Darkness Falls

Hot blood, mingled with tears, obscured his vision.

Hayato was covered with blood from head to toe, and lifted a shaking hand to wipe his face. He crawled, gritting through the drilling pain of his dislocated hip, and dragged his unconscious father into the grass next to the mountain highway. It was a lone, gloomy night with the moon sealed behind dark clouds, and gusts of wind whirling among the jagged rocks, creating ghost-like wails.

A few yards behind him, skid marks led to the family limousine flipped over at the side of the road. Its windshield was shattered into pieces, with a single high beam flickering in the darkness. The chauffeur was still behind the wheel dead as a doornail, blood streaming out of the bullet hole between his eyebrows. In the backseat Hayato’s mother lay crumpled, riddled with cuts and bruises. Her eyes were closed—It was hard to tell if she was still alive.

After laying his father down in the safety of the grass, Hayato urgently crawled back for his mother. However, the limousine exploded in fury with a deafening blast. Smoke thrust up toward the black clouds. “Mom!” Hayato let out a desperate cry. He flung his body toward the flames, but a secondary explosion of heat and flames knocked him backward into the grass. Trembling, he struggled to raise himself up but was too weak to move an inch further. Defeated, he clutched grass and shouted with abject despair, “Mom! MOM!”

His heartrending cries were devoured by the flame and smoke. Down the mountain, amongst a myriad lights of a city, an enormous clock tower struck twelve, the echoes bidding a somber farewell to this gloomy day.

And just like that, Hayato’s seventeenth birthday was brought to a mournful end on the moonless night.

Only a few hours earlier, Hayato was the man of the hour, standing at the top of the world even among celebrities and dignitaries. They had all flocked to the magnificent banquet hall located on the top floor of the Yagami Tower for Hayato – son and heir of the global energy giant–seventeenth birthday.

It was until the clock tower outside the banquet hall struck nine that he made his much-anticipated entrance. Still wearing his sweaty kendo uniform, Hayato had dashed through the hall of grizzled looks from the guests, towards an immaculately dressed woman. That was his mother Mizuki Yagami. Greatly embarrassed, she glanced at the distinguished guests and hastily pulled her disheveled son into the corner. “Why are you so late? Kendo class ended hours ago. And look at you, you didn’t even change. Quite disrespectful.”

Hayato grinned at his mother as he carefully scooped out a fuzzy creature from underneath his uniform. It was a hatchling with bandages wrapped around one of its legs. “And where did you find this little guy?” Mizuki asked. Hayato’s eyes were gleaming, he replied, “I saw a snake on my way back getting ready to eat this little chick. So I cut it in half with my sword and saved the poor guy. It’s got a broken leg, though. Took me a while to get it bandaged. And check out the color of its feathers, Mom, how beautiful. I’m going to keep it until its leg heals. Then I’ll let it go.”

At the other end of the hall, Hayato’s father Souta was watching as his son handled the small hatchling with fondness. Souta shook his head and turned toward his brother Toma, “I’m concerned with Hayato. He still acts like a little boy. He doesn’t have the mental toughness and willpower required of a Yagami heir. He will not amount to much unless he goes through some much harder trials. And seeing that Horizon has been eyeing the Yagami family business for years, I might have to rely on you to teach and discipline that son of mine sooner rather than later.” “Naturally. Rest assured brother, I will personally make a man out Hayato worthy of the Yagami name,” Toma promised solemnly in reply.

Mizuki had a staff member take care of the hatchling and ushered Hayato over to greet Souta and Toma. Toma nodded at his nephew and beckoned to the man in a stylized kendo uniform standing beside him. The man, whose name was Osamu, Toma’s trusted bodyguard, stepped up deferentially and presented a dainty box wrapped with purple velvet. “My little gift to you, nephew,” said Toma. Hayato could barely contain his anticipation and joy as he opened the box—in it was a delicate ivory falcon shaped netsuke, a work of art that also doubled as button-like ornament for men’s traditional dress. Since he was a child, Hayato had heard of Toma’s obsession with netsukes; throughout the years he had garnered quite an impressive collection with rare pieces from renowned artisans, every single one of them worth a fortune. Fully aware of the value of the gift, Souta spoke to his son, “Quickly, thank Uncle Toma. He simply adores these. Apart from you, he has only given a netsuke to Osamu. He wouldn’t even give me one, and I’m his brother!” They all had a hearty laugh. As Hayato thanked Osamu, he peeked at the netsuke attached to Osamu’s belt. It was a hannya mask made of boxwood, with round eyes and sharp horns carved into it. It was such an exquisite and vivid piece of work, but it still paled in comparison to the one Hayato was given—in terms of artistic perfection.

