He had gone missing and left his parents behind, and now his mom...he couldn’t even imagine what his father must have gone through.
Hayate had expected his parents to have died of old age but never anticipated that his mother had taken her own life. It was him who made his mother despair. If he hadn’t disappeared, she wouldn’t have killed herself. He had no one to blame but himself. Hayate closed his eyes, as the guilt, anger, and sadness washed over him. He desperately wanted to rewind time, to go back in time and stop it from ever happening but even through he knew 500 spells, had hundreds of items. Sadly, he had no such magic to go back in time. What was the use of such great power when he couldn’t even get what he truly wants.
Hayate felt lost, defeated. He was powerful but powerless. He had all the strength in the world but was utterly incapable of helping those he loved.
He wanted to cry, to scream but no tears came. Instead he felt an immense pain in his chest. A pain that he couldn’t shake off. And to make matters worse, the guilt would eat at Hayate with every passing day. He was responsible for his mother’s suffering. He knew he would blame himself and he knew he would continue to do it for the rest of his life.
After what felt like an eternity, Hayate finally stood up. Hayate couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to do something to distract himself. He couldn’t bear to stay in this house any longer. He would go crazy if he remained here. He left his parents’ room without even a second glance, leaving the his diary and certificate behind alongside some photo’s on the bed. He would collect them later.
Hayate power walked out of the room and ran straight for the door to exit the house. As soon as he walked out the front door, the cold wind hit his face, causing his hair to sway and the snow fell gently on his shoulders, as if trying to console him. Hayate didn’t pay it much attention as he couldn’t feel the cold.
He took a deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs. He wanted the cold to numb his feelings, to ease his suffering even if for a moment. As he looked up at the grey sky, a sense of emptiness washed over him. He felt alone in the world.
Hayate needed an outlet. Without warning, he let out a powerful kick, targeting the ground with all his force. The force of his kick made the snow covering the ground tremble and shake as if an earthquake had just struck and it send snow flying up into the air. Despite the snow covering the ground, Hayate was certain that his kick had left cracks in the earth.
It was a reminder of his immense strength, a strength that felt alien to him. He was not accustomed to such raw power. The force of the impact had been incredibly strong. He had not meant to put that much power into his kick, it was an impulse. He had simply wanted to vent his fury and frustration, and it had manifested in a burst of raw, uncontrolled strength.
As he stood there, Hayate couldn’t help but laugh. “Ha..ha..ha,” It was an emotionless laugh, devoid of any real humour. Hayate had forced the laugh out of his dry throat, the reason for this laugh was one he didn’t know. Perhaps, it was because he was laughing at himself or he was laughing at the absurdity of his situation. The absurdity of being able to shatter the ground with a simple kick, the absurdity of having powers beyond human comprehension. The power he possessed was both a blessing and a curse.
He couldn’t understand why he had done something so pointless, but perhaps it was a way of his mind trying to process the pain. Even laughter was better than crying, wasn’t it?
As he was staring at the ground lost in his thoughts, he was interrupted by the arrival of the doppelganger. In its human form, Hiroshi, it approached Hayate and bowed in front of him, paying his respects to his creator.
Hayate felt a pang of annoyance at the sight of Hiroshi’s doppelganger. He didn’t want to be disturbed by its presence, especially at a moment like this. “What do you want and what’re doing here? Didn’t I tell you to keep an eye on the mercenaries?” He snapped, feeling a sudden urge to punch the doppelganger.
Despite his anger, he couldn’t help but find irony in his words. Perhaps he was just venting his frustration and anger on his doppelganger, since he couldn’t take it out on himself. His anger gave way to a weary sigh, as he slumped down into the snow. The wind blew gently, causing the snowflakes to dance around him. Hayate sat in silence for a moment, his eyes fixed on the sky above. There was something beautiful about the snow, how it could blanked everything and make the world appear pristine and unmarred.
The doppelganger’ spoke.
“I was discovered and had to kill the mercenaries.”
The doppelganger’s words hit Hayate like a slap to the face. “Failed? The mercenaries found out about you and you killed them? What were you thinking?” He snapped as he rose to his feet. Hayate was not that surprised though. He had been foolish to expect that the mercenaries would remain oblivious to its presence for long. However, he had not anticipated the doppelganger’s ruthlessness. He had expected it to retreat and return to him with information, not to resort to murder. He couldn’t help but blame himself for the entire ordeal and he was angry.
