Wednesday, 05/02/2001, 11:33 p.m.
The moon shone high in a clouded sky.
Below, Domino City alternated between the noise of traffic, multicolored lights, and a persistent smell of smog.
A shadow flickered in front of a massive iron gate on the sidewalk beside a streetlamp, its silhouette shapeless...
A disheveled-looking man stood at the gate of a mansion inside the property. A modern, medium-sized mansion painted white, with well-trimmed grass and a lilac garden.
The man wore a gray suit and carried a brown briefcase in his left hand. Using his other hand, he pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket and, somewhat clumsily, unlocked the door of the house.
The glow from inside the house immediately lit up the man's face.
It was Nishimura.
Blinking a couple of times to get his bearings, Nishimura entered the residence, his expression exhausted and his steps uncoordinated.
Yellow-papered walls, white marble floors, and many comforts came into view.
While Nishimura placed his briefcase on the floor, closed the door, and hung his jacket on a coat rack by the entrance, a short, slim woman descended the spiral staircase from the second floor in a white bathrobe. A faint smile flashed on her pink lips. Her skin was pale and she looked young, with small blue eyes and curly black hair down to her shoulders. In a soft voice, she asked, looking at Nishimura:
"How was work today, honey? Uh? Have you been drinking… again?"
Stopping on the second step, the woman's gaze sharpened for a moment. But Nishimura simply walked past her, briefcase in hand and eyes vacant.
The woman bit her lip, her expression annoyed, and then murmured while watching Nishimura's back as he climbed the stairs:
"Honey? Did something happen?"
There was no response from Nishimura.
Silence took over the place.
The woman's face turned worried; she lowered her head and went to the kitchen, fists clenched...
Nishimura reached the second floor and entered a small study.
A soft scent of paper filled the atmosphere.
A bookshelf full of books, a brown desk, and a few abstract paintings defined the scene.
On the desk, a silver-framed photo showed an image of Nishimura, the woman, and a chubby little boy with brown hair and blue eyes by the sea. It rested beside a neat stack of papers on both sides of a black Toshiba laptop.
Nishimura placed his briefcase beside the desk and then sat comfortably in his chair. His gaze hovered over the photo frame, dejected.
After a long sigh, a whisper escaped Nishimura's lips, his tone bitter.
"Haaa... How did everything end up like this?"
Nishimura's face twisted with frustration, his gaze conflicted. His reflection in the glass of the photo frame stared back at him.
A black silhouette emerged behind Nishimura and spoke, raising a dark, flickering hand. Its suggestive voice reverberated throughout the study as a shadowy claw plunged into the right side of Nishimura's head.
"Write it all down, you need it."
Nishimura's eyes lost their light and he nodded. Then, with slow, careful movements, he took a blank sheet and a pen, and began to write with a vacant expression. The first thing he wrote was a date: 11/15/1995. A scene flashed in his mind. His writing described it broadly...
The sky was covered in gray clouds.
Light rain fell, swept by the breeze.
The air smelled of soil and concrete.
A young, slim man with brown eyes, sharp features, and short black hair, dressed in a black suit and red tie, stood on the rooftop of a twin building under construction. His eyes stared wildly at the white watch in his hand, his face distorted by tears.
The watch read 5:25 p.m.
A mutter constantly left the man's lips, his tone bitter.
"It's gone. Everything's gone. God. What will happen to my family now? If—if I do this... it all ends... A dead man always pays his debts."
Taking off his shoes and neatly placing them near the edge of the building, the man stood at the brink. Below awaited a long fall to a vacant lot under development. Beyond, Domino City buzzed with activity. Behind him stood another building, even taller, connected to his.
Suddenly, a gust of wind hit the structure. The man on the rooftop frowned and turned with a doubtful look.
A shadow crossed the sky above the man; his eyes opened wide and he murmured:
"What-?"
A body fell diagonally from the taller building. It cut through the air violently and crashed against a lower section of the same building under construction.
The impact rang out sharply. A crunch accompanied the vibration of the steel beams.
The man froze. He didn't breathe. He didn't move.
After a few seconds, he stepped toward the edge and looked down at the lower platform. The figure was there, collapsed among rusty bars. One arm hung off the side. There was a lot of blood.
The man slowly descended to the intermediate level, barefoot.
The body lay at an odd angle, the face turned to one side, disfigured but still recognizable. The suit was torn, the hands open.
The man crouched cautiously. He looked at the face. It was a tall, slim young man with long black hair, brown eyes, and sharp features.
The man blinked once. Then again.
"Uh-uh?"
The man looked around. No one else was in sight. He returned his gaze to the dead man's face. His eyes dropped to the shattered briefcase beside him. He remained crouched a moment longer. His breathing was slow.
Then, the man reached toward the body. He carefully touched the stained inner jacket. He rummaged among the folds with a slight tremble until he found a black leather wallet.
The man opened the wallet and read the ID aloud.
"Nishimura, twenty-five years old, from Tokyo."
Several cards came into view. The same name printed repeatedly on credentials, licenses, and documents: Nishimura Daisuke. There was a photo. The face matched.
The man held the wallet in his hand. He looked at the sky under the rain and closed his eyes. His shoulders relaxed after a long exhale.
"Haaa..."
The man brought the wallet inside his own coat and pulled out another. Trembling, he replaced it with Nishimura's. He also switched the remaining contents, his face pale.
Once done, the man returned the wallet to the dead man's pocket. He closed the jacket. Then he stood up.
The man looked around.
A loose brick stuck slightly out of the wet concrete. The man stared at the brick for a while, unmoving. His body trembled. Then, he smiled.