Tokyo, Shibuya Crossing – 8:00 PM
Rain didn't just fall in Tokyo; it drowned the city.
Thousands of black umbrellas surged across the intersection like a dark, shifting river. Neon lights from the towering billboards fractured against the wet asphalt, turning the world into a blur of distorted colors. The noise was deafening—a chaotic symphony of car horns, digital signals, and the murmur of a thousand pointless conversations.
The camera of the world focused on the crowd, but the crowd was faceless. Except for one boy.
Ren stood in the middle of the deluge. He held no umbrella. His black hoodie was soaked through, clinging to his frame, but he didn't seem to notice the cold. He wasn't looking at the people; he was looking at the sky.
"People say rain is the sky crying..." Ren's internal voice was a void—deep, calm, and utterly devoid of emotion. "Such a baseless metaphor. It is merely a cycle of evaporation, condensation, and precipitation. Just like humans. We are born, we make noise, and we evaporate. Everyone in this crowd is running a race, sprinting without knowing where the finish line is."
He lowered his gaze to the pedestrian signal. The red man stood still.
"Three... Two... One..."
The light turned green. The herd moved.
"Predictable," Ren thought, stepping forward with the mass. "The world runs on patterns. If you can see the patterns, you can become God. Or perhaps... the Devil."
Ren's Apartment, Tokyo – 9:30 PM
The room was consumed by darkness, save for the clinical blue glow of three computer monitors. The apartment was aggressively minimalist—no furniture, no posters, no personality. Just a chair, a high-end rig, and Ren.
On the center screen, a secure channel flagged JSIB (Japan Special Investigation Bureau) blinked open.
"Agent 201... or should I say, Ren." The voice on the call was heavy, roughened by years of command. It was Director Tanaka. "Have you read the file?"
Ren didn't look away from the scrolling data as his fingers danced across a mechanical keyboard. "File 404. Kozakura Village. Three missing persons in the last six months. Police reports cite 'Wild Animal Attacks.' The forensic data, however, suggests a different narrative."
"Explain," Tanaka commanded.
"Victim One: Tourist. Disappearance date: July 4th. Victim Two: Photographer. August 2nd. Victim Three: Hiker. August 31st," Ren recited from memory. "All three dates correspond to the New Moon of the lunar cycle. Bears and wolves do not consult the lunar calendar before hunting, Director. This is human. Someone following a ritual. Or someone... who knows how to utilize total darkness."
"That is why we are sending you," Tanaka said. "The local police are either bought or terrified. Your cover is ready. You go in as a transfer student. And remember, Ren... if you are caught, we do not know you."
Ren cut the call. The screen went black.
"Getting caught," Ren whispered to the empty room, "is not part of my calculations."
The Journey – 06:00 AM (The Next Day)
The transition was jarring. One moment, Ren was on the Shinkansen, watching the world blur by at 300 km/h in a sterilized, climate-controlled cabin. Three hours later, he was sitting in a rusted, rattling local train that felt like a relic from a forgotten era.
The carriage was nearly empty. An old man slept with his mouth open, and a woman hushed a crying baby.
"As we move away from the city, time dilates," Ren noted, opening a notebook. "The air composition is changing. Ozone levels are rising. And..." He sniffed the air slightly. "The smell of burning. Sulfur?"
He took a pencil and began to sketch. He wasn't drawing the scenic mountains outside; he was graphing the vibration patterns of the train car.
"The tracks are ancient," he muttered. "A jolt every forty seconds. Zero maintenance in the last five years. This village has been severed from the world."
The train screeched to a halt.
Kozakura Station – 11:00 AM
Ren stepped onto the platform. It was made of rotting wood, slick with moss. The train wheezed and departed, leaving him alone in a silence so heavy it felt physical. Dense mountains walled him in on all sides, and a strange, unnatural white fog clung to the ground.
An old Station Master, likely in his seventies, sat behind the ticket counter. He stared at Ren with wide, watery eyes.
"Go back, boy," the old man said, his voice trembling. "The next train is in twenty minutes."
Ren slid his ticket forward. "One-way."
"Those who come here... they belong to the soil here," the Master warned. "Kozakura is the village of forgotten people. A city boy like you won't survive the quiet."