“Why? Why would you kill them? I told you to keep an eye on them, not kill them!”
Hayate couldn’t understand why his doppelganger, a being he had created and given life, had acted in such a rash way. He had specifically instructed it to observe the mercenaries and report back, not to engage in combat or murder. The thought that his doppelganger could be so unpredictable was unsettling, to say the least. Hayate decided to probe further.
“Why did you kill them? Did they attack you first? And if they did attack you, why didn’t you retreat?”
The doppelganger remained silent for a few moments, as if its programming was calculating what to say. Eventually, it responded, its voice flat and devoid of emotion.
“They attacked me,” it replied simply. Hayate was unconvinced. Yes, they had been mercenaries, which technically made them killers too, but that was different. They were human, with families, lives, and futures. His doppelganger, on the other hand, was an entity he had created. It didn’t have anything of sorts.
Hayate let out a sigh in a mixture of exhaustion and exasperation. The situation was getting more complicated by the second. Hayate was not an idiot. He knew that the mercenaries had had no choice but to attack the doppelganger. They were killers, trained professionals who knew that the doppelganger was a threat to them. They acted on instinct and survival, something Hayate could not fault them for. They were mercenaries, but they were also human. They reacted exactly as he would have in their situation.
Still, there was no excuse for the doppelganger to kill them in cold blood. It had the means to retreat and escape, yet it chose to extinguish lives instead. Hayate couldn’t believe that he was feeling sympathy for some nameless killers, yet he couldn’t help but see them as the victims in this situation. There were families and loved ones waiting for them, and now they would never return. Hayate felt a surge of rage, mostly directed at himself.
He had been foolish to create the doppelganger without setting clear boundaries and limitations on its actions. He had simply given it life and let it loose with just a simple order. Next time, he wouldn’t do such a thing. However, right now, Hayate needed to focus on the present.
“And what did you do with the mercenaries’ corpses? Did you just leave them there?” After a pause, the doppelganger answered, it’s voice as emotionless as ever. “Yes, I left them there.”
Hayate ran his hands through his hair, his expression shifting to one of frustration and disbelief. It was foolish. No, foolish was an understatement. It was utterly careless to kill the mercenaries and not even bother to take care of their corpses. Who knew what might happen if they were discovered? A manhunt for the killers would ensue. Hayate didn’t know what technology was in this world right now but he had learned of neurochip’s a few moments ago from Hiroshi and if they were intact and could be examined he didn’t know but it wasn’t the best choice of options, even a dumb murderer back in his time would know to dispose of the bodies.
Still, it was too late to do anything now. Hayate knew that the doppelganger was unable to feel anything, neither regret nor empathy, so lecturing it would be pointless. It would not understand why his actions were wrong and it would probably do the same thing again given the chance. Hayate then came up with a plan in mind, he had the first mission for Hiroshi.
Hayate contemplated what to do with the doppelganger, who was now standing motionless, awaiting further instructions. Given the reckless and violent nature of the doppelganger, it was clear that it was not fit for any further missions or tasks. Hayate knew that he wasn’t the most virtuous of people, but he couldn’t stand to be in the presence of something that was so blatantly a murderer.
The doppelganger was about to say something but hayate cut it before it could even begin and clapped his hands. The doppelganger’ disappeared, no. It died.
Hayate felt a small pang of remorse, but immediately suppressed it. The doppelganger had been nothing more than a tool, a creation with no real consciousness or feelings.
Now he has to clean up this mess.
————————————————————
Hiroshi sighed, as he took one of the expensive wine bottles and placed it to his lips, drinking deeply before he set the bottle back onto the table. The wine was of excellent quality but it did little to lighten his troubled mind.
Hiroshi sat in a luxurious hotel room, staring blankly at the wall. This hotel was one of the most luxurious places in Neo-tokyo, with plush upholstery, soft carpeting, and elegant furnishings. The walls were adorned with high-quality reproductions of famous paintings, giving the space a touch of class but it didn’t matter. He sighed again.
