chapter 001
breeze

	Breeze blew eagerly through the spring blossoms of Hanane Park. It was far from a true park; a few wayward, ill-tended trees spread around an awkward, short dirt path through two major sectors of Akihabara. The few travellers that passed through it daily thought nothing of it. Ordinary trees, next to an ordinary path, in an ordinary part of the city. Nothing special. But it was his favorite trees, next to his favorite path, in his favorite part of the city. The reason why would continue to be one of his various well-kept secrets for a long time, until it would be revealed without even a second thought.
	He had many secrets. It was part of being who he was. Mysteries and riddles surrounded his life, but only because it amused him. Keeping secrets was yet another way he fought against his mortal enemy; his sheer lack of interest in the world around him. Boring, boring reality. Nothing special ever happens, and it never will, he thought. Why should he be stuck in such a boring place? At least it's a pretty place, he thought.
	Being stuck, so far away from his home town. It was his own fault, but he never wanted to admit that. Excuse after excuse would be told to anyone who asked, but in the end he knew it was solely his fault that he was stuck here. Bad decisions made, year after year. All he could think of as he stared up into the flowering, pale trees, was a sole question. "Why am I such a failure?" It lingered in the air infront of him, for a moment too long. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the question itself, or the sweet fragrance of the cherry blossoms that was unsettling his thoughts. Without a moment's pause, he turned on the spot, and rushed out of the park.


	Street after street passed by in a hurried blur. He knew the path well. It was simple, following basic geometric patterns, making it easy to remember for him. Alley after alley, corner after corner. The endless expanse of Tokyo was nothing to him, but it still amazed him every day. Commuters going back and forth never took time to appreciate its true beauty. It's a shame, he thought. People never take time to see the depth behind the simplest things. It worried him that people were so caught up in their lives.
	Within a few minutes, he arrived at the door of 411 Nemuru Street. A dark, dingy apartment complex rose high into the greyness of the sky. He had often estimated that it was built in the early 1950's because of the lack of recent kinds of earthquake prevention technology used in its construction. Pieces had fallen off from the myriad of tremors it must have encountered over the decades. He wondered if that's what he must look like to others. Weathered, weak, out-of-place, but still standing through all of the hardships it has faced, through some unholy miracle.
	He ran his fingers through his short, brown hair and fumbled for his key with his other hand. Feeling only his phone, he suddenly jolted into concern. With a timid gaze, he scanned the area around him. Nothing. It hadn't dropped out of his pocket. With a sigh, he pressed the red button of the callbox, under a piece of moldy tape reading "#31". A slight hum emanated from the crackling speaker. With a ringing in his ear, a soft, happy voice--all too loud for his liking--flowed from the antique device. "Hello there!! This is Kimi Higashi! How can I help you?"

	He sighed. "Hi, Kimi, it's me. I forgot my key again.. Can you let me in?.." The speaker screeched as the voice coming through it got even louder. "Oh!! Come right in!! I was waiting for you! It's getting late you know!." A smile fought its way onto his face. He didn't want to grin, but he did. The door unlocked with a buzz, and so he made his way up the dimly lit stairs. Flourescent lights overhead flickered and faded. Half of them had burned out years ago, but the landlord didn't care. With the amount of inattention given to the building, those staying in it were constantly in fear of it simply crumbling apart. But it was cheap, and so noone complained. After a few turns, he came finally to the mahogany door that he knew so well. The gold numbers on it were tarnished and old, but they still could be seen in the still dark. Apartment number thirty-one. A simple turn of the handle and push was all it took for the hall to be heavily lit, as he walked into the bright room.