The reverse cycle

The photo trembled slightly in Haratu Sota's hands. It wasn't the image that unnerved him—it was the certainty it brought.

Detective Tanaka.

Smiling in a blurry candid shot, unaware of the target painted on her back.

"She's scheduled," the stranger said flatly. "In three days."

Sota's voice was ice. "How do you know?"

The man returned his glasses to his face, now shadowed again. "Because I wrote the schedule. A long time ago."

Sota took a step forward, fury rising. "You're part of Kōkai no Me?"

The man raised a hand. "Was. We were not always executioners. It started as a way to correct legal gaps. Killers walking free, rapists escaping charges… We became judges in the dark. But the Spiral changes people. Over time, it became religion."

His voice turned hollow. "Now they kill not for justice—but for silence. For power. For erasure."

Sota was already dialing his phone. It rang twice.

No answer.

"Tanaka," he hissed. "Pick up—"

On the third try, she answered—groggy and irritated.

"Sota? It's two in the morning."

"You need to leave your apartment. Now. Pack nothing. Just go."

"What—?"

"No questions. I'll explain later. I'm coming."

He was already running.

---

Midnight Escape

Tanaka's apartment was five minutes away.

When Sota arrived, the street was too quiet. No traffic. No lights.

His instincts screamed.

He burst into the apartment, gun drawn.

"Tanaka!"

She appeared in the hallway, half-dressed, holding her phone. "You're seriously freaking me out."

"Someone's targeting you."

"I haven't been—" She stopped.

Both turned as the hallway light flickered. A shadow passed outside the window.

Sota shoved her to the floor just as the glass shattered inward.

A masked figure dropped into the room—dressed in black, wielding a silver cord.

Sota fired. Once. Twice.

The figure dropped—no scream, no blood.

Gone.

When Sota checked the body, it wasn't human.

A mannequin.

"No," he muttered. "A decoy."

And then—a beeping.

He looked up.

The fire alarm flashed.

The building's emergency system activated—and from the hallway, smoke was pouring in.

"The building's rigged," he shouted. "They're flushing you out!"

Grabbing Tanaka's hand, he pulled her down the emergency stairwell, two steps at a time. Alarms blared. Somewhere, a door slammed.

Outside, a black car sped off down the street just as they emerged.

"They didn't want to kill you inside," Sota said breathlessly. "Too many witnesses. They wanted to isolate you."

Tanaka was pale. "Why me?"

"Because you're getting close. You've seen the pattern. You've helped me trace the Cycle."

He turned to her, deadly serious. "They mark threats. And they always act within three days."

---

Breaking the Pattern

Back in a safehouse, Tanaka sat on a couch, processing the near-death escape. Shino Kurobane arrived soon after, silent and ghost-like, her brother's journal clutched tightly in her hands.

"We need to understand how they choose," Tanaka said. "There has to be a selection process."

"There is," Shino replied. "My brother uncovered a rule: Each person chosen must have been linked—directly or indirectly—to a sealed case. One that was meant to remain buried."

Tanaka blinked. "I… worked one of those. Six years ago. A warehouse fire. Four victims. But the case was dropped."

"And your testimony helped close it," Haratu added. "Which made you a threat."

He pinned the newest victims on a corkboard: names, faces, and dates.

Then he drew a new spiral, this time counterclockwise.

"Every victim is a link. The killer of one becomes the next victim, yes. But there's an unspoken order beneath that."

He connected three names.

"All three of these were linked to the same case file. A sealed investigation under the Ministry of Justice. Case #42-D."

He paused.

"Shino," he said. "Your father was the investigator on that case, wasn't he?"

She nodded.

Tanaka's eyes widened. "This is about that case?"

"No," Haratu replied. "This is about what that case led to."

---

The Whispering Cellar

They followed the trail to an abandoned law office, once registered to "Yurei & Tōma"—a firm connected to three of the dead. The building was gutted by time, but Sota found something untouched.

A hidden cellar.

Beneath the floorboards, they discovered a steel door. Inside: files. Hundreds.

All detailing The Eyes of Regret and their operations over twenty years.

Photos. Lists. Redacted files. Spirals drawn over court papers.

But the most chilling document was a white envelope marked:

"To Whom the Cycle Comes."

Inside, a list of names.

People yet to die.

And near the top:

Tanaka Aya.

Haratu Sota.

Shino Kurobane.

Tanaka's voice cracked. "They already knew."

"It's more than that," Sota said slowly. "They're not reacting to our investigation."

He looked at the dates beside each name.

"They planned this before we even started."

Shino stepped forward. "It's fate to them. Prophecy. A reverse timeline of judgment."

"And we're next," Tanaka whispered.

---

The Message from the Dead

Among the files, Sota found an old cassette tape—hand-labeled in red.

"The Spiral Speaks"

They returned to his apartment and played it.

A male voice, trembling.

"If you're hearing this… it means I failed. The Cycle took me. But it didn't start here. It started when we created the Spiral Protocol. We thought we were protecting the law—but we built a weapon. They… took it. Changed it."

Static.

Then, faintly:

"Each name chosen… is judged backwards. The deeper the sin, the sooner the death. But if you can find the beginning—the original sin—the Cycle collapses."

Click.

The tape ended.

Tanaka stared at Sota. "The original sin?"

He nodded. "The first death. The real beginning. If we can uncover who was first—why they were killed—we can tear the whole thing down."

"But to do that," Shino said softly, "we'll have to break into the government archives."

Sota exhaled.

Then smiled.

"Finally. A challenge."