Juro Takahashi."
"You Japanese or somethin'?"
"No, I'm actually one-quarter goblin. But don't tell the big folk."
"Seriously?"
"..."
"No. My mom's Japanese and my dad's from here, San Francisco."
"Do you like living here?"
"...Sir, I was born here."
"Ah."
"I would love to talk more about country of origin, sir, but have you picked a drink?"
"Ah, yes! I'd like to have a uh..."
"Uh..."
"Take.. Take your time sir..."
"Alrighty."
"NO! DON'T TAKE YOUR TIME!! HURRY UP!!"
Juro Takahashi sighed loudly.
He wondered if all old people these days suffered from intermittent wifi outages in their brains, or if he just happened to attract the scatterbrained ones.
With a sigh, Juro's gaze roamed over the familiar decor around the small coffee shop as he waited. His mother's establishment was covered in a mishmash of anime prints, maneki-neko cats, and other memorabilia from her Japanese homeland.
Though she had passed some years before from an inexplicable heart disease, her passion lived on.
Juro's connection felt less tangible.
Despite his own heritage, he had no clue about the feudal-style weaponry decorating the walls. Much like his father - who somehow rocked a very serious topknot while selling custom furniture.
"Ah, yes! I'll have a coffee, black."
Juro gave his best salesman smile.
"Excellent choice! I'll get it ready for you sir."
____
Juro took off the large apron as he hung it on a closet wall which lay inside the employee room. Sighing, he then pulled his phone out as he looked at a text.
LUKE: 'come to the shed, fount something nice'
JuGOAT: 'Coming. Also you spelled found wrong'
Snagging an oversized croissant with his free hand, he lumbered through the cafe's kitchen and shut off appliances until reaching the front door.
Juro flipped the entrance sign to 'Closed' before stepping out into the evening chill, the overhead bell chiming his exit.
Zipping up a black bomber jacket bearing a Japanese streetwear brand logo, Juro took a massive bite of flaky pastry.
His mouth full, he set off down the sidewalk cracked with tufts of grass toward the outline of the city rising against the dimming sky.
Golden Gate Park wasn't too far out of his way, actually.
His breath clouded in front of him as he turned the corner, still gnawing on his massive croissant.
His side gig provided essential income beyond pouring coffee- made possible by his mysteriously ever-absent dad bankrolling the cafe he'd inherited.
Scavenging Silicon Valley castoffs was an easy job on paper: raid waste depot sheds, unearth e-trash diamonds-in-the-rough, and cash in. Though it sounded shady, Juro could rake in hundreds for rare computing relics obsessed geeks hoarded on eBay.
Approaching the most secluded shed, Juro swung the door wide to reveal his two connections huddled inside: Ada, a bookish ponytailed girl, and cheerful blonde-haired Luca, forever chasing the vintage tech dragon despite family money.
They circled like vultures over an artifact so bulky it might've walked here itself in a past silicon life. Juro choked down the last crumbs in time for Ada to flash him a sly grin.
"Dude...I think we found El Dorado. The power supply alone in this OG beast could jumpstart judgement day." Ada said as she adjusted her glasses.
Luca nodded sagely without looking up.
"If we part this ancient warrior out right, we may never need work again!"
"Sitting around all day while your dad pays for everything doesn't count as work." Juro pointed out.
"I walk dogs, y'know!"
"How old are you, 12?!"
"Well, at least it's something!"
Juro sighed as he placed his hands on his waist.
"It does look pretty hefty. I'll see what I can do."
Juro jerked his chin toward the shed door where Ada and Luca lingered.
"Sorry guys, no show today either."
The pair wilted. Ada pushed up her glasses in frustration. "Oh, come on! At least give us a hint about your freaky phone harvesting trick."
"We promise not to, like, sell your secrets on the dark web or anything," Luca wheeled.
"That's way too specific!!"
Juro shook his head, unyielding as he sat cross-legged.
"Nope. My methods stay confidential, even from fam. I just can't risk it."
Sulking, Ada herded a grumbling Luca out and left Juro alone before his bizarre ritual could commence.
Good thing the shed walls hid his 'magic'... along with more normal illegal activities.
Juro turned to the large PC.
Rolling up a jacket sleeve revealed the odd tattoo-like marks coating Juro's right arm - a circuitry design glowing neon purple.