The celebration commenced. Stood in the light reflected by the grand chandelier and in front of the cheering crowd, Hayato blew out seventeen candles in a single breath. The wish he made was simple—he simply wished that every day would be as joyous as today. He cast his gaze through the French windows at the massive clock tower and wished he could make time stop at this moment.

His wish wasn’t granted. The clock’s minute hand was chasing the hour hand with an implacable and fateful determination. And just like that, as the two clock hands met, a resounding knell echoed, and, at a distance, plumes of smoke streamed from the mountain highway and wreathed a luminous moon in darkness.

The funeral of Hayato’s mother was held a few days later, attended by the same guests as his birthday, but this time there was no joy to be found on their faces. The guests went up one by one to honor his mother. Hayato gazed hard at those faces and wondered which one of them had plotted the murder. Could it be Yamamoto? Hayato had long heard that the man regarded his father a key rival and was jealous of his accomplishments. Or was it Kimura? He courted his mother as a young man but was rejected. Wait, how about Abe? The crusty old man was always arguing with his father at board meetings. In Hayato’s eyes, every face looked suspicious, even Toma’s. Why not him? When the birthday celebration was drawing to an end, Hayato walked in on Toma pulling his father into a private room down at the far end of the corridor. Judging from the few words exchanged, they seemed to be having a heated discussion over a cooperation with firearm manufacturers. Had father angered Toma by shooting down his newest proposal? Was Toma really the kind of man who would murder his own brother over some business argument? Hayato shuddered at the thoughts.

In stepped a man whose looks could only be described as a descendant of a samurai. It was Kenta, Souta’s most trusted bodyguard. He had gone back to his hometown to visit his mother only to have the terror strike the Yagami’s, who were supposed to be under his protection, just a day later. Catching sight of Kenta, Hayato went straight up to him, and without uttering a single word, smacked Kenta across the face. Everyone present was dumbfounded. Kenta’s left cheek swelled instantly and reddened like burning coal. He too was stunned, yet he didn’t say a word and bowed his head, stifling his tears. Of all the days, why did it have to be that day that Kenta was not at his father’s side? What brutal deity devised this fateful coincidence? Hayato was plagued by unanswerable questions. Tears streamed down his face. What else could he do other than take it out on Kenta?

Hayato could not sleep the night after his mother was laid to rest. When he was finally defeated by exhaustion, he found himself seized by the claws of a nightmare and drawn into a marsh of torment. He dreamed of standing on the mountain highway where the crash happened with not another soul to be seen. Then, all of a sudden, the earth shook and there was a tremor in the mountains, cleaving the ground in chunks. Like humongous vipers, columns of black smoke made their way out of the chasm beyond fathoming, wrapping around Hayato, suffocating him, and dragging him into the depths. At the bottom of the fissure was a sea of flame, boundless, and forever blazing. And there his mother was, crying for help as she was being engulfed by the inferno. Hayato flailed and swept his limbs violently to reach for his mother, but to no avail. The smoke kept him tightly in place. The weeping and sobbing of his mother grew even more unbearable. She questioned Hayato why he didn’t save her, why he left her suffering in the torment of fire and suffocation.

The night seemed endless. Tossing and turning, Hayato was drenched in sweat anguish weighed heavy on his heart. Real sleep wasn’t going to come. Instead, he got up and decided to drive to the hospital to check on his father. Souta had survived the assassination and was taken to the top hospital in Edo City. Accompanied by a night shift nurse, Hayato arrived at the VIP ward. Something seemed to be amiss. None of the security detail that were supposed to be guarding the door was there. Hayato felt a tightness in his chest. He flung the door open and saw his comatose father still in bed. Next to the old man was a male nurse injecting a blue substance into Souta’s arm. Underneath the bed, a few pairs of legs, clad in security uniforms, were limp and stacked on each other. They showed no signs of life whatsoever. The nurse that accompanied Hayato screamed in terror. Hayato lunged forward and thrust his hands out reaching for the male nurse’s mask. The male nurse, however, was surprisingly agile with his practiced combat skills. After a few rounds of sharp exchanges, he knocked Hayato down on the floor and stormed out. Refusing to let him escape, Hayato sprang back to his feet and sprinted out.

