3rd Pov
Tokyo, Friday afternoon. 3:50 PM.
The school bells had just rang, and hundreds of students poured outside like a raging river.
The winter sun was already beginning to set behind the buildings, painting the sky a melancholy orange.
The air was crisp, and the students' breath could be seen in small puffs of white.
Some were running toward the bus stop, others were walking along the crowded sidewalks, chatting loudly, while further away, car horns honking and the buzz of the city filled the Friday evening atmosphere.
Among them, a boy walked with a calm pace.
He was wearing a classic school uniform, but what set him apart were the details: his short, well-groomed black hair, with the tips fading to a dark blue, almost imperceptible in the fading light; his bangs falling to the left side; and above all, his eyes, a bright scarlet red, reflecting the colors of the sunset. With his slim build and 165 centimeters of height, Akira Kondō didn't seem to attract much attention...
Yet, to anyone who looked closely, he exuded a distinct aura.
When the bus arrived, Akira boarded in silence and found a seat at the back, next to the window.
The vehicle was packed with students: laughter, chatter, and jostling.
He, however, remained absorbed in his thoughts, watching the landscape unfold outside. Shop lights flickered on one after another, billboards illuminated the streets, and Tokyo prepared for another seemingly endless night.
After a half-hour ride, Akira got off the bus.
His shoes crunched on the damp pavement as he walked down a side street until he stopped in front of a small, modest but welcoming house.
He took his keys from his pocket, opened the door, and went in.
"I'm back!" he announced, taking off his shoes.
Almost immediately, a young woman appeared from the hallway.
Her long, wavy black hair fell to her back, and her brown eyes shone with warmth. She wore simple clothes: a light blue T-shirt and black lounge pants.
Her face, similar to the boy's but more delicate, radiated sweetness.
It was Ai Kondō, Akira's mother.
"Welcome back" she said with a smile that seemed to chase away the day's tiredness.
Akira returned the smile with a faint smile. "Hi, Mom."
He left his schoolbag next to the sofa and followed her into the kitchen, where the aroma of freshly prepared yakitori filled the air.
"Today I made your favorite dish. And I also have some green tea ready."
"Thanks, Mom."
They sat down together at the table.
"Itadakimasu!" they exclaimed almost in unison, and began to eat.
The dinner unfolded simply but peacefully. Between bites, Ai asked him:
"How was school today, Akira? Anything interesting?"
"Nothing special..." he replied, sipping some tea.
Then he added casually: "I got a perfect score in economics."
Ai looked at him proudly. "Good job. Keep it up."
The boy lowered his gaze slightly, giving a small smile. "Thanks."
When they finished eating, Akira stood up. "Do you want me to help you with the dishes?"
"No, don't worry. Go get some rest."
Then, as he began to tidy up the table, She remembered: "You have a field trip next week, right? Shikoku, if I'm not mistaken."
"Yes," Akira confirmed, picking up his bag.
"We'll be there for a week. I've already started doing my homework early, so I'll be free."
"Great idea."
Akira nodded and went upstairs.
He entered his room, turned on the light, and sat down at his desk.
He opened his books and notebooks, picked up his pen, and muttered to himself with determination:
"Let's get to work."
Outside, the Tokyo sky had now turned a deep blue.
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Akira Pov
After just an hour and a half, I had finished all my homework for the following week.
I put my notebooks and schoolbooks in the closet, where I keep everything school-related, along with my schoolbag.
Once I was done, I closed the closet and left my room.
I walked through the door and heard the sound of the television downstairs:
Mom was probably watching the news.
The reporter's voice was talking about a criminal, Mori Kobayashi, a notorious rapist of women and children, who had just been released from prison by the Japanese police.
As I walked downstairs, I listened carefully and memorized every crime mentioned, committing the details to memory.
I reached the living room and Mom saw me, welcoming me with a smile.
"Have you finished your homework?" she asked.
"Yes, they were pretty simple," I replied sincerely, commenting on the simplicity of the exercises. "I think I'll go to the library," I advised her.
"Okay. Maybe we'll meet up somewhere, since I have to run some errands soon," she said.
"Okay, then I'll go. See you later," I said goodbye and left the house.
The streets of Tokyo were lit up by the lights of the buildings, streetlights, and stalls; the sun had already set.
I was heading towards Jimbocho, a neighborhood famous for its bookstores and libraries, more than one hundred and sixty of them.
A unique place, full of students, publishing houses, and cafes where people discuss books.
Even the subway walls there are decorated with images of books: I'm always fascinated.
Walking through the bookstores, I stopped in front of the Kitazawa Bookstore.
I knew I'd find rare books there, on literature and social sciences.
I went in and started looking around, but immediately noticed three ten or eleven year olds who seemed to be struggling. I approached.
"Do you guys need a hand?" I asked kindly.
One of them approached me: "Yes, we're looking for Aki Shimazaki's In the Heart of Yamato."
"Ah, I see. Come on, I know where it is."
They followed me, and I led them to a rather high shelf.
The book was at the top, probably out of reach for them.
I stood on tiptoe, picked it up, and handed it to the boys.
"This is what you were looking for" I said, smiling.
"Thank you so much, sir!" one of them exclaimed, as the others ran to the register.
"Happy reading" I wished them, and then resumed my search.
After almost an hour, however, I found nothing new that caught my attention.
I left the bookstore and, feeling my stomach growl, stopped at a stall to get a red bean taiyaki.
I ate while continuing to walk among the lights of the neighborhood, then decided to head home.
By the time I arrived, it was already 7:30 PM.
Mom hadn't come home yet, so I sat on the couch and checked my phone: the class group was only asking for homework.
Shortly afterward, I received a text from her: she'd be arriving soon.
I replied that I was already home.
At 8:00 PM, the door opened and her cheerful voice filled the room.
"I'm back!" she said, placing several bags of groceries on the table. Then she looked at me: "Did you find anything interesting?"
"No, unfortunately not," I replied.
She nodded and approached me with a warm smile.
"It can't be easy for you to find something that truly interests you."
She ran a finger through my hair, pushing the lock of hair that was falling over my eyes.
"Remember... always use that palace of knowledge of yours for the common good, okay?"
Her words struck me.
I looked her in the eye and nodded.
"I will," I smiled.
"Good," she said, returning to the bags.
"Would you like some curry for dinner?"
"Yes, I would."
She began cooking, and the house soon filled with the spicy aroma of curry.
When we finally sat down to eat, the flavor was perfect, just the right amount of piquant and savory.
"It was really delicious, Mom,"
I told her sincerely.
"I'm glad you liked it," she replied, washing the dishes.
I, on the other hand, went up to my room, put on my headphones, and listened to some music.
Shortly after, without realizing it, I fell asleep.
End of the Prologue