Location: Shinjuku, Tokyo
It was early afternoon. The sun had been blazing mercilessly overhead, softening the already weakened tar on the roads into a viscous, shimmering surface. White-collared workers were out on their lunch break, making the already busy Shinjuku region even more congested.
Taxis weaving between lanes, pedestrians impatiently waiting at the traffic lights for their signal to cross, school children skipping classes to visit the stores, cyclists cutting off cars and drivers subsequently cursing and honking at them for their behaviour.
Amongst the chaos, a luxury Japanese black sedan was slowly traversing the bustling roads of Shinjuku, trying to find the most efficient route to reach its destination.
An older man, adorning a classic suit and tie with newly polished shoes, was seated in the passenger seats of the luxurious car.
The man's head was tilted to the left, his left arm was resting on the windowsill with his palm clenched into the shape of a fist, supporting the man's head as he gazed out of the tinted windows. Polarised rays of sunlight penetrated the glass, exposing the man's grey hair that was once black in his youth.
Coming back from a meeting with his followers in the Citizens' Party had left his thoughts in a disarray, as the political situation was looking dire for his faction in the Citizens' Party.
His driver's voice abruptly pulled the older man out of his turbulent thoughts.
"We will be arriving at your estate in roughly ten minutes, Naoe-sensei."
The older man, Naoe Jinnosuke, had been involved in Japanese politics for many years, steadily building up his power and influence and accumulating many followers by using his silver tongue. He operated in the shadows to ensure the Citizens' Party would remain stable, using whatever methods he deemed necessary. In Naoe's mind, the ends always justifies the means, even if they were for purely selfish reasons.
He had maintained an old rivalry with Isomaru, who also represented another major faction within the Citizens' Party. For a while, these two had been exchanging blows, trying to gain the edge over the other by amassing more supporters within their factions. Both of them had strong ambitions to become Prime Minister of Japan after Prime Minister Miyako had finished his term.
The people of Japan had initially predicted that Prime Minister Miyako's faction would remain steadfast and was the most likely faction to ascend as the representatives of the Citizens' Party for the next election.
However, the presence of both Naoe's faction and Isomaru's faction ensured that the people could not be so quick to judge who would ascend as the next Prime Minister of Japan.
Naoe had planned to contest Prime Minister Miyako for the position of the party's representative once he had amassed enough influence to suppress Isomaru. That was his initial goal, and with the way things were progressing, the vision Naoe had would have come to fruition.
However, the tide that Naoe once thought was on his side was quickly shifting as other players started making their moves.
The most notable was Senator Kijima, who had made his presence known at a relatively young age when compared to the seniors who had guarded the system that was Japanese politics. Most expected Kajima to fall in line like the other younglings who had naive ambitions to make a name for themselves in Japanese politics, but the exact opposite occurred in Kijima's case.
His unblemished record, with no scandals in sight, pedestalised Kijima as an incorruptible symbol who stands for the justice of the people. With his immense charisma, he had quickly won the hearts of his fellow party members, becoming an existence that could not be ignored in the power dynamics of the Citizens' Party.
Gazing outside the car's window, a particular billboard disturbed the stoic expression that once captured Naoe's face. His grey irises grey colder, sharpening on the individual depicted on the billboard who had interfered with his plans.
"Kijima-sensei..." He growled under his breath. The number of billboards that were promoting Senator Kijima had been increasing significantly over the weeks, campaigning numerous clean policies and promises to sway the people and increase his popularity.
Ordinarily, Kijima's clean record and rigorous campaigning would not have been enough to make a dent in the power dynamics that had once held the Citizens' Party hostage. But something which even Naoe could not foresee had occurred.
The elected Japanese government established under Prime Minister Miyako had shown great interest in Senator Kijima due to his hand in the creation of the Advanced Nurturing High School. It seemed like the Japanese government had high hopes for the newly established prestigious school that aimed to transform teenagers into fully-fledged model citizens of Japan, going on to uplift the nation from its decline. There were also rumours that Kijima and Prime Minister Miyako maintained a close relationship and that Miyako greatly favoured Kijima within the Citizens' Party.
Unfortunately, this meant that Naoe's operations, which he had orchestrated in the shadows to prepare for the next election, had been made redundant, as more people within the party, and even his own faction, shifted towards the Kijima faction.
Of course, the more loyal supporters of Naoe remained in his faction but that was only a handful of people. Consequently, Naoe's resources had decreased significantly, as he had less members that he could trust to carry out his orders. Running for the position of Prime Minister had become unfeasible, for the time being, forcing him to scrap that idea. The priority for Naoe was for him to maintain his power and influence within the Citizens' Party.
Therefore, Naoe pushed aside his pride and begrudgingly formed a temporary alliance with his long-term rival Isomaru, aiming to push both Kijima and Prime Minister Miyako out of the picture for who was going to represent the Citizens' Party in the next election. Alas, once again, things would not go as Naoe had envisioned because Kijima was not the only player who wanted to enter the game.
'The shock from the earthquake that was Kijima was only the start of my decline in power. It was the destructive wave that followed that posed the biggest threat.'
A cancer that Naoe thought he had eliminated had re-emerged under his nose. He remembered that day very well. The look that man gave him when they went their separate ways.
It was the gaze of a predator staring at its prey. That man's fierce golden gaze drove a fear deep into Naoe's heart, making the hair along Naoe's arm stand on end. A fear that Naoe had never felt before was what was taught to him by a young man who was barely half his age at the time.
