Chapter 1: Part II

The cold night breeze bites at my face as I speed through the streets of Tokyo, the hum of my motorcycle blending with the city's restless sinfonia.

For a single, fleeting moment, I feel weightless. Unshaked...

But still not free.

Flashy lights dance across my helmet's visor, painting the road in shifting shades of red, blue, and gold. The city never falls asleep — its pulse is erractic and yet steadfast.

I weave my way through the massive traffic, catching glimpses of passing lives. Young people lined up outside clubs, their laughter filling the streets. Office workers stumbling out of the bars, ties loosened, voices slurred. Annoying Western tourists gazing up at Shibuya's towering skyline, their eyes wide with wonder.

All these smiles and scowls. Flattery and embarrassment. Joy and resentment.

Is this what it means to be human? Or just a fleeting shadow on the wall, bending and shifting, existing only so long as the light allows?

The city roars on, indifferent. I tighten my grip on the handlebars.

And I keep riding.

...

I stop the engine and step off my motorcycle. The familiar scent of the harbor breeze mixes with the remnants of gasoline in the air. Shibaura — full streets, quiet waters, a part of Tokyo I've never really visited frequently. This is where my colleagues wanted to meet.

Slowly, carefully, I step into the bar.

And just like that, I become a shadow.

No one notices. No one turns. No one even spares a glance before forgetting I was ever here.

Everything is fine. Everything is yesterday. Everything is tomorrow.

"Hey, Yarikawa! Over here!"

I turn towards the voice and see Nakamura leaning against the bar counter, waving like we're close childhood friends finally meeting again after decades.

The other colleagues are standing around too, though none of them seem really interested in my arrival.

"Nakamura. Good to see you."

"Glad you came! Honestly, everyone always thought you were some grumpy hermit who spends his free time sulking in a dark basement — but look at you! You're actually social! I was believing in you! giggles"

"..."

"Anyway, first drink's on me. What do you want?"

"Whiskey."

"Ah, a man of taste! Bartender! Whiskey over here!"

I sit down, sliding a few yen bills across the counter, but Nakamura pushes them back.

"Oh, no, no, keep it. Think of it as the beginning of our comradeship!"

"No. Take it."

A sigh. He takes the bills, shaking his head. "You really are too good for this world, huh?"

"I wouldn't go this far."

"Oh, don't be so modest! You should be more proud of yourself sometimes, you know? Not only are you a good guy, but you're a damn solid worker. You get everything done efficiently, never complain, never distract, never look tired. We started this job on the same day, yet you're miles ahead of everyone. Honestly, I wanna be like you!"

"You... want to be like me?"

"Of course! We should all learn something from you!"

I take a slow breath, suppressing the emotion bubbling inside me. Should I laugh? Or Cry? This has to be the most idiotic thing I've ever heard.

My gaze shifts to the whiskey glass standing in front of me. My reflection stares back.

And then —

I laugh.

Not like the warm and social kind. The kind of laugh you'd hear from a deranged villain in some shonen manga.

"Uhh, Yarikawa? You good?" Nakamura asks, shifting uncomfortably.

I exhale, and settle back into my usual composure. "Yeah. Just had an interesting thought. Ignore it."

"clears his throat A-Anyways, my colleagues and I come here every Friday. You should join us more often! Would be great!"

Although he's nice — I'll give him that — he's damn exhausting.

"Let's see, I don't always have time, but maybe."

"Ah, that's my guy!" he grins excited, slinging his arm around my shoulders (which is pretty uncomfortable right now).

That's when I hear footsteps slowly approaching. A woman from my colleagues in a sleek black dress sits beside me, a glass of gin and tonic resting delicately in her hand: Aimi Inoue. Her long black hair falls smoothly over her shoulders. Silver earrings catch the low bar lighting, glinting subtly as she tilts her head. The final touch, her red lipstick — polished and striking.

"Ah, Inoue-san! Great that you join us!" Nakamura lights up — practically wagging his tail. I know exactly what you truly want from her, you little bastard...

She smiles, but in a way that hides amusement. "Yes, saw you guys having a good time." Her eyes turn towards the other group.

"The others are so boring! Just political and economic chatter. Aren't we supposed to be enjoying ourselves?"

"Exactly! The old folks just don't get it! You've come to the right guys!"

I arch an eyebrow. Old folks?

For the record, the others are maybe 30 to 35. I am over 30 too. Nakamura is 25 and seems to think that it makes him invincible to time. You little gnome, age will catch you one day too...

However, Inoue-san lets out a soft laugh.

"Nakamura, are you serious? giggles I'm already 30 too, you fool!"

The color drains from his face, showing everything. Shock. Embarrassment. Self-loathing. Idiot, realizing you've just called the woman old you're crushing on to her face?

"O-oh! Hehe, crap, I forgot! I'm so sorry!" He bows dramatically, his hands instantly pressing together.

"Yarikawa's also over 30, right?! I—I didn't mean it like that, I'm such an idiot! You two are wonderful people!"

Inouse-san chuckles. resting her smooth hands on the counter.

"Relax, Nakamura, I'm not offended. It was quite funny actually."

He lets out an deep exaggerated breath of relief.

"G-Good, I mean, not good, you know what I mean! Please don't think I look down on you or anything! Inoue-san, you're incredibly attractive!"

I need to get out of this situation. Immediately.

"Going on the terrace for a smoke. Be right back."

Before Nakamura can say another word, I quickly push off the barstool and move towards the terrace.

Stepping outside, the cool night air greets me like an old friend. The Tokyo skyline glows over the pier, the shimmer reflecting in the dark water below.

One click. A drag from the cigarette.

I exhale.

For once, the weight on my shoulders feels just a little lighter.

Then, slow and gentle footsteps creep up behind me.

"Hey, mind if I bum a cigarette?"