S-2858 • L4 Abeluna • D04 Alonabe
"Abeluna pours a sprout of brilliance above. Alonabe stretches the thread of beginning. The tide draws a path in living silver. The story moves forward, light in step."
That establishment pulled him like a magnet.
The owner was a mystery.
A member.
Masaru Inoue.
A fifty-four-year-old kobun who rarely showed himself.
Karyū whispered secrets through its shadowed alleys.
In brief glimpses between customers entering, light cast dancing patterns across the floor.
Metals.
Robots.
He had to go in.
His heart burned in that direction.
Inside that darkness, he knew a client would eventually go speak with Inoue.
He dressed in his darkest clothes.
The veil of night over his body.
He took a deep breath.
He would summon silence.
He would become silence.
He would summon darkness.
He would become darkness.
He slipped behind the long coat of an old man.
Glided in unnoticed.
Entered.
He sneaked toward a pile of scattered machinery.
Polished nanometal reflected pulsing holograms of circuits.
Complex formulas danced in the air.
Droids.
Robots — elegant.
Robust.
Each designed for specific tasks.
Maintenance.
Analysis.
Strategy.
Robotic parts.
Shining gears.
Advanced components scattered in organized chaos.
At the center, a large android.
Its eyes blinked.
The subtle smell of engine oil.
Electricity in the air.
Workbenches covered in tools.
A room filled with gleaming katanas.
Each telling its own story.
Samurai armor adorned with intricate details.
A true amusement park for Hikaru.
He stepped carefully.
Found a crate.
A robotic raccoon-dog.
Its blue-gray shell shimmered in nanometal.
Lights off.
Inactive.
He waited.
Inoue served a client.
The door closed.
Hikaru took a deep breath.
Even with his heart racing.
Hands sweating.
He planted his feet firmly on the ground.
Stood before the man.
"Why is that raccoon-dog turned off?"
Inoue's brown eyes widened.
"Chikushō!
Who are you?!
Get out of here! Go, go!"
He grabbed the boy's thin arms.
Dragged him toward the door.
"I'm Hikaru.
I want to stay here.
Please."
"Are you crazy, gaki?
Get out.
I want to avoid trouble."
He opened the door, ready to throw him outside.
Hikaru dug his feet into the ground.
"Please, no!
I want to build robots.
I know QN-Tech!"
Inoue's hand hesitated.
He closed the door.
Released the boy.
"Baka. Quiet.
Are you an usotsuki? A liar?"
Hikaru quickly opened his notebook.
Turned a page.
"Les quantum-nanoparticules possèdent des clés.
Des algorithmes atomiques.
Instables.
Pouvant être stabilisées par des algorithmes programmés
dans des quantum-nanites."
Hikaru's voice was steady.
His eyes burned with intensity.
He explained:
"Quantum nanoparticles possess keys.
Atomic algorithms.
Unstable.
They can be stabilized by algorithms programmed into quantum-nanites."
The color drained from Inoue's face.
Something inside him trembled in silence.
"Kuso… what the hell.
How did you get this?"
"Please.
I'll stay quiet.
I just want to never be touched like they did."
His pleading whisper reignited a buried pain in Inoue's chest.
Memories flooded his soul.
Disgust.
Contempt.
Bitterness filled his mouth.
Those unwanted touches.
The rage.
The need to survive.
The obsession with technology.
He understood.
Conflict and certainty twisted together.
Dancing tragically between fear and desire.
"That one is Tanu.
A defective robot."
He climbed the wooden stairs.
Damn it.
What had he gotten himself into?
A fierce light shone in Hikaru's eyes.
"Can I work on him?"
Inoue pretended to ignore the warmth stirring in his chest.
"Don't waste your time.
That one is pure defect.
Just insults people.
Slow at tasks.
Outdated weapons.
One of my first models.
Gaki, sleep on that mattress.
It's the only one."
Old hardware stacked in piles.
Dusty motherboards.
Entangled wires lay across the floor like sleeping snakes.
A battered mattress.
A faded sheet.
A corner.
An improvised lantern cast a trembling light.
Revealing the outlines of forgotten objects.
Relics of past eras.
Oxidized metal.
Dust floating in the air.
A palace for Hikaru.
He adjusted the worn sheet.
Felt the rough folds between his fingers.
The mattress would now be his refuge.
Every object around him.
Every forgotten gear.
Every piece told silent stories.
And he was desperate to hear them.
More than a junk storage room…
For Hikaru, it was a map to the future he wanted to build.
"Please, let me work on him, Inoue-sensei?"
Sensei?
He had never imagined having a kohai.
Inoue rolled his eyes.
Tasted the bitterness.
Narrowed his gaze.
Studied the boy as if deciphering a puzzle.
His hardened expression faltered.
For a moment — almost imperceptible — something flickered in his eyes.
An echo of memory struck him.
Small hands.
Grease-stained.
Broken parts.
The hope that had long abandoned him.
It was as if he saw a younger version of himself.
Someone the world had already thrown to the ground too many times.
Maybe…
Just maybe…
That boy still carried something he himself had lost:
The flame of hope.
Inoue crossed his arms.
Eyes fixed on Hikaru.
He took a deep breath, as if trying to push away something uncomfortable.
"Fine, Hika-baka.
Go cry in your corner if fixing it turns out useless."
Inoue snorted.
Trying to hide the slight curl of his lips.
The cracked mask revealed a veiled challenge.
"Stay away from my other creations, gaki."