Six o'clock in the evening. The izakaya "Nobori-ya" on the first floor of the Katsuragi Building. A red and black noren curtain swayed in the faint breeze. On the wooden sign, the shop's name was carved by hand. This was a familiar watering hole that had endured for twenty years in this district. Soichi Takizawa did not move immediately, even after seeing that photograph, even after receiving Yazaki's visit. It was the same as he had done for three years. Rather than let emotion run ahead, he analyzed the situation with cold precision. That habit had kept him alive. But beneath that composure, something smoldered. "Welcome." Osamu Maruta, the proprietor of Nobori-ya, looked up from behind the counter. Sixty-two years old. Short hair streaked with white, a sun-darkened face. In his eyes lay a silence peculiar to those who had known the battlefield. A former JSDF officer, Maruta was one of Soichi's few daily companions in conversation. "The usual seat?" Maruta asked. Soichi nodded and lowered himself into the regular's seat beside the counter. The motion was unconscious, yet simultaneously calculated with perfect precision. From the counter, he could see the shop's entrance; behind him was a wall. The habit of assessing terrain from his days on the battlefield lived on, even in the mundane. "Beer," Soichi said. A brief order. Maruta silently prepared a cold mug and poured the draft beer. The foam was perfect. The accumulation of countless repeated motions manifested itself in his movements. The sound of the mug being set down resonated against the counter. "You've got a stern look about you today," Maruta said. His gaze turned toward the burn scar on Soichi's left cheek. He had never asked directly about that wound. Yet he sensed something from it. Soichi brought the beer to his lips. The cold liquid passed down his throat. In that moment, the tension residing in the depths of his body eased slightly. "An old comrade came by," Soichi said. The words had emerged unconsciously. Or perhaps there was a certainty that this man would understand. Maruta seemed to grasp something from that single statement. He himself was a man wounded by relationships with old comrades. His expression grew slightly more stern. "I see. That's rough." After that brief reply, Maruta paused. The shop held the voices of a few other patrons, and cooking sounds drifted from the kitchen. These sounds naturally enveloped the two men's conversation. "Let me give you some advice. I've been through it," Maruta said. He leaned forward from behind the counter, continuing in a low voice. "There's nothing less trustworthy than old comrades. Especially those you've done things with together. Time changes people. Convictions, values, moral sense—it all crumbles to dust. It's easier to live if you think of your former comrades as different people entirely," Maruta said. Those words carried weight. The weight that seeps from personal experience. Soichi stared at Maruta's face. His expression bore the marks of memories from decades past. That pain was surfacing. "What kind of man is Yazaki?" Soichi asked. A simple question. Yet as Soichi watched Maruta's reaction, he was probing for the intent hidden beneath those words. Maruta sighed. "I don't know. But men like that—they show you a convenient face. The danger is that mask. You can't tell where the truth ends and the lies begin. That's what's frightening," Maruta said. At the back of the counter, a female staff member was greeting a new customer. A regular reading a manga. The air in the shop was peaceful itself. Yet between the two men, a different air flowed. Soichi drank his beer and set the mug on the counter. "Give me time. I need to organize my thoughts," Soichi said. "That's fine. There's no need to rush," Maruta said. The conversation progressed no further. Maruta called out to other customers, and Soichi continued drinking his beer. Between them lay an understanding deeper than words. Nine o'clock in the evening. Soichi returned to his office. Through the security company's network, he began investigating Yazaki Kengo's past. There was almost no public information. But from an unofficial network of former JSDF members—an information exchange site among retirees—he could gather fragmentary details. Before his appointment as commander of "Kagi-Tsume"—an elite JSDF unit for counter-terrorism special operations—in 2018, Yazaki was known as a JSDF Ranger instructor. The reputation from that time was "strict but fair," "cares for his subordinates." The evaluations were generally favorable. But the data after his appointment as commander differed. Records indicated that the nature of operations shifted from "defense" to "aggressive elimination." Increases in personnel departures. While coordination with upper echelons deepened, information scattered throughout suggested declining morale within the unit. And March 2021. The Ash Directive—an annihilation operation against a location purported to be the base of an international terrorist organization somewhere in Southeast Asia. A secret operation executed by "Kagi-Tsume" against thirty-four targets. In that operation, Soichi had participated in the elimination of the targets. Since then, he had lived carrying death within him. After that, records concerning Yazaki nearly disappeared. Soichi stared at the monitor. His eyes searched for "something" beyond the data. Yazaki of the past. Evaluated as passionate. Described as caring for his subordinates. And Yazaki