SEGREDOS SUBMERSOS
S-2857 • L9 Fluxluna • D08 Lilibe
(Gregorian eq., 12/27/2112)
“Fluxluna runs in a thread of living brilliance.
Lilibe pours luma in a gentle curve.
The tide sings clearly in the city’s air.
The story weaves a path in a light current.”
NAGASAKI
Neon skyscrapers rose like the city’s sentinels.
Kūchū no Kyūden, the Floating Palace, towered above everything.
Mizukagami, Water Mirror, throbbed at the agitated center.
Kurayami no Sora, Sky of Darkness, sank at the base—darkness creeping.
Holograms floated above narrow, ancient streets, forming a kaleidoscope of phosphorescent lights and co-breathing shadows.
Polychrome glass and metal nearly swallowed temples and wooden houses.
Relics of a suffocated past.
Scars of the corporate wars.
Technological races broke open in the illuminated favelas.
E-tags and vibrant graffiti flared across debris and hacked screens.
The streets swarmed.
Mercenaries.
Hackers.
Merchants.
Artists.
Residents.
Tourists.
They wore a fusion of tradition:
kimonos adorned with circuits,
nanite weaves,
luminous implants,
pixels dancing over LED fabrics.
Aircars glided along the skyways.
Drones watched.
Entertained.
Adwares popped like digital swarms.
Up high, Kūchū no Kyūden housed a rare kind of nature.
Nanoplants and meta-trees dominated—
cold simulacra of an extinct green.
Below, veiled by giants of glass and steel, Kaigan Beach stretched out in Tairamachi.
The waters reflected the artificial lights of the ocean platforms.
Climate-control towers dotted the horizon like dead stars.
The sand formed a mosaic of meta-particles:
residues of industrial extraction,
experimental biotechnologies for environmental modification.
A ground of scars.
Waves oscillated between radioactive emerald and shimmering neon blue.
They slid over digital pollution, technological debris—
drone remains, android parts, rusty robot gears.
Drops fell onto diffuse holograms.
Food stalls dragged like silhouettes between withered palm trees.
Lanterns flickered under the pixelated purple fog.
The stench of burnt frying.
Marine garbage pressed down on the lungs,
clung to skin like a viscous miasma.
The salty breeze drove a metallic tang into the tongue—
traces of acid corrosion.
Fishermen, faces carved by time, callused hands,
tried their luck in waters that grew scarcer by the day.
Empty eyes reflected the struggle for lives always beyond reach.
At dusk, holograms glitched as they powered on.
Music camouflaged apathy.
The party went on.
Echoes of laughter hung in the air—
some hollow,
empty as echoes without a soul.
Coughs ruptured the flow.
Tides came and went,
bringing painful torments of pasts, presents, futures.
Hikaru played.
He hopped between damp stones.
Treacherous moss slipped under his feet.
He fell.
The impact came fast.
Cold water rose to his knees.
A cave.
He rubbed his aching head.
The scratched skin burned.
He groped around,
sought support on the slick rocks,
looked for a way back outside.
He stumbled.
His fingers found something.
A brown square fluttered downstream.
He grabbed it.
Turned it in his hands, feeling the weight of time inside it.
An aged notebook.
Bio-leather cover.
Yellowed pages.
Soaked through.
It might have been trash to many, but Hikaru’s heart and eyes lit up at that treasure.
He didn’t even dare move it much.
He feared tearing the fragile pages apart.
He shoved it under his clothes,
shielding it from the damp.
He climbed the cave walls.
Braced himself, pulled up onto the rock—
one more push—
and then he was back on the surface.
He ran home.
The rub of wet bio-leather against his skin thrilled him.
When he entered, he found the same scene as always:
his mother passed out on the sofa,
hundreds of neoheroin injections piled in stacks on the table.
Hikaru went straight to his room.
He placed the notebook where the air circulated better.
He turned the pages one by one—
carefully.
His fingers slid gently over the wet paper.
It took hours, but the work paid off.
The notebook revealed itself as a diary.
And he understood nothing—absolute squat.
Nothing made sense.
Curved letters.
Intricate symbols.
Drawings like indecipherable patterns.
What language was that?
A hidden message waiting to be decoded.
He had to find out.
His only access to the internet was through Mr. Saito—
but at that hour, the old man was dozing.
Hikaru had asked so many times to use the terminal.
Always denied.
It didn’t matter.
He had to unmask the language.
Those symbols and drawings were calling him.
He had to answer.
He waited for nightfall.
His mother woke only to make dinner,
then stuffed herself with neoheroin again,
and crashed in the bedroom.
Hikaru slipped through the streets to Aio Saito’s house.
The old man wore a permanently stern expression, as if carved from rock.
Messy white hair.
Small, sunken eyes—dull blue.
Always suspicious.
He wore threadbare sweaters and loose pants.
His house stood out from the others:
dusty windows,
weeds devouring the yard.