'Why didn't I kill him when I had the chance?'
Deep in his heart, Naoe knew why he did not carry out the killing. He had picked up that child from the streets many years ago and cared for him, showing him a new path to live in life. Naoe didn't know when, but he had grown attached to that child. Maybe it was because of the potential that he saw in the child when he picked him up. The way that child had handled all the 'dirty' jobs that Naoe had delegated to him with ease and fearlessness. But that glimmer of potential had blinded Naoe's eyes from seeing the depth of endless ambition in the child's eyes. That child would become a man who would not bend his knee to anyone, always exuding a thoroughly uncompromising attitude.
"Atsuomi..." He said with a shaky breath.
Ayanokōji Atsuomi was that child's name.
His recent appearance as a new politician within the Citizens' Party made Naoe uncomfortable. Naoe was convinced that after he had cut Atsuomi off he would no longer become a variable that would threaten him.
'But seeing him doing so well is strange. My associates told me that he owns various franchises in Tokyo and Saitama. But how did he amass enough wealth to sustain his seemingly endless desire for expansion?'
That was the question that had plagued Naoe's mind ever since he saw Atsuomi smiling on television. There was no way Naoe would not recognise those distinct golden eyes.
To answer that critical question, Naoe had sent naive, rookie reporters to investigate the source of Atsuomi's funding. Those reporters were so transparent with their ambitions that it was child's play for Naoe to manipulate them. Just dangling the prospect of becoming a prominent journalist in Japan was enough to control them into doing Naoe's bidding.
'I organised a trail for them to follow a few days back, but since then, I haven't heard from them.'
Even though Naoe had joined hands with Isomaru, his intuition was telling him that the walls closing in on him weren't going to slow down.
'I must eliminate Atsuomi at all costs if I want to stand a chance of suppressing the rapidly growing Kijima faction and maintain the power I have cultivated for years. The last thing I need is for the Citizens' Party to have another player enter the fray and cause further division and disorder in the party. Otherwise, the less influential Peace Party might bare their fangs that I'm sure they have been sharpening over the years. Looking for any opportunity to destabilise the Citizens' Party.'
As the imposing steel gates with their sharp, pointed design came into view, Naoe's thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt.
A small hut-like building was situated in front of the gate, where a security guard adorning a classic white uniform sat in his seat. Upon seeing Naoe's unique license plate, the security guard grabbed his walkie-talkie, his lips mumbling out an incomprehensible sentence due to the distance.
The whirring of the gates snapped the black sedan's engine back to life, as it started moving along the long cobblestone driveway, navigating to the entrance of the wealthy estate. But the sight of a familiar black SUV left Naoe in wonder.
'That's Sugimoto. He must have some important information to report back to me for him to enter my estate unannounced.'
Sugimoto Tomoko was Naoe's most trusted subordinate and his right-hand man. He managed the 'shadier' operations that Naoe ordered Sugimoto to carry out, ensuring that none of the misdeeds would link back to Naoe.
Stepping out of his car, Naoe adjusted his tailored suit and strode toward the entrance. Sugimoto was already waiting for him, his demeanour calm but with an unmistakable air of urgency.
"Naoe-sensei," Sugimoto said, bowing slightly. "There are some developments you'll want to hear."
Naoe nodded curtly, gesturing for Sugimoto to follow him inside.
The interior of the estate was the perfect example of luxury and control, composed of expensive furniture, polished marble floor with golden veins that gleamed under the light of the chandelier, and other utilities like a personal bar.
Moving to Naoe's personal office, Naoe drew the curtains closed, leaving the lamp positioned on his work desk as the only source of light that illuminated the room. Taking a seat on the more comfortable leather recliner, Naoe began pouring himself a drink, taking a few sips before his once calm grey eyes focussed on Sugimoto, who had taken a seat opposite to Naoe.
"Speak," Naoe ordered.
Sugimoto leaned forward, interlocking his fingers and resting his elbows on his thighs, his voice low but steady.
"We've identified a higher-up in Ayanokōji-sensei's circle. One of our agents managed to get their hands on intelligence that described in detail the executive's personal life."
Naoe's eyes widened slightly before narrowing like a hawk.
'Obtained information regarding a member who is high up in Atusomi's circle? This could be the opportunity I need to uncover his operations—and perhaps even drive him to his destruction.'
"The executive's name is Takahashi Etsuo. He's a 26 year old man, standing 178cm tall, with short brown hair, and green eyes. His only known family member is his mother, Takahashi Natsue. She's just forty-two years old, having had him at the exceptionally young age of sixteen. Natsue is described as a kindhearted woman with golden hair and the same vivid green eyes as her son, Takahashi Etsuo."
Sugimoto paused, glancing at Naoe for a reaction before continuing.
"Their relationship appears unusually close. Takahashi is highly protective of her and provides a great proportion of her funds for daily life. She lives quietly in a secluded home in the suburban areas of Tokyo, trying to maintain a low profile. But her beauty and youthful appearance, despite her age, have not gone unnoticed by her neighbours. There is no doubt that her safety is his greatest priority, making her his biggest weakness."
Upon hearing the last details of the intelligence that Sugimoto had gathered, an unnatural grin spread across Naoe's face, mirroring the malicious thoughts that were now swirling in his mind.
