Makoto Katsuragi trudged home, the soles of his shoes scuffing against the pavement with each defeated step. The setting sun cast a long, lonely shadow before him, a mirror of his own mood. He was heading home after yet another failed attempt to land a job at the Shirone Organization, the last of his hopes for this month. The final rejection had been a particularly cold one, leaving him with a bitter taste in his mouth and a familiar emptiness in his wallet.
"Stupid," he muttered to himself, the word aimed both at the company and his own foolish optimism. "The one time I think things are looking up."
He reached the long, empty bridge that spanned the city's vast, unkempt parklands—a concrete artery cutting through the urban landscape. The bridge was a place he usually avoided, a stretch of exposed wind and quiet isolation. Tonight, however, it felt appropriate. He pulled his jacket tight, his shoulders hunched against the sharp evening breeze.
Just ahead, a girl jogged with a determined rhythm, her headphones glowing white against the twilight. The beat of her music was a faint, tinny pulse that didn't quite reach him. She held her phone, a brilliant screen of light, in her hand as she ran.
Without warning, a strong, vicious gust of wind—a sudden, angry snarl from the park below—whipped across the bridge. It tore at his clothes and sent dust swirling in the air. For the girl, its effect was far more dramatic. The gust snatched her phone from her hand, a delicate object suddenly rendered weightless. Makoto watched, almost in slow motion, as it sailed over the edge of the railing in a graceful, silent arc before vanishing from sight.
The music instantly stopped. The girl, whose name tag on her track jacket read "Saki," froze in the middle of her stride. Her headphones were now silent, their quiet a stark contrast to the thumping music of moments before. Her eyes were wide with a mix of shock and horror. She rushed to the railing, her hands gripping the cold metal, and peered over the edge. Her heart sank into her stomach.
"My phone... This is bad," she whispered, the words barely audible over the wind. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the sight of the device lying in the tall, unkempt grass far below. The park itself was a restricted area, a wild zone where danger was more than a rumor. The signs plastered every hundred yards along the railing were explicit: 'RESTRICTED AREA. DO NOT ENTER. BEWARE OF ESCAPED LIONS.'
Makoto, passing by and witnessing the entire scene, couldn't resist. His miserable mood had found an outlet.
"Good luck getting that back," he drawled, his voice dry and laced with a cynical amusement. "The warning signs should've been enough to clue you in. Clearly, this isn't your day, either."
Startled by the dry remark, Saki turned to face him, her tear-streaked face a mixture of fear and desperation. She grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, her small hand clamping down with surprising force, stopping him mid-stride.
"Please," she pleaded, her voice trembling, "that phone... it means a lot to me. Can you help me get it back?"
Makoto looked down at her tear-streaked face, unmoved. Her emotional state was nothing but an annoyance to him. He yanked his arm free with a sharp tug.
"Like hell," he said, his voice cold and flat. "I'm not going down there just so you can get your precious toy back. If it was that important, maybe don't wave it around like an idiot during a storm."
Offended, a flush of anger replaced Saki's tears. She clenched her fists at her sides, her pride smarting. She was desperate, and a little flustered, but not beaten. She tried another tactic, one she clearly wasn't comfortable with. Blushing, she took a small step closer and stammered, "If you… if you help me, I'll let you… umm…"
Makoto raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features. The girl's clumsy, embarrassed implication was not lost on him. He let out a long, theatrical sigh of exasperation. "Unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head. He looked down at the twenty-foot drop, a cynical smirk forming on his face.
Without another word, Makoto stepped up to the railing, vaulted over it, and disappeared from sight.
Saki gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. She rushed to the edge and peered down, watching in astonishment as Makoto landed with a soft thud on the grassy ground below. He bent his knees to absorb the impact, rolling smoothly onto his feet as if he'd just stepped off a curb. Without hesitation, he broke into a sprint toward the phone.
Unfortunately, his sudden movement stirred the restricted area's most dangerous inhabitants. Hidden by the long grass, the golden eyes of the lions that roamed the restricted zone opened one by one, their gazes locked onto the intruder.
From above, Saki and a small crowd of curious onlookers who had gathered watched in shock and horror as the predators closed in on him from all sides. A growl rumbled through the air, followed by a menacing, low-pitched roar.
Makoto, however, didn't seem to notice or care. He retrieved the phone, casually wiping it on his pants, as the first lion, a massive male with a wild mane, lunged at him.
Sliding beneath the lion's outstretched claws, Makoto grabbed its tail and, with a powerful grunt, swung its entire body like a weapon, slamming it into two other charging lions. The trio collapsed in a chaotic heap of fur and confused snarls. Another lion pounced from the side—Makoto caught its face mid-air, a look of disgust on his face.
"Damn, your breath stinks," he muttered, grimacing as he shoved the lion away with a powerful kick. It flew upward like a projectile, its body slamming into the bridge railing with a sickening thud that made the onlookers jump back in alarm.
He held the phone high, flashing it toward Saki, as if to say, 'See? No big deal.' Just then, all the remaining lions, enraged by the casual defeat of their pack, lunged at once, burying him under a chaotic pile of fur, claws, and gnashing teeth.
Gasps echoed across the bridge. Some people screamed. Others pulled out their phones to record what they were certain was his final moment.
Seconds later, with a roar of pure, untamed power, Makoto exploded out of the pile like a cannonball, throwing the lions off him with a force that sent them tumbling. He sprinted back toward the bridge, the animals hot on his heels, some clinging to his clothes with their teeth. Reaching the base, he leaped upward—a full 20-foot jump—and landed softly beside a trembling Saki.
One lion, however, still clung to his shoulder, its claws sunk deep into his jacket and its teeth clamped down hard. With a grunt, Makoto grabbed the animal and, as if it weighed no more than a housecat, flung it effortlessly over the edge of the bridge. The beast disappeared with a final, desperate roar. Despite the attack, Makoto looked completely unharmed, not a single scratch visible on his skin.
Everyone stood frozen in stunned silence.
Makoto scowled and turned to Saki, holding out the phone. "Here. You got your phone back," he said, his eyes narrowed into a glare. "Now, about what you said earlier—"
"Like hell, you pervert!" Saki snapped, sticking her tongue out at him with an unexpectedly fierce defiance. She spun on her heel and started to bolt.
Makoto's jaw dropped. "What?! After all that?" he shouted, grabbing her arm before she could escape.
"Listen, girly, I didn't risk my neck for nothing," he growled, looming over her, his immense strength a tangible presence. "Don't think you can play me like that."
"Help! He's trying to touch me!" Saki screamed, her voice high and panicked. She wasn't just screaming; she was playing to the crowd.
Heads turned instantly. The crowd, a mix of curious onlookers and horrified witnesses, now focused their judgmental gazes on Makoto.
Makoto panicked, waving his free hand. "No! That's not—! Shut up!"
While he glanced nervously at the crowd's reaction, Saki yanked free from his grip with a sudden, powerful twist and took off running, disappearing down the bridge.
"Damn brat," Makoto muttered, rubbing his temple as his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Like I care. Hope next time it's you falling off the bridge."
He resumed his lonely walk across the bridge, the evening air feeling colder than before. A sudden chill swept over him, and he paused.
Ahead stood a man—motionless, arms crossed, and a knowing smile fixed on his face as his eyes were locked onto Makoto. The man's suit was immaculate, his posture unnaturally straight. There was something strange about him, an almost inhuman stillness that Makoto couldn't quite place, but that sent an undeniable shiver down his spine. He had the distinct feeling that his day wasn't over after all.