endless fog and ruined towers.
Outside, no Akuma. No storm.
Just the stillness of something waiting.
Inside the compartment, a loud mechanical hiss echoed — and the floor panels near the emergency hatch lit up red.The intercom clicked on.
The masked conductor's voice returned, colder than ever: "To continue this journey, one soul must be surrendered."
"The Sacrifice Protocol has been triggered."
"No exceptions. No replacements. No rewinds."
The lights dimmed across all twelve cars. Then the voting screens appeared on every seat.Tatsuya stood, his heart thudding in his ears. "No… Not again."
Riku slammed his fist into the seat rail. "This is sick! How the hell is this a rescue train!?" Someone from the back screamed, "What if we all refuse!?"
The conductor answered instantly: "Then Raijin-01 stays here. Forever."
Passengers began arguing.
"This isn't fair!"
"Pick someone unconscious!"
"What about that old man in Car 10!?"
Tatsuya turned to Nana. She looked pale, shaken. Her sketchbook sat open on her lap. He knelt beside her. "Nana… do you see anything?"
She shook her head slowly.
"No… Nothing."
"It's empty, Onii-chan. Like the train doesn't know either."
Tatsuya stared. "Or maybe it wants us to choose this time."
A new message appeared on the walls:
"15 MINUTES UNTIL SYSTEM PURGE."
"Failure to comply will result in random passenger ejection."
The tension exploded. People started shouting. Crying. A man in glasses stood up. "We need to vote smart—someone who isn't helping us!" Riku stepped forward. "You start saying names, I start swinging this bat. Got it?"
Tatsuya didn't speak.
He walked toward the sacrifice hatch — the one near the emergency airlock.
It was now glowing red.
Like it had chosen its role long ago.
He whispered: "What kind of train asks us to kill to reach safety?"
Suddenly, the baby in Nana's arms stirred. He looked up, eyes now pitch black. Then he spoke — slowly. Clearly.
"If no one chooses… the one you all ignored… will be taken."
Tatsuya turned. "What do you mean?"
The baby smiled. "The forgotten always pay first."
At that exact moment, a voice echoed from Car 6. Soft. Female. Distant. "Help me… please…"
Everyone froze. Tatsuya ran, Riku behind him.
They entered Car 6 — it was nearly empty. Except for one person. A woman slumped behind a row of seats.
Bleeding. Unconscious. Barely breathing. Tatsuya gasped. "How did she—?"
"She must've snuck on during Shōji Station!" Riku hissed. A screen above her flickered:
"UNREGISTERED PASSENGER DETECTED."
Then:
"SACRIFICE CANDIDATE LOCKED: Passenger #Unknown"
Tatsuya stared in horror. "No… they're going to take her."
He turned to Nana.
Her voice cracked: "I still don't see anything. I don't know if she'll survive."
Riku stepped forward, fists clenched.
"She's not one of us.
We didn't choose her.
And maybe that's the point."
But Tatsuya's hands trembled.Because he saw the woman's fingers twitch.Her lips move.And he heard one word, so faint only he could catch it: "Arakawa…"
Tatsuya knelt down, the floor cold beneath his knees as he gently turned the woman over. She was pale. Dirt and blood masked her face. But her eyes… half-open… were looking directly at him. "Arakawa…" she repeated, barely a whisper.
"Is… it really you?"
His chest tightened. "Who are you?" he whispered.
"How do you know my name?"
Behind him, Riku stepped forward, eyeing the timer on the wall.
7:34 remaining. "We don't have time for flashbacks, bro," he growled.
"She's not even in the system. Let her go."
Tatsuya ignored him. The woman's lips trembled. "You… you gave me your umbrella… in the orphanage courtyard… remember?"
Something struck deep in Tatsuya's mind. A half-forgotten rainy afternoon.
A younger girl, coughing, shivering.
He had shared his only umbrella.
That girl…"Y-you're… Miyu?"
She nodded faintly. "They took me. Years ago. For experiments. I… I escaped."
The train rumbled, warning lights flashing. Nana appeared behind them, clutching the red-skinned baby.
Her eyes filled with fear. "Tatsuya… the sketchbook. It just drew something."
He turned.
She flipped the page. It was a crude, blurry drawing… but the face was not Miyu's.
It was his own. And he was falling… from the train.
"No… no no no," Tatsuya whispered.
Riku stepped back, shocked. "Wait—why you?" Tatsuya's voice was low. "Because I hesitated."
