In the peak of night, a blur of movement dashed through the rooftops of Japan. A group of individuals, cloaked in black, followed their target from above. Below them was a businessman who walked alone on a silent street, his pace steady but each step filled with anxiety. He clutched a briefcase tightly, his eyes darting nervously from side to side. As the businessman turned into a dimly lit alley, he was met by 3 shady men.
Words were exchanged in hushed tones, the briefcase's contents a mystery. Above the rooftop, the cloaked figures observed with keen eyes, like predators watching their prey. With a subtle nod from one of the leading figures, a signal was made to the others. Without hesitation, the cloaked members dropped down from the rooftop. They struck with deadly precision, the bodies of the four men falling to the ground simultaneously.
"The target has been neutralized...", a female voice stated, her tone calm and collected.
The figures then vanished into the night once more—the only evidence of the violent encounter is the lifeless bodies hidden in the darkness of the alley.
7:30 a.m., September 16, 2022...The early morning sun rose over the city of Fukuoka, casting a warm glow through the curtains of a small apartment. In the corner of the dull room, an alarm clock chimed, signaling a new day for 17-year-old, Kurashi Ito. His darkened eyes slowly open as he gradually reaches over to turn the alarm off, sliding off of his futon and shuffling towards the bathroom entrance. His gaze fixed into the mirror, his emotionless eyes and messy black hair reflecting at him before showering. Turning on the faucet, Kurashi allowed the cold water to fall on his lean frame, lost in the sound of the water falling from above. After showering, brushing his teeth, putting on his school uniform, and grabbing his bag, it was time for him to leave for school.
Throughout Kurashi's life, he lived with quiet detachment, a routine he followed without purpose. His apartment was bare—no photos, no personal items, nothing to indicate that someone truly lived there. It was just a place to exist.
The silence of the apartment was broken when the door was opened, and the outside sound of the city became prominent. Hands in his pockets, he walks down the apartment stairs to the parking lot where the bike rack is located. Kurashi pulled the bike from its resting place, and the journey to school began. The travel was accompanied by the hum of distant traffic and the occasional chatting of others. Kurashi moved through the city like a ghost, blending into the background noise of a world that seemed to rush right past him.
As he arrived at the school gates, Kurashi parked his bicycle with the same practiced efficiency, walking past his fellow students, their voices a distant murmur that barely registered within his consciousness. The bell then rang, signaling the start of another school day, as Kurashi made his way to the back of the class. The classroom buzzed with activity. Gossiping girls talking about their plans after school, and boys absorbed in their conversations, laughing without a care in the world. Yet Kurashi sat in silence, his gaze fixed on the window.
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As the day unfolded, Kurashi continued his silent journey through the corridors of his high school. Unseen, unheard, he stepped through the lively environment of teenage existence to his last class. Clouds started to gather over the city by this time, and raindrops slowly slid down the classroom windows. The class was almost over when the light rain turned to heavy downfall not long after. The outside world was now blurred, the view from his window now distorted by the downpour. The bell then rang, signaling the end of the school day, and Kurashi stood up to leave. At the main entrance, he takes his phone and shoes from his locker and leaves the school. In the pouring rain, Kurashi grabbed his bike and went on his way back home. The city was painted with grey. A blurry haze from the rain diluted his senses.
Home emerged from the gray curtain of rain as he parked his bike. After walking up the apartment stairs, he opens his door, escaping the storm behind him. He changed out of his damp school uniform into something more comfortable, putting on black pants and a blue hoodie. After a few hours of settling down, he turned his attention to the corner of his apartment where cardboard shipping boxes were stacked. He walked over slowly and opened one of the boxes. Inside, only two items remained: a worn-down journal and a carefully folded piece of paper. Kurashi picked up the journal, unfastening the strap to see what was written inside.
"Son, if you are reading this, it means it's time for you to know the truth. I can't explain everything, but I want you to read this carefully. You possess something that ordinary people do not; you come from a clan that holds power far beyond human capabilities. I understand it's hard to believe, but this is your destiny. To assist you, I had someone create a map for you. Let it guide you, and remember that I will always be with you."
It made no sense to him. Kurashi had never known his dad, nor did he understand how this journal ended up in the box. The boxes were used for storing clothes and other items that Kurashi had never touched.
Kurashi looks back at the neatly folded paper in the box and replaces the journal with it. After unfolding the map, there was a vague outline of a region drawn with a small dot inside it. He got up, walked to his desk, sat in the chair, and opened his laptop. After a few clicks, Kurashi found what he was looking for.
"Hida Mountains...", Kurashi said in a quiet monotone voice.
After quickly getting up from his desk and unloading his schoolbag, Kurashi slips the empty bag over his shoulders, grabs his phone, and walks out the door. "12:17 a.m." the phone displays as Kurashi descends the apartment stairs. The rain had diminished to a drizzle as he made his way through the narrow streets, his silhouette blending with the shadows cast by the dim streetlights. The only thing accompanying him was the sound of the constant drumming of raindrops on his bag. For a split second, Kurashi felt an instinct that someone was following him. He looked over his shoulder but saw nothing, so he continued walking.
Upon reaching the convenience store, the bright neon lights reflected off the wet pavement. As Kurashi entered and walked down the aisles, his mind was in a haze. What was the meaning of the journal? How did it get in the box? There were many unanswered questions. After picking up a few essential goods, he walked to the front to check out. The bell above the door jingled as he stepped back into the rainy night, his face partially shielded by the hood. With the necessities for survival, Kurashi was now heading to the Hida Mountains.