Unknown Location – Basement Lab | 1:36 AM
The light above the operating table flickered faintly, casting the surgical instruments in sterile silver.
Subject 13-A didn't wake.
Not when the needle bit through already-healed scar tissue. Not when the scalpel traced the line it had cut before. Not when his body was opened again.
He twitched, reflexive, involuntary. But he did not regain consciousness.
The Doctor stood motionless beside him. His mask bone white, beaked, polished reflected nothing of the boy's suffering. His fingers moved with steady precision, parting tissue, repositioning muscle, exposing the twin kakuhou once more.
He murmured as he worked.
"Subject 13-A... marginally improved response. Nervous system adapting faster than the previous test subjects."
He injected a stabilizing agent, watched the boy's back arch, watched the monitor spike.
It was almost promising.
Then, the heart flatlined.
The Doctor didn't flinch. He stared for a moment, then slowly set down the scalpel.
"Failure. Again."
He removed his gloves and peeled off the surgical gown, moving with the routine grace of someone for whom disappointment was no longer surprising.
"They all break during Phase Two."
He turned toward the recorder. Clicked it on.
"Test Log 212. Subject 13-A expired during vascular fusion, Neural rejection and RC instability. No viable adaptations observed. Cause of death: total systemic collapse."
Click.
His gaze lingered on the boy's face.
"You lasted longer than most."
He reached to a nearby wall, pinning a red 'X' over the subject's medical chart.
Then picked up his coat.
"Next."
9th Ward — Border Aogiri camp | 3:27 A.M.
Cold wind drifted through the hollow ruins of collapsed rooftops. Burned-out buildings framed the streets in jagged silhouettes.
The Doctor stood atop a ruined fire escape, his coat pressed tight to his body by the breeze. Down below, Aogiri members clustered around a steel drum fire, warming bloodied hands and muttering under breath.
Seven of them, maybe more tucked into the ruins.
He watched, and listened.
But his eyes settled on only one.
A tall ghoul slender, scarred, sharp. He didn't speak unless necessary. He didn't push for control. But when he moved, the others moved with him.
"Subject 14-A," the Doctor murmured. "Observed restraint, Patterns of behavioral isolation, Commands without speech, Efficiency without bluster."
The ghoul glanced toward a wounded comrade, then looked away.
"Unemotional, or practiced at appearing so."
The Doctor adjusted his position, stepping into a deeper shadow.
"He's strong, Measured, and Not dulled by starvation like the last batch."
He paused, tone soft, his gaze drifting towards the 24th ward.
"And unlike the Owl… no myth follows him."
His voice lowered again, almost thoughtful.
"Still, A confrontation with the Owl would be ill-advised. Too many variables. Too much mess, but a risk worth taking if this fails."
His gaze narrowed, returning to subject 14-A.
"But this one? This one I can take."
He turned and vanished into the dark.
Ruins near aogiri camp – 4:25 AM
The trap had been set with precision, too precise to feel natural.
The Doctor watched from a collapsed second-floor window. The bait was simple, a corpse, still warm, left in plain sight with a trail of blood leading back to the open alley. It was designed to draw in someone specific, Subject 14-A.
But before he arrived, another did.
A thick-shouldered ghoul in a worn Aogiri coat approached, his posture sharp with suspicion, he paused just outside the clearing, sniffed the air, and frowned.
"This reeks," he muttered. "Too clean, too obvious."
He moved forward anyway, hesitant, but not afraid.
A sound behind the Aogiri ghoul made him spin, a crunch of gravel beneath measured footsteps.
Subject 14-A emerged from the dark, his expression unreadable, hands loose at his sides. His kagune pulsed faintly behind him like a shadow stretching under moonlight.
"Another scavenger?" the Aogiri ghoul growled.
14-A didn't respond, he stepped over the blood trail, gaze flicking briefly to the body, then to the older ghoul.
"You followed the trail too?" the Aogiri asked. "Thinking easy prey?, but...You're not one from my group."
Still no answer.
Then the Aogiri ghoul's kagune bloomed, crimson, jagged, twitching like tendrils eager to taste flesh.
"Answer me, freak." the aogiri tensed
14-A's body tensed in anticipation, his response was swift.
The first strike came low, his kagune whipping across the ground and cutting into the Aogiri ghoul's ankle with a burst of sinew and blood. The older ghoul howled, staggered, then lunged forward, swinging wide.
