Chapter 21: Thunder Fury

Morning light came through the classroom windows and fell across the desks. The room wasn’t as loud as usual. Everyone was talking, but in a quiet, nervous way. Since the morning, something felt different.

All anyone could talk about was the City Z Cosplay Festival. But now, instead of excitement, there was fear.

“I heard the station looked like a war zone,” a boy in the back said loudly.

“My cousin was there. She said people were screaming and running. She even lost her phone.”

“Weren’t Meai and Fumino there too?” someone whispered, looking toward them.

Everyone glanced at the two girls near the window.

Fumino kept staring at her notebook. Her hands were tight on the edge of her desk. Her knuckles were white.

“Please,” she said quietly but firmly. “Let’s not talk about it for the time being.”

The room went silent for a moment. Then the students slowly changed the topic, now talking about rumors and news reports. Some people were even saying that a few people were missing.

Fumino let out a slow breath. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding it.

Her thoughts went back to that night. Not to the chaos inside the station, but to what happened after.

The cold air outside. The quiet side exit. Her hands shaking as she took out her small handkerchief with purple flowers on it. It was her favorite.

She remembered tearing it quickly.

The gentleman in the rabbit mask had been standing still. His left hand was badly cut. Blood covered the back of it under the weak station lights.

She had wrapped the cloth around his hand. Her fingers touched his. He stiffened for a second, then relaxed.

The knot she tied was messy. The cloth was too small.

“Thanks…” he had said softly.

Then, this morning.

When Tokio Yukawa walked into class, she noticed it right away. A clean white bandage was wrapped around his left hand. Before homeroom, she walked up to him.

“Yukawa-kun, your hand…”

He looked down at it and shrugged.

“This? It’s nothing. I was being stupid in the kitchen. Tried to cut a tomato like a TV chef. Cut myself instead. There was so much blood. And tomato seeds. You wouldn’t believe how annoying that was.”

He said it so casually. So normally. Like it was just another day.

She almost believed him.

Almost.

Fumino slowly looked across the classroom at Tokio.

He was sitting casually, spinning a pen with his right hand. His face looked calm. The sunlight reflected on his glasses, hiding his eyes.

The white bandage on his left hand stood out in the light.

A kitchen accident. A tomato.

“Fumi-chan! Hello?”

A hand waved in front of her face.

Fumino blinked. Meai was leaning over her desk. She didn’t look as cheerful as usual. She looked kind of serious.

“You were spacing out,” Meai said quietly.

“Sorry,” Fumino replied.

“Listen,” Meai whispered, leaning closer. “I just got a message from Rinn. It’s about Saku-chan.”

Fumino suddenly felt cold. “Sakura-chan? Where is she? I couldn’t reach her since that day she went to meet her boyfriend…”

Meai shook her head.

“She never got there. Rinn said she had a serious road accident on the way. That’s why she’s not here. It’s… really bad.”

“What? Are you telling the truth? How is she?” Fumino replied, almost standing up from her seat.

“Aahh, jeez! Relax. Relax. She’s safe right now. Yeah, just a few broken limbs,” Meai said, trying to calm her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She paused for a moment, then added with a smile, “Hey, let’s go visit her after school.”

“Sure.”

After class ended, Tokio was walking home. The sky was overcast, thick with clouds.

His phone buzzed with a message. He read the message, then let out a long sigh.

“Great. These idiots again.” He glanced at the sky. “Time’s sure flowing like a damn river, and ‘Rescue Operation Thunder Fury Alpha’ is almost here.” He snorted. “What a cringey name. But what else can you expect from the great Shina?”

Flashback – Cosplay Festival Night, 1:00 AM

Tokio, Blade, Eyepatch, Memeko, and Shina were gathered at the Phantom’s main hideout inside Yatoizawa Cafe. Anya was still missing—she’d gotten separated from Shina and Memeko during the chaos. All they’d found was her frying pan, lying abandoned near a destroyed stall.

Blade lay exhausted on the sofa, arms draped over his face. Eyepatch watched the news broadcast in silence. Shina paced near the window, phone pressed to her ear. Memeko was hunched over her laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard like a concert pianist.