Ren leaned in, analyzing the old man's face. "Quiet? Your eyes tell me you haven't slept in three days, old man. Your hands are shaking—not from Parkinson's, but from adrenaline. Fear. What exactly do you see on this platform at night?"
The Station Master recoiled as if burned. "Go... just go."
The Path to the Village – 11:30 AM
The walk was oppressive. Tall Cedar trees blocked out the sun, casting the dirt road in perpetual twilight. The only sounds were the crunch of Ren's boots on the gravel and the distant, harsh caw of a crow.
"This place is designed for concealment," Ren analyzed as he walked. "The wind direction is unnatural. No cell signal. Perfect."
He paused near a small stone Jizo statue by the roadside. A bright red cloth was tied around its neck.
"Jizo statues protect children," Ren observed. "The cloth is new. Someone prayed here recently. But for whom?"
Suddenly, the wind picked up. The trees groaned, their branches swaying violently. For a split second, Ren felt eyes on him from the deep forest. Not animal eyes. Something else.
He subconsciously bit his thumbnail.
"Let the game begin."
The Village in the Mist
The dense tree line finally broke, revealing the village below. Ren stood on the ridge, looking down into the valley.
Kozakura sat in a bowl-shaped depression, a cluster of black-roofed houses huddled together as if seeking warmth. A river sliced through the center, its water a murky, metallic grey. The village was unnervingly silent. No children played in the streets. No dogs barked. The only movement was the lazy drift of smoke from chimneys.
"The architecture looks Edo period, but renovated," Ren analyzed. "The layout is defensive. Every house faces another. A Panopticon structure. There is no privacy here; everyone watches everyone."
Ren pulled a small metal coin from his pocket, rolling it dexterously over his knuckles—a habit he used to focus his thoughts.
"The wind flows downward," he whispered to the wind. "If I scream from here, the sound will echo through the entire village. But if someone screams down there... the sound will never escape. It's a natural prison."
The Collision
Ren began his descent down the steep, narrow slope leading into the village. Deep ditches lined both sides of the road, promising a nasty fall for anyone careless.
Suddenly, a screeching noise echoed from around the bend—the sound of rusted metal grinding against itself, followed by a girl's panicked scream.
"Move! Mooove away! The brakes are broken!"
Ren slowed his pace and looked up. A girl was hurtling down the hill on a dilapidated bicycle. Milk crates strapped to the back rattled violently. She was wrestling with the handlebars, fighting for control, but the momentum was too great. She was heading straight for him.
Ren's vision shifted. The world turned monochrome. Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
[Calculation Mode: Active]
Object: Uncontrolled Bicycle.
Mass: Approx 65kg (Rider + Bike + Cargo).
Velocity: 42 km/h.
Angle of Impact: 30 degrees.
Option A: Dodge Right. Result: Safe. Rider falls into the ravine. Probability of rider death: 88%.
Option B: Brace for impact. Result: Blunt force trauma. Rib fracture.
Option C: Vector Redirection.
Time resumed.
Ren didn't flinch. Just as the tire was about to hit him, he swung his heavy travel bag with calculated precision, striking the handlebars at a specific angle.
The force didn't stop the bike; it redirected the kinetic energy. The bicycle swerved violently to the left, crashing safely into a large haystack by the road.
CRASH!
Milk bottles rattled but didn't break. The girl was launched into the air, landing with a soft thud on the dry grass.
The First Interaction
The girl popped her head out of the hay, spitting out a piece of straw. Her face was smudged with dirt, and she was panting heavily.
Ren stood nearby, calmly dusting off his sleeve. His expression remained blank.
"Am I alive?" She checked her hands, patting her chest. "I'm alive! Oh my god, I thought I was dead for sure." She looked up at Ren. "Hey, Mister! Why were you standing there like a statue? What if I had hit you?"
"If you had hit me," Ren said, his voice devoid of warmth, "Newton's Third Law implies the reaction force would have catapulted you into that ravine. I didn't save you. I let physics do its job."
The girl blinked, confused. "Physics? What?..." Then, a beaming smile broke across her face. "Wait, that means you saved me! Wow! You're amazing! Most people run away, but you were like... a ninja!"
Ren turned to walk away, uninterested in praise. The girl scrambled up and ran after him.
