Scene 2 - The hunt (3)

The worried murmurs of passengers filled the subway with unanswered questions. 

"Where did this information come from?" 

"Why wasn't the Japanese government, or indeed any other nation, intervening in such a critical situation?"

My mind wove a thread of doubt, while my eyes sought answers from Edano.

My question about the possibility of them having inside information remained without a clear answer. Edano himself seemed baffled by the lack of outside intervention. Faced with this impasse, the decision to confront the mysterious group directly seemed inevitable.

Doubt crept into my words as I addressed one of the members of the mysterious group, seeking to uncover the truth behind their alarming statements. My words became incisive, a tenuous thread linking suspicion to the quest for clarity.

"Is it true?" I asked, a scrutinizing gaze planted in the eyes of the man who seemed to hold the key to everything. Then the truth came out, revealing that it was all a fabrication, an orchestrated deception.

The band member explained the ins and outs of his ruse with cold lucidity. His words echoed through the subway, blending elements of truth with the ingenuity of subterfuge.

"You understand," he articulated with almost disconcerting indifference, "we have to survive, and to do that, we're going to use you as bait. If there's a hunter among us, he'll be forced to reveal himself by attacking you. We have no other choice."

A cold shiver ran down the spine of the passengers. The already tense atmosphere grew heavier, revealing a cruel reality. We were being held hostage, not to be protected, but to be used as living shields.

It was as if the words were unfolding in an intricate dance, knitting a web of lies to protect themselves from the predator lurking in Bunkyō's shadow.

The member's words resonated within me, like an unsettling echo of the premonitory riddle. His incisive gaze seemed to pierce through the strata of my thoughts, exposing the naked truth of human nature in this supernatural ordeal.

"You don't understand," he added, his piercing gaze intensifying. "These trials leave no room for the usual morality. Everyone has to fight for his own life, even at the expense of others."

The faces of the group members reflected guilt, fear and muted determination.

"Don't play the hypocrite," he retorted sharply, "You don't know these people. Their lives, their deaths, none of that should matter to you. We do what we have to do to survive, just like you."

Faced with the group's justification for their deception, an involuntary introspection crept into my mind. Their actions, questionable as they were, resonated curiously with my own quest for survival. The link between their desire to preserve their loved ones and my own search for refuge alongside the protagonist, Ryo Kanjo, was striking.

The idea of survival became a complex web, woven of personal motivations and moral dilemmas. As I got closer to the film's narrative thread, I discovered an unexpected parallel with my own reality. In this attempt at preservation, humanity was often faced with difficult choices, oscillating between altruism and selfish safeguarding.

Inspired by the reminiscence of my own struggle to join the protagonist on the screen, a new determination crept into me. Armed with this awareness, I took a deep breath, embarking on a last-ditch attempt to navigate through the maze of this distorted reality.

Presenting myself as a character from the film, the boundary between fiction and reality blurred in my words. In the whirlwind of this unpredictable enigma, I set myself up as Ryo Kanjo, the film's protagonist, suddenly real. My words resonated with the menacing echo of fiction turned reality, creating an atmosphere charged with tension and uncertainty.

This imposture was not just a subterfuge, but a desperate act to impose my will within this complex web of events. The threat veiled in my words was a means of asserting myself in a world where the boundary between fiction and reality seemed to be blurring.

"Listen carefully," I declared in a voice that sought to mimic the heroic aura of the protagonist I embodied. "I am Ryo Kanjo, he who has crossed dimensions to solve riddles and thwart fate. What you're doing here is just a sketch of what could be. If you persist in this farce, I can guarantee that your fragile little reality will be eradicated. Let me guide this story, or prepare to be erased from existence."

My speech echoed through the subway, creating a tense silence as passengers digested the enigmatic threat I'd made. The members of the group, initially confident in their stratagem, now seemed uncertain.

"Ryo Kanjo, really?" whispered one of the group to his obviously confused colleague. The other briefly explained the character's importance in the film "The Deficient Piece". They then turned back to me, and doubt painted itself on their faces.

"You don't have the makings of a story protagonist," declared one of them, letting out a sarcastic laugh. A hint of uncertainty tingled in my mind. Perhaps I'd played my hand a little too hard, but it was too late to back out now.

As the tension reached its peak and I desperately sought a way out, Edano, without warning, took the lead. With an impulsive lunge, he threw himself at one of the group, revealing a knife in a way that would have sent shivers down anyone's spine. A flash of steel and a slight wound later, the situation had turned. The group member winced in pain, holding the wound inflicted by Edano.

Edano, in a calm but sharp voice, explained his calculated gesture. "It wasn't personal," he said, as confusion reigned among the group members. One of them cries out, asking why Edano is attacking them.

In an incisive tone, he confronted the group with a cruel dilemma. "You've created a dangerous game, and now you're going to play it. Is your friend's life worth more than yours?" His icy gaze scans every face, forcing the group to confront their own lies. The atmosphere becomes tense, imbued with the heavy responsibility they carry on their shoulders.

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