_____[ POV: Jean Kurogane ]_____
Jean Kurogane. That was the name my mother gave me. And, as it seemed, the only true gift I ever received from her.
In my dream—or perhaps it was a nightmare disguised as a memory—I was back on that day. I was eight years old, sitting in the living room of our small house in Kyoto. My parents were arguing. Again.
"You destroyed this family, Itsuki!" my father shouted, slamming his fist on the worn wooden table.
"Me?!" My mother laughed, a bitter laugh. "You were never man enough to support this family, Hiroshi! I was the one carrying everything on my back while you drowned in debts and excuses!"
"That doesn't give you the right to betray me!"
"And you think I'm to blame for looking for something better? You're... you're flawed! And everything you touched ended up tainted by your incompetence."
They never noticed I was there, listening to every word. That day, I didn't cry. It wasn't the first time I felt invisible. Maybe because, deep down, I knew they were flawed too. Fragile. Like all of humanity.
The dream shifted to the train station. My father was holding my hand tightly as we walked. His palm was sweaty, and I knew what that meant: fear. He was trying to mask it, but I had already understood.
"Wait here, Jean. I'm going to buy you some ice cream, alright?"
He left me with a hundred-dollar bill in my hand. I watched him walk away, pretending to look for the ice cream stand. But instead, he turned the corner and never came back.
I already knew he would do that. I'd known since the moment he woke up that morning, nervous and hesitant. He wasn't capable of taking care of me. No one was.
I woke up to the irritating sound of my alarm.
Sitting up in bed, I rubbed my face with my hands. "So many years, and I still dream about it," I murmured to myself. I sighed, pushing the covers aside and heading to the bathroom.
Steam from the hot water filled the small space as I showered, my mind already adjusting to the day. Every detail of my routine was meticulously planned, like a clock I had built to function flawlessly. That's how I maintained control, as I had done ever since I was abandoned.
After getting dressed, I activated the retractable door to my room, which slid open with a faint mechanical hum. The pristine white hallway of the complex greeted me, illuminated by cold, efficient light.
"Good morning, Dr. Kurogane," said one of the technicians passing by, nodding respectfully.
"Good morning," I replied with a brief nod, without slowing my pace.
The top-secret complex in Hiroshima was a masterpiece of efficiency. On the surface, it operated as an ordinary hospital, discreet and unassuming. But beneath it, hidden from the world, lay the true heart of the operation: an advanced laboratory where science pushed the boundaries of ethics and morality.
As I walked, my mind wandered to the reasons that had brought me here. Since that day at the train station, my life had been a constant exercise in overcoming. I became obsessed with perfection, with understanding its nuances, with achieving it.
But there was one thing I had learned over time: those born flawed could never truly become perfect. Myself included.
And that's when I had my moment of clarity.
If perfection cannot be achieved, it must be created.
I dedicated my life to the study of molecular and cellular biology, seeking the answers no one else seemed capable of finding. Not for recognition—though it came in abundance. My awards, my titles, my reputation... All of it was irrelevant. They were merely steps on the path to my true ambition.
I reached the main laboratory door and scanned my identification. The panel blinked, recognizing me, and the entrance opened with a mechanical hiss.
Inside, the automatic lights flickered on, revealing a clinical and pristine environment. Screens and advanced equipment filled the space, each serving a critical function. I clasped my hands behind my back as I walked slowly toward the reinforced glass. My eyes immediately fixed on him.
E-001.
Three years had passed since I had removed that fetus from the incubator. Today, he sat before me, calm and composed in his reinforced cell. It was hard not to feel a wave of pride as I observed him. Tall and imposing at 1.88 meters, with fiery red hair that seemed to blaze like flames and amber eyes that stared at the world with an unnerving calm. He was not merely human. He was perfection made flesh.
For a moment, I allowed a faint smile to escape. My mind drifted back to the first few months after his birth. The rapid growth, the flawless physical development, the perfect absorption of nutrients—it was all meticulously calculated, yet witnessing it unfold was still... astonishing.
When we removed him from the tank, he was already self-sufficient. A being that defied the limits of human biology. Within six months, his intelligence emerged. He wasn't merely smart; he was extraordinarily quick to learn, anticipate, and even interpret our intentions. More than that, he was cooperative. Obedient. Calm.
