Neon lights in shades of jade, crimson, and fuchsia spilled through the alleys like liquid ink over damp parchment, reflected in grimy puddles and the metal plates of the sidewalks.
The air smelled of humidity, exotic spices, and fried food, thick with an urban symphony of holographic ads, gravitational engines, and voices modulated by vocal implants.
Towers of black glass and polished steel rose like modern temples, dotted with screens showing idols dancing with ancestral grace, selling everything from synthetic ramen to memory-altering drugs.
At street level, chaos had rhythm: street stalls where old women with augmented eyes served phosphorescent takoyaki, children ran between surveillance drones, and cyber lovers offered custom-designed sex.
Deep within the district, beyond what any official map would show, clandestine passages opened to pleasures turned sacred rituals: theaters of neural shadowplay, bars where emotions were drunk from bottles, sanctuaries of flesh and circuit where the human and artificial fused without judgment or boundary.
Kurosei didn't sleep—because it was a dream in itself: a poem of wires and digital sakura, a beautiful monster whispering temptations in Japanese accent as it beckoned you to lose yourself in its spiral of lights.
The group walked through the commercial quarter in silence, each absorbed by the sea of stimuli around them.
For Eiden, the dominant sense at that moment was smell. He wasn't sure how many days had passed since his last real meal, but his stomach growled with a conviction that left no room for doubt.
"Karaage..." he murmured, almost like a prayer, as they passed a small stall where a man with a greasy apron and a white band tied around his forehead tossed pieces of chicken into a fryer, sprinkling them with a mix of spices that sparked on contact with the oil.
The aroma hit him like a memory from another life.
He stopped in his tracks while the others kept walking, absorbed by flashing signs and sung-out announcements.
"I need two portions... No, make it three—just in case," he said, nearly drooling.
The man nodded with a grin that revealed gold teeth and replied something in Japanese with enthusiasm. The oil bubbled violently as new pieces were submerged, releasing a cloud of steam scented with ginger and garlic.
Eiden watched the golden pieces fry like sacred jewels. When the cook was done, he filled three small boxes bearing the image of a smiling octopus and set them down with ceremonial care. Eiden reached for them—but the man didn't move.
He was waiting for payment.
Eiden blinked and sent the 45 chromas.
A red, blinking alert flashed before his eyes just as the vendor shouted something in Japanese, which his translation implant displayed as floating text:
["Kuroma janai! Kane da! Honmono no kane, baka!"]
"No chromas! Money! Real money, idiot!"
The man was outraged, and the aroma of freshly fried chicken quickly soured into tragedy.
"What...?" Eiden stammered, stunned.
Just then, Lyra appeared like a gust of wind. She snatched some bills from Krev without even asking and handed them to the man with a brief bow.
["Kochira no mono de wa arimasen. Dōmo sumimasen."]
"Sorry, he's not from around here," she apologized in fluent Japanese.
The cook accepted the money, mumbling something calmer, and moved on to serve another customer: a teenage girl with cat ears and a holographic tail.
Eiden took the three boxes with a guilty look.
"Sorry... I guess," he mumbled, bowing back awkwardly.
Lyra raised an eyebrow at him, inspecting his arms stacked with karaage boxes like he'd just stolen them.
From a mechanical parts stall nearby, Krev watched with a crooked smile, and Pierre wore the kind of expression that said it was best not to speak to him.
Lyra raised a hand in a gesture that meant "under control."
"This is Kurosei. No chromas, no digicoins," she explained, half amused, half annoyed. "Here, they want to feel the paper in their fingers."
"Isn't that normal...?" Eiden asked as he bit into the first piece.
Crunch. A perfect crunch. The breading burst on his tongue with just the right heat, the spices danced across his palate like fireworks—and for a moment, the world vanished.
"For a suit, maybe. Or someone from El Valle. The rich," Lyra replied in a lower tone, watching him with more than curiosity. "What did you do before you started...?"
"Started what...?"
She studied him, narrowing her eyes.
"I'm not even sure what you do now. You're a wanted criminal, after all."
"Am I?" Eiden asked, mouth half full. He thought a moment as he chewed. "I guess I am. Am I even safe walking around here?"
"For now, yes. Your warrant's private. As long as you're with us, the mercs won't touch you."
"I have an actual warrant?" he muttered to himself.
"You blew up an illegal Orotech forced virtualization center. You tell me."
Eiden swallowed hard—not from the size of the bite, but from the weight of the sentence.