Hayato rushed into the fire exit and saw the male nurse racing down the stairs and getting further away. Without hesitation, Hayato jumped over the handrails, falling and grabbing the handrails on each level to cut short the distance between them. A few flights down, he was right above his foe, and by using the downward momentum of his jump, Hayato swept his leg, knocked the male nurse over and sent him tumbling down the stairs. Not wasting a fraction of a second, Hayato threw himself on the male nurse and put his whole weight on him. The two were locked in a deadly struggle at the bottom landing of the staircase. Unfortunately, Hayato was not well-versed in the art of close-quarters combat and soon lost his upper-hand. The opponent clutched him by the waist and toppled him with great force before stepping on a handrail and leaping out of the 24th story window. Hayato bolted upright and reached for the man, but was only able to tear away a strip of fabric from the man’s sleeve. He leaned out of the window and searched with his keen eyes—police sirens were blaring in the far distance, but that mysterious man was nowhere to be found.

Downhearted, Hayato hastened back to the ward, noticing a group of doctors and nurses busy rescuing his father from a seizure. “What happened to my father? What was the blue fluid the man injected in him?” He stopped a nurse, trying to figure things out, only to be barred from entering the ward. Sudden fear engulfed him. Hayato did not know what to do. He looked down at the strip of fabric and recalled the tattoo he had noticed on the assassin’s wrist—

It was an arch of some sort. He would not forget it.

Like some evil spirit, the image of the arch tattoo haunted him and drove Hayato crazy. It lingered in his mind refusing to be dispelled.

BAM!

Hayato snapped out of the trance as Toma struck him in the chest with a wooden sword. Losing his balance, Hayato fell hard on the floor of the kendo dojo, a numbing sensation spread across his chest. “You must focus when practicing!” Toma scolded. “Uncle,” said Hayato as he got back to his feet using the wooden sword for support, “the doctor said my father was injected a neurotoxin, and the only person who might be able to save him is Dr. Izabel Lionel. Please, let’s send someone to invite her over to treat my father!” Hayato pleaded.

“I have plans for your father’s treatment. You just focus on your practice,” said Toma as he landed another hit on Hayato’s shoulder, causing him to drop his sword and stumble back in pain. “Someone tried to kill my father, twice. It’s uncertain if he is going to survive the second attempt. As his son, how do you expect me to stay here and practice swordsmanship? I know you and Dr. Lionel don’t see eye to eye, Uncle Toma, so I’m willing to seek help on my own if you don’t.” Hayato held his throbbing shoulder and headed for the door.

“Stop!” Toma halted Hayato with his commanding voice, “How do you suppose Horizon would help if you don’t know anything about them in the first place?” Hayato was perplexed by Toma’s words. “The company has long been contemplating the acquisition of the Yagami business. On multiple occasions, they have proposed a collaboration with our family, but your father and I, knowing full well the staggering extent of their ambition, have always turned them down. If you go to Horizon for help, they’re bound to make outrageous demands which can plunge the Yagamis’ future into a treacherous sea of uncertainty.”

“Then is colluding with some dirty firearm dealer considered honorable business?” Hayato unleashed the question that had plagued him for days. He glowered at Toma, waiting for his answer.

Toma was taken aback and paused for a long moment before speaking, “It’s only necessary for the growth of the Yagami name. Nothing comes before the glory of the family.”

“All business collaborations are based on the exchange of interests. What makes Horizon so special? If the family loses its patriarch, what glory and future would there be left to fight for?” Fed up with Toma’s hollow words, Hayato snapped back. This man is my father’s brother, Hayato thought, how could he put his so-called business considerations before blood and family?

Fueled by a burning rage, Hayato launched a fierce attack at Toma.

“The Yagami name has never been predicated by one individual. The name exists because the family, as a whole, exists. At times, personal sacrifices must be made if the family is to continue in existence,” said Toma with great solemnity as he deflected Hayato’s blade.

“You’re saying you never intended to save my father? You’re his blood brother!”

Toma seemed unfazed by Hayato’s accusations and simply let his nephew continue his ferocious attack. After a few rounds into the fight, Toma intentionally exposed his weak side to lure a reckless strike out of Hayato. Hayato took the bait and Toma seized the opportunity, and with a series of vicious counterattacks, he knocked Hayato down. Toma placed the tip of his wooden sword at Hayato’s throat and said in a stern voice, “A true swordsman knows when to strike and when to parry, when to reveal his strength and when to veil his blade. Recklessness brings no victory. Sometimes you must retreat in order to advance. You must act with added caution especially when your foe is hiding in the dark.” Hayato would not simply bow down to his uncle. He watched Toma exit the dojo with a fire of anger burning in his eyes. In the second that Osamu’s hand appeared to open the sliding door for Toma, Hayato was shocked to the core—He saw a distinctive arch-shaped tattoo revealed under Osamu’s sleeve.