14-A weaved through the air like a broken rhythm, ducking, pivoting, countering, not with brute force but with precise strikes. He didn't overpower, he dismantled.
The Doctor tilted his head slightly.
"Fast," the doctor murmured. "Predictive timing, he doesn't react, he calculates."
The fight ended quickly.
The final exchange was a blur, red against red. But when it stopped, only 14-A remained standing, breath calm, and untouched. The older ghoul knelt before him, bleeding from multiple deep cuts, arms limp at his sides, and with a single strike, it was done, the aogiri's head flew from the body, slumping to the ground.
From above, the Doctor rose from his perch.
14-A looked up, sensing his presence. Their eyes met, no fear, no surprise.
Only clarity.
"I see," 14-A said. "This wasn't about baiting a ghoul. It was about watching me."
The Doctor didn't deny it.
He stepped down from the ledge without a sound, the moonlight catching the curve of his white plague mask.
"You weren't meant to see the trap," the doctor said softly. "But I'm glad you did."
14-A's kagune tensed, quick, and serrated. "You're not Aogiri." 14-A said
"No," the Doctor replied. "I'm far worse."
There was no warning, just movement.
The Doctor closed the distance with terrifying calm. His kagune bloomed from behind him like sculpted bone, four long hook-like tendrils that curved in unnatural arcs, no violent blast, no roar, Just precision.
14-A struck first, but the Doctor flowed around it like silk on glass, his tendrils slicing in elegant counter-movements. One hook nicked 14-A's forearm, barely a scratch, but it bled strangely fast.
The boy lunged again, this time with feints and spirals, trying to force a reaction.
The Doctor gave him none.
He parried with exact angles, his kagune moving in perfect sync with his body, each slice shallow but targeted, not crushing, or smashing. Just probing, and measuring.
14-A growled, confused.
"You're not trying to kill me," he said, breathing harder now.
"No," the Doctor murmured, stepping around another strike, one hand now holding a syringe. "That would be wasteful."
14-A's eyes widened, recognizing the subtle setup, but a bit too late.
One hook wrapped around his ankle, not with brute strength, but enough to halt momentum.
The syringe found his neck.
The sedative hit instantly.
14-A struck out blindly, but his limbs betrayed him, sluggish.
The Doctor caught him before he hit the ground, holding him upright like a collapsed marionette.
"You're the first subject to reach this point without irreversible damage," he whispered, lowering him gently.
He paused, then added with eerie calm, "And you may be the last if this fails."
Hooks retracted. The Doctor hoisted the limp body over his shoulder with careful balance.
And then, just as quietly, he disappeared into the dark, toward the next experiment.
Somewhere in the 9th ward – 4:50 AM
The lab was silent, save for the quiet hum of cooling systems and the rhythmic pulse of machinery. Metal tables gleamed under surgical lights. Rows of neatly organized tools waited beside a pristine workstation.
The Doctor stood over Subject 14-A, restrained, unconscious, unscarred. Unlike previous subjects, this one was healthy, muscular, alert even in sleep. He had not needed to be broken before the procedure.
The Doctor reviewed his notes one last time.
"Subject 14-A. Advanced musculature, High RC output, and psychological resilience observed. Beginning Phase One."
There was no hesitation. He moved with the practiced efficiency of someone who had performed this process hundreds of times, but this time… this time was different.
He made the first incision without pausing, exposing the kakuhou, and with refined precision, he adjusted its position, not to replace or graft, but to refine, and complete it.
He worked in silence for nearly an hour, adjusting tissues, threading reinforced blood vessels, and stabilizing vascular networks. The boy's vitals spiked once, then leveled.
"No rejection, or collapse. Subject 14-A responding favorably."
The Doctor's hands didn't shake. They never had, but now they moved with something else…anticipation.
He reached the final phase of the operation, sealing the structure, reinforcing the vessel walls, and administering the serum he had only used three times before.
He stepped back, and watched the monitor remain steady. The body beneath the restraints didn't convulse or spasm. It adapted.
"Phase One complete."
The Doctor looked down at his work. The boy's breath was calm, steady.
"Not just a patient, but a possibility."
He turned toward the next chamber, already preparing for the beginning of phase two
Somewhere in the 9th ward – Several Hours Later
The light above Subject 14-A buzzed as it steadied to full brightness. The Doctor stood at the ready, instruments arranged with surgical precision, and the restraints had been adjusted, reinforced.
