The ceiling panel didn't just fall; it shattered under the weight of two tactical extraction specialists in matte-black gear. They dropped with practiced, muffled thuds, their boots hitting the sterile linoleum of Ward 4.
"Target secured," one muttered into a wrist-com, stepping toward the gurney where Mikoto was struggling to sit up.
"Stay back!" Karen roared. She didn't reach for a weapon; she didn't need one. She grabbed a heavy IV stand, swinging it like a long-staff. Her National Champion form translated perfectly—her reach was incredible, and her precision was terrifying.
Clang! The stand collided with the lead specialist's shoulder, sent him stumbling back against the reinforced glass.
"Karen, watch the left!" Marin screamed. She wasn't a fighter, but she was a master of distraction. She grabbed a tray of surgical instruments and hurled them across the room, the clattering metal creating a chaotic wall of sound. As the second specialist flinched, Marin lunged forward, not to strike, but to wrap her arms around Mikoto, using her body as a human shield.
"You're on camera!" Marin yelled at the specialists, pointing her phone high. "Ten million people just saw you drop from the ceiling! If you touch him, you’re kidnapping a patient on a global livestream!"
The Digital War
While the physical struggle erupted, Shino was a blur of motion at the console. Her glasses were sliding down her nose, slick with sweat.
"I've bypassed the local server!" Shino shouted over the noise of the scuffle. "I’m digging into the 'Archive Zero' files! Father... Satoshi... you shouldn't have kept the records of the 2024 'Blackout' treatment!"
Outside the glass, Dr. Kodakawa slammed his fist against the observation window. "Shino! Cease and desist! That is hospital property!"
"It’s evidence of a crime!" Shino retorted, her voice cracking but firm. "You didn't 'treat' Mikoto after his collapse. You and Satoshi used him as a prototype for the early version of Lethe-9! You tried to chemically suppress his memory of the Coach to make him 'compliant' again!"
On the large diagnostic screen behind the gurney, a series of medical charts flashed. They showed Mikoto's brain scans from two years ago, overlaid with unauthorized chemical signatures.
The specialist reached for Mikoto’s arm, but Karen jammed the IV stand between them, her muscles corded with a strength born of pure, protective fury. "I said... STAY. BACK."
The Ghost Speaks
In the center of the chaos, Mikoto felt the world slowing down. The "Panic" was there—a cold, dark ocean—but for the first time, it wasn't drowning him. He looked at the red light on his watch: 135 bpm. High, but stable.
He saw Karen’s sweat-streaked face. He saw Marin’s defiant eyes. He saw Shino’s trembling hands on the keys.
He realized they weren't just protecting him; they were fighting for the boy in the photo. They were fighting for the "Fuel."
Mikoto reached out and grabbed the specialist’s wrist. His grip wasn't weak. It was the grip of a man who had spent months hauling tennis gear and carrying three sisters’ burdens.
"Tell my father," Mikoto said, his voice low and cold, vibrating through the room. "Tell him the 'Ghost' isn't coming home. Because the Ghost... is finally dead."
He stood up from the gurney, tearing the sensors from his chest. He stood tall, flanked by the three sisters, as the diagnostic screen behind them displayed the final proof of their fathers' malpractice to the entire world.
Outside the glass, the security guards in the hallway stopped. They looked at their phones. They looked at the livestream. They looked at the monsters their bosses had become. They lowered their batons.
The "Siege" was over. The truth was out.
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and then Add to home screen.