A New Mission: Infiltration part 1

The neon city lights of Osaka blurred past like a vibrant, swirling kaleidoscope (a dazzling spectacle), each hue a pulsating vibration against the inky canvas of the night. Whoosh went the speeding traffic. As we sped past Namba (a bustling hub of activity), the iconic, dazzling lights of the Dotonbori district reflected in the wet asphalt, a dizzying spectacle of giant, animated billboards and the vibrant glow of countless restaurants. The streets throbbed with a frenetic energy (palpable buzz), the distant, staccato rat-a-tat-tat of hurried footsteps mingling with the occasional, mournful honk of a car horn. I sat nestled in the plush, leather backseat of a sleek, black SUV, the rhythmic hum of the engine a soothing, monotonous drone—a lullaby for my weary soul. The cool, firm leather beneath me was a stark, welcome contrast to the humid, electric warmth of the city outside.

We zipped past the Tsutenkaku Tower (a nostalgic landmark), its elegant silhouette piercing the night sky, a poignant reminder of old Osaka amidst the modern sprawl. The mission had been intensely challenging (a real nail-biter), but the scavenger had been apprehended, hadn't he? A bitter taste, reminiscent of an unripe persimmon, lingered in my mouth. I knew I’d contributed (technically capturing him with my meticulously planned strategy), but I still wished I had been the one to deliver the final blow. It's illogical, I know (a nagging thought), to say I did nothing; I did technically secure him with my ingenious idea, but… Leaning back against the headrest, exhaustion washed over me like a frigid, crashing tidal wave, threatening to drown my senses. The faint, oily tang of gasoline and rich leather filled the air, subtly laced with the crisp, masculine aroma of the driver's cologne. “Excellent work, Crow,” Takeda’s gravelly voice, crackling with static, echoed through the communicator, congratulating me. His praise was rare, precious. “Get some rest. You’ve more than earned it.”

Roger that, sir,” I replied, forcing a small, weary smile. I glanced at the driver beside me. He was a former Division X operative; these days, he served as a driver for new recruits in the Scavenger Control Division (SCD). His name was Sato (a man of few words), a quiet, almost taciturn, but undeniably reliable agent who had dedicated years of service to the organization. As I watched Sato navigate the labyrinthine streets with effortless precision, I couldn't help but recall the whispered rumors that swirled around him during his time as an active agent. Tales of his exploits were legendary within the SCD.

We cruised down Midosuji Street (a prestigious thoroughfare), the wide boulevard lined with high-end boutiques and illuminated by the soft glow of streetlamps; some whispered that he had single-handedly dismantled an entire ring of ruthless scavengers, armed with nothing but his sharp intellect and a few cunningly devised traps.

Others spoke of his uncanny ability to anticipate his targets' every move (a preternatural gift), almost as if he possessed the power of precognition. Despite his reserved demeanor, an aura of quiet mystery clung to Sato, intriguing everyone who crossed his path. Some believed he harbored a dark, painful secret (a hidden burden), a past filled with shadows and regret, revealed only in fleeting glimpses through his actions.

It was rumored that he had been involved in a clandestine operation that went tragically awry, resulting in the deaths of several of his teammates. The crushing weight of guilt from that ill-fated mission was said to be the reason he retreated from active duty, choosing instead to support new recruits from the shadows. We passed the Osaka Castle (a majestic landmark), its imposing form silhouetted against the dark sky, a silent guardian overlooking the city. We were approaching my home in Fujiidera City (my sanctuary). The familiar, comforting sight of my neighborhood evoked a sense of tranquility, like a warm blanket on a cold, blustery night. The soft, amber glow of the streetlights bathed the quiet streets in a gentle, welcoming light, casting long, dancing shadows that swayed with the car's every movement.

As we glided through the peaceful streets of Fujiidera City, a nagging sense of unease still clung to me. The mission had been a success, yes, but its heavy weight still pressed down on my shoulders. “… Hmm,” I murmured, resting my chin on my left hand. I glanced at Sato; his gaze was fixed on the road ahead, his expression unreadable, stoic. I felt a sudden urge to break the heavy silence. “Sato,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper, “do you ever think about the missions you were a part of? The ones that… went wrong?” Wow, I thought to myself, way to be subtle, Enkai.

Sato’s grip on the steering wheel tightened almost imperceptibly, but he didn’t turn to look at me. “… Every single day, Mr. Fujita,” he replied, his voice steady, yet tinged with a palpable sadness. “It’s hard not to. Those memories… they’re like scars. They stay with you, etched into your soul, for the rest of your life.” I nodded slowly, understanding the immense burden he carried. “I feel like I could have done more today. I had the initial idea, the crucial insight, but I wasn’t the one who finished the job. It feels… incomplete.”

His eyes, reflecting a depth of understanding that only a fellow veteran could possess, met mine briefly. “Sir, what you accomplished tonight… it’s not about who delivers the final blow, but about the seamless teamwork that brings us to that point. You played a vital, indispensable role, and that’s what truly matters.” His words were comforting, a balm to my troubled spirit, but a persistent seed of doubt still gnawed at me. “I just… I wish I could be as strong, as capable, as Sergeant Kondou. He was the one who ultimately defeated the scavenger.”

