A Cold Wind Blows

It’s a cold summer day in Tokyo—not that you can feel it in the heart of the city. Wannabe influencers strut around Harajuku in garish outfits with bare shoulders and exposed midriffs. Beads of sweat gather on the foreheads of techno fetishists as they browse the stalls of Akihabara. Outside Shinjuku Station, overstressed salarymen hurry about their business with their coats unbuttoned.

But on the outskirts of the city, where the streets are cracked and drab and the buildings are still made of wood, a fierce wind stings my cheeks, the only part of my face not yet numb from the cold. It inspires in me a strange nostalgia for the worst years of my life, for long marches, stale rations, and days of boredom punctuated by bursts of pure terror. I respect this wind. It’s authentic, unlike the gentle breeze that keeps the air circulating in the city.

The people who live out here know to bundle up. Electric heaters can only do so much to keep the cold from seeping into their drafty houses. In the winter, this wind can—and does—kill.

Despite that, they all live here by choice. They don’t want to live too far from the conveniences of modern life but have a reason or two to keep a little distance. Some of them hate the bustle and noise of city life, some are tired of all the bullshit spouted by the idle affluent who have no other worries beyond puffing up their own egos, and others are running from pasts they want to forget. All of them watch warily as the Xyrite buildings and roadways creep closer to their homes every year, hoping the Xyrite expansion will stop before it reaches them.

It won’t. Little do they know, we have enough raw materials to cover Japan in Xyrite twice over. Fifty years from now, maybe less, even Japan’s smallest villages will be covered in the multi-hued crystal. Only the areas completely untouched by human activity will be spared.

But I’m not here to burst their bubble with classified information. I’m here to bring one of them back to his family, against his will if necessary. It’s the kind of job I should love: It’s simple, safe, and it gets me out of the city, but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. If I had any savings, I would have turned it down.

The further from the city I ride, the more disapproving stares I feel on the back of my neck. My power suit sticks out like a sore thumb: full black body armor with rainbow Xyrite veins running through it. Since it’s military grade, it turns heads wherever I go. Typically, I wear civilian clothes over it, but when I’m on a mission, I want to make it clear to everyone to stay out of my way.

I don’t have to worry about the residents—they’re not the type to stick their necks out for someone else—but I need to be on the lookout so my rivals don’t get the drop on me. The bounty on this kid is so high that every xyronin in this part of the country is liable to be looking for him.

As I near the area my informant swears the kid is hiding out in, I turn down a dark alley and press a button on my bike’s dashboard to activate its stealth mode. My surroundings bend and warp for a few seconds as the bike distorts the light around me to make me vanish. When I continue down the alley, the electric motor is so quiet that even I can’t hear it over the howling of the wind.

Doesn't take me long to spot him. He matches the description: male, fourteen or fifteen years old, with well-groomed hair. What gives him away is his brand-new brown coat, not yet tattered by exposure to the elements, and the fact that he’s glancing in every direction as he walks down the street. An easy target if I’ve ever seen one.

Easy target is often another term for a trap. Honestly, I’ll be surprised if the kid has any allies lying in ambush, but you can never be too careful.

Holding my breath, I activate my sonar and brace for the throbbing headache I know is coming. It’s been a while since I’ve used sonar. Imagine keeping your eyes closed for weeks, then opening them in front of a bright light. That’s what engaging sonar feels like, only a hundred times worse because your brain isn’t naturally wired to process all the signals your Xyrite implants send it.

My awareness expands thirty meters in every direction. As the images flood into my mind, I notice her for the first time, hanging out just on the edge of my range in her own stealth field. She’s probably been following me all day, hoping I’ll lead her to a fat payday. I’ll give her points for managing to stay hidden that long without someone bumping into her.

Unfortunately, the target notices me at the same time. He pulls a Xyrite crystal and lobs it in my general direction. I’m momentarily blinded as my implants are flooded by a cacophony of high-pitched noise, so I shut the sonar off. I can deal with the other xyronin later.

I speed up to grab him, but he’s already jumped a fence and is running between buildings. Must be wearing a power suit under that coat. Kid must be loaded to have access to all this tech. Guess that’s why the bounty’s so high.

Ditching my bike, I emerge from my stealth field and give chase. He’s got a ten-meter head start, but I’ve got more experience. Besides, civilian power suits only enhance the wearer’s natural strength, but I’ve got the training and the tech to overcome that limitation. I close the gap within seconds, but when I reach my hand out, it passes through him like he’s not there.

A hologram? Damn, this kid is packing some serious tech. More than that, he’s clever enough to trick me into turning my sonar off completely so he could slip away. Now which way would a clever kid run?

My bike! I left it running.

I turn around so fast that I leave a divot in whoever’s yard this is and run back the way I came. The jamming crystal is still lying on the street, so I pick it up, twist it off, and restart my sonar. Nothing but empty streets all around me. I swing my head from side to side, hoping one of the horn-like Xyrite crystals sticking out from my temples will catch something.

A faint image of a motorcycle catches my attention. Not mine: the other xyronin’s. She must be following the target. Guess it’s lucky she was tailing me after all.

Not even a power suit would allow me to catch up to a motorcycle at full speed, but they’re still in the residential area, moving carefully to avoid getting hit while functionally invisible. I’m running low on power, but I activate my suit’s stealth field and start running in their direction. Within seconds, both bikes are within my sonar range.

My best chance is to catch him by surprise. He’s slowing at every intersection to check for traffic, but if his sonar detector goes off again, he might throw caution to the wind and speed away. As I pull even with the other xyronin, I shut off my sonar. Nothing to do but guess where he’s gonna stop.

I guess wrong and step into his stealth field a few paces before I expect. With only a split second to slow down, I slam into the back of my bike. The kid jumps off as it goes down and tries to make a run for it. I stumble a bit, but I find my footing and chase after him.

This time, when I grab him by the shoulder, it’s really him. Unfortunately, that happens to be the exact moment my suit runs out of power. I’m unable to match his strength as he slaps my arm away and turns to face me, reaching into his coat at the same time. I expect him to pull out another Xyrite gadget, but instead, he holds something truly surprising in his hand.

He’s aiming an antique pistol directly at my chest.