'That Takahashi Etsuo fellow must have figured that since "Takahashi" is such a common last name, he could get away with not changing his name. After all, the bureaucracy around changing one's last name in Japan may have raised more eyeballs than he was comfortable with. Unless he's got a prominent position in society or a friend with some pull, it would be too risky. That is probably his perception. What's interesting is that he didn't take help from Atsuomi. Perhaps he hid the truth from Atsuomi? Well, no matter, he will be receiving a very nasty surprise soon.'
Naoe's gaze met Sugimoto's as he gave his next instructions.
"Begin making preparations, Sugimoto. I want you to keep track of all of Natsue's movements, that includes where she stops, who she talks to, and any routines. Do not miss any detail, no matter how insignificant it may appear. The operation that follows, after collecting the preliminary intelligence, must be completed as smoothly as possible."
Sugimoto inclined his head. "Understood, Naoe-sensei. Shall we proceed with the utmost secrecy?"
Naoe's grin widened subtly. "Naturally. She must not suspect that anything is amiss. When the inevitable time comes, she should be captured with calculated efficiency."
"And what about Isomaru? Should we inform him of our plans before starting the preparations?"
Naoe let out a deep sigh. "Yes, inform him of my plans."
Even though Naoe didn't want this temporary alliance, it would be best if he held back his pride and opted for the rational choice, that being informing his ally of an opportunity.
Nodding his head, Sugimoto left without another word, leaving Naoe alone in his personal office.
Leaning backwards in the high-backed leather recliner, Naoe's orbs stared into the amber depths of his whiskey glass, swirling the glass absently with only the clink of ice breaking the silence.
'That man, Takahashi Etsuo, is nothing but a cog in Atsuomi's growing machine—loyal, driven and useful. But even the most well-oiled cogs have weak points and I will show no hesitation in exploiting Etsuo's weakness.'
The glaring weakness, Takahashi Natsue, was no more than a chess piece now, her fate tied to the board that Naoe was meticulously crafting.
And if her son cared as deeply as Sugimoto's report suggested, the game would soon tip in Naoe's favour.
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Location: Saitama City, Japan.
The sun had begun its descent, casting a vibrant orange over the newly renovated compound that housed the White Room's intelligence division, disguised as the headquarters of a private security firm. The use of surveillance equipment and highly trained personnel were more than enough to ensure that any intruders or unwanted guests would remain unaware of the true nature of the building's operations.
Takahashi leaned back in his chair, stretching after a grueling day of paperwork, coordinating with subordinates, and gathering intelligence. The gentle hum of his computer and quite rustling of air-conditioning were the only sounds in the room. His desk was neatly organised, holding general reports, dossiers, and encrypted files for more sensitive information that was recently collected.
Takahashi played a key role as the head of intelligence who reported directly to Atsuomi. His role involves completing many different tasks. Tracking and monitoring high-value targets, counterintelligence, information control, and human intelligence collection, are all examples of the sorts of tasks that he had to carry out and manage. For example, one of the methods used for human intelligence collection is through a network of people, some of whom were prostitutes.
These prostitutes were trained to extract secrets from politicians who whispered in their ears during their moments of vulnerability. Takahashi managed this web of informants with precision, ensuring every piece of intelligence was filtered, verified, and delivered to Atsuomi.
Glancing at the clock, Takahashi stood and began tidying up the workspace surrounding his desk. Outside, the building's security personnel were visible through the wide glass windows. A handful of guards armed with hidden melee weapons patrolled the perimeter, their movements precise and deliberate.
Before leaving, Takahashi walked through a sterile room, bathed in cool white light, to undergo his mandatory check carried out by the cybersecurity team for this building. The lead cybersecurity officer handed him his personal phone, the device encased in a tamper-proof shell. After retrieving it, Takahashi submitted to the standard security check that all people who entered and left the building had to undergo. A guard with a well defined build and stoic expression scanned him thoroughly, ensuring no physical data or unauthorized devices that were capable of carrying sensitive information left the premises.
The cybersecurity team operated independently within the compound, ensuring there were no leaks in information. That way, they can't be swayed when intelligence officers make moves that are unauthorised. Essentially, they audit anyone within the compound.
As he exited the building, he reflected on the White Room—a name whispered among even the highest-ranking individuals with trepidation. Despite his position as head of intelligence, Takahashi knew very little about the exact contents of its operations, but was smart enough to know it was highly confidential information. The cybersecurity and security team was impenetrable, and the organisation's strict compartmentalisation kept most staff and even some executives in the dark. Only a select few held bigger pieces of the picture, but only one person knew everything, and that was Ayanokōji Atsuomi himself. He was a man known to hold his cards very close to his chest.
Takahashi's thoughts turned to his second-in-command, Shohei Takamura, a dependable colleague who had earned his trust over the years. The two shared a camaraderie that was rare in their line of work.
Shohei Takamura, as he is known to most, is a man of few words, but his presence commands attention. His short black hair, that hangs down all around his head like a bowl, tends to lead people to overlook him—until they notice his perceptive, deep blue eyes that can be unsettling when focussed on an individual. He is always dressed professionally, favouring dark, understated suits that convey authority.
Though older than Takahashi, they had no troubles in developing a friendly relationship, sometimes meeting for casual drinks and a meal at a quiet bar or lounge.
