The humid breath of Tokyo clung to Takashima Yuuki's blouse as she stepped off the Marunouchi Line at Yotsuya Station. She adjusted the strap of her worn leather satchel—its contents a swirl of notebooks scrawled with equations, quantum diagrams, and a black fountain pen gifted by her late mentor. The neon lights flickered to life in the descending twilight, their reflections skittering across rain-slicked pavement like errant thoughts.
She walked in silence, letting her senses navigate familiar cues: the scent of grilled yakitori from the stand near the alley, the distant hum of a jazz saxophone filtering out of a smoky second-floor bar, the crisp clap of a salaryman's shoes echoing in sync with her own. She liked patterns. Predictability was comfort.
As she passed a row of vending machines blinking like curious eyes, she slowed. The red "out of service" light on the third machine had vanished. It was working again. Curious. She always counted on it being broken—like a fixed variable in an equation. She noted it mentally, her lips forming silent numbers.
A trio of schoolgirls passed her, giggling in a rush of motion and perfume. She smiled gently but didn't meet their eyes. People recognized her sometimes, but her gaze was always elsewhere—on the calculus of dripping eaves, the logarithmic rhythm of blinking signs, the symmetry of shadows cast by bicycles stacked beside the ramen shop.
As she turned into the quieter side street leading toward her apartment, her thoughts drifted to her latest conundrum—anomalous quantum fluctuations in a closed energy loop. The sound of distant thunder rolled low across the rooftops.
Yuuki paused.
The air changed.
The silence, once rhythmic and comforting, now felt... broken.
The street narrowed as Takashima Yuuki stepped off the main road, her footsteps tapping softly against the rain-darkened asphalt. It was the quietest part of her commute, a narrow lane lined with shuttered shops, potted plants, and the faint scent of wet concrete. The soft patter of drizzle on her umbrella harmonized with the clink of her keychain as it bounced against her satchel.
She turned the final corner toward her apartment building—and froze.
Two men stood between her and the entrance.
Dressed in matching black suits, they looked out of place in the quiet residential street. One leaned casually against the vending machine, arms crossed. The other, taller and broader, took a step forward.
"Takashima Yuuki-san?" the taller one asked, his voice smooth but cold.
Yuuki's posture shifted subtly, weight balanced evenly between her feet, eyes sharp. "Who wants to know?" she said, tensing.
"We've been asked to escort you," the man said, stepping closer. "Please come with us. Quietly."
"By whom?" she demanded, already calculating angles and options.
Neither man answered.
Without another word, the tall one lunged.
But Yuuki was ready.
Her umbrella snapped shut with a flick of her wrist and jabbed forward, striking him in the solar plexus. As he staggered, she pivoted and slammed a heel into the second man's knee. He grunted, stumbling backward.
She dropped the umbrella, raised her arms in a defensive stance. "I don't want to hurt you," she warned. Her breath was controlled, her stance tight. "But I will."
"Resistant target," the first man muttered, straightening. "Take her down."
The second attacker surged forward, surprisingly fast. Yuuki ducked, swiping his legs out, but the first one caught her by the arm. She twisted, elbowing him in the ribs, but his grip was like iron. She heard a hiss.
A cloth.
The acrid, chemical scent hit her nose—sharp, sweet, wrong.
"Chloroform—!" she gasped, jerking her head away. Her vision blurred.
She kicked, hard, hitting flesh. A grunt of pain. But another arm caught her around the waist, lifting her off the ground. Her legs thrashed wildly.
"Let—go—of me—!"
The cloth pressed against her mouth and nose. She held her breath, panic surging. Her fingers clawed at the man's hand, her nails scraping skin. Her body twisted in desperation, strength fueled by adrenaline and fear.
But breath wouldn't last.
Darkness nibbled at the edge of her vision. Her muscles slowed, grew heavy.
Her mind tried to hold onto the equations she'd been pondering minutes before—the energy loop, the numbers—but the formula unraveled. She felt the last strands of clarity slip through her fingers.
The cloth tightened.
Her world tilted.
Then everything went black.
~♤■~