On the outskirts of Tokyo, amid the mountains and wilderness, there were no neon lights from the city.
A lone building stood on a slope overrun with weeds, its white exterior paint peeling away in patches.
Streaks of mold climbed the cracks in the walls. A few wild vines reached through shattered windows, then crept up the corroded rebar.
Inside.
Cold white light illuminated every corner of the biology lab.
The sterile workbench gleamed with a hard, cold sheen. Several monitoring devices stood around it, their screens flickering as green vital-sign lines pulsed monotonously against black backgrounds.
A boy lay flat on the workbench, eyes closed, his hands and feet restrained.
Three lab workers in heavy white coats stood around him. Masks hid most of their faces, leaving only pairs of cold, expressionless eyes visible. Their rubber-gloved hands deftly handled an assortment of instruments.
The boy's eyelashes on the workbench fluttered a few times. With difficulty, he opened his eyes a crack.
"Subject 07 is regaining consciousness." The researcher nearest him caught the sign at once.
As he spoke, he released the restraints around the boy's arms and legs. "Vital signs?"
Another researcher stared at the screen. "Everything's normal. The red blood cells and genetic modification fluid have fused perfectly. No immune rejection..."
Before he could finish, a piercing alarm shattered the lab's quiet.
Beep beep beep—beep beep beep—
The steady green line suddenly convulsed, rising and falling in broken jolts.
The cold white lights began flashing wildly, mixed with glaring red warning lights that cut the entire room into fragments of brightness and shadow.
The boy on the table suddenly arched his body!
His small frame began convulsing violently and uncontrollably. His thin hospital gown was instantly soaked with sweat, clinging to his trembling body.
His skin first flushed bright red, the veins beneath it throbbing wildly, then quickly drained of color.
With his restraints gone, his arms and legs thrashed against the metal workbench. The dull thuds mingled with the shrill alarm.
Fine beads of blood soon appeared on his wrists and ankles, leaving tiny specks across the white tabletop.
"Sedative! Hurry!"
"Get the adrenaline ready!"
The lab descended into chaos. A vial of medication was knocked over and rolled across the floor. Pale purple liquid mixed with the clear culture fluid, spreading into strange-colored patches and bubbling faintly.
The monitoring screens turned crimson. The vital-sign lines now jumped up and down at an accelerating rate.
The three lab workers moved frantically around him. Their grim expressions showed beneath their masks. One quickly drew up emergency medication, jabbed a needle into the side of the boy's neck, and injected the pure white liquid into his vein.
But the convulsions didn't stop.
A faint burning smell began to seep from the overloaded monitoring equipment, mingling with the scent of disinfectant.
The boy's breathing grew weak and rapid. At last, the convulsions began to subside—but not because he was getting better.
The eyes that had only just opened now stared blankly at the ceiling. His pupils dilated, reflecting the flashing red lights.
Beep beep beep—beep—
A long, sustained tone.
On the screen, the wildly jumping green line was finally replaced by a straight red one.
Silence fell without warning. Only the cooling fans inside the equipment continued to spin.
"...Another failure." The lab worker holding a defibrillator removed his mask, revealing the tired face of a middle-aged man.
He sighed. His voice held no anger, only deep weariness. "Log the time. Dispose of him."
Two minutes later, two guards in full protective suits entered the lab.
Without a word, they wheeled the boy out, still on the workbench.
In the observation room next door, a man wearing thin-framed glasses slumped in an office chair.
His phone had fallen onto the glossy tile floor, its screen shattered.
He had just finished that phone call.
"...Please, give me one more chance," he said, his voice still trembling though the call had long since ended. "Next time... next time, I'll definitely..."
His glasses slid down to the tip of his nose, but he didn't reach to adjust them. Fine beads of sweat ran from his forehead down his temples.
The next morning, Tokyo, Japan.
The giant LED screen on the exterior of a shopping mall was broadcasting the morning news.
"Early this morning, a small explosion occurred at an abandoned factory on the outskirts of Tokyo. Police suspect it may be connected to a gang shootout. No casualties have been found at the scene. The government urges the public to avoid the area for now. If you spot any suspicious individuals, please call..."
The news footage changed to a blurry video of the scene: in the rain, the outline of an abandoned building, with the red and blue flashes of police cars faintly visible.
When the news ended, the screen switched to a brightly colored advertisement.
Kōtō Ikusei High School: The only path to becoming an absolute elite! Our school boasts a 100% rate of advancement to higher education and employment, with free room and board, state-of-the-art teaching facilities, and a superb living environment... Here, every student receives a tailored elite education and becomes a pillar of Japan's future!"
On the sidewalk below the screen, a small figure stopped.
His vacant gaze was fixed straight on the giant screen.
A raindrop struck his cheek.
Then fine rain began to patter down, weaving a gray curtain. Pedestrians cried out and scrambled for shelter. A line soon formed outside the convenience store, where people were buying umbrellas.
"It's raining!"
"Come on, hurry!"
Umbrellas snapped open one after another, blooming beneath the gray sky. People hurried along, clustering beneath them in twos and threes as they made for the subway station or the nearest eaves.
But the boy remained frozen in place.
Rainwater ran from his fringe, down his deathly pale cheeks, and over his chin before dripping into his collar.
The crowd of umbrellas moved slowly in front of him, forming barrier after barrier until they gradually blocked his view of the giant screen. Only scattered fragments of the advertisement remained, flickering in the rain and mist:
"...absolute... elites..."
"...future..."
His vacant eyes showed not the slightest reaction. He neither looked up at the hurrying crowd around him nor raised a hand to shield himself from the growing downpour. He gradually disappeared into a narrow alley...