How could I never have noticed that before? Does this mean what I think it means...?

The shadows of bamboos swayed outside the window. Disturbing. Confusing. Hayato felt as though the entire world was spinning. An inevitable darkness descended before his eyes, as if he had plunged headlong into a bottomless abyss.

That night, Hayato, accompanied by Kenta, decided to move his father out of the hospital. They journeyed to a house of Hayato’s friend, Jin, along with one of his father’s private physicians. Jin’s house was built along a mountain ridge and overlooked the vast expanse of the sea. The view was breathtaking and would have made a perfect place for a health resort. The residence itself was not huge, but it was tastefully furnished with a full team of servants and guards standing by. The only shortcoming was that it was tucked into a recess in the mountains; it took quite a journey to access. Hayato didn’t tell Jin the truth of why he was hiding his father from the outside world, and claimed this would be better for his father’s rehabilitation. Jin neither doubted nor pried.

When appropriate arrangements had been completed, Hayato took Kenta to Dr. Izabel Lionel’s mansion. A “palace,” perhaps, was the more accurate description. They entered through a tall gate with gilt ornaments and drove along a broad avenue before they arrived at a majestic garden. Green plains, roads, paths, and thoroughfares, meticulously planned, rolled away into the distance, forming an expansive transportation web. At center of the four main streets that extended into the north, south, east, and west, stood a banyan tree which had weathered three thousand winters. Its branches and leaves were so lush that they masked the sky like an immense umbrella; its trunk so thick that it would take hundreds of people to surround it. In the garden, glass chambers scattered on either side of the path like drops of morning dew. Inside those transparent structures were a wonderful variety of rare plants and exotic animals. To the west, on the elevated terrain, was the mansion, magnificent, imposing, overlooking the garden. Every morning, as the sun leapt out from the east, Izabel, sipped a cup of tea and took in all the splendor before her eyes, like a noble queen presiding over her kingdom.

Guided by an attendant, Hayato went through a long veranda made of oak, took several turns before finally finding himself in a study that melded the world of old with the new. The space was divided into two floors by beautiful, hand-carved railings. Shelves, embedded into the walls, were chock full of books piling up like brick walls, blocking all the briskness outside. Right in the middle of the study was a vast Persian rug, with patterns so complicated that it seemed to be woven with countless unspeakable secrets. Hayato carefully walked past the intertwined designs of the carpet, through the air with the faint fragrance of oakwood, paper and ink, heading toward the far end of the room. There, an elderly woman waited, sitting in a wheelchair, her silver hair glittering in the peaceful afternoon sun. That was Dr. Izabel Lionel. She turned and smiled at Hayato, so gracious and approachable that it was hard to associate this grandma-looking woman with the ambitious entrepreneur who reigned over Horizon.

Hayato went up and bowed with respect. He stated the purpose of his visit—he wanted to ask Izabel to cure his father using her powerful bio-medical technology. Quietly Izabel listened, stirring her tea with a spoon pinched between her fingers. As Hayato finished speaking, she took her time having a sip of her tea and said, “I would love to help you, my child.” She spoke slowly but her voice was filled with an undeniable authority as she went on, “As soon as I received news about your father’s assassination, I contacted Toma Yagami and offered to help, but I found myself cold-shouldered by your uncle without reason.”

Hayato, embarrassed, tried to explain, “My uncle has a million things to worry about. He’s the kind of person who tends to draw a line between family business and personal favors. Perhaps his rejection was due to the concern that a personal favor like this would undermine the objectivity of business collaborations.”

“Business collaborations, they’re nothing but people doing each other a favor. There’s no such thing as objectivity. If Toma isn’t keen on making friends with me, well, then I guess I won’t feel as much guilt from leaving a dying man to die.”

Hayato’s heart sank when he heard those words. Right there and then, he got down on his knees and implored, “It’s selfishness that prevents my uncle from saving my father, but you, Dr. Lionel, you and my father have made acquaintances a long time ago. Please save his life. I’m willing to be at your beck and call if you come to my father’s aid.” Tears welled up in Hayato’s eyes.

