August 1st, 2026
At Foxxy's house - 6:45 PM
Ian stood under the hot water, the steam fogging the mirrors of Foxxy's lavish bathroom.
For the first time in days, he felt physically clean, even if his mind remained a labyrinth of unease.
The marble tiles gleamed, and the silver fixtures reflected the soft glow of ceiling lights. The water cascaded down his shoulders, but his thoughts kept drifting to Ruth, the news broadcast, and the heavy implication of Foxxy's warning.
He leaned against the cold wall of the shower, breathing in the steam, hoping it might wash away the lingering anxiety clinging to his bones.
After drying off, Ian found a tray of food still warm on the dining table - some kind of fusion cuisine, expensive no doubt. With a half-hearted appetite, he chewed through the delicate flavors, his eyes scanning the silent room for some clue to what came next.
He finished his meal and went to check his belongings. Everything was where he left it: his phone, charger, wallet, and a few worn clothes. His backpack was packed in minutes. And now it was time.
He approached the door cautiously, fingers wrapped around the knob. But before he could open it, he heard the soft click of high heels against marble. A presence.
"Where will you stay now?"
Ian jumped and turned. Foxxy was leaning against the wall with her arms folded, her mask still concealing her face, eyes unreadable.
"I-I don't know," Ian muttered, avoiding her gaze. "Maybe I'll go ask one of my co-workers. Maybe I'll get lucky."
"Sorry," she said smoothly, emotionless. "I think I've already helped you enough."
"It's fine," Ian replied softly. "You did a lot anyway. More than anyone else would."
There was a strange silence between them. An invisible line that neither dared cross.
"Just remember," Foxxy said, her tone sharp as a blade. "If you cut your word... you know what will happen."
Ian nodded, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. Then, he opened the door and stepped into the Tokyo night.
The city was alive with neon lights and restless movement, but Ian felt like a ghost weaving through its pulse.
His sneakers tapped against the pavement as he wandered through familiar but unwelcoming streets.
Every few minutes, he glanced behind him. Nothing. Just a man walking his dog. A couple giggling outside a ramen shop. The paranoia was likely just a leftover remnant of everything he'd been through. Or so he told himself.
He clutched the straps of his backpack, breathing slowly. The night air cooled his face, but his mind remained hot and restless.
One name kept circling his thoughts: Mariko.
She was a cashier at McDizzle - quiet, polite, always down to earth. They didn't talk much, but their conversations were easy. She once lent him a few yen when his card got declined, and they shared a mutual distaste for their manager. If anyone might give him a place to stay, it would be her.
He found her neighborhood easily. It was a quiet suburb tucked just outside the city center. Her house was modest, a little weathered, and tucked between two cherry blossom trees that looked ghostly under the moonlight.
As he walked toward the porch, the same prickling feeling returned. The sense of being watched.
He turned sharply, scanning the shadows. Nothing.
A black cat leaped onto a wall. A leaf scraped across the street.
"Get a grip," he whispered to himself.
He knocked once. Then twice.
A few seconds passed before the door swung open.
It wasn't Mariko.
A fat, balding man in his late twenties stood in the doorway, wearing a stained t-shirt and boxers. He rubbed his eyes and frowned.
"Yeah? Who the hell are you?"
Ian blinked. "Uh… sorry, is Mariko here? I'm Ian. I work with her."
The man squinted at him, yawning. "She moved out two weeks ago. Didn't leave a forwarding address either."
Ian's heart sank. "Oh… okay. I didn't know. Sorry to bother you."
The man gave a lazy nod and shut the door.
Ian turned back to the street. The wind howled, subtle and chilling. The city was silent again.
He looked left.
Then right.
And again - nothing. But the hairs on his neck still stood tall.
He backed away from the porch slowly, his hand gripping his phone like a lifeline.
Where to now?
No home. No friend. No job.
Just one dark street and a feeling that someone was right behind him, watching his every move.
And this time, he wasn't sure it was in his head.