And Tokio sat on a stool near the kitchen counter, trying not to wince as Miorin knelt beside him, carefully unwrapping the makeshift bandage on his left hand.

“The handkerchief is lovely,” Miorin said quietly, her voice a calm counterpoint to the room’s tension. “But it’s not designed for wounds of this nature.”

She laid the purple-flowered cloth aside with gentle reverence, then opened a small medical kit. Antiseptic. Gauze. Medical tape. Everything arranged with the precision of someone who had done this a hundred times before.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Tokio muttered.

Miorin’s expression didn’t change as she dabbed antiseptic onto the cut. “The glass penetrated the epidermis and dermis. You were fortunate it missed the tendons. Another millimeter and you would have lost mobility in your ring finger.”

Tokio winced as the antiseptic stung. “Comforting.”

Then—

“Gotcha, babe!”

Memeko’s voice cut through the room. Everyone turned.

Memeko’s eyes stayed locked on the screen. “Bossy… I tracked her phone.”

“Where?” Shina asked sharply, crossing the room in seconds. “Where is she?”

“Umm… it’s— come on, load…” Memeko squinted at the map. “Eastern City.”

Tokio leaned in close, his shoulder brushing against hers as he studied the screen.

Memeko’s cheeks warmed instantly. She blinked. “H-Hey, Senpai~?” she squeaked.

But Tokio didn’t notice. His eyes were fixed on the screen, analyzing.

“Wait. The coordinates are moving—fast. It’s in velocity. She’s probably in a vehicle.”

”…S-Senpai—” Memeko’s voice trailed off, still flustered.

A soft ping interrupted. Shina glanced at her phone.

“Message from Anya’s number,” she said. “I’m forwarding it, Memeko.”

Seconds later, the message appeared on the laptop screen:

DERUTPAC MI

Everyone gathered around.

“Wait, what is this weird text?” Memeko tilted her head, reading aloud. “Um… D-E-R-U-T-P-A-C space M-I? Is this… some kind of snack or something?”

Eyepatch frowned. “Looks like a coded message.”

“Eh? Coded?” Memeko glanced at Tokio. “What do you think, genius?”

Tokio stared at the screen for a long moment. Then he sighed.

“Fool. You call yourself a hacker?”

Memeko pouted. “What did you just say?”

“Read the characters in reverse order, Mrs. Hacker.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it.”

Memeko’s eyes moved slowly across the screen. “M-I… that’s ‘IM’ backwards. And D-E-R-U-T-P-A-C…” Her eyes widened. “C-A-P-T-U-R-E-D?” She gasped. “It says… ‘I’M CAPTURED’?” Her fingers flew across the keyboard. “Lemme decode the full—”

Before she could finish, Shina spoke quietly, her voice cold and steady.

“It says: I’M CAPTURED. ITS THEM. INSIDE A METAL BOX TRUCK”

The room fell silent.

Then—

Click.

Someone’s finger flipped the light switch off. Darkness swallowed the room for a heartbeat. Then, with theatrical precision, spotlights blazed to life, illuminating the table like a stage.

Shina stood at the head, one hand on her hip, the other raised dramatically toward the ceiling. A smirk curled on her lips.

“Gather, my brethren of twilight!” she declared, her voice ringing with false gravitas. “Summoned, you stand not by chance, but by the whisper of destiny itself! As you know, we, the Phantoms, fight against the demons of Abyss from the shadows. And now—thanks to our precious Memeko, the hacker… and little Anya…” She paused, nodding theatrically toward the screen. “…we have finally pinpointed the exact location of their hideout!”

She swept her arm across the table like a conductor commanding an orchestra.

“We’ve finally pinpointed the exact point of destiny!”

Silence. Silence Again. Everyone’s faces went blank.

“Hey! Why aren’t you clapping or at least saying something?” Shina demanded.

Tokio let out a long sigh. “Would you mind dropping the act and talking like a human being?”

“Human!? You think I’m a Monkee?” she snapped back instantly.

