Tokyo – Midnight
The rain had been falling for hours.
It wasn't the kind that roared against rooftops or splashed angrily into puddles. No, this rain whispered—steady, patient, the kind that wrapped the city in a constant shroud of silver mist.
Above ground, Tokyo's heartbeat pulsed in neon. Streets shimmered under passing headlights, vending machines hummed on lonely sidewalks, and somewhere far away, a train cut through the night with a metallic scream.
But down here… there was only silence.
Arata's boots echoed faintly on the steel floor as he descended the last flight of service stairs.
The air was different—thick, cold, carrying the faint smell of rust and something far older. The kind of scent that clung to your throat.
He stopped when his flashlight beam landed on a massive sign:
• NOKRA Research Facility – Level 7
Authorized Personnel Only.
The paint was faded, and the metal frame was scarred with burns. A place like this shouldn't exist anymore. Official records said NOKRA shut down over a decade ago after a "containment accident." The entire underground complex had been sealed, condemned, and forgotten.
Only… Arata had found an access point.
And the message that led him here.
He adjusted the strap of his jacket, the faint creak of leather grounding him. The gun in his right hand wasn't for comfort—it was necessity.
He'd told himself he wasn't scared.
That was a lie.
The first hallway was long, lined with metal doors on both sides. Some were dented, others fused shut. Warning labels peeled away in curling strips. The low hum of dormant machinery vibrated faintly through the walls.
Arata's light swept over the faded hazard tape on the floor. "Biological Containment Zone – Do Not Enter."
He muttered under his breath, "Perfect place for a midnight stroll."
CLANG.
A sharp noise echoed somewhere deep in the facility.
Arata froze, gun raised, listening.
Silence.
He forced himself forward, careful with each step. The beam of his flashlight landed on a door marked Lab C-07.
The lock had been melted.
From the inside.
The air that seeped out when he pushed the door was colder, sharper—like stepping into a morgue. His light cut through the dark to reveal cracked glass pods lining the walls. Inside some, a thick red fluid sloshed sluggishly. Others were empty, shards glittering across the floor.
His boots crunched against the glass, the sound unnervingly loud in the stillness.
That was when he saw her.
In the center of the room, slumped against a broken pod, was a girl.
Barefoot.
Drenched in the same red fluid that leaked from the shattered glass. Her hospital gown clung to her small frame, the fabric torn in places. Long brown hair, tangled and heavy with moisture, hid most of her face.
Arata's pulse jumped.
She was breathing.
He approached slowly, gun angled downward but ready.
"Hey," he called softly. "Can you hear me?"
Her shoulders tensed.
No reply.
When he took another step, she flinched—not from fear of the weapon, but as if the sound of his voice had pulled her out of somewhere far away. Slowly, she turned her head toward him.
And for a moment…
he forgot how to breathe.
Her eyes—wide, glassy, filled with confusion and exhaustion—were the same as his.
Not just similar. Identical.
The exact shade of deep, storm-gray that people often told him was unusual. The same faint ring of gold near the pupil that he'd always assumed was unique.
It was like looking into a reflection.
Except she was a stranger.
And yet… not.
A flicker.
Not in the room, but in his mind.
A girl behind glass, pounding her fists against it.
Screaming.
Begging.
• "Please… don't forget me—!"
The memory—if it was a memory—was gone in a blink, leaving him rattled.
Her lips parted. Her voice was raw, barely above a whisper.
"…Arata?"
He froze.
He had never seen her before. He was certain of it.
So how did she know his name?
He crouched slowly, lowering the gun. "Who are you?"
She looked directly at him, and there was no hesitation in her voice when she said, "I… I don't know. But… you were the last thing I remembered before everything went dark."
The way she said it—like it was truth carved into her bones—sent a chill down his spine.
The lights above flickered violently.
A deep mechanical buzz shuddered through the walls. Then, a cold voice crackled from unseen speakers:
"Security breach detected. Termination protocol active."
Somewhere above, locks disengaged with heavy metallic clicks.
The facility was waking up.
Arata was on his feet instantly. "We're leaving."
"But—" she began, voice trembling.
"No time," he cut in. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet. She staggered, her legs weak, but her hand clutched his jacket with surprising strength—as if her body remembered trusting him.
Footsteps.
They weren't human.
Too precise. Too synchronized.
And they were getting closer.
Arata yanked her into a side corridor.
The walls here were narrower, lined with pipes that hissed faintly. Emergency lights pulsed red every few seconds, briefly painting her face in a glow that made her look both fragile and… dangerous.
Her voice came quietly as they moved. "Why are you helping me?"
He didn't answer right away.
Because he didn't know.
Finally, he said, "Because I couldn't walk away. Not from you."
A shadow moved at the far end of the hall.
Gunfire erupted.
Arata pulled her behind a wall, bullets tearing into metal with deafening clangs. Sparks showered in the dark.
The sound of hydraulics followed—heavy, armored units advancing.
They ran.
Through corridors where their footsteps merged with the mechanical pursuit.
Up rusted stairwells where each step groaned under their weight.
Her breath was ragged, but she didn't slow. Every time he glanced back, she was still there, clutching the sleeve of his jacket like it was a lifeline.
Finally, they burst through an emergency exit.
Cold night air slapped their faces. Rain poured harder now, soaking them instantly.
Tokyo sprawled ahead, glittering in the distance, oblivious to the monsters buried beneath its streets.
Behind them, somewhere in that labyrinth, doors slammed shut again. The facility was sealing itself. Hiding.
Arata's apartment – 1:30 AM
The small heater hummed quietly. Steam curled from two cups of tea on the low table.
She sat by the window, wrapped in a towel, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders. She stared out at the rain-slick rooftops, as if trying to remember what the world was supposed to look like.
Arata set a cup in front of her. "Drink. You'll warm up faster."
She didn't touch it.
Instead, she asked, "Can I… ask you something?"
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Go ahead."
She turned her head, meeting his eyes.
"Who am I?"
The question lingered in the air.
He could have lied. He could have told her something comforting.
Instead, he told the truth.
"I don't know. But I think… someone didn't want you to find out."
She studied him for a long moment, as if deciding whether to believe him.
Finally, she nodded slowly.
"Then let's find out together."
End of chapter 1