Soul Drive: Ignition

Chapter 23: Daiki

Luck was on Daiki's side. A week before the scheduled release of Minako's attacker, he was transferred to the very prison where the man was held. Daiki's heart pounded with anticipation and a newfound sense of purpose.

"Justice will finally be served," he whispered under his breath.

Three days later, the man was found dead in his cell. His death was ruled accidental, as it appeared he had choked to death on one of his prison meals. As he stood over the lifeless body, Daiki vowed to end all the injustice plaguing the world.

"Minako," he murmured, "I'll make sure no one else suffers like you did. I promise."

-----

Daiki stood on the roof, his eyes locked on the tablet displaying the results of the building scan. The energy reading from the medical bay was puzzling – there was a definite radiation signal, but it wasn't strong enough to be a Mach and could be coming from another piece of medical equipment. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

"Guess I need to investigate further," he muttered, pocketing the tablet and making his way toward the stairwell. As he descended, memories of what had happened after he killed his sister's kidnapper flooded his mind.

-----

"Minako, I did it," Daiki recalled saying as he entered their home, expecting gratitude and relief to wash over his sister. Instead, her face twisted into a look of horror.

"You didn't," she whispered, taking a step back. "Tell me you didn't."

"I did it for you," he insisted, trying to explain the injustice that had driven him to take matters into his own hands. "The system abandoned you, but I couldn't let him walk free. I couldn't let him hurt anyone else."

"Daiki, you don't get it," Minako said, her voice shaking. "By killing him, you let him win. His poison seeped into you, into our family... and now you're a murderer."

"Minako, please..." Daiki pleaded, reaching out for her, but she recoiled from his touch.

"No!" she yelled, tears streaming down her face. "You did this for yourself, not for me. I never asked for this. I never wanted this!"

That moment had been their last conversation. The next day, Minako left without a word, leaving Daiki alone with his thoughts and the consequences of his actions.

-----

As he neared the door to the medical bay, Daiki shook off the painful memories and focused on the task at hand. With one hand on the door handle, he took a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever lay on the other side. He swung the door open and stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room.

"Who's in here?" Daiki called out, his voice firm but laced with curiosity. "Show yourselves!"

A handful of scared doctors, nurses, and civilians emerged from various hiding places, their faces etched with fear. Daiki knew that one of them could be the Mach user who attacked the embassy. But which one?

"Stay where you are," he warned, eyeing each one carefully. "I'm looking for someone, and I won't hesitate to do what's necessary."

As he studied the individuals before him, Daiki couldn't help but wonder – was this justice? The kind he had so desperately sought for his sister and himself?

The sharp smell of antiseptic permeated the air as Daiki moved towards the huddled mass of people, his boots echoing on the polished floor. He felt a shiver run down his spine – hospitals had always made him uneasy.

"Keep it together," he muttered to himself, forcing his thoughts back to the past.

-----

After Minako's departure, Daiki had thrown himself into his studies, a desperate attempt to escape the crushing guilt and loneliness that threatened to consume him. He took the bar exam and passed with flying colors, propelled by an unyielding determination to make a difference in the world – to bring justice where the system had failed.

As a prosecutor, Daiki was ruthless. Witnesses who refused to cooperate found themselves blackmailed; private investigators were paid handsomely to dig up dirt; even judges weren't immune to his machinations. The ends justified the means, or so he told himself.

"Justice must be served," he whispered, repeating the mantra that had guided him through countless legal battles. "I won't let them win."

His relentless pursuit of victory had caught the attention of the government, leading to a fateful meeting with Patrick Stark. The man was imposing, not just in stature but also in presence. Yet there was something about his manner – a blend of confidence and cunning – that made Daiki feel strangely at ease.

"Your record speaks for itself," Stark began, his voice low and measured. "But I know how you've achieved such success. You're willing to do what it takes to win – even if that means crossing lines others won't."

Daiki tensed, prepared to defend himself. But Stark simply leaned back in his chair, studying him with a keen eye.

"I need someone like you," he continued. "Someone who isn't afraid to use... unconventional methods to get results. That's why I'm offering you a position as our department lawyer."

"Using the Machs to enforce justice... it's a dream come true," Daiki murmured, recalling the awe he'd felt when Stark had first revealed the program to him. He hadn't hesitated to accept the offer, embracing the opportunity to take his crusade for justice to new heights – quite literally.

Later, he had requested to become a pilot himself. The thought of personally delivering what he believed to be true justice was intoxicating, and he couldn't resist the allure.

-----

"Please, don't hurt us," a trembling nurse pleaded, her hands clasped tightly together.

Daiki's brow furrowed, his gaze sweeping over each person in the room. The Mach user had to be among them. But how could he tell who was the culprit?

"Is anyone here injured?" he asked, focusing on action rather than intimidation. A few hesitant nods met his question.

"Show me."

As the small group parted, revealing a young man with a bloodied bandage wrapped around his arm, Daiki analyzed their reactions. His senses were sharpened, attuned to any hint of deception or malice.

"Everyone else, sit down and stay quiet," he ordered, his voice firm but not unkind.