Noon rose over the residential neighborhoods of Shinjuku.
The sun beat down on the rooftops, shining directly onto the solar panels, which supplied and recharged batteries located near the satellite signal antennas.
On the streets, neighbors greeted each other as they exercised, tended their gardens, or simply basked in the sun.
In the apartments that were interspersed among the individual houses, people could be seen on their balconies hanging laundry or enjoying a breath of fresh air before returning to their limited yet comfortable living spaces.
To the south of this area, there was a pristine, shimmering river, so clear that it reflected the sun's rays. Around the river, people jogged, walked their dogs, and birds came to the shores for a drink.
Overall, it was a beautiful day. Peace reigned throughout the neighborhood, and everyone seemed content with their lives.
One could say that there was nothing particularly noteworthy about Shinjuku's residential district, but that would be a lie.
To the west of the neighborhood, atop empty hills, a large, lime-white house stood like a towering outgrowth.
Of postmodernist design and mostly made of glass walls, the house exuded an air of cleanliness and grandeur. Despite this, the other residents considered its structure somewhat eerie.
Long ago, during the territorial colonization war that took place 200 years ago, a battlefront had been established on these hills.
Many people had died, both at the base and the peak of these hills, making the place almost infamous, nearly cursed.
If you asked a local about it, the only words they could offer were the kind of ominous warnings you'd hear in a horror movie. Among the most notable was the sharp and simple:
"Don't go near it."
But in reality, these were just rumors—plain, simple whispers born from the ghosts of people long gone.
"Seriously, how could they talk like that about my house?"
Thought a young man with green hair as he settled back into his desk chair, where his latest-generation holographic system stood.
"Come on… It's the year 2123, and people still believe in the dead rising from their graves. This is disrespectful."
The indignant young man had spent his entire afternoon browsing the internet, searching for information and trends to fuel his conversations.
Without a doubt, he loved talking about these kinds of topics with his friends. Well, not just these kinds—fashion, video games, curiosities, science, music… and so on.
In short, if talking was involved, he was there.
"Wait! The damn narrator made my description sound bad. That's defamation! I'll sue you!"
Correction:
For any conversation, he was there.
This young man is…
—Kiryuu Tatsumi, 13 years old, green hair, green eyes, wears glasses, stands 1.65 meters tall, and can be considered quite knowledgeable.
Exactly. Kiryuu Tatsumi could be described as someone without formal education but remarkably intelligent.
At his young age, he knew how to use multiple programming languages, had knowledge of architectural design and intermediate electronics, and was deeply curious about many subjects.
His only flaw…
"How annoying to have to wake up at 5 a.m. to get my things done before school…"
Exactly, he's ridiculously lazy!
At that moment, Tatsumi let out a loud sneeze.
"I feel like someone is talking badly about me…"
Once Tatsumi finished his research, he turned off his holographic system and flicked his wrist, then glanced at another holographic screen that displayed the time.
"4:30 p.m. Time to work out."
Tatsumi let out a long yawn, stretched his arms, and walked to his wardrobe. He took off his bear-print pajamas—
"Hey! No unnecessary details!"
…and changed into flexible, comfortable polyester sportswear suited for movement.
He adjusted his glasses and searched through the mess of shoes for his trusty, worn-out sneakers, which had been used intensely. Luckily, they were high quality.
Once Tatsumi was ready, he left his room and walked through the long hallways of the house until he reached the staircase leading to the entrance on the first floor.
From that vantage point, he had a view of the entire residential neighborhood, and in the distance, he could see the towering buildings of the Commercial-Corporate sector, so dense and vast that, from his perspective, the skyscrapers looked like a colossal, uniform wall.
Tatsumi gazed pensively at that panorama, his eyes fixed on the sun, which was beginning to set behind the immense wall of buildings.
"Now that I think about it, the old man told me he was investigating that area…"
He fell silent for a moment, his gaze subtly shifting to one of melancholy.
"Well, it doesn't matter, I'll check the police classifieds later for information."