He had once been a free man, a master of his own destiny. Now, he was serving a demon; a creature from deep within the depths of hell. And why? Just so he could survive.
It was a pitiful existence for Hiroshi. He was a victim and an accomplice of his own fate. He had willingly sold his soul to save his own skin. It was a selfish act, one that he would likely regret for the rest of his life. Hiroshi knew that he shouldn’t feel sorry for himself, but he couldn’t help it. He hated himself for his weakness but he was a coward. He couldn’t die there. He was afraid of death.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Hiroshi couldn’t stop thinking about Lucifer (hayate), his new master. He didn’t know what the demon’s plans were for him, nor did he care to know. Lucifer had made his role clear: to be his servant. Hiroshi was nothing more than a puppet in Hayate’s grand scheme. He was a means to an end, a tool for the demon to use as he saw fit.
Another thing Hiroshi was terrified of was Lucifer’s power. No, magic. He had witnessed first-hand the power and abilities of his new master. He had seen Lucifer teleport, use mind control, erase memories, and heal wounds with a snap of his fingers. All of these were beyond human comprehension, magic. Hiroshi had no idea what other powers Lucifer possessed, and he didn’t want to find out. The thought of what the demon could do to him or others made his blood run cold.
Hiroshi reached for a wine bottle on the table, not bothering to pour it in a glass. He lifted it to his lips and drank the sweet alcohol in one gulp. Some of it spilled down the side of his mouth, but he didn’t care. Hiroshi was in a bind. He was supposed to be in Yokohama right now, but instead he was sitting in a hotel room in Neo-Tokyo with a full wine bottle in his hand, dreading the thought of having to explain his situation to his superior. He contemplated what story to tell his superior, knowing that any explanation must be believable. Perhaps he could say that slum dwellers or gangsters from the slums near Yokohama had attacked him and the mercenaries, and that he had somehow managed to escape. But then, what about Kazu and the others? They were still alive, and he knew he needed to get to them before anyone else did so they didn’t tell a different story.
What a headache. Hiroshi took another swig of the wine, feeling the alcohol burn its way down his throat.
Just then hiroshi felt a strange feeling, as if someone was trying to contact him through his Neurochip. It was a familiar feeling, one he had experienced before when someone called him and his Neurochip activated. He knew that his Neurochip would normally activate at such a moment, giving him the identity of the caller. But Hiroshi felt nothing, his chip remained dormant.
Confused and startled, he did the only thing he could think of – he mentally picked up the call in his mind. And then, he heard the dreaded voice of Lucifer, saying “Hello?”
Hiroshi’s heart jumped to his throat as he heard Lucifer’s voice. He had hoped to never hear that voice again, but here it was, invading his mind like a sickness. He thought that since Lucifer didn’t have a neurochip. I mean who would implant it in someone like him. Instead, Lucifer was using some form of telepathy or magic to communicate with him directly. Hiroshi felt a shiver run down his spine. He hated the thought of being connected to Lucifer like this, but there was nothing he could do about it. He forced himself to respond, knowing that he had no choice. “Yes, master? What is it that you need?” He tried to sound as respectful as possible, but he couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice.
“those mercenaries who were with you have died. Dispose of their bodies and cover it up make up a story or anything you want.”
Hiroshi let out a deep breath as he processed Lucifer’s instruction. He had known deep down that those mercenaries were most likely dead, but hearing the confirmation in Lucifer’s cold, emotionless tone made him feel ill. “Yes, master, I’ll dispose of their bodies and make up a story to cover it up. Is there anything else you need?”
“No, that’s all for now. I’ll be in touch.” And with that, the voice was gone, disappearing from Hiroshi’s mind as quickly as it had appeared.
He felt bad for Kazu and the others who had worked for him, and he had a certain level of respect for them. He had hired them quite a few times, and maybe even considered them specially Kazu as a friend. And now they were dead. The thought made Hiroshi feel sick to his stomach. But in a way, it also made his lie easier.
Since they were dead, he could spin a story that they had all died while protecting him from the gangsters who had attacked them, and that he had managed to escape in the chaos.
He knew that this lie might not hold up under too much scrutiny, but he hoped that no one would ask too many questions. It would buy him some time, and perhaps he could think of a better plan later.