His memories were fragmented, blurred.
"I get it. My head's still a mess," he admitted, thoughtful.
Lyra stopped abruptly, confusing him.
He met her gaze. In her eyes, he could see a flicker of desperation, hidden fear.
"Do you regret it?" she asked, almost anxiously.
He paused. He didn't need to dig far to remember his reasons or piece together that night when he'd destroyed the Orotech center.
The words "forced virtualization" and "Eden" surfaced in his mind, igniting something deep inside: a fire that dried his throat and momentarily killed his appetite.
"I'd do it again as many times as needed. And I will," he said at last.
It wasn't just a reply. It was a declaration. His stance, his tone, his gaze—everything about him said he had no doubt. He'd do it again without hesitation.
Lyra stayed silent, surprised.
She looked away quickly, and her hair fell just in time to hide the faint blush on her cheeks.
"I see," she murmured, turning to walk again. But before moving, she reached out blindly and snatched a piece of karaage from one of the boxes. "I'll take one. Thanks."
Eiden smiled—for the first time in what felt like ages—watching her walk off, chewing with a stoic expression and a faint sparkle of amusement in her eyes.
He was already getting used to the sharp pulses of the bracelet whenever he interacted with Lyra.
He was grateful the voices didn't seem strong enough to emerge.
He followed her quickly.
When he caught up, Krev and Pierre joined them. Much to Eiden's dismay, they devoured an entire box of his karaage in seconds.
Pierre didn't even ask.
***********************************************
They managed to leave the commercial district after a few inevitable distractions. Crowded streets, windows filled with shifting neon, and the occasional impromptu performance where musicians with bionic arms played electric shamisen before a mesmerized audience.
They had to wait for Lyra, who asked them to stay outside a narrow alley packed with tactical clothing stores and personalized gear. The signs glowed in animated kanji, some launching small virtual fireworks into the air.
Silence took over the group as they waited. Eiden avoided looking at Pierre, who muttered unintelligible things under his breath, angry. Krev, on the other hand, wouldn't stop talking about the new drones he could build with the parts he'd picked up.
"A nano-fin rotor! Did you see it, Eiden? That hasn't been made since the Second Colony!" he said, excited.
"I see," Eiden replied without much enthusiasm.
Pierre didn't react, as if he wasn't even listening.
Eventually, Lyra returned. She carried a black backpack over one shoulder—simple in appearance, but with no visible markings.
Without a word, she nodded and began leading the group away from the noise.
Eiden followed her.
He noticed Pierre following too, silently. It surprised him that Pierre would obey Lyra without protest, especially after everything he'd said.
"Everything okay?" Eiden asked, stepping closer to Lyra as they waited at a crosswalk.
The red light bathed their faces like a suspended alarm.
"As okay as it gets," she replied, glancing sideways at Pierre, who remained a few meters behind them.
"We talked. For now, he'll stick to the plan you suggested," added Krev with a forced smile, scratching the back of his neck.
"Will he be alright?" Eiden asked quietly.
Lyra thought for a moment but didn't answer. Instead, she stepped forward as the light changed. The group followed her.
They descended a series of mechanical ramps that groaned with a deep sound, as if complaining about the weight of their steps. With each level down, the air grew denser, darker, and the neon more aggressive.
"Where are we going?" Eiden finally asked, unable to hold back the question that had been nagging at him.
Lyra didn't answer immediately. Her eyes scanned the surroundings with military precision.
"Home," she said flatly.
They entered a kind of tunnel walkway—metallic, rusted.
Eiden was surprised to see so many people taking that route. The crowd thickened inside, and at the far end, he could make out people descending another ramp.
When it was their turn, Eiden saw why there were so many.
A large train waited in a station lit by orange lights, giving it a more rustic feel than usual.
"No other option, unless we steal a drifter," Krev said, patting Eiden's shoulder.
"I have a motorcycle," Eiden confessed, unsure why he remembered that just now.
"Seriously? Is it modded?" Krev asked eagerly.
"I don't think so. Honestly, I couldn't say," he replied, trying to remember. All that came to mind was how relaxed riding it made him feel.
"Can it fit four people?" Lyra asked ironically.
"We could try," Eiden replied, playing along. It made her roll her eyes.
"This is better—we'll get close enough to the Fractals, and we'll get some rest," Lyra said, pushing ahead through the crowd.
"Fractals?" Eiden asked.