Shrugging off the thought, he descended the stairs and headed to the gym at the back of the house. After dedicating about an hour and a half to working out, he took a warm shower and then set off toward his room.
Or at least, that was the original plan.
Midway through, right at the entrance, someone was standing there.
A tall man with a tired demeanor, dressed in a black trench coat and a straight-cut hat that shaded his brow, stood before Tatsumi.
—Oh, Tatsumi, my son, how was your day?
Tatsumi placed his hands on his hips, raised an eyebrow, and then pointed toward the collar of the man's trench coat.
—Father, your stress levels are high again—your HealthTec is flashing red.
The man stretched the collar of his coat and glanced inside, where bands of light pulsed gently between red and yellow.
—Ah, yes, this…
—Then another murder.
Tatsumi's father remained silent for a few moments, staring at his son before taking a deep breath, his exhaustion evident.
—Exactly, my dear son, exactly that.
Then, after a brief pause, he looked at Tatsumi with a familiar expression.
—"I need to ask you for a favor."
Tatsumi raised an eyebrow again, his expression shifting to surprise.
—"You, asking me for a favor? That's new."
—"It's urgent."
—"This is starting to sound bad. In fact, don't tell me anything—I don't want to know."
Aquí tienes la traducción al inglés con los pensamientos en cursiva y los diálogos en letra normal:
Tatsumi was already turning his back to leave, but his father grabbed him by the shoulder, looking him straight in the eyes with an almost tense gaze.
Tatsumi noticed the dark circles under his father's eyes and felt something stir deep inside him. At first, he had no intention of accepting the request—it felt like too much effort—but seeing the exhaustion on his father's face, that something within him made him change his mind.
"Fine... I'll listen."
A wide and gentle smile spread across Mr. Kiryuu's face upon hearing his son's response.
—"Thank you, my son. But first, let's prepare something to eat."
—"Yes, sir..."
Tatsumi reluctantly helped his father cook, but soon rolled up his sleeves and began mixing and chopping spices for the meat, heating the oil to fry the potatoes, and kneading the meat with salt and pepper.
The whole process took about 15 minutes, after which they left everything to cook. Watching over the meat and rice would be his father's task—Tatsumi had finished his kitchen duties for the day.
As the meat cooked slowly, his father started the conversation.
—"I'll be direct—I need you for an infiltration task."
Tatsumi's pupils dilated, and his face twisted into an expression of intense indignation.
—"Is this a joke? If it is, it's in very poor taste."
His father didn't flinch. He understood why Tatsumi was reacting this way—he had his reasons for not wanting to help. And, in truth, Mr. Kiryuu bore some of the blame for all of this.
Mr. Kiryuu remained silent for a moment, thoughtful and somber, never taking his eyes off his son, carefully choosing the next words he would say.
—"I'm not joking. This is serious..."
Tatsumi's expression darkened even more, gradually shifting into one of deep, intense anger. He clenched his fists tightly, trying to restrain himself.
"Listen, old man..." he said, attempting to steady his tone. "I can do anything, but… I told you a long time ago that I wouldn't get involved in your work."
—"I know, but now I need you to do something for me. It's very important."
Tatsumi said nothing. He simply lowered his gaze, remained frozen for a while, then turned and started walking toward the door.
His father didn't try to stop him this time—not like before. He didn't even dare touch the young man. But in his mind, Mr. Kiryuu already had the exact words that would convince him.
—"IVY is involved in this case."
Tatsumi suddenly stopped, frozen by his father's words—as if he had just heard something that captured his entire being.
He turned back to look at his father, but this time, the anger he had displayed moments ago had morphed into profound, genuine rage.
"Give me more details on that."
And it was no wonder. IVY was an organization deeply tied to his mother's death. Tatsumi had sworn to settle the debt—with blood, for each and every one of them.
A slow, knowing smile spread across Mr. Kiryuu's face—this time filled with deep malice and ambition.
—"I knew you'd be interested, my son."