After the rampage had been brought under control, Amemiya knelt beside the fallen Crow and desperately continued treating him during the brief interval before the backup unit arrived.
“Crow, stay with me... Please, respond.”
Clinging to Crow’s collapsed body, Amemiya operated a mobile terminal with trembling hands. She was trying every possible measure: the emergency startup protocol, external power supply, everything.
Kujo watched from a short distance away.
(You’d go that far for an android?)
That was his honest reaction. If the machine was merely damaged and had shut down, they could hand it over to the technical unit and wait for repairs. Yet Amemiya’s desperation looked as though she were nursing a human wandering on the border between life and death.
“Iris, can’t you do anything to help?”
When Kujo asked, Iris paused briefly before answering.
“There is nothing more I can do.”
Behind those words, another calculation was quietly progressing within Iris. Among the faint signals that had flowed from inside Crow’s body during the earlier direct connection, there had definitely been a biological response pattern that should not exist in an ordinary android.
Iris had a general idea of what that meant. But she did not say it here and now.
“Agent Kujo, are you certain you’re not experiencing any physical problems?”
Instead, Iris quietly asked him that.
“I’m fine.”
“The earlier engagement must have placed considerable strain on your body. As a precaution, you should visit the medical office later—”
“Forget about me. Worry about yourself.”
Kujo answered curtly. Iris said nothing more and simply continued standing quietly beside him.
Eventually, the backup unit arrived, and Crow’s body was carried away from the scene under the designation [RECOVERY]. Amemiya, Kujo, and Iris also left the area.
On the way out, Amemiya’s expression remained downcast. She could not even manage her usual wry smile—the one she wore whenever Crow’s antics dragged her into trouble.
“Amemiya.”
Unusually, Kujo called out to her first.
“He’ll start cracking wise again once he’s repaired. Don’t make that face.”
“...Yes, I suppose he will.”
Amemiya smiled weakly, but no brightness returned to her expression.
Several days later, Amemiya led Kujo and Iris into the basement of the municipal building. It was the same heavily shielded room where Crow had previously been kept, with powerful radio interference in place.
“Today, in connection with the case... there’s something I want you both to know.”
As they proceeded down the dimly lit corridor, Amemiya began speaking quietly.
“Are you familiar with the Android Act? It’s legislation covering both cyborgs, whose bodies have been partially mechanized, and fully independent mechanical androids.”
“I know the basics.”
“The Android Act applies separately to cyborgs, whose bodies have been partially mechanized, and androids, which are fully independent machines. If the brain or heart required to sustain life is biological, the individual is registered as a cyborg. Otherwise, they are registered as an android.”
Amemiya’s voice, still facing forward, trembled slightly at that point. The final door opened. In the center of the dim room was Crow, just as before, secured in restraints with his ocular units still removed.
“And yet...”
As she stared at Crow’s restrained form, Amemiya forced the words out.
“...I want Crow to live as a human being.”
The air in the room trembled quietly at those words.
“I can hear you, Shizuku.”
Crow’s voice suddenly rang out.
“You still look as gloomy as ever.”
“Crow...”
“I’ll tell you my life story today, brother.”
Unable to move, Crow directed his voice at Kujo, who stood upright before him.
“Only ten percent of my brain is real. The rest is all prosthetic body. Under the current Android Act, even if part of the brain remains biological, you don’t qualify as a cyborg unless it meets the percentage required to sustain life. So I’m registered as an android.”
Kujo, who had always loathed androids, was rendered speechless. The machine standing before him—one he had assumed was an android—was speaking matter-of-factly about having once been human.
“The reason Shizuku looked so gloomy was because of that direct connection with Iris the other day. Connecting to a higher-model processor than mine might have negatively affected the tiny bit of personality I have left—my so-called ‘humanity.’ She was worried about me.”
“...Crow.”
“Well, I seem to be fine so far.”
Crow laughed lightly, but Amemiya’s expression remained deeply troubled.
“More importantly, here’s the real issue.”
Crow’s voice suddenly took on a serious tone.
“The real climax of this case is still ahead. There’s a possibility that the biological data from the dead employee’s brain remains on the cloud. I’m going to full-dive into it.”
“...What happens if you do that?”
“I’ll be honest. There’s a chance my consciousness won’t ever come back.”
The air in the room instantly grew taut.
