{ Jhiro Fukiyama }
The back door bursts open before we can reach it. Splinters fly everywhere, lodging themselves in the wall as Tetsuya whips me to the ground to avoid the blast. Why the hell did I think they wouldn't have already surrounded us?
"Okay, okay, back up, back up! Not this way!"
Tetsuya scrambles to his feet, and I kick out the first guy's legs before chasing after him. Maybe five or six of them crowd through the doorway, all dressed in black coats and bowler hats, or hooded in sweatshirts, or others in leather jackets and ripped jeans. And they have guns. Every single one of them.
"Targets one and three in sight," one of them radios over their phone, as we retreat back into the building.
"No, no, no," Tetsuya throws out. "This is too close. Way too close."
"What's too close?"
"Backup!"
"Wait, do you mean—"
The sound of falling glass pierces the ambiance, a sharp staccato of shards crystallizing against the floor. I take a wild glance at the door leading to the main entrance; Kyoji's not guarding it anymore.
Oh, shit.
A dull, throbbing sensation ricochets its way from my spine through my shoulder blades, and finally, up to my neck. And I'm falling. Why am I falling?
In the distance, somebody calls out my name, but they're either too far away or too muffled for me to figure out who it is. I don't know, and I don't really care. I just want to fall asleep right now. Maybe it'll help the haziness all around me go away.
Hazy...
The haze starts to hurt. Hazy and purple, as the world swirls around me.
"Jhiro!"
That's Tetsuya's voice. What just happened?
"Jhiro!"
Pain flares up in my head as I sprawl out onto the carpet in a spectacular crash.
"Jhiro, get up! We gotta—"
Tetsuya doesn't finish his sentence. Instead, the tail end of it cuts off when a blow connects with his stomach. My limbs lock together, stiffened in agony, as I reach out with a silent scream affixed permanently to my face.
But I can't do anything, because right now, forty thousand volts of electricity are shredding through my nerve endings, sending my muscles into a spasm. Everything around me spins in an endless spiral of purple and blue, lapsing into an unrecognizable chaos.
"Take the kid first," a gruff voice barks. Somebody hooks their arms under mine; a sharp force yanks at my armpits. In my daze, I make out the softer edges of my surroundings.
Above me is the front entrance. That means that...Kyoji failed? Where is he?
"Okay, first of all, screw you," Tetsuya coughs. He lunges back at somebody, and glass shatters again, this time closer than before. The thousands of liquor bottles that hid behind the bar when we came in now lie broken in alcoholic puddles on the musty velvet carpet.
"This will go quicker if you stop fighting back," the gruff voice returns. I catch a glimpse of his maroon jacket and slicked-back hair. "Come on, kid. Even punks like you should know not to mess us."
"What do you want with us?"
"How should I know? All I'm doing is getting paid for my services and taking orders."
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Spring Upon the Solstice
الخيال العلميSeventeen year-old Jhiro Fukiyama hates the world; that's a fact. Of course, he has reason to. After all, he's a Yomiborn in totalitarian Japan, and for that very reason, he's been treated like dirt for his entire life. But when he meets a mysteriou...
