Jun Yamamoto

Jun swayed unsteadily, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. The dim, flickering lights of the bar barely illuminated the grimy floor, and the muffled sounds of laughter and clinking glasses felt distant, like they belonged to another world. His swollen eye was almost shut, and every nerve in his body screamed with pain, each cut and bruise pulsing in raw protest.

Across the room, the man responsible—an enhanced brute, all muscles and swagger—grinned triumphantly. He didn’t need to say anything; the sneer on his face spoke louder than words. Around them, a few patrons whispered to one another, their eyes darting between Jun and the man, but no one intervened. This was just how things worked here. Fights like this weren’t unusual, and no one wasted their energy caring about a one-sided beating.

Jun’s hand gripped the wall for support as he pushed himself upright. His legs trembled, his ribs burned with every shallow breath, and his head throbbed as if it might split open. Cracked ribs, a busted lip, and at least one bruised kidney—he was certain of it. But somehow, he stayed on his feet.

From across the room, the man smirked. “Had enough?” His voice dripped with mockery as he folded his arms.

Jun’s laugh came out low and hoarse, the kind of laugh that carried more defiance than humor. “Screw off,” he muttered, even though the words barely held weight. His body felt like it might give out at any moment, but he wouldn’t let this guy see him crumble. Staggering backward, he clutched his side and shuffled toward the exit, ignoring the laughter that followed him.

The cool night air greeted him as he stumbled outside, sharp and crisp against his battered skin. He leaned against the rough brick wall of the alley, sucking in deep breaths, each one shaky and painful. His vision swam, but the sharp neon lights of Neo-Tokyo flickered in the distance, painting the city in hues of electric blue and violet. Somewhere in the background, the faint hum of traffic reminded him that life outside this alley carried on as if nothing had happened.

Jun reached into his pocket, pulling out his holo-phone. The screen’s soft glow illuminated his face, reflecting the cuts and bruises he’d accumulated over the years, not just from tonight. He tapped on Yuki’s contact, letting the call connect. Each ring felt like a small eternity, but there was no answer. He sighed, jaw tightening, and tried again. Still nothing.

He shoved the phone back into his pocket with a muttered curse and forced his aching legs to move. His destination wasn’t far, but the walk felt endless. Every step sent jolts of pain through his body, but the pull of familiarity kept him going. He wove through Neo-Tokyo’s back alleys, avoiding the bustling main roads, until he reached the park.

The small, forgotten playground sat on the edge of the district, quiet and secluded. It was a relic of a simpler time, its once-bright equipment now dulled with age and rust. To most, it was just an old, overlooked corner of the city. To Jun, it was home.

He limped over to the swings and eased himself onto one, the chain creaking under his weight. The cold metal bit into his palms, but he didn’t care. Closing his eyes, he let the memories take over.

He was just a kid the first time he met Yuki here. Twelve years ago, on a quiet evening, he’d wandered into the park, his clothes too big, his face smudged with dirt. He’d spotted Yuki sitting on the swings, small and neat in his pristine suit, looking like he didn’t belong.

Yuki hadn’t looked scared, though. When their eyes met, there was no hesitation, just quiet curiosity. “Are you… lost?” Yuki had asked, his voice soft but direct.

Jun had shrugged, his usual bravado kicking in. “I could ask you the same thing. You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

Yuki had frowned slightly, kicking at the dirt. “I’m not lost. I just needed a break.”

“A break from what?” Jun had asked, his tone skeptical.

“Everything,” Yuki had replied, not looking up. “My parents. Private lessons. All of it.”

Jun had laughed then, a bitter, rough sound. “Must be nice to have things to complain about.”

Yuki’s head snapped up, his bright eyes locking onto Jun’s. “Are you poor?” he’d asked bluntly, but there was no malice in his voice, just honest curiosity.

Jun had shrugged again. “Yeah, but I’ve got enough.”

They’d sat in silence after that, the kind of easy silence only kids could share. Somehow, it became their spot—the one place they could just be themselves, away from the weight of the world.

Now, sitting on the same swing, Jun opened his eyes. The park was empty, quiet except for the faint rustling of leaves. He reached for his phone again, staring at Yuki’s name on the screen. His thumb hovered over the call button, but he couldn’t press it. Not tonight.

Footsteps echoed across the playground, pulling him from his thoughts. He tensed, squinting through his bruised eye as a figure emerged from the shadows. The short hair and sharp eyes were instantly recognizable.

Maya.

She stopped in front of him, her gaze sweeping over his battered form. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a hint of disapproval in the way she raised her brow. “You look like crap,” she said flatly.

“Thanks,” Jun muttered, leaning back on the swing.

Maya crossed her arms. “I found him.”

Jun stiffened. His heart pounded in his chest, hope surging despite himself. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Maya replied. Her voice was calm, steady, but her eyes carried a glimmer of something else—determination, maybe. “The description matches. Everything lines up.”

Jun let out a slow, shaky breath, his mind racing. After years of searching, this could finally be it. The person they’d been looking for—the one who could change everything for people like them.

Maya sat down on the swing next to him, her movements casual. “Think this will actually work?” she asked, her voice softer now.

Jun hesitated, staring at the ground. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it’s the best shot we’ve got.”

Maya nodded, letting the silence stretch between them. Finally, she spoke again, her tone lighter. “Well, you’re still alive again tonight after another one of your bar fights. That’s good."

Jun managed a small laugh, though it hurt. “Barely.”

They sat there for a while, the swings swaying gently in the cool night breeze. For the first time in what felt like forever, Jun allowed himself to feel a flicker of something close to hope.

“It'll work, Maya,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “I know it will.”