But when he reached his first year, the revelation came—the very goal of Project BRUTE: Theriomorphosis. E-001 could activate the genes embedded in his DNA, reshaping his body at will. The hawk dragonfly's wings, expanding with lethal grace; the indestructible carapace of the diabolical ironclad beetle; the devastating fists of the mantis shrimp. Each transformation was flawless, without imperfections, and more impressively, he could revert to his human state without any signs of damage. I watched in fascination as he mastered every aspect of the genes I had so carefully configured.
The axolotl genes were the only constants. Passive, yet essential. Regeneration was always active, making him virtually immortal. Burns? Gone in seconds. Fractures? Healed before we could even document them. No injury was ever permanent.
Simply perfect.
The word echoed in my mind as I continued to observe him. He was reading a book now, turning the pages with a disconcerting tranquility. But this perfection, this symbol of my genius, had also drawn unwanted attention.
The Japanese government.
Since the project's initial success, they had monitored every step. At first, with scientific interest. Then, with military ambition. The war against the United States was escalating, and they saw E-001 as the ultimate weapon.
Thus, Operation Z was born.
It was impossible not to feel a mix of excitement and anxiety at the thought. The idea of deploying E-001 to Pearl Harbor as part of a preemptive strike was grand, yes, but also a gamble. He had been tested, and his military results were impeccable. However, battlefield application would be the true test of his perfection.
I pressed my lips together, my thoughts conflicted. Part of me was eager to prove to the world that my creation was infallible. The other part, more cynical, knew they were reducing E-001 to something far smaller than what he truly was. They saw him as a tool. I saw something more: a solution.
"Dr. Kurogane," the voice of an assistant called, interrupting my thoughts. "The operations team is ready for the Operation Z briefing. They've requested your presence to discuss the final parameters."
"Tell them I'll be there in five minutes," I replied, without taking my eyes off E-001.
The assistant nodded and left, leaving me alone once more with my creation.
I approached the glass, studying him more closely. He didn't lift his eyes from the book, but somehow, he seemed aware of my presence.
"E-001," I murmured, knowing he wouldn't hear me. Or perhaps he would; with him, it was never easy to be certain. "You are the culmination of everything this world should be. They want you to be a weapon, but you're more than that. You're the answer."
At last, he lifted his eyes, those amber irises locking onto mine. A wave of something indescribable passed through me in that moment. He said nothing—of course, he rarely spoke—but his gaze seemed deep, as if he understood something beyond what any of us could articulate.
I turned, heading toward the meeting.
My mind was clear. They could use E-001 for whatever they wanted, but the outcome would be the same: absolute success. After all, he was perfect, and perfection does not fail.
_____[ POV: Third Person ]_____
The meeting room was steeped in a tense, almost palpable atmosphere. Around the long, dark wooden table, high-ranking military figures exchanged formal words and serious glances, the weight of war etched onto every face. At the center of the discussion, Admiral Yamamoto, as composed as ever, maintained a rigid posture, exuding authority. His presence was almost suffocating, a blend of calculated coldness and relentless determination.
When the door opened and Jean Kurogane entered, an absolute silence fell over the room. All eyes turned to him. Kurogane greeted them with a subtle bow before taking his designated seat. Despite his lean frame and non-military appearance, he commanded the same respect. Perhaps it was the weight of his brilliant mind or the aura of someone who had transcended the limits of science.
As soon as he sat down, the meeting began.
A younger officer initiated the briefing, describing the current state of the war. Detailed maps were projected onto the wall, illustrating the scope of the conflict and the presence of American naval forces in the Pacific.
"Although we've managed to hold some strategic positions, the United States continues to reinforce their lines," he said, pointing to critical territories in Southeast Asia. "If we don't act swiftly, they'll have time to consolidate their forces and launch a devastating counterattack."
Others chimed in, describing the challenges faced, ongoing strategies, and allocated resources. Yamamoto remained silent through most of it, merely observing.
When he finally spoke, his voice cut through the air like a blade.
"The United States is no ordinary enemy," he said. "They have superior industrial capacity, and their response power cannot be underestimated. Even with the forces we've assigned to Operation Z…" He paused, letting his words sink in. "I still believe we face a significant chance of failure."
A murmur of discomfort spread through the room. Yamamoto raised a hand, silencing them.