“Definitely,” the four of them thought in perfect sync.

“That was so lame, boss,” Blade muttered under his breath.

“I heard that! Shut up!” Shina barked again, flustered.

Tokio watched the scene unfold with quiet resignation. I guess she’s back to her usual self, he thought. Good for her, I suppose.

Shina lowered her arm, the theatrical pose fading. She pulled up a chair and sat at the table, her expression shifting from dramatic to serious. The others followed suit—Blade sitting up on the sofa, Eyepatch leaning forward, Memeko’s fingers still on her keyboard but her attention fully on Shina.

“Alright,” Shina said, tapping the screen where Anya’s message still glowed. “Let’s think this through. Anya’s captured. She’s inside a metal box truck. That means she’s being transported somewhere.”

Tokio pulled up a chair beside Memeko, studying the coordinates. “She’s not alone.”

Everyone looked at him.

“Think about it,” he continued. “The festival attack wasn’t random chaos. They showed up with a plan—jammed the network, hit multiple locations, took kids. Anya just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But she’s not special to them. She’s just… one of many.”

Eyepatch nodded slowly. “He’s right. The pattern suggests they were collecting. Multiple targets, all under sixteen. That’s not a random kidnapping.”

“So she’s in a truck with other kids,” Blade said, his voice low. “They’re moving all of them somewhere.”

“Temporary holding, probably,” Eyepatch added. “A warehouse, a safe house, somewhere they can sort and process before the next stage.”

Shina’s jaw tightened. “The next stage for what?”

Tokio frowned, thinking. “Could be ransom. Hit a big festival, grab a bunch of kids from wealthy families, demand money. Classic play.”

Eyepatch shook his head. “Unlikely. The operation was too clean. Too organized. If they wanted ransom, they’d have made demands already. And they wouldn’t have targeted random kids—they’d have picked specific targets.”

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through something. “The timing, the coordination, the way they grabbed kids without caring who they were… that’s not ransom. That’s supply.”

“Supply?” Memeko’s voice cracked.

“Human trafficking,” Eyepatch said flatly. “They’re not asking for money. They’re collecting product.” He glanced at the screen. “And given how organized this is, they probably have buyers lined up already. Research facilities, private buyers, maybe even something worse.”

The room went cold.

Shina’s hands curled into fists on the table. “You’re saying they’re going to—”

“I’m saying we don’t have much time,” Eyepatch cut in, his voice calm but firm. “The longer she’s in their hands, the harder it gets to find her. If they move her to a permanent facility, she disappears. For good.”

Blade stood up from the sofa, pacing. “Then we hit them now. Tonight. Before they get anywhere.”

“We can’t,” Tokio said. “We don’t know exactly where the truck is going. The coordinates are still moving. We need to wait for their exact hideout.”

Shina stared at the moving coordinates on the screen. “But we know it’s in Eastern City.”

“Temporary holding,” Eyepatch repeated. “They’ll sort the kids there, clean them up, prep them for transport to wherever they’re really going. That gives us a window.”

“How long?” Shina asked.

“A day. Maybe two.” Eyepatch’s eyes were sharp. “Then they move again, and we lose them.”

Silence settled over the room.

Then Memeko spoke, her voice smaller than any of them had ever heard it.

“Will she be okay?” She was staring at her laptop screen, but her hands had stopped moving. “I mean… she’s alone. With them. And she’s just… she’s just Anya. She’s tough but—”

Shina reached across the table and took Memeko’s hand. The gesture was quick, almost automatic, but it stopped Memeko’s trembling.

“She’s fine,” Shina said. Her voice was steady. Certain. “She’s the one who sent us that message, remember? She kept her phone hidden from them. She found a way to reach out while they were moving her. That’s not someone who’s waiting to be saved.”

Memeko blinked. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Shina squeezed her hand. “She’s counting on us. And we’re not going to let her down.”

Tokio leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “She’ll be fine. For now, at least.”

Everyone looked at him.

He met their eyes evenly. “If Eyepatch is right about the trafficking angle—research facility, buyers, whatever—then they need her healthy. Clean. They’re not going to hurt merchandise they plan to sell.”

