---May 17, 2016
---At Shinagawa Tokyo, Japan
The office was bathed in sunlight, casting long shadows across the cluttered desk where Head Officer Fujikawa sat. He had dozed off, his head resting on a stack of newspapers, the articles still unread. Suddenly, the door swung open, and Suzuki entered, looking slightly flustered.
Fujikawa glanced up, his expression stern. "What is it, Suzuki?" he asked, irritation evident in his voice.
Suzuki straightened his posture, adjusting his uniform before speaking. "Sorry to disturb you, sir, but there's someone on the phone. They say it's urgent."
Fujikawa sighed, reaching for the phone reluctantly. "Who is it?"
Suzuki handed him the receiver, and Fujikawa pressed it to his ear. "This is Fujikawa," he said, his tone brusque.
A voice crackled through the line, sending a jolt of surprise through Fujikawa. It was Takashi, the face plastered on billboards across the city just two days ago.
"Fujikawa," Takashi's voice was calm but firm,
"I need to speak with you."
Fujikawa's brow furrowed in confusion. "Takashi? How did you—"
But before he could finish his question, Takashi cut him off. "Listen carefully. There's going to be a surprise later today. You and your officers need to be ready."
Fujikawa's mind raced with questions, but before he could voice them, the line went dead. He stared at the receiver in disbelief, a sense of urgency gnawing at him. What surprise could Takashi be talking about? And how did he know about it?
Turning to Suzuki, Fujikawa's expression was grave. "Get the team together. We need to be prepared for whatever's coming."
---Meanwhile...
---May 17, 2016
---At Itabashi Tokyo, Japan
In the dimly lit room, Ryujin adjusted his black hat and heaved his packed backpack onto his shoulder, resolute but trembling slightly with the weight of his decision. Across the room, Kenji appeared to be sleeping, his breaths deep and steady.
---Until...
But as Ryujin's hand touched the doorknob, a sharp click of a gun being cocked spun him around.
Kenji was standing, his eyes piercing, a gun pointed directly at Ryujin.
"No one's surrendering, Ryujin. That's not our way out."
Ryujin's heart raced, "Kenji, listen—"
But Kenji cut him off, his voice laden with intensity. "Listen? After everything we've done? Walking into a station would just be another type of ending for us!" His finger twitched on the trigger.
Trying to calm the situation, Ryujin took a cautious step forward.
"It doesn't have to be like that. There's a chance to make things right—"
"Make things right?" Kenji's voice rose, filled with scorn.
"Look at us, Ryujin! There's no right left to make. We passed that point a long time ago."
In a desperate move, Ryujin lunged at Kenji, hoping to disarm him. They crashed to the ground, struggling for control of the weapon. Kenji landed a harsh elbow to Ryujin's back, knocking the wind out of him. As Ryujin gasped for air, he saw the gun slide across the floor.
Kenji scrambled towards it, but Ryujin, driven by a mix of fear and adrenaline, reached it first. Clutching the gun, he closed his eyes briefly, wishing for a moment that reality could be undone. When he pulled the trigger, the sound was deafening.
---3 years earlier...
--January 9, 2013
---At Shinagawa Tokyo, Japan
Memories flooded back painfully. They had once sat together on a bridge, beers in hand under the starry sky. Kenji, the new recruit, nervous yet eager.
"Come on, Kenji. You gotta have guts if you're going to roll with us," Ryujin had said, laughter in his voice as he nudged Kenji's shoulder.
Kenji had laughed too, a bit uneasily. "I'll get there. With you leading, I'm sure I'll toughen up soon enough."
---Present day...
Ryujin slowly and hesitantly opened his eyes to see Kenji standing, a look of shock on his face as blood spread across his chest. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, lifeless.
Dropping the gun as if it burned him, Ryujin's hands shook violently, tears streaming down his face as he crawled to Kenji's side.
"I'm sorry, Kenji. It was never supposed to end like this..." he whispered, his voice choked with grief. His friend's silence was a stark, painful reply. The echo of the gunshot rang in Ryujin's ears, a haunting reminder of the path they had chosen, now culminating in irrevocable tragedy.