Around it, the other homes withered—
most of them empty, abandoned,
shadows of what they once were.
People left.
They searched for more promising places.
Occasionally a bark tore through the silence.
Leaves rustled.
Wind whispering nonexistent children’s laughter.
Saito’s computer sat in a hidden room, but Hikaru knew a window—
by chance, exactly his size.
He only had to climb onto the neighbor’s roof,
jump between houses,
undo the latch…
His head spun.
Determination burning.
He didn’t hesitate.
His feet knew where to land.
Instincts guided him.
A distant noise covered the one step that landed off-beat.
The zephyr danced around him as he leapt across the rooftops.
He landed like a stealthy cat.
The latch gave under his fingers with familiarity.
He was used to it.
Silence reigned.
He had to be quieter than quiet itself.
One step at a time.
He reached the computer.
Click.
The holoscreen opened.
He scanned the notebook.
The IV analyzed:
Suggested: a diary by a French scientist about quantum nanotechnology.
French?
A grunt sounded nearby.
Hikaru froze.
Then he bolted.
He looked only ahead.
He barely slept that night.
In his dreams: glimpses of stacks and stacks of books.
HIDDEN INHERITANCE
He knew where to go:
Kigen Library, in Mizukagami.
But how would he get there?
He needed an adult.
He needed his mother.
Chiyo Chiba.
Twenty-seven cycles old.
Long hair, a deep black.
It fell in disordered strands over her shoulders.
Dark circles under her eyes.
Premature wrinkles marked her delicate face.
Brown eyes — dull, distant —
as if trapped inside an unending illusion.
A slender body.
Prominent bones.
Dry skin.
Worn.
She wore battered hoodies.
Moved like a broken whisper.
She swayed between despair and brief flashes of control.
Hikaru seized one of those moments.
He lowered his eyes.
“Okaasan… will you take me to Kigen Library?”
Chiyo narrowed her eyes.
The black of her son’s iris reminded her of the bastard father.
A coward who had fled to Kurayami no Sora.
Maybe chasing the thorned embrace of a Ninkyō dantai.
“What do you want at the library, Hika-chibi?”
Her soft voice wrapped around the boy.
It reminded him of her corrupted sweetness.
“I want a French dictionary.”
Her eyes widened.
“Shh — are you crazy?”
Don’t say that out loud.
Mr. Saito is putting strange ideas in your head.
Hikaru gestured energetically.
“Mr. Saito has nothing to do with it.”
His small hands wrapped around her long fingers.
“Please.”
A forgotten string vibrated inside Chiyo.
A fleeting memory of her university months.
Before everything collapsed.
Before Hikaru’s cursed, nameless father.
Before she chased chemistry inside laboratories.
Now she injected it into herself.
Her interrupted future flowing through her veins.
She wanted to stop him from staring into the abyss the way she did.
Before surrendering to her next dose, she dressed both herself and Hikaru as best she could.
How long had it been since she stepped into the city?
Mirai Yokocho.
A vibrant district surrounding Kigen Library.
Nanoshops.
Art studios.
Markets.
Exotic stores lined the lively streets.
The atmosphere pulsed with chaotic colors.
Electrifying sounds.
Crooked glances turned toward her.
Chiyo felt displaced.
Still — how could she ignore the light shining on Hikaru’s face?
They entered.
Dark wooden shelves.
Overflowing with books.
They rose among floating holograms.
Tablets and holoscreens projected data in a dance of blazing light.
The soft hum of robots organizing items.
The nearly inaudible click of digital interfaces.
Low voices in the reading area.
Excited chatter in the commercial sections.
The scent of aged paper filled the air.
Cold metal touched the tables.
Soft leather chairs offered comfort to scholars.
The aroma of coffee drifted from a discreet corner.
And now?
How would she even ask about that subject?
Hikaru released her hand.
He wandered between shelves and machines.
“Okaasan, look at those droids!”
Chiyo crouched beside him in an empty corner.
“Hika-chiba, stay quiet.
We’ll find what you’re looking for.
I think it’s somewhere around here…”
She knew very well that information like that wouldn’t be available in the public collection.
Not for research.
Certainly not for visitors.
She searched the international section.
Discreetly, she studied the robot guarding the restricted area.
She had to distract it.
But how?
Hikaru picked up books.
Flipped through pages.
His eyes dazzled.
Then Chiyo had an idea.
“Chiba-chiba, did you see those robot insects on the other side?
I heard you can catch them.”
He didn’t even blink.
He ran toward the other aisle.
Soon enough, her plan worked.
The guard-robot, Kōsetsu, moved to investigate the commotion.
Chiyo slipped inside.
She took a deep breath.
Her heart racing.
She searched the internal archive for French terms.
She found something on shelf 76-RT.
She glanced around.
Endless corridors on both sides.
Chikushō, she thought.
One step.
The door opened.
Kōsetsu appeared.
Hikaru struggled in its metallic claws.
