The rain hadn't stopped since dawn.
Neon lights reflected on the soaked asphalt, stretching into ghostly lines of color across the silent avenues of Shin-Tokyo. Every droplet seemed to carry a memory — of screams, of broken glass, of something that should've stayed buried.
Shinomiya Reiji walked through the rain without an umbrella. The city's noise had dulled, swallowed by the sound of falling water. He preferred it this way — when even the sky learned how to stay quiet.
Kaede followed a few steps behind, hood pulled over her head, voice low through the comm.
> "Central just sent an alert. Three dead in the upper ring — clean hits, no traces left. You think it's them?"
Reiji didn't answer immediately. His eyes tracked the faint shimmer of crimson mixing with rain near the gutter — blood, diluted, erased by time. "No. This was a message."
> "From who?"
He glanced up at the tall digital billboard ahead. A symbol flickered across its surface — a black circle split by a white diagonal line. The same mark carved into the neck of their last target.
"From whoever's been watching us," he said quietly.
---
The crime scene was cordoned off by automated drones. The victims lay under silver sheets, their faces already scanned, cataloged, forgotten. Reiji crouched near one of the bodies — a man with cybernetic arms, eyes removed cleanly. No bullet wounds. Just silence and precision.
Kaede handed him a tablet. "Facial recognition says he worked for a corporate security cell — subcontracted under Nexus Division."
Reiji's jaw tensed. "Then this wasn't random."
> "Nexus was supposed to be dead. You burned them three years ago."
"I burned what they wanted me to burn," he muttered. "Not what mattered."
Kaede hesitated. "Reiji… if Nexus is resurfacing—"
"They never left." He stood, rain dripping from his coat. "They just changed their masks."
---
Hours later, the two found shelter inside an old maintenance tower. Power was unstable, the walls cracked with age. Kaede was recalibrating her scanner, while Reiji cleaned his blade in silence.
She finally looked up. "You saw that symbol before, didn't you?"
Reiji didn't respond.
> "Reiji—"
"It's from the old Division," he interrupted. "A sub-unit. Project Veil. We were ghosts among ghosts. Assigned to erase any trace of existence when even silence wasn't enough."
Kaede froze. "Then why would they kill their own?"
"Because someone started talking," he said simply. "And they don't forgive echoes."
---
Outside, thunder rolled through the skyline, shaking the glass towers above.
Reiji leaned against the window, watching lightning dance across the steel bones of the city. His reflection stared back — older, colder, and far more tired than he remembered.
> "You think The Archivist's behind this?" Kaede asked.
Reiji's eyes narrowed. "They're not just behind it. They're directing it."
> "But why target the corps? Why not come straight for you?"
"They already did," he said, pulling a small data chip from his pocket — the one he'd retrieved from the undercity. Its surface was cracked, but still pulsing faint blue.
Kaede frowned. "That's the Broker's backup?"
"Part of it. The rest was wiped before I got there. But whoever did this knew exactly which memories to leave behind."
He slotted the chip into his portable reader. A holographic screen flickered to life, revealing fragmented logs — images of corporate meetings, encrypted orders, and… faces.
Kaede gasped. "That's—"
"—The Division," Reiji finished. "Every operative who vanished. Every agent marked for silence."
Her eyes darted through the files until one frame stopped her — a man in a dark coat, half his face hidden by shadow, standing beside Reiji in an old surveillance photo.
"Who is he?"
Reiji's voice was almost a whisper. "Tachibana Ren. My partner. He died during the Purge."
Kaede scrolled further — the footage glitched, and the same man appeared again, newer, alive, older.
Timestamp: Two days ago.
> "Reiji… he's alive."
The room fell silent.
Outside, the rain struck harder.
---
Later that night, the two moved through the lower city again, guided by the faint digital trail embedded in the recovered chip. Every street felt narrower than before, every shadow deeper. The undercity had eyes — Reiji could feel them.
Kaede whispered, "Coordinates end here."
They stood before an abandoned metro station, its entrance sealed by rusted steel. Reiji placed his hand against the door. A small scanner embedded beneath the grime lit up, flashing red before turning green.
> "How did you—"
"Old clearance," he said. "Still works."
Inside, the station was a graveyard of machines. Broken drones lay scattered, bullet marks lining the walls. The faint hum of an active terminal pulsed at the far end.
As they approached, the monitor flickered to life.
A distorted voice echoed through the room. "You shouldn't have come here, Reiji."
Reiji froze. The voice was unmistakable.
"Tachibana."
Static crackled, followed by faint laughter. "Still chasing ghosts, I see."
Kaede's hand hovered over her weapon. "Where are you?"
"Closer than you think," Tachibana's voice said. "The city doesn't forgive those who dig too deep. You of all people should know that."
Reiji stepped closer to the screen. "You were supposed to be dead."
"So were you," the voice replied calmly. "But here we are — two mistakes the system forgot to erase."
The monitor flickered again, revealing Tachibana's face for just a moment. He looked older, his right eye mechanical, a scar cutting through his jaw. But the smirk was the same.
> "Nexus isn't dead," he said. "It's evolving. And I'm the proof."
The transmission cut instantly. The terminal went dark.
Kaede exhaled, shaken. "He's working with The Archivist."
Reiji stared at the black screen. "No. He is the Archivist."
Kaede's eyes widened. "What?"
"Think about it. Access to every dead record. Control over the undercity's data. Only someone who knew the old protocols could rebuild that network."
"Then… all of this—"
"—was to bring me back into play," Reiji said, voice steady but heavy. "They're not hunting me. They're recruiting me."
He turned toward the tunnel, rain dripping from his hair, eyes burning faintly beneath the neon reflection.
Kaede's voice was soft, almost afraid. "What are you going to do?"
Reiji holstered his weapon, stepping into the dark. "Find him."
> "And when you do?"
He stopped, his silhouette framed against the broken light.
His voice was cold as iron.
> "I'll remind him why the shadows exist."
---
Outside, the rain finally slowed. The city breathed again — uneasy, restless, alive.
In the distance, lightning flashed once more, illuminating the rooftops where unseen figures watched, waiting for the next move.
And somewhere within the network, a message flickered to life across encrypted lines:
"The Shadow has returned."