After retrieving his personal belongings, Takahashi stepped outside into the cool evening air. The sun now hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in subtle hues of orange. The sight brought Takahashi a rare moment of calm where he could rest his mind from the relentless demands of his work.
Faint hums of cicadas filled the quiet moments between his steps as he made his way to where his car was parked, making a quick stop at the familiar payphone tucked beside a modest stone statue, before progressing any further.
Lifting the receiver, Takahashi dialed a number he knew by heart. The line clicked, and a warm voice answered after the first ring.
"Hello?"
"Mother, it's me," he said, his tone softening instantly.
Natsue let out a gentle laugh. "Etsu-kun, it's always good to hear your voice. Are you working too hard again?"
"You know me too well," he replied with a wry smile, though she couldn't see it.
"I'm coming over for dinner tonight. Anything you want me to bring?"
"You're the guest," she teased, "Just bring yourself. And maybe a story or two about work. You always avoid telling me the interesting parts."
Takahashi chuckled lightly, he could already imagine the visible pout that had formed on his mother's face as she had always been interested in knowing more about his work. But like always, he masked the weight of his real tasks, not wanting to burden his mother with worry.
"Fine, but no promises it'll be interesting."
As they exchanged a few more words, the conversation carried the warmth of their close bond. Despite her attempts to pry into his life, she knew better than to push too hard. The call ended with a simple, heartfelt goodbye.
Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Takahashi paused for a moment. The distant chatter of the crossing pedestrians and the hum of cars filled the evening air, grounding him.
'I know she said to just bring myself for dinner tonight, but I can't help wanting to spoil her.'
Takahashi loved his mother dearly. She had taken care of him as a single mother throughout all of his childhood. He knew she was hurt that the boy, who she thought loved her, left her all alone to deal with a pregnancy they had both been responsible for, but she always put on a strong face for Takahashi. Despite only being 16 years old, she quit her dreams to take care of him.
Which is why Takahashi, at an early age, vowed in his heart that he would earn enough money so that she would no longer have to carry the burden of fending for him, ensuring that she could live a peaceful life for her remaining years.
...
...
...
Struggling to find parking, Takahashi resigned himself to having to walk a distance to reach the familiar bakery.
Knowing that his mother would never accept extravagant gifts, since she had already been receiving money that Takahashi practically forced her to accept, Takahashi decided to go with something cheaper so that she couldn't refuse.
As he made his way to the nearby bakery, Takahashi couldn't help but notice the bakery's windows gleaming invitingly under the dimming sky. The aroma of freshly baked pastries permeated through the opening in the bakery's windows, pulling Takahashi in.
Approaching the glass door with a panel that read "Open", he gently pushed on the door.
*TING*
The bell near the door produced an audible noise, letting the attendant know that a customer had arrived. A female worker appeared shortly afterwards, greeting him politely with a friendly smile.
"Excuse me," he said to the female attendant, pointing at a neatly arranged tray. "I'll take a box of those, please."
The pastries, delicately dusted with powdered sugar, were his mother's favourite. He paid for the box and stepped back out into the bustling streets, carrying the small treat in his hands. The city was alive with the rhythm of evening—couples strolling, children laughing, and street vendors selling their goods.
As he navigated the crowd back to his car, he accidentally bumped into a man coming from the opposite direction.
"Apologies," Takahashi said automatically, as he stepped back to create distance between himself and the stranger with short black hair.
The man didn't respond right away. Instead, he stood still, his face plastered with an eerie wide smile. His eyes, thin and snake-like, glinted with something cold and unreadable.
"No harm done," the man finally said, his tone smooth but ominous. Without another word, he moved on, disappearing into the crowd as if he had never been there.
Takahashi watched him go, a flicker of unease running through him. Something about the man's demeanor lingered in his mind, but he quickly shook it off. There were always odd people in the city and he had more important things to focus on.
Continuing his walk, he received a text message on his personal phone. The notification buzzed softly, and he pulled it out to check.
[6:39:40] [Shohei Takamura] Hey, want to grab a bite? Haven't seen you all day, it would be nice to catch up.
The message was from his second-in-command, Shohei Takamura, perhaps his only friend in a profession where trust was a luxury.
[6:39:50] [Takahashi Etsuo] Sorry, I've got plans tonight. How about we meet up another day? I'll be free on the weekend if you're up for some drinks.
After a series of texts they decided to have drinks and a meal on a Saturday night.
Approaching his car, Takahashi got in the driver's seat and swiftly put on his seatbelt before slowly departing. As he crept closer and closer to his destination, he couldn't help but recall the memory of the man he had bumped into earlier when he was walking back to his car.
'What a strange man.'
...
...
...
The small, traditional house was nestled at the edge of a quiet neighbourhood, its shoji doors slightly ajar to let the evening breeze sweep through.
Natsue greeted Takahashi at the door, her youthful features glowing with affection. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a loose bun, and her apron was stained and ragged from the cooking she had carried out before Takahashi's arrival.
"Etsu-kun! What's happened to your body? You're looking way too thin, please tell me you are eating properly!" Natsue exclaimed, the worry in her gentle green eyes was palpable.
Takahashi rolled his eyes, a small smirk surfaced on his lips as he stepped inside, taking off his shoes and setting aside the neatly packaged pastries onto the kitchen counter.
"Nice to see you too, mother. And yes, I'm eating. Just not enough of your cooking, apparently."