————————————————————
Sachiko was driving as fast as she could, tears streaming down her face as she pushed the limits of her vehicle’s speed. She couldn’t believe that everyone was dead, including Kazu, the man she had a crush on. He had stayed behind to buy time for her, a heroic act that she would always remember.
She was beyond the slums now, nearing Yokohama, where her friend lived.
She had lost everything.
She didn’t know what to do or where to go, but her friend’s house seemed like the only option.
After a while Sachiko finally arrived at her friend’s house in the Chinatown area of Yokohama. She parked her truck in a nearby alley and made her way deeper into it. Sachiko walked down the narrow alleyway, her footsteps echoing on the wet pavement. The narrow valley was small, squeezed between two medium-rise buildings that mostly housed apartments. She climbed up a flight of stairs and reached a smaller apartment floor with around eight doors. Without hesitation, she walked over to the first door, numbered 101, and knocked loudly.
“Please be home,” she whispered to herself as she waited. Anxiety rose within her as she wondered if her friend was even there. It was possible that she was out doing something or simply not home. But she had nowhere else to go.
Just as she prepared to knock again, the door creaked open, and her friend peeked out. “Sachiko?” He asked, his voice filled with surprise. The person who said that was Yamada sato.
Yamada was a young Police Officer in training and was 25 years old. She stood at an impressive height of 5’10”(which was a bit tall according to Japanese standards) and was a bit muscular, likely due to her regular exercise routine. She was a woman with pale skin, long purple-dyed hair which stopped just above her stomach, and purple lenses to match. On this particular day, she was wearing a black crop top shirt with a glitching heart design, revealing her midriff and showing off her pierced navel. The rest of her outfit completed the look, with the addition of black stockings that reached up to her upper thighs and a pair of black panties.
Yamada opened the door wider and gestured for Sachiko to come inside. “Sachiko, what are you doing here?” She inquired, her voice laden with concern as she stepped aside to allow her friend to enter. Sachiko didn’t even bother with a greeting. She pushed past Yamada and collapsed onto the couch, her body trembling with a mix of fear and sadness. Yamada was taken aback by her friend’s sudden arrival and state, but she quickly composed herself. She closed the door firmly behind Sachiko and approached the distraught girl cautiously.
Yamada nodded, “Of course, come in. Tell me what happened.” She led the way into her cozy little apartment, motioning for Sachiko to sit down.
Yamada’s apartment was a quaint one-bedroom space, modest in size. There was a small kitchen, a compact bathroom and a living room which was modest in size, with a worn-out couch positioned at its center. Facing an ancient 60-inch TV from around 2070 which was very outdated by modern standards. The atmosphere was warm, thanks to the integrated heating system, and the walls were adorned with projections of three-dimensional animated portraits. It looked quite tidy on the surface however, the mess on the floor told a different story. Clothes were scattered haphazardly across the room, and empty packets of various instant-cook foods and canned drinks littered the floor.
Sachiko followed her inside and perched herself on the edge of a couch. She took a deep breath, preparing herself to recount the harrowing events of the night. “It’s...it’s bad, Yamada,” she began, her voice shaky. “The mission went wrong...really wrong.”
As Sachiko was about to speak, Yamada rose from her seat and strode into the kitchen area, returning with two chilled cans of beer in her hands. She handed one to Sachiko. “It will help calm your nerves, girly.” She said reassuringly. “Drink up.” Sachiko accepted the can gratefully. The condensation from it chilling her fingers. She took a sip, feeling the cool liquid slide down her throat. The slight buzz she felt from the alcohol did seem to settle her nerves a bit. “Now,” Yamada said, sitting down next to her and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Tell me what happened. Let it all out.”
Sachiko nodded, taking another deep breath to steady herself. With Yamada supporting her, she recounted to her the events of the night, sparing no detail. She told her about the mission, the attack, the monster who killed them all, how it could shapeshift, the deaths of all her friends, and finally, the sacrifice Kazu had made to ensure she could escape.
When she finishes, she was in tears again. Her entire body trembling. Yamada put an arm around her, pulling her in close for a hug. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I know...i should say this..but are you sure it happened....Also you were in a mercenary group? Why didn’t you tell me!”