Izabel paused and put down her teacup. She then wheeled herself toward Hayato and helped him up. She let out a sigh of concern and said, “Well, I do admit your love for your father is quite touching. Alright, I will treat your father. But you have to do me a favor in exchange…”

Hayato returned to Jin’s house, with anxiety gnawing at him. On the way back he kept mulling over Izabel’s request—Hayato was asked to convince Toma to agree the collaboration between Yagami Energy and Horizon on mining rare-earth minerals in Griza. That put Hayato in quite a pickle. To begin with, it would take a supernatural amount of effort to make Toma, one of the most stubborn men on earth, to even consider such a proposal. And then there was Hayato’s harrowing suspicion that his uncle had no intention of letting his father live. In a nutshell, Hayato had no leverage with which he could make the collaboration materialize.

For a few days, the gloomy prospect that his uncle was the one behind the assassination attempt lingered in Hayato’s mind, sounding more and more like the truth. But he knew it was only his own suspicions and had no concrete proof. Moreover, Toma was the man he was afraid of the most; he could not find it in his heart to confront his uncle and press him for the truth. Hayato decided to hide in the mountains and bide his time. In the meantime, he tried hard to convince himself that one bearing the Yagami name would not be so cold-blooded as to murder his own kin.

Hayato, with a still troubled mind, had just got home when Jin rushed over and reported that Souta’s condition was not stable. Jin had already sent word to Toma, and he had sent someone to come. Hearing this, Hayato was struck with fear. He hastened to have Kenta ready the car, and having no time to pack, Hayato rushed to take his father away.

The wind howled on the moonless night as Hayato’s car sped down the highway in the dark. On one side of the highway were towering walls of stone, on the other, frowning precipices. Cold, salty water madly crashed against the embankment, sending massive waves high over the guardrail, smashing Hayato’s car with brute force.

The windshield was all but blurred. Clutching the steering wheel, Kenta drove the car through the cascading water. In the passenger seat sat Hayato, turned and gazed at his unconscious father. Anxiety gnawed at his heart. Just then, headlights behind them marked two black cars coming up to flank Hayato’s car.

This pushed Kenta into high alert. He pumped the gas hard and tried to escape the pursuers. The two pursuing cars quickly caught up. As they gained on Hayato’s car, a few masked hitmen leaned out of the windows and started firing their firearms. Bullets swished past Hayato’s ears as they tore holes in the windshield. Hayato ducked, terrified.

“It’s Toma! He wants me and my father dead!” Enveloped by fear, Hayato urged Kenta to drive even faster. Kenta, gripping the wheel in an iron grasp and navigated the car in the hailstorm of bullets and water bombs. Despite it all, the two black cars had pulled up on either side of them. Like a pair of pincers they pinched the car, creating two trails of sparks flashing bright in the dark. The back-and-forth went on until finally, at the bend, Kenta managed to flip one of the black cars over the guardrail.

The other pursuing car showed no sign of relenting, like a beast locked on to its prey. The head of the gunmen, dressed like a samurai, face masked and torso sticking out of the sunroof, took out a shotgun and aimed. Bang! Bang! Bang! He fired a series of shots, shattering the rear windshield.

“Father!” Hayato exclaimed, “Kenta, slow down! Get behind them!”

Kenta did not fully understand, yet he did as ordered. Pushed to dire straits, finally, Hayato snatched Kenta’s sword, opened the sunroof and, the instant the black car raced past, he sprang out of the sunroof and hurled the sword at the head of the gunman. Surprised by the sudden attack, his foe leaned backward, Hayato’s sword sailing past his forehead and sticking into a rock face.

Seizing the opportunity, Hayato jumped with all his might to soar through no man’s land onto the roof of the black car. He pounced on the enemy, and they both fell from the moving car, hitting the ground. While he was still rolling from the fall, Hayato pushed the other man away, unsheathed his blade and launched into a frenzied attack. With impressive agility, his enemy also bared his sword and deflected Hayato’s strike. Matched in strength and skill, the two showered their moves upon each other with no winner emerging.

Roaring waves pounded the jagged cliff with great force splashing the battlers, still locked in a bitter battle, with spray and foam. The din of swords, the dancing figures, and the murderous intent in the air… all of it were in full play, crescendoing with the bellowing sea below. Gradually losing his footing, Hayato launched a desperate attack, cleaving toward the face of his enemy—he moved his head swiftly aside, but the tip of the blade grazed his neck, cutting off the stings of his mask. The man hastened to cover his face before flinging himself into the ocean.

Hayato ran up to the edge, searching the roaring waves. His heart sank to the hopeless abyss. He had been inches away from the truth. Again.