"Wait! I'm Aoi. I deliver this milk. You're new, right? I've never seen you before."
"My name is Ren," he said without stopping. "And I have no interest in conversation."
"Don't be like that! Look, you saved my life. I don't have money, but... take this!"
She pulled a small, slightly squashed packet from her pocket. A Sweet Bean Bun (Manju). "It's fresh! Made it this morning. Please, take it!"
Ren stopped. He looked at the bun, then down at her hands.
Observation:
Hands: Rough, calloused from manual labor.
Nails: Short and clean, but dirt embedded in the cuticles.
Shoes: The sole of her sneaker is split and held together by duct tape.
Conclusion: Extreme poverty. Yet, her generosity seems genuine. Or is it a distraction?
Ren took the bun. "Fine. We are even."
"Yess!" She pumped her fist. "By the way, Ren-san, where are you staying? Tsukimi Apartments? Be careful, Madam Koga is a bit scary!"
"Thanks for the advice."
As Ren walked away, Aoi's smile slowly faded. She watched his back, her expression turning serious. "Strange guy," she whispered to herself. "His eyes... they were empty. Like he wasn't looking at me, but reading me."
The Inn
Ren arrived at Tsukimi Apartments, a worn-down wooden building that smelled of old cedar. At the reception sat Madam Koga, a woman in her fifties with deep wrinkles and eyes filled with suspicion.
"You're the new student? Ren?"
"Yes."
"Unit 104. Use the side stairs. It's the last room. Dinner is at 7." She narrowed her eyes, leaning forward. "And listen... do not go out after 10 PM. This isn't Tokyo. At night... things roam here."
"Things?" Ren asked flatly. "Like bears?"
Madam Koga hesitated for a second. "Yes. Bears. And worse."
Ren took the key and went up.
The Scan
The room was sparse—tatami mats, a rolled-up futon, and a small low table.
The moment the door clicked shut, Ren's posture shifted. The 'student' vanished; the 'agent' emerged.
He pulled a small RF Detector from his bag and began to sweep the room. Near the floor lamp, the device beeped rapidly.
Ren unscrewed the lamp's base and found a small black chip inside.
"Model X-90. Russian technology. Old, but functional," Ren thought. "Madam Koga isn't just a landlady. She's part of the surveillance network."
He screwed the lamp back together, leaving the bug in place. "If I remove it, they'll know I'm not a normal student. Let it stay. I'll feed them the information I want them to hear."
He opened the window. The fog outside had thickened, swallowing the landscape. In the distance, near the edge of the forbidden forest, he saw the girl—Aoi. She had abandoned her bicycle and was walking toward the trees, holding a small bouquet of wildflowers.
"There's a 'No Entry' sign on that forest," Ren muttered, checking his watch. "Why is she going there? And who are the flowers for?"
He adjusted his cuff. "Investigation start. Target: Aoi."
The Sanctuary – 4:30 PM
Ren watched from behind the cover of a thick cedar tree, blending perfectly into the shadows.
Aoi was kneeling in front of a dilapidated, moss-covered shrine at the forest's edge. She placed the wildflowers gently on the cold stone slab. There was no suspicious activity. No secret exchange of information. Just a girl praying.
Ren narrowed his eyes, his mind whirring like a processor.
[Observation Mode]
Target: Aoi. Activity: Prayer. Duration: 12 minutes. Body Language: Relaxed. No signs of duress or deception.
Analysis: She isn't here for a clandestine meeting. She is remembering someone.
Aoi stood up. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, but a serene, gentle smile graced her lips. She looked up at the grey sky.
"Mom, Dad... a new boy came to the village today," she whispered to the wind. "He's strange. A bit like a robot. But he saved me. Maybe... maybe you sent him."
Ren heard her from the shadows. His eyes, usually dead and analytical, widened slightly.
"Orphan," he whispered to himself. "That explains the isolation. The hard labor. The resilience."
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. The sky roared with a crack of thunder, and heavy, freezing raindrops began to pummel the earth.
The Shelter – 4:45 PM
The sudden downpour forced Ren to abandon his cover and retreat to a broken bus stop shed nearby. Fate, it seemed, had a sense of humor—or cruelty—because Aoi ran to the exact same spot.
They stood under the leaking tin roof, trapped in a small, dry circle amidst the deluge. An awkward silence stretched between them, filled only by the drumming rain.
