The metro was drowning in twilight. Dim fluorescent lamps barely pierced through the thick, humid air, heavy with the smell of wet concrete, old rubber, and human sweat. Only a few people stood on the platform: an elderly woman with a heavy bag, a guy in a hoodie staring at his phone, and two workers in dirty jackets. Everyone was silent, staring into the black mouth of the tunnel.
Behind them, leaning against a cold pillar, stood Detective Itsuki. He slowly took a drag from a cheap cigarette, exhaled the smoke through his nose, and lazily surveyed the platform. His eyes were tired but sharp, a habit that ten years of work had failed to erase.
"Rain again...," he muttered under his breath. "And this smell again. Like the whole city is rotting from the inside."
The train emerged from the darkness with a low, menacing rumble. Its headlights blinded the platform. The doors opened with a pneumatic hiss. Itsuki flicked his cigarette butt onto the tracks, where it sizzled in a puddle, and stepped into the almost empty car. He sat by the window, placing his hands on his knees. No one was next to him. Only the cold plastic seat and his own reflection in the dark glass: a pale face, shadows under his eyes, slight stubble.
Itsuki stared at himself for a long time. As if trying to discern in that reflection the person he used to be.
Suddenly, from outside, something heavy and wet hit the glass with a dull thud. A severed human hand, still fresh, with blood, slapped against the window, leaving a long red smear, and immediately fell down onto the tracks. The fingers were twisted, as if in a final convulsion, trying to grab onto something. The skin was pale, and on the wrist was a ragged cut with torn, protruding tendons.
Itsuki raised an eyebrow slightly. Neither fear nor disgust, only mild surprise.
"Well, today is just... a terrible day," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off the window. "First coffee without sugar, now this. What's next? A severed head at the next station?"
The train pulled away smoothly. Outside the window, a fine, drizzly rain began to fall, blurring the city lights on the glass, like blood on tiles.
At the same time, Renji left the house. The door closed behind him with a soft click. He walked calmly down the wet street, his hands in his jacket pockets, thinking about which café he and Genzo would go to today.
"Maybe that little one near the market? The coffee there is decent, and the pastries are fresh... Or that one with the dark walls, where they always play quiet jazz? Genzo will complain again that it's expensive, but I like it when it's quiet..."
Suddenly, a crowd poured out of an alley, twenty-five people, at least. Scum, drunks, local riffraff in tattered jackets with battered faces. They quickly surrounded him in a tight ring, grinning and exchanging glances.
"Hey, kid," the leader drawled, a tall guy with a split lip and a tattoo on his neck. "Hand over the money. Quick and no tricks."
Renji stopped and calmly looked them over.
"I don't have any money. Leave me alone, nicely."
The crowd burst out laughing.
"You hear that, guys? He doesn't have any," someone from behind laughed. "But we'll check."
They didn't leave. The first blow came from the side, to his shoulder. Renji defended himself weakly and tried to break free, but they quickly grabbed his arms. Then a fist hit him square in the nose. Blood sprayed hot and salty. Renji spat red onto the asphalt and struck back sharply, his fist connecting with the nearest guy's jaw. He ducked into the thick of the crowd, working with his elbows and knees, but the mob was too large. He was knocked onto the wet asphalt. Blows rained down like hail, on his ribs, back, head. Someone kicked him in the stomach.
"Stay down, you bastard!" the leader shouted. "We'll teach you..."
From the shadow of the nearest corner, Raiden appeared. His long, purplish-dark hair was slightly damp from the rain and fell across his face. He calmly drank juice from a tin can, leaning against the wall.
Suddenly he stopped, drained the last drops onto the ground, and said quietly, almost lazily:
"Guys... Maybe don't? The guy was just walking his way."
The leader turned around, bared his teeth, and spat.
"Oh, it's that femboy. With the long hair like a girl's. Get him, guys. Let him know his place!"
Raiden calmly threw away the empty can; it clinked and rolled into a puddle. Then he flew into the crowd.
The first punch hit him square in the nose, blood sprayed brightly across his face. Raiden just grinned, wiped the blood with his sleeve, and switched into real mode.
"Alright... since you want it this way," he whispered.
He delivered kicks with such speed and precision, as if he'd trained in a dojo for years. He wrenched one guy's arm in a classic karate hold; a bone cracked loudly, and the guy screamed in pain. Another took a knee straight to the solar plexus, doubled over, and collapsed, gasping for air. A third was swept off his feet with a leg sweep, followed by an elbow to the face, and the sound of a broken nose rang out.