“Let him go!”
Chiyo demanded.
The metallic voice responded.
“Are you responsible for this child?”
“You noticed, huh?
Let him go now!”
His mother lifted her arms to take him.
Hikaru hugged her.
Tears in his eyes.
His luminous eyes glowed blue.
“You should not be here.”
Her face warmed.
“I just need to find something for him.”
“You must leave.”
Kōsetsu bent over her.
“I only want a dictionary.”
Hikaru looked at her with tearful eyes.
The machine hesitated.
It had never witnessed a situation like this.
It needed to adapt.
But how?
“What dictionary?”
“French.”
Its database contained only imprecise information about that.
It should be safe.
Part of its role was to connect with humans.
It would do so.
“Did you search the archive?”
“It’s in sector 76-RT.”
“Follow me.”
Kōsetsu guided them through endless passages.
Even Chiyo couldn’t believe their luck.
She walked silently.
Afraid that even a wrong breath might alter the algorithms of that technology.
They could be expelled.
Kōsetsu’s angular body scanned a section.
“76-RT.”
She hurried forward into the odor of rotten paper.
Mold.
Books decomposing.
Something had to work.
She covered her nose.
Reached inside.
Searching.
Hikaru asked repeatedly if she had found it.
“Shh, Hika-chan.”
Two books left.
Hands digging through dust and mold.
Fragile pages beneath her fingers.
Tension burning in her skin.
The weight of something bound slid from beneath the books.
A name engraved on the cover.
French.
A dictionary.
“I found it!”
Chiyo froze for half a second.
Was she really about to hug a guard robot?
The thought barely formed.
Warmth already surrounded her.
She laughed, embracing the robot.
“Thank you, Tsu.”
She ran like a rocket.
Hikaru laughed at the sudden burst.
For a few seconds, Kōsetsu glitched.
When it realized what had happened, it triggered security.
Too late.
Wind blew through Chiyo’s hair.
For a moment, it carried the weight away.
Her chest expanded with refreshing joy.
Light filled the dim corners of her expression.
Heart racing.
Adrenaline.
Dopamine.
Laughter flowed.
She and Hikaru laughed together.
They skipped all the way back to their shack in Kaigan.
Her happiness was so immense that night
she didn’t even use neoheroin.
She helped her son decipher a few words.
Told him bedtime stories.
Fell asleep beside him.
Peaceful sleep.
Sweet dreams under the waning moon.
BROKEN BONDS
S-2858 • L3 Sintoluna • D27 Silenri
“Sintoluna refines the thread of the world.
Silenri seals the descent in a fine gleam.
The tide draws silence in a living curve.
The story prepares a gateway of beginnings.”
KURAYAMI NO SORA — RYUHO-KAI CLAN HEADQUARTERS, KARYŪ, FIRE CURRENT
Chiyo woke Hikaru with a generous breakfast.
She gave him a plastic dinosaur.
Dressed him in fresh clothes.
The heat punished the city.
Fifty degrees melted the asphalt.
Suffocated the air.
She drove toward Karyū.
She chatted cheerfully with Hikaru.
The road sank into shadows.
Steel and crystal towers rose like sleeping serpents.
Each building carved with draconic symbols.
The spirit of the dragon slithered through the air.
Pixelated.
Blinking between robotic guardians patrolling the alleys.
The main avenues displayed windows of opulence.
Cyber-implants.
Cutting-edge technology.
High-value products.
Adjacent alleyways wove another world.
Trafficking.
Chemical dependency.
Gambling houses.
Weapons markets.
Whispered negotiations beneath unstable holographic lights.
As they moved forward, Chiyo looked away.
Funny how everything seemed so dazzling on the outside.
Only powdered gold over ruins.
The brilliant shopfronts hid the shadows of the alleys beneath illusory veils.
The bitter smell soaking the air revealed itself in fragile, fleeting cracks.
It was like her.
A shell trying to shine.
The emptiness devoured her from within.
She forced a smile.
Protecting Hikaru from an abyss where she had already drowned.
The headquarters of the Ryuho-kai dominated the skyline.
Ryūden — the Dragon Palace.
Steel and mirrored black glass reflected the darkness of the streets below.
Nano-dragons guarded the tower.
Floors of obsidian marble.
Red veins shimmered beneath low interior lights.
Holograms projected circles of fire.
On the upper floors, protected by maximum security, Kojiro Ryuho oversaw his empire.
The imposing view of his dominance over Karyū.
Over Kurayami no Sora.
Over the Ninkyō dantai.
Kojiro radiated an intimidating force.
His imposing figure dominated the space.
Dark hakama.
Wide-sleeved jinbei.
Traditional symbols engraved in the flowing fabric.
Evaluating eyes pierced the soul like blades.
Beside him stood his nephew.
Kotaro Ryuho.
Four years old.
Black hair.
Brown eyes.
Curiosity.
Boldness.
Resolution in his expression.