"That's why we are turning to Project BRUTE. E-001 represents our best chance to ensure the success of this strike. Not merely as a weapon, but as a surprise factor the Americans won't anticipate or be able to counter."
He turned his gaze to Kurogane—a cold, almost clinical look that made the scientist raise an eyebrow.
"Kurogane-san, we are aware of the test results. Tell us exactly what we can expect from E-001 in the field."
Kurogane adjusted his seat, interlocking his fingers atop the table. He noted how Yamamoto referred to E-001: not as "him," but as "it." To the admiral, E-001 was a tool, an object.
"E-001," Kurogane began in a deliberate tone, "is the culmination of decades of genetic research and experimentation. He combines the best traits of various species, each chosen for their unique abilities. His strength, speed, and resilience surpass anything a human or machine could achieve. He can adapt rapidly to any environment or combat situation, utilizing controlled mutations of specific genes."
He paused, letting the information sink in before continuing.
"More importantly, he is intelligent. This isn't about enhanced reflexes or programmed instincts. He can evaluate situations, understand strategies, and act independently. Previous tests have shown that E-001 can eliminate multiple targets simultaneously with extraordinary precision and speed. His regenerative abilities ensure that he continues to operate even under extreme damage—assuming anyone even manages to breach his defenses."
The officers exchanged glances, and Yamamoto tilted his head, contemplative.
"And does he… obey?" the admiral asked with a slight tone of skepticism.
Kurogane allowed himself a faint smile.
"E-001 is cooperative. He understands commands and executes them flawlessly. However… his intelligence should not be underestimated. He is not a robot, Admiral Yamamoto. He is something more. Something that transcends humanity."
Yamamoto narrowed his eyes, studying the scientist for a moment before responding.
"Something more? We don't need something more, Kurogane-san. We need a weapon. A tool. Something that can guarantee victory without room for error. The attack on Pearl Harbor will be our most decisive move in this war. And E-001 will be the key to it."
The words were cold, cutting. To Yamamoto, E-001 was a means to an end—nothing more. Kurogane had known this from the start, but hearing the admiral verbalize his reductionist view made him tighten his fingers against the table.
"I understand your perspective, Admiral," he replied, keeping his voice controlled. "And I assure you, E-001 will not fail. He is the manifestation of perfection, and his presence at Pearl Harbor will not only ensure the success of Operation Z but also prove to the world what we are capable of."
Yamamoto nodded, satisfied with the response.
The meeting continued with further logistical details about deploying E-001 and integrating him into the strike force. While the officers discussed, Kurogane remained silent, his hands folded in front of his face.
He knew Yamamoto saw E-001 as a weapon, a disposable tool. But Kurogane had another vision. This attack would be more than a military strike. It would be a demonstration of E-001's monstrous greatness.
After all, perfection bows to no one—not even to war.
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10:24 AM, December 7, 1941
The salty breeze of the Pacific was thick with smoke, screams, and the deafening roar of explosions. The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor was in full swing. Chaos reigned over the once-calm Hawaiian waters, now tainted with fire and burning oil. In the skies, squadrons of Japanese bombers buzzed like angry bees, unloading their payloads onto the moored ships. The sounds of war formed a symphony of destruction—antiaircraft guns roared, planes erupted into flames, and sailors fought desperately to extinguish fires or rescue comrades.
For a moment, it seemed that Japan had achieved its objective. Most American warships were severely damaged or sinking. However, when the USS Enterprise appeared on the horizon, followed by the aircraft carriers Lexington and Saratoga, everything changed.
American forces, bolstered by the arrival of carrier-based aircraft, launched a devastating counterattack. Fighter and torpedo bomber squadrons emerged seemingly out of nowhere, like hungry predators. Japanese antiaircraft defenses, already overwhelmed, began to falter. Admiral Chūichi Nagumo, watching from the deck of his carrier Akagi, witnessed the American advance with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw.
Aboard the USS Enterprise
Captain George D. Murray, commander of the carrier, barked rapid orders, his voice loud and steady despite the chaos around him.
"Get all the Hellcats in the air now! Defensive formations around the Saratoga!"
From the deck, Grumman F4F Wildcat fighters began taking off in quick succession, their propellers slicing through the air with a metallic roar. Pilots exchanged brief nods before vanishing into the horizon, ready to face the Japanese forces.
"Alright, you damned Japs," Murray muttered through gritted teeth as he monitored the battle on radar. "Let's see how you handle our payback."