"Beginning Phase Two," he said quietly, activating the secondary set of monitors.
He made the incision with calm efficiency, watching as the boy's RC cells responded, flaring slightly, then stabilizing. His hands moved in a practiced rhythm, opening layers of flesh and exposing the reinforced kakuhou system he'd fine-tuned earlier.
"Vascular reaction optimal. No rejection yet, and RC cells are holding."
He paused as he inserted the pale violet serum. The boy's vitals surged, muscles flexed, and breath hitched.
"Still stable… so far." the doctor said
As he worked, the Doctor's mind drifted for a moment.
He could count the number of subjects who survived Phase Two on one hand.
Only three had ever made it this far.
None had lasted more than a few days.
One had gone feral, one had burned out. Literally, and the last one… simply stopped, no trauma, No failure, Just silence.
Each one had offered a piece of the puzzle.
But none had been the solution.
His eyes returned to 14-A.
"You might be different."
He adjusted a stabilizer, threading a line along the RC vein, monitoring for spasms, or signs of rejection, but there were none to be found.
"Phase Two... stable," he said aloud. "Almost... too stable."
The data lined up too well. the Pulse, RC flow, nerve conduction, each within projected ranges, each step executed without delay or regression.
Subject 14-A's body accepted the modifications like they had always belonged.
The Doctor's fingers slowed.
"No resistance, or collapse. not even strain on the body."
He felt it, curiosity tinged with unease. A subject that conformed so perfectly, so easily, it wasn't just rare, It was unprecedented.
He leaned closer, observing the cellular response under magnification.
"Has it already begun to integrate on a cellular level?" he whispered.
The monitor chimed softly with stable vitals.
He stepped back, glancing between the subject and the data.
"If you survive this, you won't be a subject anymore," the Doctor murmured. "You'll be a prototype."
He reached for a new vial–a deep shade of red, but this one he had never dared use until now.
"Beginning Phase Three."
But before the doctor could inject the contents, the boy's eyes snapped open.
The Doctor wasn't surprised. He had expected resistance to the sedative. Still, the timing was earlier than usual.
The restraints creaked as the subject began to push against them. Then they snapped, metal screaming under sudden force.
The Doctor stepped back calmly, watching.
From the boy's back, a kagune erupted.
Not blades, or tendrils.
Hands.
Four large clawed hands, pale-red and twitching, spread out like limbs ready to tear apart the world. They dragged against the walls, fingers curling, then slashing outward.
The Doctor stared, saying nothing. But in his head, he was already taking notes.
"Unusual manifestation, Aggression high, and Control seems unstable."
The subject didn't run. He turned to the Doctor, eyes wild, breathing fast.
"You… What did you do to me?!"
But before the Doctor could reply, the subject burst forward.
The Doctor dodged easily, weaving between strikes. He wasn't stronger, but he didn't need to be. Every move was calculated. Every counter left a shallow cut, not to kill, but to test.
Outside, the crash of stone and steel drew others.
Aogiri ghouls rushed toward the commotion, but they stopped when they saw the boy tearing apart walls, ripping through the steel supports with those clawed hands.
the subject turned towards them, and attacked.
The Doctor watched in silence as Subject 14-A tore through the aogiri. Five ghouls went down in seconds, limbs flying, floor cracking.
There was rage, but also clarity. His fighting style had changed.
More brutal, less defensive, but precise, like a predator learning how to use its claws.
The Doctor's voice was soft.
"So, you're learning mid-conflict."
He waited longer, watching as more Aogiri appeared, ten, then twelve, but Still, the subject stood, crushing and flinging them into one another.
Only when it became clear the building would not survive did the Doctor move.
He stepped forward slowly.
The subject turned toward him, breathing hard, covered in blood—none of it his own.
"You did this!" he roared.
The Doctor didn't argue.
With one swift motion, he dodged the next charge and struck the back of the boy's neck with a hook of his kagune, sharp and fast.
The subject collapsed instantly, and The Doctor caught him gently.
"You fought better than I expected," he said, almost kindly. "But you're not ready yet."
He looked toward the ruined wall, where the first rays of light were starting to creep in.
"Time to relocate."
He disappeared once more into the dark, subject in tow.
Phase Three… incomplete, but not failed, not yet.