He approached the hulking PC, eyes drifting shut. Hands outstretched, Juro's fingertips probed along seams and crevices. His sensitivity to molecular structures and entropy rates went beyond normal touch.
By attuning to the gradual degradation inherent within objects on atomic scales, Juro could accelerate their entropic descent into disorder - dismantling items in moments without tools by effectively "pushing" them down their own personalized entropy slope to dissolution.
Or at least, that's what he convinced himself about how it worked.
Long story short, he could dismantle things.
"Trace: On."
Juro identified micro-fractures in welds and isolated the heat damage steadily decaying old insulation panels. Tuning his magic through the glowing traceries on his skin, Juro coaxed the PC apart along its fault lines with only a few alarming creaks and sparks.
He surveyed the flawless heap of PC components at his feet, no screws turned or metal warped. Only the sheen of sweat on his face betrayed the exertion of his magic.
Magic.
He still rejected that term - "magic". It implied achieving the impossible when in truth, nothing he did surpassed ordinary human dismantling with the proper tools.
Just a bit more... efficient.
This 'talent' had first surfaced at 15 while fiddling with his father's engraved lighter.
Panicking after it fell apart, Juro bought an identical replacement secretly. From then on, his secret experiments gradually intensified - what else could he effortlessly take apart and reassemble?
Yet while his magic followed consistent rules, Juro hesitated unleashing it on more unified objects. Could he dismantle an entire boulder...or even complex living tissue tied by countless molecular bonds? Those possibilities frightened him.
Juro paused, bundle of PC components in hand. Could his magic dismantle but never create? What were its true limits?
Mysteries for another time.
"All done! You can enter!"
Silence answered.
Frowning, Juro emerged to find the area deserted and blanketed in snow. He checked his phone.
9:45 pm.
Lost track of time...and his friends.
Juro secured the shed and trudged through the oddly hushed, empty depot calling out.
"Ada? Luca? Guys?"
His warm breath frosted the winter air as flakes drifted around his exposed ears and hands, jeans and jacket proving inadequate shielding.
The unlikely duo sometimes vanished without warning, doing their own thing. But radio silence for over 45 minutes seemed unusual this late.
Still, approaching 20, his friends could handle themselves. Luca seemed destined to either cause or get into trouble regardless.
Juro actually wasn't sure how he made friends with them in the first place, given that they were much older than him.
They made an odd trio - the introvert, extrovert, and nerdette.
Luca oozed handsome slacker charm but acted like a class clown, always good for either a laugh or a facepalm. Still, he had the looks, blonde shoulder-length hair, and blue eyes.
He also was the type to try to put a good word on you to a girl, creep her out, and after she leaves, look at you and say:
"Well, at least we're still good buddies! Haha!"
Meanwhile booksmart Ada spouted anime lore or gaming stats through large glasses that warded off would-be suitors.
Juro though...
Juro knew he faded into most backgrounds. Standard build, medium complexion, average face topped with a perpetually tousled mop of dark hair. Even his reliable thrift shop bomber and jeans combo screamed generic.
At last, reaching the deserted waterfront boardwalk, Juro sighed, breath whitening the night.
His life was quite normal.
Too normal.
Normal to the point it was 'abnormal'. There was quite literally nothing unique about him whatsoever. Just the same as everyone else.
Some birthday this was turning out.
Oh yeah, it was his birthday today.
To be precise, he was turning-
"J-man! There you are!"
He turned at the familiar cheerful voice to see Luca bounding through the snow, letter in hand.
"Sorry dude, some suits came around asking about you when we were waiting. Super weird."
Juro frowned. "What'd they want? And where's Ada?"
"No clue. Ada bailed 'cause she wasn't feeling good." Luca waved the envelope bearing Juro's name. "But they wanted me to give you this."
Taking the crinkled parchment, Juro scrutinized the wax seal - a dark crescent moon cradled inside some arcane ringed emblem.
Cryptic and ominous.
He stuffed it in his pocket to examine later.
"Gotta say, I'm shocked Mr. Nosy didn't sneak a peek at the contents,"
Luca put up both hands. "Who, me? C'mon, I'd never breach privacy like that." His sincere grin resembled an overeager golden retriever, but somehow looked fake.