"Home," Lyra repeated, a slight smile playing at her lips.
The train greeted them with a low hum, like the distant growl of a mechanical leviathan. The doors hissed open, releasing a gust of hot air filled with the scent of metal, sweat, and some kind of cheap perfume.
People started boarding, but Lyra guided them toward the last few cars—where only a handful entered.
"Back there," Lyra motioned with a quick nod.
They stepped into the dark car.
Eiden noticed the details: the floor vibrated slightly underfoot, blinking lights filled the interior, ads projected on the windows, and passengers lost in their own virtual worlds—plugged into skin-embedded visors inside private compartments.
Krev hummed a tune that sounded like it came from an old-school video game. Pierre remained silent, eyes scanning every corner as if expecting someone to jump out of the shadows.
Finally, they reached a maintenance section. Krev worked a hidden panel quickly, swiped a card, and muttered a string of numbers. A side compartment, hidden behind a false door, clicked open.
"Are you serious?" Eiden asked, still doubtful.
"Not serious, not legal," Krev replied with a crooked grin. "But safe? Yeah."
One by one, they entered the compartment. It was larger than Eiden expected. The metal walls were lined with worn thermal blankets, and two elongated velvet seats faced each other in the center, the air tinged with ozone and old oil.
Krev dropped onto one bench with a satisfied grunt, stretching out without concern. Pierre, scowling, smacked his leg to make him move over.
"Idiot," he muttered.
Eiden stepped in after them, and Lyra was the last to enter. The door sealed shut with a hydraulic hiss. A bluish LED strip glowed dimly from the low ceiling, casting soft shadows on their tired faces.
"We'll have a quiet ride here," Lyra murmured, dropping the backpack beside her as she sat near the door.
Eiden sighed deeply as he settled in. The weight of the day pressed down on him: sore muscles, a throbbing head, and eyelids that wouldn't stay open.
The pain in his forearm never left—but he'd grown too used to it to care.
Pierre already had his eyes closed. He looked asleep the moment he sat down.
Krev, as energetic as ever, pulled a small metallic sphere from one of his many pockets and let it hover in the air. Instantly, it began to play a soft, immersive melody—some kind of lo-fi with traditional Japanese instruments.
"Is that... shamisen with beats?" Eiden asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Composed it myself," Krev said, puffing out his chest with pride. "I call it Neo Zen."
"Of course you do," Lyra muttered, reclining slightly with her eyes half-closed.
Eiden watched them. He still didn't fully trust any of them—not really. And yet, something about the scene touched him. It wasn't safety. It wasn't friendship... it was belonging. Or at least a warm shadow of it.
The train pulled away smoothly, leaving behind the rusted station as it dove into the city's depths.
Krev was the first to fall completely asleep. His snores were soft, almost comical.
Eiden turned toward Lyra, who still had her eyes closed—though she wasn't quite asleep.
"Lyra," he whispered.
"Hmm?"
"What are the Fractals?"
She took a few seconds to answer. The train's vibration filled the silence.
"They're not a place," she murmured at last. "They're a network. Hidden shelters, connected like a never-ending spiral. On the outskirts—beyond the corporations' reach… or so we try."
"Did you grow up there?"
"No. But I was born nearby," she added. Then fell silent.
Eiden leaned his head against the wall, feeling the train's gentle rattle like a metallic lullaby. He was surprised to find himself watching Lyra sleep—not out of suspicion, but out of the rare tenderness her peacefulness stirred in him.
The compartment was wrapped in an almost unreal stillness.
Then, like someone summoning a secret, Eiden reached into the pocket of his borrowed jacket.
"Do you still have karaage?" Lyra asked suddenly, without opening her eyes, a faint smile on her lips.
Eiden jumped, almost dropping the extra portion he'd saved.
"I'm not sharing," he muttered, quickly popping it into his mouth.
She laughed quietly—a laugh short but genuine.
"You're smarter than you look."
"And you're more dangerous than you seem."
"I thought that was already obvious."
"You should get some sleep," Eiden said, still smiling.
He hesitated for a second but offered her the last piece of karaage.
"I will—when you do," she replied, accepting the bite.
They looked at each other a moment longer than necessary. But neither said a word.
Eiden leaned back with more ease, closing his eyes. Krev's music still floated softly, as if it already knew it was time to fade.
And for the first time in many days, Eiden slept. Not fully safe. But not alone, either.
The bracelet said nothing that night.