I gazed out the window, the familiar landmarks of my neighborhood blurring past in the dim light. I guess it’s just hard to see myself as anything more than a green, wet-behind-the-ears rookie sometimes, I thought glumly. Sato’s voice, soft and reassuring, broke through my reverie. “We all start somewhere, Mr. Fujita. The important thing is to learn, to grow, and to evolve from each and every experience, both the triumphs and the setbacks. You’re already on that path, sir. Don’t allow self-doubt to hold you back, to shackle your potential.” His words resonated deeply within me, and I felt a surge of gratitude toward him for his wisdom and support. “Thank you, Sato. I really needed to hear that,” I said sincerely. He offered me a small, reassuring smile. “Anytime, sir. In this line of work, we’re all in this together—superpowers or not. Each and every one of us has a duty, a responsibility. No matter how seemingly small or insignificant, we simply do what we can to the best of our abilities.”

So, sir,” Sato inquired, breaking the comfortable silence once more, “how is your family?” I hesitated for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing my mind. “My mother… she’s the principal of an all-girls academy, a truly remarkable woman,” I began, my voice a little less confident than before. “My little sister… well, she’s starting middle school this year. Beyond that…” I trailed off, a slight frown creasing my brow. “Things are a little… complicated at the moment. It's more complicated than I can really explain right now.” I paused, then added, “You know, I’m originally from Japan. I was born here, but… well, ever since I was a little kid, it’s been one country after another. It wasn’t exactly a choice, if you know what I mean. Let’s just say there were… circumstances.” I continued, “So, I’ve been moving around quite a bit. This transfer goes back to Japan… it’s a homecoming of sorts, but it also feels… unfamiliar. I’m still with the organization, of course, and I’ll be continuing my studies here in Japan, at the facility (near Kyoto). They’ve actually offered me an apartment of my own, which is… a big change. But the details of where everyone will be, exactly… Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. My mother keeps some things close to her chest. She says it’s for my own good, but…” I shrugged, a hint of frustration creeping into my voice. “It makes it hard to keep track sometimes.” I added, almost as an afterthought, “Even though I’m starting high school this year—as a freshman—I actually went to a military academy.”

Sato nodded, his eyes still focused intently on the road ahead. “It must be challenging,” he commented, “balancing family life with this demanding line of work, especially with an international upbringing and…" well, everything else.” He left the last part unspoken, respecting my privacy.

☆☆☆☆

I snatched the tablet – a sleek, metallic rectangle – my hands still trembling, and began to fill it out, the anger and exhaustion a painful knot in my stomach. This is ridiculous. It's utterly ridiculous. He knows who I am. He's just enjoying this. And he knows my information should have already been processed. "Look," I said, my voice strained, "I've filled out your ridiculous electronic form. Now, can I please just go to my room?" I shoved the tablet back across the desk, my patience completely depleted.

He picked it up, scrutinized it for a moment, and then looked up at me with that same infuriating smirk. "Hmm," he drawled, "everything seems to be in order… except one thing."

I clenched my fists. "What now?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"Verification," he said, picking up a small, handheld device. It hummed softly, a blue light pulsing from its tip. "Building policy. All new residents require biometric verification."

I stared at him, my jaw tight. He's deliberately provoking me. Biometric verification? Seriously? "I'm tired," I said, my voice shaking with barely suppressed rage. "I've had a long day. My organization submitted all my information. This is completely unnecessary."

He shrugged. "Building policy. Can't make exceptions. Just hold still." He pointed the device at my forehead.

This is beyond absurd. I thought, my head pounding. "You know what?" I said, my voice rising. "I'm done with this. I'm going to call someone who will actually listen to me." I pulled out my phone, my fingers fumbling with the buttons.

He leaned back in his chair, a look of amusement on his face. "Go right ahead," he said. "See if anyone's willing to come down here at this hour for a… biometric verification issue."

I glared at him, my anger a burning fire in my chest. I dialed Takeda's number, my hand still shaking. He'll sort this out. He has to.

The phone rang and rang again. Come on, come on… Finally, Takeda answered, his voice gruff with sleep.

"Takeda-San," I said, my voice tight with frustration, "it's Fujita. I'm at the apartment building, and the security guard…"

I explained the situation, the ridiculous back-and-forth about the ID and the biometric scan. Takeda listened, his silence punctuated by occasional grunts of annoyance. When I finished, he sighed.

"Fujita," he said, his voice weary, "I'll handle this. Just… try to remain calm."

I hung up the phone, my anger still simmering. I looked at the security guard, who was now leaning back in his chair, casually flipping through a magazine. He knows who I am. He knows my information is on file. He's just enjoying this power trip.

