It was 2013 in Tokyo, Japan. The streets were filled with employed men and women making their way to work, along with students rushing to school. Local business owners of supermarkets, restaurants, and cafes were beginning to open up for the day. It was a windy and cold morning, with snow gently falling, marking the season's chill.
The first train arrived at the station, and a man sat down on a bench, wearing no protection against the cold—no coat, no scarf. Snow piled on his shoulders as he sat motionless, unfazed by the freezing air.
People passing by stared at him strangely, whispering amongst themselves.
"Is he okay? Poor guy, his wife must have divorced him," murmured a middle-aged woman.
"Isn't he cold? If he stays there, he'll freeze to death. Is he stupid?" a man scoffed.
"Mommy, what's wrong with that guy? He looks really cold," a child asked innocently.
"Don't stare at him, dear. Come on, let's go," the mother replied, pulling her child along.
The man remained still, his gaze lifted toward the white sky. "Today makes six years since that day, huh," he muttered to himself.
A group of high school girls walked by, chatting amongst themselves.
"Hey, Hanako, did you finish the homework we got?" one of the girls asked.
"Yes, it was really challenging, but my dad helped me understand it," Hanako replied with a gentle smile.
"Oh, really? You have such an amazing father, unlike mine, who just sits around the house watching TV all day," another girl said, prompting laughter from the group.
As they continued walking, Hanako turned to her right and noticed the man sitting motionless in the snow. He had a blank expression, his body slowly being covered in white flakes. She quickly turned back, then suddenly started running.
"Hanako, where are you going?" one of the girls called out, concerned.
"Don't worry about me! I'll catch up with you guys later—see you at school!" she shouted before dashing toward the man. Holding her umbrella over his head, she hesitated before speaking.
"Um, mister, are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.
"Who knows? I don't feel anything right now but emptiness," he replied.
"Well, if you stay here any longer, you'll definitely catch a cold—or worse, freeze to death," Hanako said. "Here, hold onto this umbrella. I'll be right back."
She ran off to a nearby store, spending her allowance on a scarf, a warm jacket, and a hot meal. Returning to the bench, she brushed off the snow that had accumulated on him, then wrapped the scarf around his neck and draped the jacket over his shoulders.
"There you go. That feels much warmer, doesn't it?" she said with a smile. She handed him the meal. "Eat up. It'll not only keep you warm but also help you regain your strength."
"I wish I could stay longer, but I have school to attend. See you later, and please don't stay out in the cold too long," she said before walking off.
"Thanks for that, little girl," the man mumbled as he slowly started eating the meal.
Meanwhile, at a local police station, the air was tense with frustration. Officers and detectives scrambled to piece together information.
"Damn it! The bastard struck again, and we couldn't do anything about it!" one officer fumed.
"It's not your fault, kid. He's just too good at his work," a detective responded.
"Yeah, but this time, he actually took a life. We couldn't do anything to save these people. Makes you wonder what purpose we even serve as officers," another said bitterly.
"If we don't hurry up and catch this guy, this man won't be the last victim," a detective added.
A woman entered the office, her presence immediately commanding attention.
"What's going on here? What's all the commotion about?" she asked.
"Deputy Kirihara, you finally made it," an officer said.
"Chief Kurosawa, what's the status on those missing girls' cases?" she asked, her tone firm with concern.
"We still don't have many leads on their whereabouts, but that's not why I called you in today," the chief replied, his tone indifferent.
"What could be more important than finding out if these girls are still alive or what happened to them? In just one month, seventeen girls—ranging from high school to college—have gone missing. There's no way we can put the case on hold, not when there's a chance some of them might still be alive," Kirihara argued, dissatisfied with the chief's response.
"I'm not asking you to drop the case. I'm ordering you to. Now shut up and listen," the chief said sharply.
Over the past year, we've been receiving reports and photos of men who were either badly injured or killed, with no clear leads. After further investigation, we finally got a name."
"The name of who? And why is this person important enough for me to drop my case?" Kirihara demanded.
"Take a look for yourself," the chief said, tossing a stack of photos onto his desk.
Kirihara picked them up and gasped. "These are…"
"The person responsible for this beats men to a bloody pulp—sometimes beyond recovery. And he has a signature habit. He amputates the index finger and thumb of his victims," the chief explained.
"There have even been cases where he cuts off their genitals. He's quite the troublesome one," the chief added. "Just the other day, we found the lifeless bodies of ten men in a warehouse, all marked with his signature amputations. More or less, these deaths are connected to him."
"And you want me to track down a man capable of this much damage?" Kirihara asked.
"You won't be alone. You can request as many officers as you need," the chief reassured her.
"Do we have a name for this guy?"
"The surviving victims say he goes by the name Black Sparrow."
Kirihara exhaled, gripping the photos tightly. "I see… This is way above my pay grade, but I'll do my best to get this situation under control."
She studied the photos again. "What I wonder is… why does he only amputate these specific body parts? Is there something going on that only he knows?"