"Let's grab something to eat," Kenji said, crushing his cigarette under his shoe. "My treat."
"Since when do you have money?"
"Since I robbed my mom last night."
Kai looked at him.
"Joking. I think."
Weird guy.
They started walking. Neokura was the same as always — loud, crowded, too close.
Smog hung between buildings, the air sticking to your skin. Traffic lights blinked, trash overflowed, power lines drooped like veins nobody bothered to fix. Every corner had its own rules, every street its own god. Some kids sprayed a wall while one kept watch. Somewhere behind them: sirens, shouting, glass breaking. Normal. Everything moved, but nothing went anywhere. Even the city ran in circles.
"I swear this city eats itself," Kenji said.
"Then it fits the people," Kai answered.
He meant himself too.
They passed a small place — half café, half convenience store. The sign flickered: 24 H OPEN. Inside, two guys sat by an arcade machine. Looked like they'd slept there. Kenji ordered two instant ramen.
"Sit down, bro. My treat. Might be broke again tomorrow anyway."
Kai sat by the window, watching the street through the dirty glass. Cars. Grey faces. Rainwater in the cracks.
Me too. Just no one knows where.
Kenji slid the bowls over. "Be honest — what would you do if you woke up tomorrow with a million?"
"Sleep."
Kenji laughed, shaking his head. "You're broken, man."
Then he saw it — on the wall, half-torn above the drink machine.
THE PIT – FIGHT NIGHT / Entry by Invitation Only.
Red on black. Wet, ripped, like everywhere else in the city. Same poster as this morning.
Just paper.
Just ink.
"That thing's following us," Kenji said.
Kai said nothing.
"I'm telling you, it's real. Underground stuff. No lights, no refs. Just concrete, fists, and blood."
"You believe too much crap."
"And you believe in nothing."
Maybe he's right.
They finished eating. Kenji wiped his mouth, stood up.
"I'll go check it out. Just to see."
"Do what you want."
"Come on. You act like nothing matters. Might as well see people who actually feel something."
Kai looked up.
"Why?"
"'Cause it's real, man. No filters, no talking. Down there you'll know if you're alive."
Alive. Sure.
Kenji left cash on the table and walked out. Kai stayed.
A moment later —
"You done eating?"
The voice came from the side. The waitress stood there, tray in hand, hair tied up in a messy knot. Too young to look that tired. Dark circles, cigarette smell, nicotine-stained nails. Still… kind of pretty.
"I'll pay in a sec," Kai said.
"Hope so."
She looked at the cut on his face. "You're bleeding."
"It'll stop."
"It won't."
He stayed quiet.
She set the tray down and tapped the edge of his bowl with a spoon.
"You kids are all the same. Come in, eat cheap, stare out there like the world owes you something."
"Doesn't it?"
"Maybe. But none of you know what."
She lit a cigarette, ignoring the NO SMOKING sign behind her.
"You're quiet. That's rare here. Most people talk until they start believing themselves."
"I got nothing to say."
"Or too much. Usually the same thing."
He looked at her. She had that kind of look — someone who's woken up too many times without a reason.
"What's your name?"
"Kai."
"I'm Aiko."
She took a drag, the smoke curling between them.
"If you keep staring like that, this city's gonna eat you alive. Neokura doesn't like empty faces."
"Then it fits me."
She laughed once. Not real laughter.
"Maybe. But it'll spit you back out anyway."
Silence. Just the hum of the light above them.
"That guy you were with," she said. "He's coming back, right?"
"Why?"
"He asked if we stay open late."
Kai looked up.
"Why'd he ask?"
"Said he wanted to talk to someone. About that flyer."
She nodded toward the wall.
THE PIT – FIGHT NIGHT / Entry by Invitation Only.
Kai didn't answer.
"If you know him," she said quietly, "tell him not to go. People who go down there don't come back here to eat."
"You know about it?"
"I know everything that breathes down here, kid."
She crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, picked up the tray.
"Some places are built to break you. And some people... walk straight in."
She looked at him one last time, then walked away.
Outside, the lights flickered again. For a second, Kai thought he heard something — deep below.
Maybe bone against bone.
Or maybe a heartbeat.
He was still sitting there.
The neon above him blinked, the spoon cold in his bowl. Outside, rain tapped against the glass — steady, quiet, tired. Neokura sounded the same as always.
Engines, voices, someone shouting, maybe gunshots somewhere.
He stood up, left the cash on the table, gave Aiko a small nod. She didn't say anything, just looked at him — worry in her eyes. That kind of "take care" that didn't need words.
He got it anyway.
Outside was dark, wet, and smelled like rot.
Kai started walking. Every step made a sound that vanished right after. He thought about Kenji. The way he joked like nothing mattered. The way he was probably still laughing somewhere.
Or maybe not anymore.
He stopped, looked down into a puddle. His face, broken by the rain, twitching in the light.
Strange.
Empty.
You look half gone already
A car turned the corner, headlights cutting through the water. A black one — engine low, too clean for this part of town.
The back door opened. Mina stepped in. School uniform, coat over it, face blank.
A man in a suit stood beside her — probably her father.
She didn't say anything, didn't look at anyone. The car drove off, disappeared into the wet lights.
She's really loaded
Kai watched the taillights fade.
Two lives that would never fit, but somehow still shared the same dirt.
He breathed out and kept walking. The rain got heavier, thicker. Neokura felt alive, like the whole city refused to sleep.
And deep below, somewhere under his feet,
that sound again —
slow, heavy,
like a heart.
Or something pretending to be one.