Sachiko nodded weakly, leaning into Yamada’s embrace. “Yeah,” she said miserably. “It really happened. And...and yes, I was in a mercenary group. I never told you because...well, it’s kinda dangerous, you know? I never wanted to put you in harm’s way too.”
“I’m a police officer in training for god’s sake.”
Sachiko hiccupped, feeling the exhaustion start to seep in. She was right—Yamada’s job was arguably as dangerous, but her’s was more risky. “Yeah, I know,” she murmured. “But still, I just...I didn’t want you to worry, or get involved in any way.”
Yamada stroked her hair soothingly. “It’s okay, Sachiko,” she reassured her. “You’re safe now.”
Yamada then withdrew a gun she kept hidden within the couch cushions. She waved it threateningly, her face hardened, as if daring anyone to mess with her or Sachiko.
Sachiko looked up at Yamada, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Is that your way of making me feel safe?”
Yamada shrugged, putting the gun away and laughing along with her. “What can I say? I take my home security very seriously, especially when a lady as pretty as myself is living alone.”
“Yeah, yeah, i get it, you’re a total babe. Now give me another beer, I’m gonna need it to get through this night.” Yamada chuckled, getting up from her seat to fetch another couple of cans from the fridge. She returned with them, handing one to Sachiko. “Now..don’t feel bad but..it’s really hard to belive your story..how can a..monster like that exist..”
Sachiko took a large swig of beer, wincing at the taste. “I know it sounds crazy,” she sighed. “But I swear it’s the truth. I saw that thing myself, with my own eyes. It was around 6ft tall. It could shapeshift, into a human too.” She shuddered as the memories flashed back into her mind.
She took another gulp of beer, her hand trembling slightly. “It was...terrifying...and strong...and super fast..Kazu was driving our truck at...140km/h..which was its top speed..and it somehow still managed to catch up to us.”
“It killed everyone so easily!” She burst out, slamming the can down on the table next to her spilling all the beer. “A few bullets weren’t even scratching it!”
“And that smell!” Sachiko continued, her voice wavering. “It was like decay..blood...rot! It’s still in my nose...” She shook her head, trying to clear the odour’s memory from her senses. “Ugh! I can’t take it...I feel sick...,” She buried her face in her hands.
Just then Sachiko felt a sharp pain in her neck, followed by a faint prickling sensation that spread throughout her body. She turned her head slightly, catching a glimpse of a small syringe in Yamada’s hand. Before she could say anything, her vision blurred and darkness engulfed her, pulling her into unconsciousness.
“What..?” was all she managed to mutter before succumbing to the drug’s effects.
She slumped forward slightly, her body limp as a rag doll. Yamada caught her, preventing her from falling off the couch. What Yamada had just injected was a strong anaesthetic that was usually used for dental procedures into Sachiko’s bloodstream, rendering her unconscious in a matter of seconds. She then picked up Sachiko’s unconscious form, draping her over her shoulder, and carried her to her bedroom, laying her gently on her bed.
Yamada sighed, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to the unconscious form of Sachiko. Yamada watched as her friend slept, her expression softening. Sure, she hated the fact that she had to drug her like this, but she had no choice. She needed to understand the situation and see what really happened.
Yamada then quickly connected a long, thin cable from her computer to Sachiko’s neuro-jack port which was in her nape. The connection was made with a soft beep, and the computer screen flickered to life as data flooded the display. This was a process called neuro-hack. It allowed Yamada to access to Sachiko’s neurochip and neural pathways so that she could review past events.
Yamada knew everything about hacking because of her late uncle. He was a cyber criminal...but she didn’t approve of it. However, his knowledge often came in handy. In fact, she learnt it mostly from him, visiting him every now and then, watching his actions while he taught her about it when she was in her early 20s. Unfortunately, that skill ended up being his undoing.
He had hacked into a major megacorp employee’s neurochip and managed to infiltrate their network. But somewhere along the line, he was traced and his location was discovered by the megacorp. Desperate to avoid capture, he had opened fire on his assailants. Caught in the exchange, he was killed by their return fire. After her uncle’s untimely demise, she eventually inherited his equipment and apartment, which she had converted into her cozy hideout.
This was a memory...best forgotten.