Ren stared out at the forest. Aoi wrung out her wet shawl, shivering slightly.
"Hey! Mister Robot!" Aoi laughed, wiping water from her face. "We meet again. Maybe the gods really do want us to talk."
Ren shifted slightly to the left, maintaining a calculated distance. "This is a coincidence. The gods have no hand in this. Atmospheric pressure dropped, precipitating rain, and we both calculated the trajectory to the nearest shelter. Simple logic."
Aoi stopped wringing her shawl and peered at him closely. "Why are you always so serious? Those frown lines on your forehead... you shouldn't have them at seventeen. It looks like you're carrying the weight of the whole world."
Ren turned his head. For the first time, he looked directly into her eyes without a filter. He searched for calculations, for hidden agendas, for lies.
He found only... care.
It was a foreign concept to him. He had grown up among criminals, liars, and spies. 'Care' was a variable he didn't know how to compute.
"Not the weight of the world," Ren replied, his voice softer than usual. "Just the weight of questions."
"Questions? Like math?" She rummaged in her pocket and pulled out the Manju bun she had offered him earlier. It was squashed and broken in half now. "I'm bad at math. But when I'm stressed, I eat sweets. It doesn't solve the problem, but it calms the brain."
She held out the broken half to him. "Here. Don't say no this time. Consider it a start to friendship."
Ren looked at the broken bun in her dirt-stained hand.
Hygiene Level: Questionable.
Nutritional Value: Negligible.
But he reached out and took it. And he ate it.
"It's... too sweet," he noted.
Aoi laughed, a bright sound that seemed to cut through the gloom of the rain. "Right? When life is bitter, you should eat something sweet!"
For a moment, the sound of the rain blurred into the background. Ren watched her laugh.
"Everyone in this village wears a mask," Ren thought. "Everyone is hiding something. Except her. She is an anomaly. She has no strategy, yet she smiles. I need to observe her more. Not for the case... but to understand this phenomenon."
The rain stopped as abruptly as it had begun.
"Oh! The rain stopped! Bye, Ren-kun!" She waved energetically, stepping out into the mud. "See you at school tomorrow? I do cleaning duty there, but I'm a student too!"
She ran off, disappearing into the lingering mist. Ren watched her until she was gone.
The Real Monster – 5:30 PM
After she left, Ren returned to the small shrine where she had prayed. He needed to verify the data.
The flowers were there. Everything seemed normal. But as he crouched down to inspect the base, a glint in the mud caught his eye. The heavy rain had washed away the topsoil, revealing something metallic wedged between the ancient tree roots.
Ren brushed the dirt away with a gloved hand.
It was a sensor. A high-grade, military micro-camera. And the lens was pointed directly at the spot where Aoi had been kneeling.
"A micro-camera," Ren whispered, his voice turning icy. "The village is surveilling her? Why put a simple orphan under high-priority surveillance?"
SNAP.
The sound of a dry twig breaking echoed from the deep forest. Ren spun around instantly, his body dropping into a combat stance.
Deep in the darkness of the woods, two red lights flickered on. They weren't animal eyes. They were sensors. They blinked once, scanning him—a cold, artificial gaze—and then vanished.
"So the tourists didn't disappear because of bears," Ren realized, standing up to his full height. His black coat flared in the wind. "Humans are being hunted by machines here. And that girl... Aoi... she is unknowingly at the center of the web."
He looked in the direction Aoi had gone. The cold, analytical look in his eyes was replaced by a flicker of resolve.
"You want to live a simple life, Aoi. But this village won't let you." Ren clenched his fist. "Don't worry. I'm here now."
Epilogue
The camera of the mind zoomed out, capturing the entire valley of Kozakura under the night sky.
On one side, Ren stood at the edge of the dark forest, a predator waiting to strike.
On the other side, inside a small, dilapidated house, Aoi hummed a tune as she prepared a meager dinner, completely unaware of the crosshairs painted on her back.
And beneath them both, buried deep under the soil of the village, a massive network of pulsating cables and dormant machinery hummed in the dark, waiting for a signal to wake.
"In this world, there are two types of people," Ren's voice narrated in the void. "Players and Pawns. The game has begun."
[End of Chapter 1]