Trio attack

The moon hung low over the sleeping city, casting long shadows across empty streets. In one of those shadows, a figure moved with inhuman grace, scaling the wall of a office building as if gravity was merely a suggestion.

Kenta paused at a window on the 14th floor, his lithe form silhouetted against the night sky. His heart should have been racing—any normal person's would be—but his pulse remained steady. He wasn't normal. He wasn't even human, not really. At least, that's what they had always told him.

With practiced ease, he disabled the security system and slipped inside. The office was dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of computer standby lights. Kenta moved silently toward his target: a heavily encrypted computer in the corner office.

As he worked, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He froze, years of training kicking in. But it was just his reflection in the window. For a moment, he stared at himself—pale skin, dark eyes that seemed to absorb the light. He looked human enough, but appearances could be deceiving.

A sudden, sharp pain lanced through his head. Kenta grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he saw not his reflection, but the ghostly image of a woman. She reached out to him, her lips moving in silent words.

The word slipped out before he could stop it, foreign and familiar all at once.

The image vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Kenta shaken. These... hallucinations had been happening more frequently lately. He shook his head, refocusing on the task at hand. He couldn't afford distractions, not when the fate of his people hung in the balance.

Minutes later, the computer yielded its secrets. Kenta downloaded the classified files and erased his digital footprints. Mission accomplished, he made his way to the window.

As he prepared to exit, a sound caught his attention—laughter, carried on the night breeze. Curious despite himself, Kenta peered down at the street below.

A girl was walking home, her step light and carefree. She paused beneath a streetlight, pulling out her phone. The light illuminated her face, and for a moment, Kenta forgot to breathe. Something about her tugged at him, a feeling he couldn't name.

The girl looked up suddenly, her eyes scanning the building. For a heart-stopping moment, Kenta thought she had seen him. But her gaze passed over his hiding spot, and she continued on her way, unaware of the eyes following her.

Kenta watched until she disappeared around a corner, an unfamiliar ache in his chest. He had a sudden, irrational urge to follow her, to learn more about her.

Instead, he leapt from the window, falling through the night air before landing silently on the pavement below. He had a mission to complete, information to deliver. There was no room in his life for distractions, no matter how intriguing.

And yet, as Kenta melted into the shadows, his thoughts kept drifting back to the girl's laughing face, illuminated in the glow of the streetlight. For the first time in his life, he found himself questioning the path laid out before him.

The city streets were a maze of concrete and steel, but Kenta navigated them with ease. His footsteps were silent, his movements fluid. To any casual observer, he would have appeared as nothing more than a fleeting shadow.

As he moved, Kenta's mind raced. The information he'd stolen was crucial—blueprints for a new defense system that could pose a threat to his people. But for the first time, he found himself wondering about the humans he was working against. Were they really as dangerous as he'd been taught?

The girl's laughter echoed in his memory, a stark contrast to the cold, efficient world he knew. What was it like to walk down the street without a care in the world? To laugh freely, without the weight of an entire civilization on your shoulders?

Kenta shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn't afford such distractions. He had a job to do, a purpose to fulfill. And yet...

A flash of pain seared through his skull, bringing him to his knees. The world around him blurred, replaced by fragmented images. A park. A basketball. The woman from before—his mother?—smiling at him. A man's voice, filled with warmth: "That's it, Kenta! You're a natural!"

The vision faded as quickly as it had come, leaving Kenta gasping for breath in a dark alley. These episodes were becoming more frequent, more vivid. And always, they left him with a sense of loss, as if he was missing a crucial piece of himself.

Kenta pulled himself to his feet, leaning against the cool brick wall. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. In. Out. Steady. He was a weapon, honed to perfection. He couldn't let these... hallucinations... compromise him.

And yet, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered: What if they're not hallucinations? What if they're memories?

The thought was dangerous, bordering on treasonous. Kenta pushed it away, straightening up. He had a mission to complete. The rest could wait.

As he neared the rendezvous point, a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of the city, Kenta's senses went on high alert. Something felt... off. The air was too still, the silence too complete.

He approached cautiously, every muscle tense. As he reached for the door, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He spun, dropping into a defensive crouch.

"Well, well," a voice drawled from the shadows. "Look what we have here."

Three figures emerged from the darkness, their faces obscured by masks. Humans. Armed.

Kenta's mind raced. How had they known? Had he tripped some hidden alarm? Or was there a leak in his own organization?

"Hand over the data, freak," one of the figures growled, leveling a gun at Kenta's chest.

For a moment, Kenta considered his options. He could take them—probably. But not without risking damage to the data he carried. And if he engaged, he risked exposure. His mission parameters were clear: avoid detection at all costs.

Decision made, Kenta feinted left, then sprang right. He vaulted over a stack of crates, using them as cover as he sprinted for the exit.

Gunshots rang out behind him, bullets splintering wood mere inches from his head. Kenta didn't slow down. He burst through the door and into the night, his feet barely touching the ground as he ran.

He didn't stop running until he was miles away, hidden in the depths of an abandoned subway tunnel. Only then did he allow himself to catch his breath, his mind whirling with questions.

How had they known where to find him? And why did the sound of gunfire feel so... familiar?

As Kenta leaned against the cold tunnel wall, he realized that his carefully ordered world was beginning to unravel. And at the center of it all was a laughing girl under a streetlight, and the strange, unfamiliar feelings she had awakened in him.

Little did he know, this night would mark the beginning of a journey that would shake the foundations of everything he thought he knew.