The small but cozy home welcomed him with its familiar warmth. The air was filled with the scent of spices and freshly cooked food. Paintings and family photos were perched onto the walls, each one telling a story of their humble yet loving life.
"You brought pastries?" Natsue asked, glancing at the box as she returned to the stove to check on dinner. "Trying to bribe me into forgetting to nag you about your health? You are so sly."
"Maybe," Takahashi replied, leaning against the counter. "But they're from that bakery you love, so it's a win-win."
"Hmph, this is not over, Etsu," Natsu said teasingly, before taking a gentler tone with softer words, "I won't ever stop worrying about you,"
Takahashi sighed. "I know..."
Dinner was served a short while later, a modest yet delicious spread of dishes Natsue had perfected over the years. Takahashi couldn't help but let a small grin surface as he tasted her signature simmered fish dish, his taste buds bursting with nostalgia.
"This is amazing as always," he said between bites. "I don't know how you do it."
"It's called experience," Natsue teased, settling down across from him. Her bright green eyes sparkled with mischief as she added, "A handsome young man like you must have girls chasing after him. When will I get to meet someone, hmmm? Or is my baby boy hiding his mystery girlfriend from me?"
Takahashi groaned, his chopsticks pausing mid-air. "Mother, not this again. Let me enjoy your cooking in peace."
Natsue giggled, the sound light and carefree. "Alright, alright, but one day, Etsu, you'll see I'm right."
Despite his protests, Takahashi found himself smiling—a rare, genuine smile that warmed his usually stoic demeanor that he wore everyday while working.
As they ate, the conversation turned to lighter topics: her latest gardening efforts, the neighbor's noisy dog, and the weather failing to deliver on its promises.
But beneath the surface of their lighthearted talks, Takahashi's mind began to wander as he glanced at her hands—calloused from years of work, yet still gentle and steady. His gaze shifted to her face, where faint lines of age had begun to form, though they did little to diminish her charm and beauty.
Takahashi couldn't help but ponder the insecurities deep in his heart
'She's sacrificed everything for me.'
The weight of that recurring thought settled heavily in Takahashi's chest. Having him at sixteen, abandoned by her family and his father, Natsue had endured unimaginable hardships. She had taken on odd jobs, sometimes juggling multiple at once, just to keep food on the table and ensure he had a chance at a better life.
Their lives had been humble, but her unwavering love and determination had been his anchor. It was why he worked so hard now—to repay her in ways words never could. And that was only possible because Atsuomi had seen potential in him and allowed him to join his higher-circle, where Takahashi would go on to prove himself as being capable of leading Atsuomi's intelligence department.
Because Atsuomi had granted him such a title, Takahashi had managed to make enough money to support his mother. Seeing her slave away for his sake at a young age made him feel guilty. He wanted to show her how much he appreciated her and allow her to relax for the rest of her life, that was his dream. As long as she was happy, he would also be happy.
It was Atsuomi who helped him take a big step towards that dream, which is why he respected the man so deeply, even if he was still nervous in his presence.
As Natsue cleared the table, humming softly to herself, Takahashi's thoughts took a more somber turn.
'She hasn't dated anyone since I was born, at least as far as I am aware. She deserves happiness, but has always put me first, acting like she's content, but... is she really?'
Takahashi wanted to say something, to broach the subject, but the words stuck in his throat. How could he ask her to put herself first when she'd spent her entire life doing the opposite?
Shaking his head lightly, he abruptly stood up and began helping her with the dishes. She looked up, surprised but pleased.
"What's this? Etsu-kun is washing dishes? Should I call the papers?"
Takahashi chuckled softly. "Don't get used to it."
Working side-by-side, the room was filled with a comfortable silence. For a moment, it was enough—just the two of them, the quiet rhythm of the dishes, and the warmth of their little home.
But amidst that silence, Takahashi made a solemn vow to ensure and protect his dear mother's happiness, no matter the cost.
...
...
...
As Takahashi hugged his mother goodbye, her embrace lingered for just a moment longer than usual.
"Be careful out there," Natsue said softly, her voice tinged with the concern of a mother.
He sighed gently, brushing it off with his usual stoic demeanor. "You worry too much. I'll call you tomorrow."
Stepping out into the crisp night air, Takahashi took a deep breath. The streets held a peaceful silence, save for the occasional hum of a passing car or the light murmur of voices from distant alleyways.
Takahashi felt a sense of peace from their evening together. A feeling he welcomed with open arms to distract him from the relentless pressures of his work.
Unbeknownst to him, vultures had been circling on the edges of his world, no—his sanctuary.
...
...
...
A dimly lit warehouse buzzed with a silent urgency. Shadows gathered about one man—Naoe's second in command, Sugimoto. A tall, gaunt man with sharp features and narrowed eyes, Sugimoto stood at the center of the room. He was dressed in dark tactical gear, perfect for blending in with the night.
His gaze locked onto the map of the city that lay spread out on the table before him, marked with red circles and lines that converged on a single name: Takahashi Natsue.
Sugimoto glanced up, his piercing orbs sweeping over the assembled team—each handpicked to suit a specific role in the operation.
"Listen carefully," he began, his tone icy and devoid of any emotion. "This is a precision operation. The target is Takahashi Natsue. Make it clean. No witnesses, and no unnecessary risks. And ensure she's unharmed. Our leverage depends on it."
The selected men all nodded silently, their faces obscured by masks, their bodies tense with anticipation.