"Because I didn't follow the system."
A new voice echoed through the train: "The sacrifice must come from within."
"The train has made its offer. Reject it, and it shall take who it chooses."
Timer: 5:02
The other passengers began to gather, whispering, panicking.
"Why is he drawn?"
"Is he cursed?"
"Maybe the baby's messing with us!"
Someone yelled, "Throw the woman off! It's her or all of us!"
Riku growled. "This isn't justice. This is roulette." He looked at Tatsuya. "You gonna play hero again? You really gonna die for someone who showed up ten minutes ago?"
Tatsuya looked at Miyu. Her body shook with every breath. He remembered her — a girl who had nothing, who had once said: "If I survive this world, I'll find you again, and say thank you."
Tatsuya stood up, facing the airlock. "Open it."
Gasps echoed.
"No!"
"You're insane!"
"Don't do it!"
Riku grabbed his arm.
"You die now, they'll all lose their minds."
Nana ran forward, tears brimming.
"Onii-chan... if you go... what happens to me?"
Her voice cracked, too soft to hold back the storm in the car. The baby spoke again.
"This is your third test."
"Compassion… when it costs you everything."
Tatsuya's fists trembled. He looked at the red door. At Miyu.
At his sister. At the passengers. Their fear. Their selfishness. Then back at his own face, drawn in the sketchbook… slowly fading into white.
"No," he said at last.
"I won't die."
He turned to Riku.
"But no one else should either."
Timer: 2:00
He walked over to the conductor panel and slammed his fist into the emergency override button. Red sparks flew.
A new message flashed: "Protocol breached. System breach acknowledged."
"Alternative Offer: Accepted."
Everyone paused.
A small compartment beside the sacrifice door slid open. Inside, a sealed letter. Tatsuya grabbed it.
On the outside: "You refused to sacrifice… so here is the truth."
He opened it. And read four words that made his blood run cold: "Amahara is already gone."
Tatsuya stared at the letter in his hand. The ink had bled slightly into the old paper. But the words were unmistakable. "Amahara is already gone."
His hands trembled.Not from fear…
From betrayal.
Behind him, the other passengers were still catching their breath after the near-sacrifice. One woman asked shakily,
"What does it mean… gone?"
Another man snapped,
"Gone as in destroyed? Or gone as in never existed?!"
Riku grabbed the letter and scanned it. His jaw clenched. "This... this is proof the whole train is a lie."
The baby, usually quiet, began to cry.
The first real sound of pain from him — raw, piercing. It cut through the cabin like glass. Everyone froze.
Nana held him tighter.
"He's scared, Onii-chan… really scared…"
Then Miyu, still weak and bleeding, lifted her head. Her voice was hoarse.
"They told us… when we were taken… that Amahara wasn't a sanctuary.
It was… a test zone."
Everyone turned. Riku narrowed his eyes. "Test zone for what?"
She swallowed. "For something they were breeding..." "Akuma that don't just kill.
They learn."
Tatsuya's heart pounded. "You're saying the virus evolved inside Amahara?"
Miyu nodded. "The military didn't want to find hope…They wanted to find control."
"They used orphans. Survivors. People like me."
The train jerked suddenly — not from movement, but like something had hit it from above. An alarm blared. Red strobes lit up the interior. "Unidentified object detected: Roof of Car 5."
Passengers screamed. "Is it Akuma?!"
"Why now?!"
Tatsuya turned to Nana.She was drawing again. Fast. Furious. He knelt beside her. "What do you see?"
She finished the sketch and held it up.
It wasn't a face. It was… a mask. The exact same shattered porcelain mask worn by the conductor.
But now it was… melting in fire.
The train lights flickered. Then the intercom crackled on. This time, not a voice.
A video.
Grainy.
Flickering.
Footage from inside Amahara.
Children running. Screaming. Bodies stacked in corners. Scientists injecting fluids into restrained test subjects. A man wearing the conductor's mask walked calmly through the chaos, dragging a body behind him.
Gasps erupted across the train. Riku whispered, "That… that's not a conductor. That's a butcher."
Tatsuya whispered: "Then who's controlling the train now?"
The video ended.And a final message blinked on every screen: "You were never passengers."
"You were always the experiment."
Silence.
The kind that makes your blood forget how to move. Then Riku punched the wall. "We're not going to Amahara."
"We're being delivered to it."
The train suddenly lurched — forward.
Slowly.
Silently. As if it was taking them… back home.