He wore a cotton kimono.
Scaled patterns.
Watching everything from the altar.
“He can read and write. Very intelligent.
He turns eight today.”
Chiyo trembled.
Her fingers fidgeted restlessly.
The cold gaze of the oyabun fell on her.
“Three million nienes.”
“But—”
“Or the deal is off.”
Kojiro’s voice cut like steel.
“…Fine. Whatever.
Transfer it already.”
A gesture from the oyabun.
Hiroshi Tanaka, the saiko-komon, began the operation.
Dark suit.
Controlled posture.
Trimmed beard.
Sharp eyes.
“What are you doing, okaasan?”
Hikaru’s voice came out small.
Her chest tightened.
He stared at her, confused.
Chiyo avoided her son’s eyes.
Resisted looking.
She believed that as a mother she was not enough.
He needed another path.
Maybe they could manage…
Maybe he would survive better without her.
Better than she had survived.
The knot in her throat tightened until it almost suffocated her.
It strangled her shattered heart, but her voice came out cold.
Cruel.
“You deserve more, Hika-chiba.
More than I can give you.
Your new friends will take care of you.”
Silence.
Hikaru’s heart rate increased.
Rapid breathing.
Pale skin.
Tense muscles.
Damp palms.
His stomach twisted.
Cold and heat ran through his body.
His mind sharpened in alarm.
“What do you mean, okaasan?
I don’t want that.
I just want to stay with you.”
“Shh, Hika-chiba.
One day you’ll understand.”
Chiyo turned.
Past and present collided in fleeting images.
Hikaru playing with an improvised robot.
His laughter filling the shack with light.
The first time he said okaasan in that tiny voice.
Each memory a knife twisting in her chest.
Still she kept walking.
She had to.
Tears burned.
Pain in her heart.
Steady steps.
She left.
Leaving Hikaru’s desperate screams behind.
Hikaru struggled in the men’s arms, devastated.
The last thing he still had of his mother was her scent.
Cheap shampoo and neoheroin.
He wanted to scream that he would never understand.
Never.
But the pain suffocated the words.
Chiyo died of an overdose three moons later.
On that sintoluna, Hikaru stayed awake.
He spent the night with the shatei, the younger brothers.
Chiyo’s scent still clung to his clothes.
But profane patriarchal hands touched him where they should not.
Stained his skin.
Distorted his mind.
Corrupted his soul.
A RELUCTANT MASTER
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.”
TEMPTATION
S-2876 • L3 Sintoluna • D18 Libesi
“Sintoluna refines sky and path.
Libesi releases the thread now ripe.
The tide draws a silver curve.
The story moves forward, steady in living rhythm.”
Kurokawa.
A district on the edge of Kurayami no Sora.
A labyrinth of narrow streets.
Bound in a shadowed embrace.
Worn buildings displayed faded murals.
Old signs whispered forgotten stories.
Electric tension ran along the sidewalks.
Bars.
Brothels.
Neon lights flickered in lime green, magenta, amber.
They lured passersby.
Electronic music pulsed.
Heavy rock roared.
Alternative pop murmured.
Smoke, alcohol, and street food saturated the air.
Inoue sent Hikaru away.
He wanted time alone.
The nanoengineer brought Tanu along.
The robot grumbled endlessly.
“That old man too… always wanting his ‘precious solitude.’
To hell with him. Another idiot.”
Hikaru looked up at the sky.
The moon illuminated a frozen emptiness in the night.
Cold like Chiyo’s gaze when she left him behind.
Why had he thought of her now?
Did she think of him before she…?
He stopped the thought.
He preferred not knowing the answer.
He stepped into an alley.
Eight gokudō waited.
No.
More.
Hundreds scattered across the surrounding buildings.
“Finally we’re going to catch you, osuinu.”
One laughed, revealing rotten teeth.
“Idiot. Do you know the trouble you’ve dragged us into?”
Tanu’s eyes glowed red.
He advanced.
Components reconfigured.
His legs expanded.
Energy laser cannons unfolded.
“Baka, baka, baka!
MASTER IDIOT!
WHAT HAVE YOU GOTTEN US INTO?!
HE’S AN IDIOT,
BUT HE’S MY MASTER!
STAY AWAY FROM MY MASTER!!!”
Reinforced armor rose around his torso.
Nanoplates aligned.
His lenses darkened.
Targeting systems activated.
Combat drones slid from his back.
A spectacle of spinning gears.
Pulsing lights.
A war machine.
Then—
Disabled.
An electromagnetic shot cut through the air.
It struck the core.
Tanu froze.
Lights flickered frantically.
He collapsed.
His metal body retracting as it fell.
Returning to his original form.
Raccoon-dog.
“We prepared for that robot of yours, idiot.
Can’t wait to try you out.”
Hikaru drew his katana.
A dart struck his neck.
Darkness.
A wave of heat ran across his skin.
Every touch—fire.
His skin burned.