A burly man with a scar running down his cheek spoke up. "What if her son interferes?"
Sugimoto's expression darkened, his voice developing a new sharpness that cut through the room like a blade. "Takahashi Etsuo is not your concern. Follow the plan. Any deviation, and you'll answer directly to Naoe-sensei. Am I clear?"
With those final words, no one bothered to question Sugimoto any further lest they invoke Naoe's wrath for not following orders.
...
...
...
Takahashi walked briskly back towards where his car was parked, the warmth of his mother's home still present in his thoughts. He was oblivious to the car that idled a block away, its headlights dimmed. Inside, two men sat in tense silence, their eyes fixed on his retreating figure.
"Target confirmed," one of them muttered into a radio. "The son's leaving the area. Proceeding as planned."
At the same time, Natsue moved about her home, tidying up after dinner. She paused by the window, gazing out at the quiet street. She felt an instinctive unease staring at the silent street but she couldn't pinpoint its source. Shaking of the feeling, she pulled the curtains closed.
...
...
...
Sugimoto's team moved with military precision. One team set up surveillance around Natsue's home, while another prepared for extraction.
In the warehouse, Sugimoto watched as the operation unfolded on a monitor. His lips curled into a thin smile.
"Begin."
Meanwhile, miles away, Takahashi's phone buzzed with a work notification. Glancing at the screen, he sighed, the little peace from having dinner from his mother earlier was already slipping away.
Little did he know, the fragile peace of his world was about to be shattered.
In the quiet of the night, a sinister plot had been spun—and no one, not Takahashi nor his mother Natsue, would escape unscathed.
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It was the next day. Takahashi sat alone in his dimly lit office, his once neatly organised desk had become cluttered with reports and files detailing the latest operations that the intelligence department had been carrying out. The soft glow of his desk lamp cast long shadows on the walls with only the soft humming of the air conditioner serving as company for silence he found himself in.
Leaning back in his chair, he pinched the bridge of his nose as fatigue clawed at him. He had been carrying out intelligence related operations for Atsuomi for years. The work was fulfilling but relentless, and tonight it felt especially suffocating.
He glanced at the clock on the nearby wall—it was quarter past seven in the evening. Letting out a deep breath, he closed his eyes briefly as his thoughts wandered to the previous night, the warmth he felt whilst eating dinner with his mother still lingering in his heart.
His closed eyelids suddenly snapped open as he recalled the promise he made to his mother before leaving to return to his apartment.
'I said I would call her. If I don't I'm sure she'll worry about me. That's just how she is...'
It was a sentiment that Takahashi endeared but also filled him with concern. The unwavering care his mother showed him made him deeply appreciative—after all, he knew not everyone had the privilege of having such a loving parent. Yet, it also made him worry about how much she sacrificed for his sake, and whether he could ever truly repay her.
Moving through the corridors of the compound, he is met with the same sterile room to undergo the routine security and cybersecurity checkups for all staff members, which takes longer than usual. They gave the excuse that some of their equipment needed to be rebooted before they could carry out the checks.
Walking along the familiar path to his car, he stopped at the same payphone that he used yesterday, ready to make the call to his mother, Natsue. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he typed in his mother's name. She always waited for his phone calls, even if it was just to say she was going to bed.
As the phone rang, he pictured her cheerful voice cutting through his exhaustion from work. It was a moment he looked forward to every day, no matter how chaotic his work became.
The first ring went unanswered.
'That's strange. She always picked up the phone immediately, even if she didn't know it was me who was calling her.'
He was expecting her to answer and start teasing him for calling so late like she usually did.
But the second ring stretched longer, and his faint smile faded.
The call went to voicemail.
Takahashi frowned, his mind immediately racing through the possibilities.
'Maybe she's really busy... or her phone's on silent.'
He tried again, only for the call to cut off after a few rings.
His stomach tightened. Something felt off. She never missed his calls, especially when he told her the previous day that he would call her.
'I'm overthinking this. She's fine.'
But the pounding in his chest told him otherwise.
...
...
...
The chill of the evening bit into him as Takahashi Etsuo pulled up to his mother's modest home. The familiar porch light was off, leaving the house shrouded in darkness. His chest tightened and it felt like there was a lump in his throat.
'She always leaves the light on for me, even when she is about to go to bed.'
He parked hastily, barely notice the sharp snap of the car door as he shut it. The gravel crunched under his hurried footsteps as he made his way to the front door. His breath came out as fog in the cold air, but he barely registered it.
"Mother?" he called out as he unlocked the door with trembling hands.
The silence was suffocating and unnatural. He stepped inside, his nose quickly picking up the faint scent of spices from her cooking earlier in the evening, which still lingered in the air. But Takashashi didn't feel that warmth he was familiar with. His mother, who greeted him with her signature warm smile with every visit, was nowhere in sight.
His heart raced as he moved further into the house. Upon scanning the living room, he abruptly stopped in his tracks at the sight he witnessed.
A toppled vase lay shattered on the floor, its fragments laying ominously in the polarised moonlight from the opening in his curtains. The cushions from the sofa were scattered across the room as though someone had desperately tried to escape.
"Mother?" His voice cracked as he called again, louder this time, the unease he felt since the first phone call finally latching onto his vulnerable mind.
No answer.
He moved through the hallway, flicking on the lights as we went. Only the echoes of his footsteps could be heard amidst the painful silence. Every room he checked left his mind in further disarray. His mother's bedroom was untouched, but her coat and shoes were missing from the entryway.