A few minutes later, Takeda appeared in the lobby, his face grim. He walked over to the security desk, and the guard immediately straightened up, his smirk vanishing.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding," Takeda said, his voice cold and authoritative. He glanced at me, a flicker of apology in his eyes. "Mr. Fujita is with the SCD. His information has been submitted and approved."

The guard stammered, "But… but the ID… and the scan…" Takeda cut him off. "Those are not issues. Mr. Fujita is authorized to be here. Is that clear?"

The guard nodded quickly, his earlier bravado gone. "Yes, sir. Perfectly clear, sir."

Takeda turned to me. "Fujita, let's go."

I nodded, grabbing my bags. As I walked past the security desk, I shot the guard a look that I hoped conveyed the full extent of my contempt. He avoided my gaze.

Just then, a young bellboy, seemingly out of nowhere, appeared beside me. "Mr. Fujita?" he asked, his voice bright and cheerful. "I'm here to assist you with your luggage."

I blinked, surprised. "Uh, yes. Thank you," I said, handing him my bags. Finally, something is going right.

As we walked towards the concierge desk, a man stood there, observing the situation with a look of concern. He was impeccably dressed, his rusty-colored hair neatly styled and parted to the side, the warm, earthy tones complementing his striking green eyes. His hair was impeccably groomed. He straightened up as we approached.

“Mr. Fujita?” he asked, his voice smooth and professional. “I’m so sorry for the trouble you’ve had. My name is Isahai. I’m the building concierge.” He shook his head slightly. “That security guard… he’s new, and he seems to be having some… difficulties understanding protocol.”

I managed a weak smile. “Thank you, Mr. Isahai. I appreciate it.” It’s a welcome change after that ordeal.

Mr. Isahai turned to the bellboy. “Please see that, Mr. Fujita’s luggage is taken to his room promptly.”

The bellboy nodded cheerfully. “Certainly, sir.”

Mr. Isahai then turned to Takeda. "Mr. Takeda, thank you for coming down. I apologize for the inconvenience this has caused, Mr. Fujita."

Takeda nodded. "It's quite alright, Mr. Isahai. It's just a misunderstanding. Though," he added, glancing at me, "I suspect we'll be hearing about this from Fujita later." He gave a small, weary smile.

Mr. Isahai chuckled softly. "I can imagine."

Takeda then turned to me. "Well, Fujita," he said, "I should be going. It's getting late." He glanced at his watch. Late… yes, it is late. "Try to get some rest."

"Thank you, Takeda-San," I replied. "I appreciate you coming down."

Takeda nodded once more and then turned and walked away, disappearing through the lobby doors.

Mr. Isahai then led me towards the elevator. “Again, Mr. Fujita,” he said, “my sincerest apologies. This should not have happened.”

“it’s alright, Mr. Isahai,” I replied, though the frustration still lingered. “Just… a long day.”

We reached the elevator, and Mr. Isahai pressed the button. The doors slid open with a soft chime. I stepped inside. "If you need anything," Mr. Isahai said, "Please don't hesitate to let me know."

“I looked at him with worn-out eyes and a half-smile on my face. “Thank you, I appreciate it,” I replied, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. I turned around, glancing back at the lobby one last time. He gave me a card (the key to my room). “Mr. Fujita, here is your new access card,” he said, handing it to me with a courteous nod and a bow. “This card is specially programmed to open your room and access all the building’s amenities.” “Thank you again,” I replied, putting the card inside my wallet.

I made my way towards the elevator, walking a few steps before pressing the button. The light above the button turned on, and the doors slid open with a soft chime. I stepped inside the elevator and pressed the button to the seventh floor, watching as the doors closed—and the elevator began its ascent.

As the elevator ascended smoothly, I leaned against the cool, metallic wall, my thoughts drifting back to the long day I had had. The soft hum of the elevator was almost soothing, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of frustrating events that had unfolded since midnight. I closed my weary eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and let the unpleasant memories wash over me like a cold tide. Ugh, what a day.

The grumpy security guard, with his suspicious eyes and gruff demeanor, was a perfect example of how one small, unimportant person could wield such annoying power. His petty insistence on pointless rules, his deliberate attempts to provoke me – it was like dealing with a stubborn troll guarding a bridge. And the insulting background check! Honestly, what did he think I was? A criminal? The nerve! My overseas ID should have been more than enough. And the biometric scan? Pfft! It was all so unnecessary. Good grief!

Then, here was Takeda-San. Thank goodness for him. He was a true professional, always calm and collected, even when dealing with difficult situations. He handled the obnoxious guard with such quiet authority. I’m grateful he came down. I would have been stuck there all night. And Mr. Isahai, well, he seemed genuinely apologetic. His warm smile and kind words were a welcome change after the chilly reception from the guard. At least someone in this entire building had some common courtesy.

The elevator dinged softly, signaling my arrival at the seventh floor. The doors slid open with a smooth whoosh, and I stepped out, finally, finally reaching my room. What a relief! I could already feel the tension in my shoulders beginning to ease. I just wanted to collapse onto the bed and sleep for a solid week. But first, a long, hot shower was definitely in order. Yes!