He shivered at the slightest contact.
His senses sharpened.
Intoxicating scents.
Vivid colors.
Seductive resonant sounds.
His heart pounded.
A primordial war raged in his chest.
Insatiable desires haunted his mind.
Provocative thoughts.
Euphoria.
Vulnerability.
Every emotion exposed.
Hikaru felt alive.
Intensely connected.
Chikushō.
He slowly opened his eyes.
A room.
Dim lights.
The bastards’ laughter filled his ears.
He tried to move.
His arms and legs were tied.
His kimono hung loosely at his waist.
Skin exposed.
Tattoos revealed.
Across his back — a towering dragon.
Dark scales.
Piercing eyes.
Along his spine — stylized cats.
Cherry blossoms.
Waves.
A feline coiled around his heart.
Draconic patterns branched across his chest.
Forearms.
“We’re just getting started, pretty boy,” a sticky whisper brushed his ear.
Disgust and arousal poisoned his senses.
What had they done?
Why was his body betraying his mind?
“Kore nan da kuso?!
DA KORE KUSO?!”
Someone shouted.
“What the hell is this?!
DAMN IT, WHAT IS THIS?!”
Fury exploded.
Flashes of blood across the floor.
A limb was thrown through the window.
The man on top of Hikaru turned.
“What are you doing, Riko?”
A silver-finished android rushed him.
He had no time to defend himself.
The force pushed him back.
Glass shattered.
They both fell through the window.
Hikaru opened his eyes wider.
An intense aura surrounded him.
A man entered.
Hooded.
Long black coat.
He inhaled slowly.
Closed the door gently.
Slow steps through the pool of blood.
A tongue click echoed in the air.
Sliding through Hikaru’s ears.
He placed his hands on the arms of the chair.
Leaned over him.
His citrus scent flooded Hikaru’s senses with a strangely welcoming symphony.
It smelled far better than the nauseating filth of the others.
The hooded figure brushed a soft tongue along the nanoengineer’s neck.
Tasting something like bitter chocolate.
“They gave you Erosen.
I hear it lasts ten hours.”
His voice was hoarse.
Enveloping.
Resonant.
Hikaru’s body reacted instantly.
Every hair from head to toe rose.
A soft moan escaped him.
Damn.
He hadn’t meant to.
Rough fingers.
The cold metal of rings.
They lifted his face to meet theirs.
Amber eyes gleamed beneath the hood.
Devouring the nanoengineer.
The smile promised danger.
The gaze — pure debauchery.
Curious.
For the first time, he plunged into someone’s eyes.
Into a soul.
Who truly was this nanoengineer?
All he saw there was fear.
Something that did not particularly amuse him.
Of course, he would never deny such a delicious sight before him.
He didn’t even need to touch him.
The kitten twisted on his own.
The nanoengineer exhaled a scent of bamboo and metal.
The burning sensation only intensified it.
It penetrated deep within him.
He had never felt anything like it.
He dragged a chair closer.
Sat before Hikaru.
Lowered the hood.
Wavy strands fell over his forehead.
His hair — half dark brown, half white.
The same colors mixed in his lashes.
His eyebrows.
Bronzed skin.
He rested an elbow on the chair.
Legs spread.
Fingers brushing his smiling lips.
Golden eyes heavy with provocation.
Kuso.
Who was this man?
That gaze sent electric currents racing down his spine.
Resisting proved useless.
The pleasure returned with every second.
Bound to the chair, he twisted.
The voluptuous waves of Erosen devoured him.
Hot sweat.
Ragged breathing.
Hours dragged on.
The man feasted on the sight of Hikaru.
Hikaru resisted the erotic effects.
He wanted to sleep.
In vain.
That overwhelming presence.
Perverse.
Challenging.
Arousing.
Repelling.
Attracting.
Terrifying.
Fascinating.
Eleven hours later
The nanoengineer collapsed.
Exhausted.
ALIGNING FREQUENCIES
Hikaru woke surrounded by compact blue walls.
Soft purple neon lights glowed beneath wooden panels.
He lay on a mattress of dark silk.
His heart raced.
Fully dressed and free of restraints, he stood up.
Another chamber.
Transparent walls shifting in opacity.
Storage compartments for supplies.
A foldable bed.
Holo-consoles for navigation and entertainment.
He continued forward until he was swallowed by absolute darkness—except for the lights at the bow of a small nanoboat.
A nano-aerodynamic nanohull.
QNanotechnological structure.
Integrated nanopanels for solar energy.
Propulsion so silent that the silence echoed like the abyssal sea itself.
The vessel cut through the unpredictable waters of the Pacific like a shadow.
Kuso.
The mysterious figure leaned against the railing.
He slipped a deck of cards back into his pocket.
Who was this man, after all?
Hikaru wondered.
He turned toward the nanoengineer.
Finally awake.
His eyes smiled, though his soul remained quiet.
An unusual strangeness hovered within it.
