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The first time he sees Yamato again in the new world is, surprisingly, on television. He's on a live afternoon news special—something about a string of murders in Minato-ward—and Hibiki's in a coffee shop when he sees the program. He very nearly spits out a mouthful of his iced mocha at the sight of Yamato's face on the big screen, but manages to stop himself in time and swallows instead. Yamato on camera is as every bit as confident and arrogant as Hibiki remembers him to be in person, and from the way the news anchors shift in their seats and punctuate their sentences with awkward pauses, Hibiki knows that in whatever way Yamato has changed, his aura of intimidation has remained.
And Yamato has to have changed. Even if no one else has, Hibiki remembers. He remembers speaking to Ronaldo and Yamato, remembers that JPs is top secret—so secret that Dera-Deka went into hiding for learning about it. So secret that Ronaldo and Airi had to suffer for it.
So for Yamato to be on TV, with a caption that proudly bears his name and position, is proof that things have changed. It's proof that the world has changed.
Hibiki finishes up his drink as the news program continues on. Yamato's face is humorless, his words sharp, and clear disdain drips from every sentence. No, the murders weren't committed by human hands. Yes, it was the work of demons. No, he is not making outlandish claims without any facts to support them. Yes, JPs will take care of it and have it under control. No, he will not summon a demon on live television. And on and on it goes.
Around him, the other patrons are muttering about Yamato. Some are in disbelief that such a thing might be possible. Some are questioning JPs' position and influence in the government. Some are even talking about how beautiful the young chief of JPs is. Most, however, are dismissive—complaining about conspiracy theorists and a waste of tax money.
Hibiki sucks up the last few drops of his ice mocha and stands to leave. It is three in the afternoon, and Tokyo is experiencing one of the worst heat waves in over a decade. He's ditched his signature outerwear and color in exchange for a loose white tee and shorts, and the overpowering sunlight has caused him to wear a baseball cap outside.
In these clothes, he doesn't feel like he's dressed as himself, and a part of him wants to loiter around the TV station and wait until Yamato comes out. He wants to see if Yamato will notice him and see that potential that made Hibiki so valuable to him, or—in a world free of the immediate threat of Septentriones—if Yamato will simply pass him by, not even acknowledging him, viewing him as nothing more than a piece of civilian trash amidst a sea of garbage.
But it's hot, and Yamato, as the caption continues to display, is the chief of JPs. He lives in a world that Hibiki no longer has any connection to, and Hibiki doesn't want to bridge that gap. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
The air outside is suffocating. Hibiki quickly makes his way underground to the cool subway station, and towards home.