Date: September 23, 2036
Location: Koza, Okinawa – The Omoro Restaurant
The humidity in Okinawa hadn't changed in thirty years. Governments had fallen, borders had shifted, and the Red Shield had dissolved into nothing more than a classified footnote in history books, but the air in Koza was still thick enough to drink. It smelled of salt, rain, and the lingering grease of fried tempura.
Kai Miyagusuku wiped the counter of the Omoro restaurant with a practiced, circular motion. The wood was worn smooth, darker in the places where elbows had rested for decades. At forty-eight years old, Kai moved with the heavy, deliberate grace of a man who had carried too much for too long. His hair, once a wild mop of brown, was cropped short now, peppered with gray at the temples. Deep lines bracketed his mouth—evidence of a life spent smiling for customers while worrying in private.
He paused, looking at the framed photograph hanging next to the register.
It was an old photo, the colors faded to sepia tones by the relentless sunlight. It showed a barbecue. His father, George, was laughing, holding a pair of tongs. Riku was there, looking small and kind. And in the center, looking uncomfortable but content, was Saya.
Kai's thumb brushed the glass.
"You're going to wear a hole in that picture if you keep touching it, Kai."
The voice came from the corner booth, the one furthest from the window.
Kai didn't look up. He didn't have to. "And you're going to rot your liver if you keep drinking that cheap awamori, David."
David was sitting in the shadows, nursing a small glass. At seventy-five, the former Red Shield agent looked like a weathered piece of driftwood. His trademark red hair had turned completely white, and he walked with a cane now—a souvenir from a skirmish in the Middle East ten years ago. But his eyes were still sharp, scanning the street outside the window with the paranoia of a man who knew that peace was just an intermission between wars.
"It's not cheap," David grunted, pouring another shot. "It's vintage. Like us."
Kai chuckled, tossing the rag into the sink. He walked around the counter and flipped the sign on the door to CLOSED. The neon lights of the futuristic Koza strip flickered outside—holographic advertisements for synthetic idyllic vacations and cyber-enhancements reflecting in the puddles. The world had moved on. It had become faster, shinier, and colder.
"It's the twenty-third," Kai said, his voice dropping an octave. He pulled a chair out and sat opposite David.
David stopped mid-sip. He set the glass down slowly. The silence that stretched between them was heavy, filled with the ghosts of 2006.
"I know what date it is," David said gruffly. "Thirty years. To the day."
"Do you think she'll wake up?" Kai asked. It was the question that had kept him awake for the last week. "Exactly on time? Or... does it work like that?"
"It's biology, Kai, not an alarm clock. The Chiropteran metabolism is unpredictable," David muttered, though his fingers drummed anxiously on the table. "Julia used to say the hibernation cycle was dependent on the trauma sustained before sleep. Saya pushed herself to the limit. She might wake up tonight. She might wake up next week. Or she might sleep for another fifty years."
"She won't," Kai said firmly. "She promised. And Hagi is with her. He won't let her oversleep."
At the mention of the Chevalier, David's expression darkened slightly. He shifted his bad leg. "That's another variable. We don't know what state he's in. He hasn't fed in three decades. A Chevalier can survive that, theoretically, but he won't be in fighting shape. If they wake up, they're going to be vulnerable."
"That's why we're here," Kai said. He leaned forward, his eyes hardening. The gentle restaurant owner vanished, replaced briefly by the boy who had fired a gun to protect his sister. "The tomb is secure. I checked the perimeter sensors this morning. No glitches. No tampering."
David sighed, rubbing his temples. "Sensors don't catch everything, Kai. You know the rumors as well as I do. There's chatter on the dark net. 'Project Chimera.' People looking for the source of the 'Original Blood.' We aren't the only ones who remember the Chiropteran War."
"Let them come," Kai said, though a knot of dread tightened in his stomach. "This isn't 2006. We aren't helpless."
The back door of the restaurant banged open, letting in a gust of humid night air and the sound of a revving electric engine.
"Dad! Uncle David! You guys are sitting in the dark again. It's creepy."
Ren Miyagusuku strode into the room, wiping grease from his hands onto a pair of mechanic's coveralls. At nineteen, Ren was the spitting image of Kai at that age, though he had his mother's sharper nose and a penchant for technology that Kai never understood.
Ren was the joy of Kai's life—the proof that life went on. He had raised the boy on stories of Aunt Saya, turning the tragic war into a heroic legend. To Ren, Saya wasn't a monster or a weapon; she was the Sleeping Beauty in the family crypt.
"We're not sitting in the dark," Kai corrected, standing up to turn on the main overhead lights. "We're conserving energy. Did you fix the van?"
"Fixed it, tuned it, and upgraded the battery," Ren grinned, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. He tossed it in the air and caught it. "If Aunt Saya wakes up tonight, she's riding in style. I even cleared out the back so there's room for the tall guy."
"His name is Hagi," Kai said automatically.
"Right, Hagi. The gloom-and-doom cello player." Ren took a bite of the apple. "You really think tonight's the night?"
"Maybe," Kai said, his gaze drifting toward the back of the restaurant, toward the cliffs where the Miyagusuku family tomb lay hidden. "Ren, I need you to stay here tonight."
Ren's smile faltered. "What? No way. If she wakes up, I want to be there. I've heard about her my whole life, Dad. I want to meet her."
"It's not about meeting her," David cut in, his voice sharp. "If she wakes up, the energy spike might trigger scanners. If anyone is watching, the tomb becomes a target. We need eyes on the perimeter, and we need someone ready to drive the escape vehicle if things go south."
Ren looked from David to Kai. He saw the tension in his father's shoulders. He swallowed his argument.
"Okay. I'll keep the engine running. But you better call me the second she opens her eyes."
