Location: Hidden Spark Syndicate HQ, Underground Sector Omega
Time: 3 Hours After the Rift Incident at the Tournament
The mood in the Syndicate's Omega Chamber was electric with tension.
Thirty feet underground, beneath a camouflage of neon-lit ramen shops and vending machines in Shibuya, the chamber was designed for only one purpose: critical, world-altering decisions. The room pulsed with blue emergency lights. Holograms flickered above the central table, replaying fragmented footage of the incident.
Static. A spiraling rift. Tomura's face mid-scream. A burst of glitching red light. Cut to black.
Komi stood stiffly at the center of the chamber, arms crossed. Her usual bubbly demeanor was gone, replaced with cold focus. "We're not just looking at a rogue Spark anymore," she said, voice sharp. "This was something else."
Markman wasn't present—true to form, he had ignored the summons entirely. N. Still, Komi couldn't shake the feeling that even he had sensed the weight of what they'd witnessed.
Hana sat silently on the edge of the table, fingers twitching with bottled-up frustration. She hadn't spoken since they arrived. Everyone noticed. No one asked.
The chamber's main hologram blinked—then the face of Director Yurei, one of the elusive Council of Five, appeared.
Yurei's voice came distorted, as always. "Damage control is already underway. Memory suppression units are cleansing the broadcast data. Civilians have been fed a narrative about a Spark-based stage malfunction."
Komi narrowed her eyes. "You and I both know that won't hold. Not after that."
Yurei's hologram flickered slightly. "Agreed. Which is why we're authorizing an immediate covert operation. You are to locate Tomura. Subdue him. Recover him alive if possible. Terminate if necessary."
Hana finally spoke. "You're not killing him."
The room fell silent.
Her voice was ice. Her usual cheerful tone buried beneath a storm.
"Excuse me?" Yurei's voice echoed.
Hana looked right at the hologram, not backing down in the least. "I said, you're not killing him."
Director Yurei's projection sharpened, his tone clipped. "You are emotionally compromised, Agent Hana. You will step back and let professionals handle this."
Komi glanced toward Hana, frowning. "He's dangerous, Hana. You saw it too. That wasn't just Tomura anymore."
"He's not just some rogue Spark," Hana snapped. "He's our friend. He's saved my life more times than I can count. There's something wrong with him, and I'll prove it."
Another Council member's voice—calm, clinical—interjected through a separate audio feed. "Your attachment clouds your judgment. This is about protecting the public. They cannot know about him or any of that."
"No," Hana said firmly, rising to her feet. "This is about control. And you people only see threats. But I'm not going to stand by while you erase him."
An icy pause lingered.
Director Yurei eventually relented. "...Very well. We'll give you one chance. Bring him back alive. But if containment fails—"
"I'll take responsibility," Hana said before he could finish.
Komi exhaled slowly. "Then it's settled. We find him. All of him."
"But, You will not go alone," Shida cut in. "Take some recruits."
"But with all due respect, Commander," said a hard-eyed man near the far end of the table, "why are we even considering using recruits for something this dangerous? We have full-fledged operatives with years of experience for this sort of thing."
Another councilwoman, older, her voice like sandpaper, added, "And where exactly are those full-fledged operatives, Kuronaga? No contact from Agent Tsume in two weeks. Dagger Team went dark in Osaka. And the entire Kanto branch hasn't checked in since the storm anomaly last week."
A tense silence followed.
"They're gone," Shida finally said. "Or missing. Either way, we're not getting reinforcements. The recruits are what we have."
The realization settled over the room like a fog.
One of the younger members of the board—sharp suit, eyes too tired for his age—spoke up next.
"If we're forced to use recruits… then we use our best. I suggest Kirito. His control over flame borders on surgical. He's a tactician, not just a weapon."
"Rei, too," added another. "She doesn't look like much, but she's dangerous when it counts. Ice-Nemental users of her caliber are rare."
A grumble came from the old sandpaper-voiced woman. "She's lazy."
"She's lethal," someone else countered.
"Fine. We need a defensive spark user too. We need a shield. Just in case."
"How about this one recruit? What was her name... Natsumi. "
"Her barriers are exceptional. Precise. Scalable. She just needs more real-world exposure."
As the discussion continued, Hana stood silent by the door—arms folded, jaw tight. She was waiting for the moment.
When it came, she spoke clearly. Calmly.
"You're all missing the point."
The room quieted.
"This isn't just about capturing Tomura. It's about saving him. He's not some unstable Spark criminal—we all know what he is. What's inside him. And whether you accept it or not, there are only three people alive who've ever gotten through to him."
Her eyes swept the room. No one interrupted.
"I'm taking my recruits along too. Yuna. Jin. Ikazuchi."
A scoff from the sandpaper-voiced elder. "The three of them joined 3 weeks ago and have only been on 2 simple missions."
"Permission denied," muttered one of the officials.
Hana stepped forward.
"I wasn't asking."
Everyone turned to face her. Commander Shida didn't speak. She'd seen Hana like this before—once in Kyoto. That time, disobeying orders had saved a city block.
"I'm taking Ikazuchi. And Yuna. And Jin. And if you try to stop me, you'd better be ready to explain to the rest of the Syndicate why the one person who could've ended this never even got the chance."
Silence. Even Shida said nothing.
Eventually, the tired young man in the sharp suit spoke again.
"…Fine. We greenlight the team. Kirito, Rei, Natsumi. Yuna. Jin. Ikazuchi."
"And Komi," another officer added. "She's already on-site and familiar with most of the recruits."
"We'll need more muscle too," someone muttered. "What about—"
"Markman?" another interrupted. "He's not even here. Who knows what he could be doing?"
"He'll show up when it matters," Shida said finally. "He always does."
The matter was settled. Almost.
Hana turned, ready to leave. But just before the door closed behind her, she said one last thing:
"I'm bringing him back. I'm not losing him again."
Behind her, one of the screens flickered—an unknown thing, distorted by static. Watching...
The door slid shut with a soft hiss.