March 23, 2025 — Tokyo, Japan
A woman in her forties is knocking insistently on a bedroom door, from which deafening music is resounding.
"Riku, turn it down! The neighbors are complaining! And open this door!" the woman shouts to someone behind her.
Behind the door, sitting on the bed under a window that looks out onto the night sky, is Riku.
Riku is a boy with medium-length black hair, a bob. He is shirtless, revealing a very slim body and he is holding a knife in his hand.
This is what I deserve... - He thinks, with an anguished expression on his face.
—
Memories of a girl come flooding back to him, but he can't clearly picture her face.
—
"Why did I do this!" he shouts angrily, but due to his agitation the blade slips, causing a deep wound on his arm.
A burning pain. He gasps. The blade falls to the ground. He presses his forearm, but the blood flows fast, merciless.
"It hurts so much..."
He collapses against the wall, breathing hard, his eyes fixed on the sky beyond the window.
"...And I don't even have the strength to go through with it."
A desperate laugh escapes his lips.
"I can't do that either... I don't deserve a second chance."
March 24, 2025 — Los Angeles, California
"Ugh... just what I needed, my mom sending me grocery shopping when I could have been home... relaxing... sleeping..." says a blonde girl of about sixteen, walking in the bright sun, looking tired. She is accompanied by another girl, also about sixteen, with dark hair.
The other girl smiles, amused by her friend's complaints.
"At least the store is really close..." she replies, then adds with a thoughtful expression: "Even though I could have stayed home too..."
Her friend throws her right arm around her neck.
"And that's why I'm grateful, and that's why you're my best friend!"
The two laugh and enter the store.
It's a small store, but the shelves are well-stocked. The cashier notices the girls' arrival but says nothing, distracted by his phone.
The dark-haired girl heads for the refrigerated drinks counter.
"Would you like a drink?" she asks her friend, who is scrolling through her phone.
"Sure, pick something for me."
The girl grabs two drinks and heads to the counter, where she notices a hooded boy in line in front of her.
The cashier glances at the boy in a hoodie and bandana. Something feels off, but he tries not to show it.
"Good morning... can I help you with something?" he asks, forcing a smile.
The boy steps closer and places a bag on the counter. With his other hand, he flashes a metallic object from under his jacket—there's no mistaking the intent.
"Just fill the bag," he says quietly.
The cashier stiffens, trembling slightly as he opens the register. "Y-yes... please, don't do anything rash."
"Stay calm, and no one gets hurt," the boy replies coldly.
Behind him, the dark-haired girl freezes in place.
"You. Don't move." He turns slightly toward her. "Thought I didn't notice you?"
She nods quickly, frightened. "Okay, okay... here's my phone and wallet," she says, handing them over.
The boy eyes her necklace. "That too."
She removes it with shaking hands and gives it to him.
He nods, stepping back. "Lie down. I just need a minute more."
She obeys silently, tears welling up in her eyes.
Meanwhile, her friend, hiding behind a shelf, fumbles for her phone, trying to call for help.
Come on, answer! - She thought visibly agitated.
But as she tried to get a better look, her elbow hit a can, which rolled and clattered on the floor.
The robber turned sharply at the sound.
"Come out! You blew it!"
The girl did not show up.
"I see…" the boy muttered, then turned his gun toward the girl lying on the floor. "Come out, or she gets hurt!"
The girl on the ground whimpered in fear.
"Celia! Just listen to him!" she shouted in panic.
Celia clenched her jaw, the emergency call still active, then hung up and stood up with her hands slightly raised.
"Well done… now hand over everything valuable, then lie down. Slowly."
Celia obeyed, inching forward.
That's when the cashier acted—pulling a gun from under the counter and pointing it at the robber.
"Drop the weapon. Now."
The robber raised his hands slowly, eyes narrowed.
"Place it on the floor, and kneel," ordered the cashier.
The boy obeyed, but just as Celia dashed toward her friend—a single, sudden shot echoed.
The cashier collapsed to the floor. The girls froze in horror.
"Damn it…" the boy muttered, visibly shaken himself.
Celia's friend started screaming, running toward the exit.
"Don't-!" Celia tried to warn her friend, but it was too late.
A second shot rang out. She fell, unmoving.
Celia stood motionless, eyes wide, her whole body trembling.
She looked at the boy. The coldness in his gaze chilled her to the bone.
"No…" she whispered, falling to her knees, her friend's body beside her.
Footsteps approached.
The muzzle of the gun pressed against the side of her head.
"Please… I don't want to die!" she whispered.
The boy didn't speak. His eyes gave nothing away.
But Celia turned suddenly, anger overpowering fear.
"Who gave you the right, to do this to me?!"
She lunged forward.
Another blow.