It came from the presence of the enigmatic Seven of Cups.
He had drawn it thinking about the nanoengineer.
“So Hika-chan decided to wake up?”
He knew his name.
How had he ended up in such a disturbing situation?
Those bastards…
This man…
What kind of damn mess was this?
“Who are you?”
The smile widened.
That fear.
That vulnerability that had once been so intoxicating…
Gone.
Now he faced a wild cat.
Feline traits sharpened his stubborn expression.
For the first time, something strange stirred in his chest.
It hardly mattered.
How entertaining would it be to play with him?
“Saymon.”
Saymon?
What did he want?
Hikaru stepped closer.
Why did something inside him churn before that presence?
His aura triggered alarms deeper than anything Hikaru had felt within the Ninkyō dantai.
It exhaled terror.
Cruel greed.
Something beyond fear.
If it were only that…
But there was something else.
Something that burned differently.
Something he kept refusing to name.
He was no longer under the influence of Erosen.
Because what resonated was a…
No.
Madness.
Unthinkable.
“Where are you taking me?”
Something told him that fighting would be useless.
Saymon moved closer.
Close enough to steal Hikaru’s breath.
Hikaru held the golden gaze.
His posture firm.
“Trindade Island.”
His hoarse voice blew a warm shiver down Hikaru’s spine.
The nanoengineer stepped back.
His shoulders lowered.
A new weight pressing against his chest.
Tanu…
Guilt bit into his mind.
“Worried about your friend?”
The cutting tone made him turn.
The deactivated robot rested against the wall.
Still there.
A warm relief filled his chest.
Yet something still weighed on him.
“Going to turn him on?”
Hikaru nodded, leaning against the railing.
“Forget it.”
Maybe it was better that way.
S-2876 • L3 Sintoluna
“Four days, one same sky in living resonance.
Teceli steadies the step; Abete opens gentle space.
Alonli stretches the curve; Silenri seals the fine thread.
Sintoluna guides the tide—and the story flows in perfect tone.”
D20 • Teceli
They sailed through calm waters.
The forecast warned of storms ahead.
Saymon studied the nautical charts.
Hikaru adjusted the nanomotors.
D22 • Abete
A tropical storm shattered their planned course.
High waves.
Cutting winds tested the vessel’s resistance.
They activated nanostabilizers to prevent damage.
Hikaru remained calm.
Guiding the vessel with precision.
Saymon managed the supplies.
They exchanged only a few words.
D25 • Alonli
After the storm, conditions improved.
They navigated through hidden reefs.
Saymon’s sharp eyes detected danger in time.
Hikaru connected the nanosonar to map the ocean floor.
Avoiding collisions.
That night, Hikaru dreamed.
A fox with golden eyes circled him.
Sniffing his fear.
Tasting his unrest.
He woke abruptly in the middle of the night.
Walked to the bow.
Saymon stared at the horizon.
“Nightmare, Hika-chan?”
Wind and droplets slid across his untamed expression.
“Insomnia?” the nanoengineer asked, suppressing a cough from the heavy sulfur scent of the polluted sea.
Saymon shortened the distance between them.
Bringing with him his overwhelming aura.
He brushed Hikaru’s cheeks with the tips of his fingers.
“How could anyone sleep near such an entertaining target?”
He smiled sideways when the nanoengineer turned his back and returned to his cabin.
Hikaru clenched his fists.
His heart racing wildly.
Why the hell did it beat like that?
Chikushō.
D27 • Silenri
They spotted another vessel.
Saymon touched Hikaru’s back.
“That boat looks suspicious.
Let’s avoid it,” he whispered close to his ear.
Hikaru ignored the shiver.
His skin prickled.
His face warmed.
He activated nanocamouflage.
Saymon watched him in his own rhythm while shuffling the cards in Chaos Rain, his foxlike eyes smiling.
Each shuffle painted a stroke into the wind.
The deck burst open like an exploding cloud.
Cards fell in a dry rain, clinking in the air like blades of paper.
Before they touched the ground, his gesture captured them in a fan, as if gravity itself were merely another puppet of his chaos.
And so the two sailed across restless waters.
Through invisible frequencies testing them.
At times they expanded.
At times they merged.
A dissonant harmony.
CHAOTIC RESONANCE
S-2876 • L3 Sintoluna • D28 Silente
“Sintoluna tunes the final thread of the sky.
Silente pours luminous quiet.
The tide gathers silver in a gentle curve.
The narrative senses a portal opening.”
They reached Trindade Island.
Dead of night.
The sea was restless.
A creeping fog crawled across the island, wrapping it like a specter.
They anchored in the cove.
The boat was hidden among the rocks.
Nanocamouflage activated.
The vessel became invisible to nanoradars.
One with the darkness.
Saymon carried a backpack.
Hikaru carried Tanu.
Both wore nanosuits composed of q-nanites.
Nanofabrics shaped by the ingenuity of Regnant Maia.