Aboard the Japanese Fleet
On the Akagi, Nagumo gripped the railing so tightly his knuckles turned white. He knew the American counterattack posed a serious threat. The initial advantage was slipping through his fingers. The arrival of American carriers wasn't part of the plan. They were a variable no Japanese strategist had anticipated.
"Damn it!" He slammed the railing again, the sound echoing across the command room.
"How did they get here so fast?" Nagumo growled, lowering his binoculars. "This wasn't in the reports!"
"Admiral," an officer approached, wiping sweat from his forehead, "our bombers are continuing their attacks on the American bases, but the carrier fighters are forcing us to divert resources. The situation is becoming unsustainable."
Nagumo clenched his teeth and turned sharply to the communications operator.
"Send the message to the Ki-54. Release BRUTE. Now."
The young cadet in charge of coded messages hesitated, his face pale.
"Admiral," he began, his voice trembling, "the use of Brute... hasn't been authorized by High Command. They only permitted its transport for emergencies—"
"This is an emergency, cadet!" Nagumo roared, his voice muffled by nearby explosions. "If we don't control this battle, we'll lose our strategic advantage. Send the message now!"
The cadet swallowed hard and quickly began tapping the code into the transmitter.
In the Air – Tachikawa Ki-54
Inside the small adapted transport plane, the atmosphere was grim. The Tachikawa Ki-54, originally designed for training, now carried the deadliest of passengers: E-001.
Sitting on one of the side benches, E-001 observed the cabin's interior with a vacant stare. He wore a plain uniform with no insignia. Despite his calm appearance, there was a slight tension in his muscles, like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.
One of the Japanese officers onboard approached him, his expression a mix of urgency and fear.
"E-001-san," he began hesitantly, "the situation has changed. The American counterattack is gaining momentum. We've been instructed to release you."
E-001 didn't respond immediately. He simply tilted his head slightly, absorbing the information. Finally, he stood, his imposing height filling the space between him and the officer.
"Understood." His voice was calm but carried an authority that seemed disproportionate to the chaotic environment around him.
The crew began preparing the side hatch. E-001 was to be deployed in a combat zone near the USS Lexington, where his mission was to neutralize the American fleet from the inside out.
On the Battlefield – USS Lexington
Aboard the USS Lexington, Lieutenant Commander Charles Henderson coordinated the air defense against Japanese attacks. The Wildcat fighters were managing to repel the enemy assaults, but he knew the battle was far from won.
"More bombers on the radar, sir!" shouted one of the operators.
"Prepare the anti-aircraft batteries. We'll shoot them down before they get close!"
But something caught Henderson's attention. On the horizon, a small Japanese plane, seemingly harmless, was flying low, evading the radar. It was unusual. He squinted, trying to make sense of it.
"What the hell is that?"
The Tachikawa Ki-54 continued its approach, now just minutes away from its release zone.
Tachikawa Ki-54
Inside the plane, the hatch was open, and the wind howled, whipping through the interior. E-001 was now in position, ready to jump. He looked toward the horizon, where the USS Lexington awaited, like a lion in the heart of a storm.
His muscles tensed as he activated the genes of the Falcon-Hawker Dragonfly, feeling the translucent wings emerge from his back. The structures vibrated lightly, adapting to the wind. His amber eyes glowed with an almost supernatural intensity as he prepared to enter the battlefield.
"It's kind of ironic to have to fight against my own country," he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible against the roar of the wind.
With a single motion, he leaped from the hatch, his wings spreading wide. Like a crimson comet, he tore through the sky, shockingly breaking the sound barrier as he dove toward the USS Lexington.
The war was about to change its shape, and the true strength of E-001 was about to be revealed.
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(A/N: Okay, I'm having a lot of fun writing this fanfic. I just threw the MC into the middle of a war in the first few chapters lol, but that was to be expected from a government project. In the Killing Bites story, there was very little government involvement, which was almost absurd considering the chaos the hybrids caused, and yet the police or military never showed up—it feels like they're in a generic hentai world. Anyway, the MC's development in the fanfic will take another 2 or 3 chapters before I introduce him into the canonical storyline. I don't want to just have him go around killing without any backstory or a solid objective. So, I ask for your patience; I'm cooking something up and promise to deliver something good for most of you.)