Ryujin paused just a moment, looking down at Kenji's body, the pool of blood growing around him. His face was a mask of anguish and resolve as he tossed the gun away with a clatter that echoed through the empty room. Shaking, he grabbed his backpack, adjusted his hat with a determined tug, and didn't look back as he left the house, the door banging shut behind him.
---Meanwhile...
---May 17, 2016
---At Shinagawa Tokyo, Japan
Across town, the atmosphere in a secure conference room was charged with a heavy tension. Fujikawa, the head officer, sat at the head of a long, sleek table, surrounded by his top lieutenants and senior officers. The walls, lined with soundproofing panels, cocooned them in a silence that was broken only by Fujikawa's deep voice.
"We've had contact from Takashi," Fujikawa announced, his voice steady despite the undercurrents of urgency.
"He's hinted at something big, a 'surprise' he plans to unleash. This could be a pivotal moment for us."
An older officer with medals and ribbons adorning his uniform leaned forward, skepticism etched across his seasoned face.
"Do we trust this? Could it be a diversion?" he asked, his voice gruff with experience and not a little suspicion.
Fujikawa met his gaze, unflinching.
"It's a risk, but one we may need to take. His actions have been bold, not covert—this fits his pattern."
A younger officer, her hair pulled back in a severe bun, tapped her pen against her notepad, a frown creasing her brow.
"And if it's a trap for us instead?" she interjected. "We should consider that we're playing into his hands."
"Which is why we'll be setting our terms," Fujikawa replied, spreading out a map across the table.
"We'll prepare for multiple scenarios. If he's planning something at a public location, we need evacuation protocols ready, sharpshooters in place, and undercover agents on the ground."
The room buzzed as officers began to speak all at once, suggestions flying as they plotted coordinates and scribbled down tactical approaches. Fujikawa raised his hands, calling for silence.
"Listen," he said, his voice commanding attention.
"This isn't just about capturing Takashi or preventing another public spectacle. This is about restoring order, maintaining public trust. We cannot afford to let him—or anyone he might be working with—get the upper hand."
A seasoned officer at the end of the table nodded solemnly. "What about the media coverage? If this goes sideways, it could turn into a PR nightmare."
"We manage the narrative," Fujikawa asserted.
"Keep them informed enough to stay on our side, but not so much that they complicate the operation."
As the meeting drew to a close, the officers stood, a unified front of determination and apprehension. Fujikawa's final words hung in the air, a somber reminder of the stakes involved.
"Stay sharp, stay calm, and be ready for anything. We end this, one way or another."
The officers dispersed, each carrying the weight of the coming confrontation, aware that the next move could define their careers—and perhaps much more.
---Some time later...
An hour after the intense confrontation, Ryujin stood on the platform at the train station, his mind swirling with the day's events. The station was bustling with the usual crowd, but he felt isolated, wrapped up in his thoughts and the recent violence. He boarded the next train to Shinagawa, hoping the journey back to his hometown might offer some solace, some escape from the chaos.
As the train doors slid shut with a mechanical hiss, a prickling sense of familiarity crept up Ryujin's spine. He glanced around, his eyes catching a glimpse of a figure in a black hood on the other end of the train. It was Takashi. Ryujin's heart skipped a beat as their eyes met for a fleeting moment before Takashi looked away, his gaze piercing even from a distance.
Ryujin took a seat, his body tensing as the train began to move. The rhythmic clatter of the rails echoed his racing thoughts. He knew that Takashi's presence wasn't a coincidence. The air between them was charged, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tensions.
Minutes ticked by slowly, each stop a reminder of the inevitable confrontation waiting at Shinagawa. Ryujin ran through possible scenarios in his mind, each more daunting than the last. The silence of the journey was a stark contrast to the storm brewing within him.
As the train neared Shinagawa, Ryujin prepared himself, straightening up in his seat. He could feel Takashi's eyes on him from across the car, a silent challenge. Ryujin's hands clenched into fists, his breath steady but heavy.
The train pulled into Shinagawa, the announcement over the intercom momentarily cutting through the tension. Ryujin stood, his legs slightly unsteady. He didn't look back as he stepped off the train, the cool air of the early evening brushing against his face. He knew Takashi would follow, and whatever was to come, he would face it head-on. The familiarity of his hometown brought no comfort, only the stark reality of the decisions that lay ahead.