They descended through a retractable ramp.
Their feet sank into the wet stones.
They moved through the uneven terrain.
Treacherous rocks.
Low foliage.
Nanocameras hidden among branches.
Silhouettes lurking between the cliffs.
Hikaru powered Tanu on.
The raccoon-dog blinked his lights and stretched.
“Idiot. Took you days to turn me on.”
The robotic voice came out thin and grumpy.
He shook himself.
Adjusted his sweater.
His eyes lit up.
Then he stared Saymon up and down.
His snout twisted.
“Who’s this moron?”
“Quiet, Tanu. We’re infiltrating that mansion.”
Hikaru’s voice came out calm.
Subtle waves rang through the air.
And through Saymon.
The mercenary focused on the robot.
Tanu crossed his tiny mechanical arms.
“Idiot can’t even say hello.”
His ears twitched.
“I’ll kill you all after this is over.”
They moved forward.
Drones patrolled the skies.
Tanu projected a camouflaged nanoscreen.
They vanished into the environment.
Steep ground.
Dense vegetation.
Old trenches.
Mud-filled.
Remnants of a military past.
The tunnels had been reactivated.
Guard posts.
Guards.
Thermal sensors.
They heard footsteps.
Voices approaching.
They crawled.
Cold mud clung to Hikaru’s suit.
“Always wanted to drag myself through mud? No,” Tanu muttered.
He disabled sensors along the way.
“My master? Filthy.”
The mansion rose at the top of the island.
Imposing.
Out of time.
A relic of the Italian Renaissance.
White marble columns.
Arched windows.
Ornamental sculptures.
Security towers emerged discreetly.
Tanu hacked the gates.
Codes released.
Temporary passage.
Suit systems engaged.
Tanu’s protection.
They crossed the barriers.
Nanobarriers.
Thermal detectors.
Motion sensors.
Nanoalarms.
The entire fortress connected to the island’s central TE.
Nothing detected them.
Dark marble floors reflected floating lights.
Leather armchairs decorated the luxurious hall.
Minimalist artworks lined the walls.
Holopaintings pulsed in display.
Saymon followed a discreet corridor.
Red carpets.
Crystal chandeliers.
A library.
The smell of old leather and polished wood.
He pulled one of the books.
The bookshelf rotated, revealing a hidden passage.
A narrow staircase.
Small embedded lights illuminated the steps.
A simple door.
Except for the sophisticated lock.
Saymon drew the Seven of Wands.
The card’s pixels fused with the codes.
Shhhhhhh.
The lock groaned.
The door opened.
Darkness.
Reflective glass panels displayed holographic information.
Illegal transactions.
Espionage networks.
Complex financial schemes.
A large table.
Devices linked to the island’s central server.
Saymon broke the silence.
“Take all the data you can.”
He pulled several cans of black spray paint from his backpack.
Then began to move as if in a trance.
Every stroke of paint a calculated strike.
Hikaru frowned.
What the hell was this guy doing?
Intrigued, he connected Tanu to the power sources.
He plunged into the virtual.
Hours passed.
He discovered.
Lúcio Reis.
International Relations of UNITED in São Paulo.
A major figure.
But he found more.
Much more.
What would that man do with this information?
Who knew.
His body protested.
Muscles tense.
Bones aching.
His boiling brain melting.
But something else existed beyond exhaustion.
Something larger.
An oppressive sensation.
The air around him warped with the mind.
He turned.
Reality dissolved.
He felt unrest. Agony. Wonder. Passion. Anguish. Rage. Hatred. Fury. Revenge.
The room had been sealed.
Black.
Black dripping from the walls.
Running across the shelves.
Devouring the space.
Erratic strokes.
Violent.
Interwoven into chaotic patterns.
Grotesque figures emerged from the paint.
Distorted faces.
Twisted eyes.
Macabre creatures.
Claws extended.
Whirling spirals.
The world seemed to spin.
Dim lights created living shadows.
A hateful torment.
But it was more than the walls.
It was Saymon.
Every stroke a scar, a confession, an open wound.
Raw.
Bleeding.
The walls spoke.
The painting screamed a disturbing resonance.
The black vibrated a chaotic frequency in his mind.
The erratic lines of paint danced with Saymon’s aura.
Hikaru struggled between wanting to look longer or fleeing the room.
He swallowed dry.
They left in silence.
Saymon.
Hikaru.
Tanu.
Night enveloped them.
Stealthy among the trees.
Yet the painting remained there.
The distorted faces.
The pulsing shadows.
And Hikaru felt that room inside him.
Still beating.
They reached the boat.
Hikaru cast a long look back at the island.
Waves struck the hull and the dark strokes vibrated behind his eyelids.
He wanted to ask.
But he didn’t know if he wanted the answer.
“Idiot is doing—”
Tanu grumbled.
The robotic voice vanished.
Hikaru turned.
Saymon was there.
Face to face.