By the time he reached the kitchen, his pulse was hammering in his ears. And there on the dining table, sat a single sheet of paper.
He froze. The paper stared at him, almost like it was taunting him. It was placed in the center of the table with care, as if whoever left it wanted to ensure it would be seen immediately.
His hand hovered above the piece of paper for a moment with great hesitation, as if touching it would make his worst nightmare come true.
With a deep breath and heavy heart, he finally snatched the piece of paper up, glancing at the words written.
The message written in bold capital letters chilled Takahashi to his bones.
"COME TO THE ADDRESS BELOW IN TOKYO. ALONE. IF YOU WANT HER TO LIVE."
Beneath it, an address was hastily scrawled in jagged handwriting.
*Ba-bump* *Ba-bump* *Ba-bump* *Ba-bump* *Ba-bump*
Takahashi's legs nearly buckled under the sound of his own heart beats. The paper shook violently in his grip as the weight of the words sank in. He clutched the edge of the table to steady himself, his breathing ragged as the emotions he usually kept under his stoic expression emerged.
"No, no, no..." he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as panic, fear, and anger swirled within him. His thoughts started to race.
'Who? Why her?'
Images of his mother's smiling face flashed in his mind. The memory of her giggles, her teasing, and her unconditional support pierced his chest like a dagger, opening the floodgates to a new emotion.
His jaw clenched as fury began to rise, overtaking the fear. Whoever did this had violated and stepped on the one thing that he held dear to his heart—his mother's safety.
But below that tremendous anger lay a rising guilt that threatened to swallow him whole.
"I should've told him," he whimpered, his voice thick with anguish. "I should've told Ayanokōji-sensei about her."
But he hadn't. He'd been too afraid of losing his position, too afraid of being seen as weak or vulnerable. His overprotective nature and inability to trust anyone with this secret had inevitably led him to this outcome. At least, that was the thoughts that were plaguing his mind.
Burning the address written on the paper into his memory, he bolted out of the house, slamming the door behind him. His car's engine roared to life, its powerful LED lights slicing through the darkness of the dreary night as he sped towards the address in Tokyo.
He gripped the steering wheel tightly to the point where his knuckles turned white. As he inched closer to his destination his mind gradually regained its composure, converging to a new goal—to do whatever it took to save his mother, no matter the cost.
...
...
...
The address led him to a sketchy warehouse, its walls streaked with rust, planting a seed of unease in Takahashi's heart. Overgrown weeds and unkempt grass highlighted that it had been abandoned for a long time.
He glanced at his silver wrist watch—it was almost half past nine. He had been driving for roughly an hour to reach the seemingly desolate warehouse.
Stepping out of his car with shaky steps, he made his way towards the metal door where he was met with a tall, gaunt man, wearing dark clothing that had been illuminated with a subtle yellow by the single lamp situated at the warehouse's entrance. It looked like the man had been waiting for some time given the puffs of smoke that left his mouth.
As Takahashi inched closer, the man's gaze left the cigarette, which was pinched between his right hand thumb and index finger, and sharpened on Takahashi, analysing him.
"Takahashi Etsuo?" the man asked, with a clipped tone.
Takahashi soundlessly nodded. His throat was too dry to speak from the stress of the situation.
"Follow me."
Leaving no rooms for questions, the man quickly turned away, walking towards the warehouse's entrance. With methodical precision, the man knocked on the door with a strange pattern.
Moments afterwards, the door ajar, whereupon receiving visual confirmation of Takahashi, opened wider, allowing both Takahashi and the man from the entrance into the old warehouse. Navigating through the dim hallways, they arrived at an open room that was well lit.
Two older men sat at a table, both adorning a flashy suit and polished shoes that glimmered under the ceiling lights. Takahashi's eyes slightly widened, recognition reflecting in his orbs as he gazed at the two men.
'Tch. I should've known. The only ones with a motive to move against me would be the likes of Naoe and Isomaru. Did someone betray me? Or did I get too complacent and the wrong person overheard? Well, no point thinking about that now. My priority is my mother's safety.'
"Takahashi," Naoe said, with a mocking smile plastered on his face. "Welcome."
Takahashi gritted his teeth in frustration, clenching his fists as if he was ready to strike, but quickly regained his cool. He knew that if he lost his cool now his mother's safety could not be guaranteed. It was better to hear what they wanted before doing something so irrational. Afterall, Takahashi was Atsuomi's head of intelligence, it was his job to always to analyse events objectively without letting his personal feelings interfere. But there was no doubt that this would be Takahashi's most difficult test, and he couldn't help but let the question he desired an answer for the most to leave his lips.
"Where is she?" he demanded, his voice shaking despite his best efforts to stay calm.
Naoe's smile widened, not bothering to hide the malicious thoughts that were swirling in his mind, he gestured toward the man Takahashi had met at the entrance.
The man, Sugimoto, placed a tablet on the table, tapping the screen to provide a live feed of Takahashi's worst nightmare. In the feed, Natsue was sitting in a wooden chair, both her arms and legs, and mouth bound tightly. The cloth stuffed in her mound prevented any noise from leaking out. Her once bright golden hair that Takahashi remembered had now dimmed, dishevelled in messy strands and knots. She looked exhausted, but her green eyes still had a semblance of warmth, demonstrating that her spirit had not been broken yet.
