Chapter 13 – The Fox’s Question (3)

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I hate people.

No— I loathe them.

They’ve only ever hurt me. Betrayed my trust. Proved themselves worse than animals.

In the past, there was a time when I, too, relied on others. Walking down the street with them. Laughing stupidly together. Studied with them. Shared joy with them.

A time I now regret. A waste.

Back then, I trusted them.

And in return?

Betrayal.

Some called me a demon. Others, a monster. Their words were like knives.

Why?

At first, I doubted my ears. Begged my so-called friends—

Tell me I misheard. That you misspoke.

But—

“You freak!”

“I was never your friend.”

“You trusted me? Hah! Your fault for being naive!”

In the end, all I got was pain.

The ones I called friends—the ones I loved—stepped forward and threw stones. Masked malice as advice. Spat words that cut deeper than blades.

My heart ached. My head throbbed.

Tears? Blood? I couldn’t tell. Their hatred squeezed my heart.

I didn’t understand.

What did I do wrong?

Why do I have to be hurt?

I couldn’t understand.

And I didn’t want to. Because understanding would break me.

“Why?”

Yet, I still reached out.

It was a hand stretched from hell begging to be let out, pleading to them that what they had said was surely all but a joke and that I won’t be abandoned.

But…

What I got in return was, as expected, sharp malice.

The cold reality, the people I trusted had betrayed me.

I don’t remember their exact words.

However, I still vividly remember the sense of loss and betrayal I felt at the time.

The ground crumbling beneath me. My mind going blank. The feeling of everything being denied.

Pain so deep I couldn’t even cry. A despair I never want to feel again.

That day buried itself deep in my heart.

Something inside me had broken.

I don’t know what. Or how to fix it.

Only one instinct remained: Never be hurt again.

So I—

Put on a mask.

Picked up a gun.

And laughed.

They called me a monster.

If I’m the monster, does that make them “people”?

If so, then “people” must mean this—

Something cruel. Vile. Something that hurts and betrays.

“Hehehe—AHAHAHA—!!”

People are my enemies.

And I decided—

I’ll destroy them all.

That’s why—

I became the Fox of Calamity.

***

I remember the day I escaped the Correctional Bureau.

The D.U.’s Sanctum Tower was down. The city was in chaos. People screamed.

And in that chaos—betrayal everywhere.

Pathetic.

The moment control slipped, they turned on each other. Acted on greed and instinct.

Look at them. Disgusting.

Wakamo’s distrust began with one betrayal—but what sickened her was this.

The stupidity of Humanity.

Order had collapsed. Authority vanished.

Kivotos reverted to savagery.

“Ahaha! How boring…”

After escaping, Wakamo fed that savagery.

Terrorized the city. Used others to spread chaos. Watched the people crumble before calamity.

Then—

She saw her.

The hero, Silk.

On the news—order, long forgotten.

Cheers. Praise. Hope.

At first, Wakamo wondered like everyone else:

Who is she?

Why is she doing this?

Silk never answered. Just acted, sorting out countless crimes and chaos day after day. 

Crushing crime, restoring order. 

Punishing instigators, rescuing civilians.

A simple, stupid morality that she had established.

Evil stays evil.

Good stays good.

It was a simple yet foolish distinction.

But slowly—Kivotos changed.

Villains hesitated. Civilians walked freely, trusting the hero.

Silk became a symbol.

People no longer ran from crime. They fought back, believing the hero would come.

Civilians resisting evil and a hero who punishes evil.

It was a sight that Wakamo had never seen before. It was a sight that…

“……”

Fascinated her.

One girl, quelling Kivotos’ chaos.

No matter how many malices assailed the hero, she stood back up.

And Wakamo—

She felt inexplicable anger.

Why?

Because Silk was everything Wakamo wasn’t?

Because she represented a hope Wakamo had lost?

‘I don’t know.’

‘I don’t want to know.’

She acted on impulse.

And this time—

Silk was the target.

“Come now, reveal your true nature.”

Justifying it, as always.

‘I’ll expose her.’

‘Prove she’s no noble hero.’

‘Just another person.’

She repeated the excuse in her head.

Ignoring the real question she wanted answered—

“Can someone like you really exist?”

She lured Silk here, she provoked her.

“You came. The city’s hero—Silk.”

“…Wakamo.”

And now—

They meet.

***

Silk is strong.

This was something that Wakamo knew instinctively.

So to break her—no method was off-limits.

‘Call me a coward. Hate me.’

‘I’ll prove you’re just any other person.’

Ignoring the ache in her chest, Wakamo did what she did best—

Exploiting their weakness.

Heroes have enemies.

And Silk had many.

The underworld hated her.

Wakamo used that.

Provoking antipathy for the hero, whispering promises on taking revenge on her.

Most fell for it easily. All of them gathered here, in her hideout. All for one goal.

She let Silk track her, by openly revealing her location to the one who had been tracking her this whole time.

She’ll come.

And of course..

The hero walked into the villains’ den alone.

The sight of the  confident figure made her heart ache again, but Wakamo tried to ignore it and gripped her gun tighter.

“Prove it.”

‘Prove you’re really this city’s hero. Or just another human!’

That was—

The fox’s question.

***

“This was your trap?”

I scoffed, scanning the area.

No wonder my senses picked up so many presences. Wakamo had gathered every thug with a grudge against me.

All for little old me?

What happened to this being a school-life story?

More like noir with a splash of the superhero genre.

Ridiculous.

A small army, just to take me down—

“…Unbelievable.”

And me, actually considering it.

Click-clack.

Dozens of guns aimed at me. The sound of chambers loading. Hostile stares.

‘Can I do this?’

“I’ll have to.”

I took a deep breath and clenched my fists. This wasn’t just about punishing them. It was about proving myself.

Stronger enemies await. I need to master my power.

‘And this fight isn’t just mine anymore.’

Whirr—

A faint sound behind me.

Too quiet for normal ears—but I heard it.

The whir of a drone. A camera lens adjusting.

Through that lens—

Kivotos is watching.

There were many reasons for this.

But the biggest?

Simple.

If I win here, it will signify that justice has won.

People will hope again. Students will remember me. Someday, I’ll patrol all of Kivotos.

This is preparation.

A declaration.

“Come.”

I’m here.

If you dare cause chaos in this city— I’ll break your skulls.

That’s my message for Kivotos.