Chapter 3: Flashback
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Sora is back on patrol, walking the sterile streets of the city. The ever-present hum of Unity Network drones fills the air as they hover over the populace, scanning for deviations or signs of rebellion. The world feels mechanical, lifeless, an atmosphere he has grown used to but never truly embraced.
As he rounds a corner, a flickering light catches his attention. One of the surveillance drones is malfunctioning, its movements erratic and its usual monotone hum replaced by sharp, grating sounds. Sparks sputter from its chassis as it hovers in place, its cameras spinning wildly.
Curious, Sora approaches, his hand resting on the hilt of his enforcer baton. He crouches to inspect the device, but as he gets closer, the flickering intensifies. Suddenly, the drone emits a distorted burst of data—a fragmented projection of images, sounds, and distorted voices.
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For a moment, Sora feels a wave of dizziness as his mind is assaulted by fleeting images:
A girl with long, dark hair laughing under the sunlight.
A pair of small hands reaching for his.
The sound of carefree laughter echoing through a lush garden.
The images are blurry, like faded photographs, but the emotions they stir are sharp—warmth, joy, and something deeper, more intimate. Sora staggers back, clutching his head as his breathing quickens. He doesn't recognize the girl, but the feelings attached to the memory feel undeniable, like a piece of himself long forgotten.
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The glitch in the drone serves as a catalyst, pulling Sora into a vivid flashback. The sterile city fades, replaced by the vibrant colors of the Hoshino mansion's garden.
Young Sora, no older than ten, is playing hide-and-seek with a girl his age—Aiko, the daughter of one of the household maids. The two of them run through the sprawling gardens, their laughter filling the air. Aiko's dark hair bounces as she darts behind a tree, her mischievous grin daring Sora to find her.
"I found you!" young Sora exclaims, grabbing her hand. Aiko giggles, tugging him toward a small pond where koi fish swim lazily.
"You're too slow," she teases, sticking her tongue out at him.
The moment is innocent and carefree, a stark contrast to the cold, controlled world Sora knows as an adult.
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The warmth of the moment is shattered by a sharp voice.
"Sora."
Both children freeze as Daichi Hoshino strides toward them, his imposing figure casting a long shadow. His expression is stern, his piercing eyes locking onto his son.
"What are you doing here, wasting time?" Daichi's voice is cold, his tone laced with disappointment. He glances briefly at Aiko, his disdain barely hidden. "And with her, no less?"
Sora steps forward, his small frame trembling but defiant. "We were just playing—"
"Enough," Daichi cuts him off, his voice like a whip. "You are not a common child, Sora. You carry the Hoshino name, a name that demands respect and discipline. Associating with servants is beneath you."
Aiko lowers her gaze, clutching the hem of her dress. Her cheeks flush with shame, but she doesn't say a word.
"But she's my friend," Sora protests, his voice breaking.
Daichi's expression hardens. "Friendship is a weakness, one you can't afford. Come with me."
Without another word, Daichi grabs Sora by the arm and drags him away. Aiko watches them go, her figure growing smaller and smaller in the distance.
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The warmth and laughter of the flashback evaporate like a wisp of smoke, leaving Sora standing in the cold, empty street. The dull hum of the Unity Network's surveillance drones overhead returns to his ears, a stark contrast to the vivid garden of his memory. His breath clouds in the frigid air as he stands motionless, heart pounding in his chest.
The name lingers in his mind, like a whisper from a distant life. Aiko. He mouths the word silently, testing it, as if saying it aloud will bring clarity. But no clarity comes—only a sharp ache in his chest and the vague sensation of something important slipping through his fingers.
His eyes fall to the broken drone at his feet. It lies motionless, the occasional spark sputtering from its cracked shell. Kneeling, Sora picks it up. The once-sleek device now feels oddly fragile in his hands, its weight heavier than it should be.
He inspects it closely, noticing the network insignia etched into its surface. The glow from its core has dimmed, but faint remnants of its data screen flicker sporadically, showing corrupted lines of code and fragmented text. One phrase catches his attention:
"Protocol Override Detected.
Sora's brows furrow as he stares at the broken machine. Why now? he wonders. Why am I remembering her?
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Standing up, Sora glances around the street. The area is eerily quiet, the usual rhythmic flow of controlled citizens and patrolling enforcers conspicuously absent. For a fleeting moment, the city feels… different. Foreign.
He shakes his head, trying to steady himself. It's just a glitch, he tells himself, though the thought rings hollow. Glitches in the Unity Network were exceedingly rare, especially for something as meticulously maintained as the surveillance drones. Yet this one had not only malfunctioned—it had triggered something within him.
He tightens his grip on the drone, his gauntleted fingers leaving faint impressions in its outer casing. Memories of the girl in the garden tug at the edges of his consciousness, but they remain fragmented, elusive. He catches flashes of her smile, her laughter, the feel of her hand pulling him toward the koi pond. Each fragment leaves him with more questions than answers.
Who is she? he wonders, his chest tightening. Why can't I remember her?
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Sora's communicator crackles to life in his ear, snapping him out of his thoughts. The clipped, authoritative voice of his commanding officer cuts through the silence:
"Hoshino, report. Your patrol is behind schedule."
Sora hesitates for a fraction of a second before responding. "Understood. There was a minor disturbance—a malfunctioning drone. Situation under control. Resuming patrol now."
He disconnects before they can question him further, slipping the drone into his utility pack. His gaze lingers on the empty street ahead, the towering buildings casting long shadows under the artificial light of the Unity Network's controlled environment.
For the first time in years, the weight of his position as an enforcer feels heavier than his armor. The certainty he once felt about his purpose—about the Network, his family, and his role in maintaining order—now feels fragile, as though a single touch could shatter it.
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As he resumes his patrol, the name Aiko echoes in his mind like a faint, persistent melody. Unseen by Sora, a surveillance drone hovers high above, its lens trained on him. A red light blinks twice before fading into the darkened skyline, transmitting data to an unknown recipient.
Sora moves forward, but his thoughts remain stuck in the past, the fragments of a life he can't remember beginning to stir in defiance of the Unity Network's control. Unbeknownst to him, the spark of rebellion has already begun—inside his own mind.
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The chapter ends with Sora taking the damaged drone to his quarters for further investigation. The flashback stirs something deep within him—a longing for the warmth and freedom he felt as a child, emotions long buried beneath years of training and duty.
Unbeknownst to Sora, the drone's malfunction was not random. Someone—or something—triggered the anomaly, setting in motion a chain of events that will force Sora to confront the truth about his past, his family, and the girl who once brought light into his life.