Takahashi suppressed the sob that threatened to expose his weak mind, but the trembling of his hands did little to hide his true thoughts. The sight of his mother in such a poor condition made the weight of his guilt that much heavier. This was all his fault. He truly believed that to be the case. Even if someone betrayed him or it was his own complacency, if he had been transparent with Atsuomi there may have been a chance that he kept his job and his mother was provided protection.
Isomaru opened his mouth for the first time.
"She's unharmed...for now," Isomaru snarled, his words laced with malice.
Those last few words caught Takahashi's attention. Takahashi was no fool. He knew that Naoe and Isomaru were after something even though they kidnapped his mother, but that did not ease his thoughts. Because if what he thought they were thinking at this moment was true, then ensuring his mother's safety became exponentially more difficult.
Leaning forward with his smile fading, Naoe's gaze sharpened on Takahashi's.
"I'm sure you know what we want, Takahashi. You will work for us now, being our double agent to gather intelligence on Atsuomi. If anything sensitive crosses your desk, you immediately bring it to us in person. If you fail to comply...well I'll let Sugimoto inform you of what will happen."
Sugimoto chuckled darkly. "Well, Takahashi, let's just say that my men are always very 'pent up' and restraint is not something that is in their vocabulary. Your mother, even at her age, is still...quite lovely. I'm sure some of my men wouldn't mind having some fun with such a beauty, maybe they'll take her all at once?"
Takahashi's veins popped out of his forehead as rage consumed his mind. He fought the urge to strangle and kill Sugimoto, Naoe and Isomaru with his own hands. The thought of these men laying their hands on his innocent mother made his blood boil, but he was powerless.
He did not know where his mother was being kept and since his identity as an executive in Atsuomi's circle had been uncovered, Naoe and Isomaru would always be keeping a close eye on him.
"You're all monsters," he said through gritted teeth.
With a shit-eating grin, Isomaru leaned back lazily into his chair.
"Call us whatever you want. The bottom line is that you will work for us. Accept your new reality because you won't escape our grasp. After a threat like that, I'm sure you won't even think of betraying us."
The walls had closed in on Takahashi. He had never felt so trapped in his life, so hopeless. Self-hatred polluted his thoughts as he once again cursed himself for not being more careful, for not telling Atsuomi about his mother sooner. For letting the greed of obtaining a high-paying position in Atsuomi's circle blinding him from protecting the only thing that mattered to him in this world.
'I have to obey them, if I don't, then—then they're going to do those unspeakable things to her. She doesn't deserve this...I'm such a fool.'
The worst part was that the future of being a double agent within Atsuomi's circle was bleak.
'Amongst the staff in my intelligence department, I had heard rumours about people disappearing from the organisation.'
The rumours spoke of tales in which people in Atsuomi's circle had disappeared mysteriously the next day. But Takahashi's position as a higher-up in Atsuomi's circle meant that he knew the truth.
Takahashi knew that those people who disappeared were in fact traitors that had betrayed Atsuomi. He had seen firsthand the agony that the corpses had been in before they left the world. The least gruesome sights that Takahashi had seen were the empty eye sockets in their skulls, fingernails missing from their fingers, and signs of toes having been severed.
'But there's one key difference that sets those traitors who got caught apart from me. And that's my unique position as the head of intelligence.'
Takahashi had the unique position of being the head of intelligence, which meant that he reported directly to Atsuomi. In other words, he was responsible for what information Atsuomi would hear and what information he would not hear.
'If I filter out sensitive information whilst still supplying sufficient information to not raise suspicion, I could pull the rug over Ayanokōji-sensei's eyes.'
If done carefully, Takahashi believed he could evade being caught as a traitor.
The thought of betraying the man who had granted him an opportunity to achieve his dream sliced Takahashi's heart into pieces.
'This all my fault, yet it's Ayanokōji-sensei who will have to suffer for my mistakes. I shouldn't have taken this role.'
Self deprecating thoughts raged a storm within his mind, one that he couldn't escape as he spiraled deeper into the unsteady ocean that was leading a double-life.
...
...
...
After telling Naoe and Isomaru the information he currently possessed, Takahashi walked back to the car. On the way to his car, the weather abruptly changed as drops of water started peppering his body. The cold of the water seeping into his clothes a direct contrast to the warmth he sought during his scheduled visits to his mother.
'Even if I managed to deceive Ayanokōji-sensei and follow Naoe and Isomaru's instructions to a tee, there is no guarantee they will keep their promise. As soon as they have accomplished what they want, my value as a double-agent would have dropped to zero. If I pick a different path and inform Atsuomi of the situation then there is no doubt that he will lose all the trust he had placed in me. Or worse, think that I'm lying and already perceive me as a traitor, thinking that it's a scheme to gain his trust.'
Although Takahashi respected Atsuomi, that did not mean he thought Atsuomi was a naive, kindhearted man. There had been moments when Takahashi had seen Atsuomi's eyes resemble that of a predator. A being that knew no compromise, only desiring to destroy what stood in its way or those who dared to aim their swords at his neck. Takahashi was currently a liability for Atsuomi and from an objective point of view, the best course of action would be to cut off the deadweight. Afterall, Takahashi's position as head of intelligence would not be difficult to replace. It was with these thoughts that Takahashi realised the truth of his situation.
He was the prey, and he had no way out in the lion's den that we found himself trapped within.