When the mob switched to "no rules" fists, feet, attempts to overwhelm with numbers, Raiden got even tougher. He worked with elbows, knees, grabbed hair and smashed faces against his knee. One drunk tried to swing a bottle; Raiden intercepted his arm, twisted it, and added a kick to the knee. The man fell with a yell.
"Who the hell are you?!" the leader snarled, trying to hit him from behind.
Raiden spun around and slammed his fist into the leader's jaw so hard that the man flew back several meters.
Within a couple of minutes, half of the attackers lay on the ground, some groaning, others trying to crawl away, clutching broken limbs. The other half fled in panic, cursing and leaving bloody trails behind them.
"Run! This guy's crazy!"
When it was all over, Renji lay on the wet asphalt, breathing heavily and wiping the blood from his face. Raiden walked over, extended his hand, and helped him up.
"Be more careful, kid," he said calmly, brushing off his jacket. "Next time, don't rush into a crowd alone. Those bastards aren't worth getting dirty over."
Renji nodded, spitting blood.
"Thanks... Really. Without you, they would've killed me today."
"No problem. Go on, someone's probably waiting for you."
Renji turned and walked away, limping slightly. When he reached the small café, Genzo was already standing at the entrance, leaning against the wall and watching the rain.
"You're late," Genzo said, not taking his eyes off his phone. "Again."
"Got delayed on the way," Renji replied, wiping his face with his sleeve.
Genzo squinted, noticing the blood.
"Got into a fight again? Seriously? Every time, the same thing. Who this time? Those drunks from the alley?"
"Something like that... Twenty-five people. But I wasn't alone."
Genzo snorted.
"Alright, let's go. Don't be late again, or I'll beat you up myself."
They entered the café in silence. With the money they had left, they could only afford two cups of the cheapest coffee and one onion roll to share. They sat at a small table by the window. Genzo stirred his sugar with a spoon and stared into space, thinking about something.
"Listen...," he finally said. "Don't you think this whole life is just shit? School, work, fights... Every day the same thing."
Renji shrugged.
"Yeah, I do. But what can you do? Sit around and wait for something to change?"
"I don't know what crap is going on around us, but I've got you, my sweet chocolate."
"Hm, well, okay.... That's weird, Genzo, you're all over me all of a sudden."
They chuckled slightly, not loudly, but in a friendly, genuine way. Outside, as usual and monotonously, the birds were singing.
They finished their coffee and left. They headed straight to work. The foreman at the warehouse met them right at the gate.
"Pay's unstable today, boys," he grumbled, scratching his belly. "Maybe they'll pay, maybe not. But the boxes still need moving. Deal?"
"Deal," they answered in unison.
And so Sunday passed in sweat, dust, and silence. Boxes, boxes, boxes.
Monday morning, Renji got up as usual. In the living room, his older brother Akio sat in front of the TV, watching football. The commentators were shouting at the top of their lungs:
"Gooooal! What a beauty!"
Renji walked past, tying his sneakers as he went.
"Akio, close the door to the chicken coop, or the chickens will scatter again."
Akio nodded, not taking his eyes off the screen, and washed it down with beer straight from the can.
"Yeah... In a sec."
Genzo was already waiting at the door, staring at the gray sky.
"Hurry up," he said. "Or we'll be late, and Mrs. Nakamura will chew us out."
They walked to school together. The hallways were quiet; Sunday hadn't quite let go yet. But in the classroom, almost everyone was already there. Genzo sat down at his desk, opened the window, and let in fresh air that smelled of rain.
Mrs. Nakamura entered the classroom, and behind her came a new girl. She was shy, with downcast eyes and a pale face, as if she were afraid even to breathe loudly.
"Attention, class," the teacher said. "This is Ayako. She's starting with us today. She... can't speak, so please help her out sometimes. If she needs anything, write notes or just be there."
Kaoru, sitting nearby, smirked and let out a quiet, mocking laugh.
The teacher turned sharply to her.
"Kaoru, why? What's so funny here?"
Kaoru waved her hand, still smiling.
"Come on, sensei... I just wanted to show some real female cruelty. And you immediately go 'why.' Relax."
The teacher sighed, shook her head, and turned to the board.
"Alright. Let's begin the lesson."
Outside the window, a quiet, calm rain began to fall, tapping on the glass, as if reminding everyone that the world outside wasn't sleeping either.