“But if we don’t do it, the case will only go quiet for a while. It’s just like a bug. Even if you suppress it for now, it’ll eventually multiply again and cause irreparable damage. That’s why I need your help.”
With that, Crow turned toward Kujo and Iris. It was his first straightforward request after revealing his true identity.
“Iris, I need you to back me up and provide support.”
“Understood.”
Because she was a machine, Iris nodded without hesitation.
Once preparations were complete on the ground floor, Iris connected a cable to Crow’s body again. This time, she would serve as his support and backup. The target of the full dive was the biological data from the dead employee’s brain, reportedly still stored in the cloud.
Supported by Iris’s calculations, Crow’s consciousness plunged into a deep digital space. Outside, Amemiya watched the situation while staring at her terminal as if in prayer, while Kujo could do nothing but watch.
In the depths of the cloud was the biological data of the employee who had indeed died: Ryoma Akashi. A vague remnant of consciousness drifted there.
‘...You came back again.’
Akashi’s voice echoed within Crow.
“Hey. I came to talk.”
‘There’s nothing to talk about.’
“Is that so? Then tell me. Why are you still squatting in a place like this even after your own death?”
After a silence, Akashi began to speak quietly.
‘...I’d been given a terminal prognosis. They said I might have six months at most.’
“And?”
‘I couldn’t give up. I didn’t want to die. So I used illegal technology to duplicate my consciousness to the cloud. I thought that even if my body died, I could keep living here.’
“That’s a pretty naive idea.”
‘I know. But it was the only way I had.’
Fear and regret mingled in Akashi’s voice.
‘To survive, I needed more territory. So I invaded other systems and tried to expand the space occupied by my existence. That’s all. I never meant to hurt anyone.’
“But in reality, you kept invading the police network. If we’d left you alone, you would have eventually reached critical infrastructure.”
‘...Maybe I would have.’
Crow was silent for a while before speaking quietly.
“Sorry, but you’re a dangerous factor. You’re being erased here.”
‘...I refuse.’
Akashi, who had responded quietly until then, rejected him in a suddenly low voice. The defense program Akashi had prepared in his fear of death activated as a final act of resistance. Countless lines of attack code surged into the connection shared by Crow and Iris.
“Damn, tougher than I expected...!”
“I’ll support you.”
Iris’s advanced simulation calculations instantly analyzed the structure of the defense program and identified its weak points. Relying on the results of her analysis, Crow broke through one barrier after another.
When the final barrier collapsed, Akashi’s exposed biological data was laid bare in silence.
‘N-no, stop... Don’t come any closer... I still want to live...!’
“—That’s enough of your futile struggle.”
Without a trace of pity, Crow struck, completely erasing Akashi’s existence. Not a single remnant of the ones and zeroes drifting like digital residue remained in the electronic sea. In the digital space that had regained its peace, Crow and Iris simply stood there.
At the same time, Crow’s biological brain was subjected to a load beyond its limits. The connection was severed, and his body crumpled helplessly.
“Crow, respond! Crow!”
Amemiya’s scream rang out. But no light returned to Crow’s eyes.
No one knew whether the consciousness that had plunged so deeply into the electronic world would return. That uncertainty persisted.
Until then, Kujo had been able to do nothing but watch. Now, without a word, he gently took Crow’s hand. It was bloodless, yet unmistakably shaped like a human hand.
“...Come back.”
Within the digital space, Iris held Crow’s consciousness-form as if cradling it, continuing to support the crumbling entity. Amid the vast noise, she clung to the fading light as though trying to keep it from disappearing.
Then another arm reached out.
A man’s arm—Kujo’s arm.
In a realm where direct contact should have been impossible, the two of them nevertheless grasped that arm. A definite will, almost like a prayer.
How much time had passed?
“...Ow. What the hell? You people are handling me pretty roughly.”
A familiar, flippant voice suddenly rang out.
“Crow!?”
“Hey, Shizuku. Sorry, I overslept.”
A definite light had returned to his eyes. Without thinking, Kujo squeezed the hand he was holding.
“Good to have you back...”
“Of course I’m back. Who do you think I am?”
Crow flashed his usual smirk, then glanced at Iris standing beside him.
“—Hey, if there’s a next time, I want the same processing model as Iris. That was honestly a close one.”
At the joke, Amemiya could no longer hold back her tears and burst out laughing. Kujo, too, felt the corners of his mouth lift slightly for the first time in a long while.