"I know, I know, bad timing on us vanishing. But at least I tracked you down."
"Well, what they ask about me?'
"Nothing much, just how long you stay alone, stuff like that?"
There was NO way that was the only question that was asked. Juro felt that Luca was purposely leaving something out.
Juro checked his dead phone ruefully. "Yeah well, tonight's a wash for the PC raiding anyhow. It's late, let's pack it in."
______
The two trudged up the sloped street toward home in silence. They both lived the same way.
Unease simmered in Juro as he dwelled on the strangers accosting his friends.
What were they really after?
Halting under a streetlight, he turned to Luca.
"Exactly what questions did those suits ask about me? And don't leave anything out this time."
Luca flinched, surprise shifting to hurt.
"Seriously, dude? That's how little you trust me now?"
Juro grabbed Luca's collar in a desperate grip. "Just tell me!"
His face was one of desperation, one of longing.
Luca slapped his hand away, face etched in pain. It was as if he was holding his cheerful demeanor together until now.
"And there it is. I knew you'd freak out and assume the worst." His voice broke.
"For years now, you've been shutting Ada and me out. Treating us like...like employees! Always bailing, ignoring messages for weeks. We barely exist to you anymore outside your precious secrecy! We started doing the scrapping as a way to get together, and now, it's like a job to you!"
Juro staggered back, stunned.
"You don't even speak to us anymore, let alone trust us with whatever you've been doing!"
Luca dashed tears from his eyes angrily.
"So yeah, when those creepy investigators pressed me for answers, I kept it vague. I wanted to confirm where your priorities lay. And I guess I got my answer..."
"Luca, please, let me explain-"
His friend wheeled on him, face twisted in frustration. "Explain what? Why your best buddy doesn't rate the truth? Tch, whatever."
He walked away without glancing back, each step a hammer blow to Juro's conscience.
Longing warred with doubt, secrets battling fellowship. In the end, Luca vanished into the night unchanged, leaving Juro alone under the streetlamp's sterile glare.
______
At home, Juro slumped at his desk, turning the mysterious letter over in his hands.
"Gah.. I'm such a dumbass.."
He had to make things right tomorrow, had to start living for those who mattered most. But this cryptic message still called to dormant parts of himself...
The contents spoke of some organization called Chaldea Security - a group supposedly safeguarding humanity from extinction-level "threats".
Juro shook his head wryly.
Yeah, sure. Next, they'd be recruiting wizards for a magic war across time. Please.
Yet an online search only yielded mundane PR fluff about deep sea monitoring. The paper itself told a very different story.
One directly asking if he was a Magus.
Magus?
Was that the term used for someone who used magic?
Juro's pulse quickened reading it. Were there truly others like him out there?
He had no reason to believe a word. But then again, maybe peeking behind the curtain couldn't hurt.
It smacked of either insanity or some dedicated passion project by eccentric rich dudes.
Still... Juro had gone cliff diving on sketchier whims before. Signing his name, he resolved to at least hear them out.
Tomorrow he would set things right with Luca. And then see where providence led him next. Even into gathering storm clouds.
Picking up a nearby pen, Juro signed his name pridefully.
"Juro Takahashi."
Suddenly, Juro's eyes blurred as his name scrawled across the application, sleep crashing over him like a rogue wave.
_____
When vision returned, Juro jolted alert to sleek interior walls, the electric thrum of engines, and rows of unfamiliar faces buckled into high-tech seats.
This was no ordinary plane. Hazy snatches of memory bombarded him - coerced departure, failed escape attempts, resigned acceptance as synthetic sedatives overruled freewill.
His pulse raced, breath fogging glass portals revealing an icy expanse of mountainous terrain far below.
Where the hell was he?!
Sluggishness clung to Juro's thoughts even as the aircraft dove toward some kind of metallic igloo sprouting from the snowdrifts. Its gaping hangar doors welcomed them inside with hissing precision.
Wheeled automatically down sterile halls, Juro passed staff in uniform coupled with others as dazed as himself.
Blinking burnished letters set his stomach plummeting: "Welcome to CHALDEA".
CHALDEA.
So it was real.
Juro numbly watched the gleaming complex swallow him whole, comprehending the true depth of this warped rabbit hole.
"What the fuuuck did I get myself into..."