Fueled by indignation, Hayato let out an anguished cry and hewed at the waves with his sword, as if trying to cleave the world, which had played cruel tricks on him one after another, into pieces. While he was blowing off steam, Hayato slipped and fell hard on the ground. This spurred an unleashing of a torrent of curses upon the wretched world. Just then, Hayato’s heart jumped to his throat as he realized that he had not slipped on a pebble. With trembling fingers, he picked up the small object. Right between his fingertips was held a netsuke­—

A hannya mask made of boxwood.

“Young Master, are you all right?” Kenta had pulled the car back around and rushed over to Hayato. Hayato got back on his feet,tossed the netsuke to Kenta, and said, “We’re going home. My father will live.” In his eyes shone an unshakable determination.

The insistent wind blustered through the bamboo forest. On the open field outside the kendo dojo stood Hayato and Toma at either end, with Kenta and Osamu kneeling on the side. In the past ten years, Hayato had never missed one of his kendo classes. Today was no exception. A foreboding silence descended as all four of them entered a laser-focused state of mind. All one could hear was the wailing wind and the rustling of bamboo leaves.

As usual, Hayato and Toma bowed to each other before they grounded themselves at the middle of the space. They saluted each other in the traditional way and simultaneously lifted up their wooden swords. Letting out a thundering battle cry, Hayato struck first. The tempo of their footwork picked up as the clash of swords grew more intense. Toma cut Hayato no slack and with aggressive cleaves he made Hayato retreat. BAM! Hayato crashed into the weapons rack, scattering wooden swords all over the ground.

“I’ve told you a hundred times. Temerity exposes your worst weakness.” Impatiently Toma tossed his sword at Hayato and started for the exit. The instant he turned around, Hayato grabbed a woodensword on the ground and, unsheathing it, revealed a razor-sharp blade. Before Toma even had time to react, Hayato had already hewn him down with one blow. Osamu was petrified. Before he was able to draw his blade out, he too was hacked down by Kenta.

“Hayato, why...?” Toma’s face twisted with consternation in his death throes. Hayato threw the hannya mask before his uncle. With his last breath, Toma stared at the netsuke. He was first confused, then suddenly, as if realizing something, his eyes grew round. He tried to say something, but his words died on his lips as he drew his final breath.

Hayato went up to Osamu’s body and rolled up the bodyguard’s sleeve. Upon his wrist was a tattoo of an eyeball, shooting flame and dripping blood, like the diabolical gaze of a hellish fiend. Hayato glanced at Toma’s eyes, which looked very similar to those on the tattoo. In those now-dead eyes was the reflection of the hannya mask. There was no telling whether the face on the mask was smiling or crying.

There was a hustle-and-bustle at the Yagami residence, with medical staff from Horizon hurrying in and out. Souta was now being treated in Horizon’s most advanced medical pod, placed in his bedroom. His condition was stable and there was peace on his face. Seeing that proper arrangements had been completed, Hayato heaved a sigh of relief. He sauntered to a maple tree in the courtyard, unlocked a birdcage hanging off a bough and scooped out the hatchling he had saved. The feathered creature had fully recovered and was chirping joyfully at its rescuer. Hayato gently removed the bandages on the hatchling’s leg and opened his palm, releasing it to the wild.

A faint smile flitted across his lips as he watched the bird flapping its way toward the sky…

A nobleman’s word is his bond. As promised, Hayato signed a contract with Horizon to co-develop the mining of rare minerals in Griza. After the signing, he came to Izabel’s mansion by himself to thank her for saving his father.

It was wet season. The air was muggy and weighed heavy upon one’s chest. Layers upon layers of black clouds gathered in the southern sky, hanging low, and approached with a formidable onslaught, devouring the last slits of light across the horizon. A gale that carried the smell of earth and rain made Hayato shudder.

Entering through the other side of the iron gate was a tall attendant of Asian descent, who bowed to Hayato deferentially and guided him into the residence. “A new guy,” thought Hayato as he glanced at the look of indifference on the attendant’s face. Then, just when the attendant opened the door for Hayato, an ouroboros tattoo was clearly visible on his wrist. Feeling a surge of shock, Hayato stole a look at the man’s neck. Near his shirt collar there was a new cut.

KABOOM!

A thunderclap rolled across the sky in the distance. Large raindrops started to fall and splashed down on Hayato’s face. The attendant opened an enormous black umbrella, enshrouding Hayato’s terrified face in shadow.

A lament of wind and rain had commenced. And a boundless darkness had fallen.

THE END