He paused, then added with a dark smirk, “That’s the good news. The bad news is they’re not going to keep her comfortable forever. Once they process her, once she gets to wherever they’re sending her…” He let the implication hang in the air. “So yeah. We need to move fast.”

Blade cracked his knuckles. “Then we move fast.”

Shina stood up from the table, her eyes sweeping the room. Blade, ready to fight. Eyepatch, calm and calculating. Memeko, still scared but holding it together. Tokio, watching her with that quiet, steady look.

She took a breath.

“Operation designation,” she announced, her voice ringing clear through the hideout. “Thunder Fury Alpha.”

Blade snorted. “That’s the name?”

“You got a problem with it?”

“It’s a little—”

The flashback faded like smoke in wind.

Tokio blinked, he was standing on the sidewalk, phone in hand, the overcast sky pressing down on the empty street.

Right, he thought, shoving the phone back into his pocket. That was last night.

He’d made it half a block when something caught his eye across the street.

A familiar figure was crossing the road, backpack slung over one shoulder, a bag of chips already open in her hand. Her short hair was messier than usual, like she’d been running her hands through it all day.

Tokio slowed his pace.

Isn’t that—

“Senpai~!”

Memeko’s voice cut through his thoughts like a bell. She was already weaving through the sparse afternoon traffic, waving with the hand that wasn’t holding chips.

Tokio stopped and waited. She reached the sidewalk slightly out of breath, cheeks a little flushed from the jog.

“You,” he said flatly.

“Me.” She grinned up at him, then immediately stole a chip from her own bag and crunched it. “What? Surprised to see me?”

“A little. Shouldn’t you be heading home?”

“Nah. Got nothing better to do.” She fell into step beside him as he started walking again. Her footsteps matched his pace.

“What about you? Where are you heading?”

Tokio glanced at the gray sky, then ahead toward the familiar route. “Home first. Need to grab something. Then I’ll head to the Station Cafe.”

“Oh.” Memeko’s voice was carefully casual. “I see.”

She didn’t say anything else for a moment. Just walked beside him, crunching on her chips, her eyes fixed somewhere ahead. Then her gaze drifted down to his hand.

“How’s your hand doing?” she asked.

Tokio looked at the white bandage wrapped around his left hand. He flexed his fingers experimentally. “Fine, I guess. It’s just the left hand, so not a big deal.”

“Just the left hand,” Memeko repeated, her voice flat.

“I’m right-handed. It’s fine.”

She stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

Tokio shrugged, shoving his bandaged hand into his pocket. “Still taking it as one.”

Memeko rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. She looked away, her gaze drifting to the sidewalk ahead, the gray sky, anything but him.

And for some reason—she couldn’t explain why—her mind drifted. Memeko shook her head sharply, almost violently.

Tokio glanced at her, brow raised. “You okay? You look like you just swallowed a bug.”

“I’m fine!” The words came out too fast, too loud. She cleared her throat, ducking her head so her hair fell forward, hiding her face. “Just—chip went down the wrong pipe.”

Tokio studied her for a moment. Then shrugged. “Weirdo.”

“Hey, Senpai,” she said, her voice coming out quieter than she intended.

“Hmm?”

“You’re really going to the cafe after?”

“Yeah. The boss lady wants to finalize the plan. Eyepatch is bringing the gear list, and Blade’s probably already there too.”

“Sounds about right.” Memeko tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I was going to head home, but…” She trailed off, looking down the road toward his house. “Actually, I think I left my charger at your place last week. The one for my laptop.”

Tokio raised an eyebrow. “You think?”

“I’m pretty sure.” She was already walking, falling into step beside him as he turned toward his house. “It’s either there or at the cafe. Might as well check.”

“You mean you want to raid my fridge.”

“That too.”

Tokio sighed, but there was no real annoyance in it. “Fine. But if you touch the last of the Oracle Juice—”

The gray afternoon light filtered through the clouds. Then the wind began to rise, and thunder started to echo in the distance like a epic fury.