now. Cold-blooded, calculating, a commander who had nearly completely suppressed emotional fluctuation. What was that disparity? What had changed him? In that moment, his mobile phone rang. An unregistered number. A call from a disposable phone. Soichi answered without hesitation. "Hello," Soichi said. "Yotsuya Sanchome Park. Thirty minutes from now," the voice said. A tone like voice synthesis, or perhaps an actual voice—impossible to distinguish. Flat and matter-of-fact. "Why," Soichi asked. "I have information about the truth of the Ash Directive," the voice said. The call ended. Nine forty in the evening. A park near Yotsuya Sanchome. The night park was dark. Several street lamps stood, but their light was weak. The season of cherry blossoms had passed; leaves grew thick. Few sat on benches. At this hour, in this place, one could avoid notice. The location had been deliberately chosen. Yuki sat on a bench deep within the park. Wrapped in a black coat, holding a smartphone. To any observer, she would appear to be a young woman waiting for someone. Yet her eyes captured every movement in her surroundings. Soichi sat beside Yuki. The distance was less than a meter. Close enough to converse, but with no physical contact. A distance that maintained tension. "I want to tell you the truth about the Ash Directive," Yuki said. With those words, Soichi's body stiffened. The Ash Directive—the secret operation three years ago that had changed his life. Officially deemed a success, but its details were strictly concealed by upper echelons. "Do you have evidence," Soichi asked. "No. But I have information," Yuki said. Still gazing at her smartphone, Yuki continued in a low voice. "Among the thirty-four targets of the Ash Directive, there may have been individuals unrelated to the terrorist organization," Yuki said. Soichi felt the weight of those words. A sensation like his chest being squeezed. "What do you mean," Soichi asked. "Officially, the targets of the Ash Directive were designated as a terrorist organization's logistics base. But in reality, it may have included unrelated civilians. Or political targets unrelated to the terrorist organization. One or the other," Yuki said. Soichi closed his eyes. He had killed innocent people. That possibility was now given language. The reality he had refused to acknowledge for three years now stood before him. "The upper echelons are concealing the truth. Yazaki is part of that. The reason Yazaki is making contact with you now is because you are the last witness to the Ash Directive. If you say nothing, this matter remains forever in darkness. That's why Yazaki is trying to win you over," Yuki said. Soichi opened his eyes. "Who are you," Soichi asked. Yuki turned toward Soichi for the first time. Her gaze was cold, sharp, and held something like will in its depths. "I can't reveal that now. But know this. Yazaki is trying to use you. What lies ahead is your elimination. After the mopping up of the Akae Alliance—the underworld organization you've been involved with—you become unnecessary. You'll be eliminated to silence you. That's the unit's logic," Yuki said. In the depths of the park, the footsteps of a night passerby could be heard. Yuki reacted with sensitivity to that sound. "One more thing. Kuon Takizawa—your older brother. He is the only person who knows the truth of the Ash Directive. Your brother's role in 'Kagi-Tsume' was as an operation evaluator. In other words, he held the position of judging the validity of executed operations and reporting to upper echelons. In the Ash Directive, your brother witnessed the truth from within. Go meet him," Yuki said. With those words, she stood. "Where can I meet him," Soichi asked. "Find him yourself. You can do it," Yuki said. Yuki vanished into the darkness. Her lightness of movement. Her speed of travel. Everything bore the mark of one trained. Eleven o'clock at night. The office. Soichi held a disposable phone in his hand. His older brother Kuon's number remained in his memory. For three years, he had not contacted this person. After the Ash Directive, his relationship with his brother had been severed. It was a conscious decision. The fear that his brother might know the truth, and the wish that he not know it, had driven Soichi into silence. But now, he needed to speak. A deep breath. He entered the number and pressed the call button. The ringtone sounded. Once. Twice. Three times. "Soichi?" His brother's voice. That voice was cold, its emotion unreadable. Yet it was unmistakably his brother. His voice after three years. "I want to meet. There's something I need to discuss," Soichi said. Silence. Several seconds of heavy silence. Within that silence lay the certainty that his brother knew something. "Understood. At the café 'Shimoshimabashira' in Jimbocho. Three o'clock tomorrow afternoon," his brother Kuon said. "Understood," Soichi said. The call ended. Soichi set down the phone. His hands trembled slightly. Aware of it, he did nothing. That trembling was not fear. Because beyond it lay truth. Outside the window was the Yotsuya night landscape. Countless street lamps burned, their light faintly illuminating the sky. Somewhere, people carried on their daily lives. But Soichi's daily life had already ended. Had three years of peace been fiction? Or had it been escape? Now, that answer lay hidden in the reunion with his brother. Soichi resolved. He would know the truth. And whatever it was, he would settle it. That resolve now dwelt in his eyes.