"I promise," Kai said. He reached out and squeezed his son's shoulder. "You're a good kid, Ren."
"I'm an adult, Dad," Ren muttered, but he leaned into the touch.
Kai grabbed his keys and a heavy flashlight from the counter. He looked at David. The old man nodded, grabbing his cane and grunting as he hauled himself up. Under his jacket, Kai saw the bulge of a heavy pistol—an old-fashioned projectile weapon, illegal in modern Japan, but David had never cared much for laws when it came to family.
"Let's go," Kai said. "I have a feeling about tonight."
The walk up the stone steps to the Miyagusuku crypt was a journey Kai had made ten thousand times.
Every day for thirty years, he had climbed these stairs. Sometimes he brought fresh flowers—hibiscus or bougainvillea.
Sometimes he just brought a bucket of water and a brush to clean the moss from the stone. Sometimes, on the really bad days, he just sat against the door and talked to the stone for hours, telling Saya about Ren's first steps, about the business, about how much he missed Riku.
Tonight, the air felt different.
The cicadas, usually deafening at this hour, were silent. The wind coming off the ocean was cold, cutting through the humidity.
"It's too quiet," David murmured, his hand hovering near his jacket.
"Don't start," Kai said, though he felt it too. A static charge in the air. The feeling of a storm about to break.
They reached the top of the cliff. The tomb stood there, ancient and imposing, covered in vines that Kai carefully trimmed back every week. It looked like a natural part of the rock face, overlooked by the modern world.
Kai approached the heavy stone seal. He placed his hand on the rough surface.
It was warm.
Kai pulled his hand back as if burned. He looked at David, eyes wide. "It's warm. The stone is usually ice cold at night."
David limped forward, placing his palm against the door. His eyes narrowed. "Core temperature rising. The cocoon is generating heat. She's metabolizing."
"She's waking up," Kai whispered. The reality of it hit him like a physical blow. The thirty years of waiting, of hoping, of doubting—it was over.
He fumbled for the mechanism to open the outer seal. "We have to get them out. If she's generating this much heat, she's burning energy fast. She'll be starving."
"Wait," David hissed. He grabbed Kai's arm, stopping him.
"What?"
David turned slowly, scanning the tree line surrounding the clearing. He raised his cane, pointing it like a weapon toward the darkness. "The birds."
Kai listened. There were no night birds. No rustling in the underbrush. The silence was absolute.
"We aren't alone," David said, his voice deadly calm. "Get to the door, Kai. Open it. Get them out. Now."
"David?"
"GO!" David shouted, drawing the heavy pistol from his jacket.
At that moment, the sky lit up.
It wasn't lightning. It was a flare, shot from the drone hovering silently two thousand feet above them. The red light bathed the clearing in the color of blood, casting long, twisted shadows against the tomb.
From the trees, they emerged.
They didn't look like the Chiropterans of the past. They weren't mindless beasts. These were soldiers. Clad in matte-black armor that shimmered with stealth technology, their faces obscured by helmets with single, glowing green eyes. They moved with unnatural, fluid speed—too fast for humans.
"Chimera," David spat. He leveled his gun and fired.
The gunshot shattered the silence of the night. The bullet sparked against the armor of the lead soldier, causing him to stumble but not fall.
"Containment Team Alpha," a synthesized voice boomed from the soldiers, sounding like grinding metal. "Target located. The Queen is active. Eliminate the guardians."
"Kai, open the damn door!" David roared, firing again, aiming for the visor this time. The soldier's head snapped back, black liquid spraying into the air.
Kai didn't freeze. He slammed his shoulder against the stone lever of the tomb, putting all his weight into it. Thirty years, he thought. I waited thirty years, you bastards. You aren't taking her.
The gears of the tomb groaned. Dust showered down as the heavy stone slab began to slide open.
A blast of hot, stale air rushed out from the darkness within. It smelled of old roses and iron.
"Saya!" Kai yelled into the dark. "Saya, wake up!"
A soldier lunged for Kai, a vibrating blade extending from his wrist.
Bang.
David put a bullet through the soldier's knee, shattering the joint. The soldier collapsed, shrieking in a sound that was definitely not human.
"I can't hold them all, Kai!" David shouted. He was reloading, his hands shaking slightly, not from fear, but from age. There were twelve of them. Maybe more.
Kai looked into the abyss of the tomb. It was pitch black.
"Hagi!" Kai screamed, desperation clawing at his throat. "Protect her!"
For a second, there was no answer. Just the darkness.
Then, two pale blue lights ignited in the gloom.
They weren't lights. They were eyes. Glowing, vertical pupils, burning with a ferocious, ancient hunger.
A figure moved in the darkness—faster than the soldiers, faster than thought.
A black trench coat whipped through the air. Something silver flashed.
The Chimera soldier closest to the door didn't even have time to scream. He was bisected, split cleanly from shoulder to hip. His body fell apart in a spray of synthetic fluids.
Hagi stepped out of the tomb.
He looked exactly as he had thirty years ago. Tall, slender, terrifyingly beautiful. His long black hair flowed around him like a shadow. But he was pale—deadly pale.
His cheekbones were sharp, his skin pulled tight against his skull. He was trembling, his body screaming for blood.
But he stood in front of the door, his sword drawn, his cello case nowhere to be seen. He placed himself between the soldiers and the darkness where Saya slept.
He looked at Kai. His eyes were wild, feral with starvation, but there was a flicker of recognition.
"Kai," Hagi rasped. His voice was like dry leaves. "Is it... time?"
"Yes," Kai choked out, tears stinging his eyes. "But we have company."
Hagi turned to face the squad of armored soldiers. He barely had the strength to stand, but he raised his sword. He smiled—a small, sad smile.
"Then I shall make room," Hagi whispered.
He launched himself forward.
The calm was over. The Requiem had begun.