The guards had been alerted to Komatsu's imminent arrival, and Sofia had her team standing by in the Animus room. The sterile environment hummed with the quiet, steady rhythm of machines, each console manned by focused technicians. Sofia stood at the helm, her sharp gaze scanning the room, ensuring everything was in order. The air carried a palpable tension, the weight of anticipation pressing against everyone present. This session, they all knew, would be different.
When Komatsu arrived, his gait was unsteady, his steps hesitant yet purposeful. His eyes were distant, clouded, as if he were seeing through more than just the present. The bleeding effect had already begun to assert itself, its grip on him tightening like a vice. His posture, his very demeanor, shifted in subtle yet unnerving ways. It was as though he was shedding one identity and donning another.
Was he still Komatsu? Or was he now Yagi?
The line between the two blurred with each step he took. The memories of the ancient samurai—Tokugawa Ieyasu's loyal retainer, a covert Assassin tasked with protecting a fragile peace—seemed to spill over into Komatsu's consciousness, bending and twisting his perception of reality.
Tadakuni Sousaku stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed, his expression unreadable save for the faint narrowing of his eyes. He watched Komatsu with a quiet intensity, the rigid lines of his posture betraying the unease he tried to suppress.
"This is no longer science," Tadakuni thought to himself. "This is a descent into something beyond mortal comprehension."
But Tadakuni remained steadfast. He was a Templar, a sentinel of order in a chaotic world. Whatever this was—whatever forces were at play—it could be controlled. It had to be. The Templar cause demanded nothing less. A world of peace, a world of unity, required sacrifices, no matter how great. And if that meant delving into the abyss of the past, so be it.
Komatsu stopped in front of the Animus, his breaths shallow, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. His body was tense, like a coiled spring, as though he were restraining himself from breaking free of the room entirely. The orderlies hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, their movements brisk and methodical, intending to force him into the machine.
"Stop," Sofia's sharp voice cut through the room like a blade. She held up a hand, her expression a mixture of authority and calculated calm. "No need for coercion. Prepare the Animus for voluntary regression."
The orderlies exchanged uncertain glances but quickly backed off, their hands dropping to their sides. Sofia took a step forward, her heels clicking against the cold floor, her gaze never leaving Komatsu.
"You know why you're here," she said, her voice steady. "This only works if you allow it to. Resistance will only bring chaos—to you, and to everything we're trying to achieve."
Komatsu's jaw tightened, his gaze flickering momentarily to the machine, then to the gathered technicians and guards. It was Tadakuni who finally stepped forward, his movements deliberate, unhurried, and confident. In his hands were the gauntlets—relics that seemed to hum with latent power, their sleek design anachronistic yet unmistakably practical.
Tadakuni came to a stop directly in front of Komatsu, holding the gauntlets out before him, a challenge in his eyes. The room seemed to hold its breath as Komatsu stared at the Templar, his eyes narrowing, reading Tadakuni's every move, every flicker of expression.
Without a word, Komatsu slid his arms into the gauntlets, his movements smooth, instinctive, as though the act was etched into his very being. The faint click of the mechanisms locking into place echoed in the room.
There was no hesitation, no faltering. It was as though the gauntlets belonged to him—as though they had always belonged to him.
Komatsu's gaze never wavered, never left Tadakuni's face. His lips curled into a faint, almost mocking smirk, his voice low and edged with defiance.
"Still not sure about this, are you?"
Tadakuni's eyes narrowed slightly, but his expression remained otherwise stoic, giving nothing away.
Komatsu's gaze never wavered, fixed on Tadakuni like a predator sizing up its prey. His lips curled into a faint, almost mocking smirk, the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes but instead radiated a calm, unsettling confidence. His voice, low and edged with defiance, carried the weight of someone who had seen too much and feared too little.
"Earlier," Komatsu began, his tone dripping with casual venom, "you stood there, watching me like a loaded gun—calm, in control, like nothing could rattle you. I wonder, though… are you still that calm? Or are you scared of the unknown now?"
Tadakuni didn't flinch, his expression remaining as impassive as ever. But Komatsu leaned closer, the gauntlets glinting faintly under the Animus' light, and the smirk widened, his words sharpening.
"Do you really want to find out what happens next?" he taunted, his voice barely above a whisper but cutting through the tension in the room like a blade. "Do you really want me to open the door and see what's on the other side? Because here's the thing—none of you may like what happens when it bites back."
The room felt colder, heavier, as if his words carried an unseen weight. The technicians paused, their fingers hovering over their consoles, unsure if the Animus could handle whatever was coming next.
Sofia's eyes narrowed slightly as she observed Komatsu. She didn't interrupt—she had seen enough of this man to know that his strength came from pushing boundaries, from challenging authority. He was testing Tadakuni now, probing for cracks in his armor.
Tadakuni's stoic demeanor shattered for an instant as he delivered a sharp jab to Komatsu's face. The blow landed cleanly, snapping Komatsu's head to the side. But instead of anger or surprise, Komatsu responded with a low, grim snicker, his lips curling back into that same unsettling smirk as he straightened.
"Ah, there it is," Komatsu murmured, his voice dripping with mockery as he licked a small bead of blood from the corner of his mouth. "The unknown gets to everyone eventually… even you."
With that, Komatsu's gaze shifted back to the Animus, his smirk unwavering. The air around him seemed to pulse with tension, his defiant energy undeterred. Behind him, the orderly worked quickly, fastening the belt around his waist, preparing him for the inevitable descent into the machine's grasp.
Komatsu didn't break his stare from Tadakuni. His hand, steady and deliberate, reached behind him and grasped the epidural unit from the orderly's hands. There was no hesitation, no second thoughts—just a cold, calculating resolve. With a flick of his wrist, he drove the needle into the base of his own skull.
The sharp, almost imperceptible flinch that passed through him seemed to echo in the silence of the room. But the pain didn't linger, nor did it sway him. He didn't flinch again.
There was a low, whining mechanical hum as the arm lifted Komatsu into the air, his body becoming weightless. He seemed unbothered by the sudden ascent, the smoothness of the motion almost serene in contrast to the tension that filled the room. His muscles, relaxed and loose, betrayed none of the strain that should have accompanied such a process.
When the arm reached the proper height, it dropped slightly, settling into position with a soft click. Komatsu didn't flinch, didn't tense. Instead, he snapped both wrists with a practiced flick, activating the hidden blades beneath the cuffs. The sharp, metallic hiss echoed in the room, the steel shining faintly in the dim light.
For a brief moment, with the light catching his bare chest and playing over his muscles, Komatsu looked more like Yagi than he had ever looked before—his grim expression, the determined set of his face, the silent confidence that radiated from him. In that fleeting instance, it was hard to tell where Komatsu ended and his ancestor began. Perhaps, for just a moment, the two had merged.
What if he is?
"Commencing regression," the Animus operator announced, his voice sharp and steady as his fingers flew over the controls.
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Then, with a soft mechanical hum, Komatsu's body went completely still, his eyes fluttering closed. In the next instant, he was in.