Warm breath brushing the nanoengineer’s skin.
“Good kitty.
Time to sleep.”
HOUSE
S-2876 • L3 Sintoluna • D28 Silente
“Sintoluna tunes the final thread of the sky.
Silente pours luminous quiet.
The tide gathers silver in a gentle curve.
The narrative senses the portal in the air.”
A FEW HOURS LATER
SOLTERRA, NETHERIA, SÃO PAULO, BRASIL
Hikaru woke up.
He rubbed his forehead, pain throbbing.
He sat up.
What the hell was that?
Boxes stacked around him.
Piles of junk. Rusted metal parts.
Dirty fabrics. Forgotten equipment.
He coughed.
Dry dust scratching his lungs.
Kuso.
“Home sweet home.”
Dragging footsteps tore through the silence.
Saymon crouched beside him.
“Do whatever you want with the place.
You just have to stay here.”
The nanoengineer frowned.
“Where am I?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.
The Father wants to see you.
Very soon.”
CYCLES
S-2877 • L3 Sintoluna • D28 Silente
“Sintoluna tunes the thread above.
Silente pours nearly full silver.
The tide gathers song in a gentle curve.
The portal already shines in the air.”
BILAB, SOLTERRA
It was almost one in the morning.
Hikaru dragged himself into the room, exhausted.
He had been organizing the information requested by the Father and the Matriarch.
Selling data to mercenaries.
Managing his robotic creations.
He wanted more time for them.
Blue and silver slid over him.
White sheets on the bed.
The nanoblanket slowly shifted colors.
Holograms projected data.
Graphs.
Devices.
Robots.
Tools.
Droids.
Disassembled miniatures cluttered the desk.
Glass shelves rose to the ceiling.
Packed with books.
Gadgets.
Curious artifacts.
Vials of nanosamples labeled with precision.
A plant purified the air.
An asymmetrical sofa rested in the corner.
Textured cushions.
A small bar displayed exotic and energizing drinks.
He thought about refining that spider-drone.
Pain snagged his shoulder.
He took a shower.
Stepped out—
and froze.
A shadow from the past waited for him.
He had not seen him for an entire solar cycle.
Soaked from head to toe.
Covered in blood.
A trail of red water slithered across the floor.
It came from above.
Kuso.
How did he get in from the top?
Hikaru was certain that entire area was impenetrable.
The windows.
The access points.
And yet, there he was.
Damn it.
That guy again.
Saymon wore a red smile.
Cuts marked his face and neck.
Golden eyes sparked beneath purple bruises.
His coat was torn, revealing deep wounds on his arms.
He walked slowly, a faint limp in his right leg.
What the hell had happened to him?
Even in that state, his intoxicating aura wrapped around Hikaru.
He stepped back until his body hit the wall.
The metallic scent of blood mixed with the mercenary’s citrus perfume.
Saymon leaned over the nanoengineer.
He lifted a soaked cupcake.
“Tanjōbi omedetō, Hika-chan,” he whispered into his ear.
Happy birthday.
The seductive cadence of his voice.
Tension vibrated in the air.
Then the pressure collapsed.
Saymon fell.
Hikaru bathed him.
Treated his wounds.
Sat down on the sofa.
Confused.
Perplexed.
So many scars.
What tattoos were those?
What did it mean that this man was sleeping in his bed?
He fell asleep hours later, right there.
He woke up in the bed.
A hand rested heavy on his waist.
He moved his head.
He must be dreaming.
No.
It could be a dream—
but it was real.
That man was still there.
More than that.
When had he ended up in the bed?
Saymon’s grip tightened.
A shiver ran through Hikaru’s body.
Lightning.
The nanoengineer slipped out of the embrace.
Stood up.
His heart racing wildly.
Saymon opened his eyes.
Awake.
Bright.
Amused.
His gaze locked onto Hikaru’s uncertain one.
He dressed slowly.
Before leaving, he stepped closer.
Too close.
Stealing Hikaru’s breath.
“Hmm… a black-eyed kitten appeared in my dreams today.
What do you think that means?”
The smile was pure provocation.
His eyes silent flames.
“I think you’ll like the visit later today.”
Then he left.
Cruel.
Indifferent.
Hikaru sank into the chair.
Trying to untangle everything.
Chikushō.
That guy.
Late afternoon
An explosive energy burst through the door.
Inoue stormed through the library like a hurricane.
“Baka! So this is where you’ve been hiding?
How could you betray me like that?”
His voice overflowed with hurt.
“I only wanted to be alone for a few hours, not for an entire solar cycle!”
Hikaru explained hundreds of times.
Even so, Inoue returned to Japan furious.
Over the course of that solar cycle
That scene.
That repetition.
That cycle.
Moon after moon.
Saymon appeared late at night.
Bloodied.
Wounded.
He would collapse.
Hikaru bathed him.
Treated his injuries.
Left him in the bed.
Slept on the sofa.
Woke up in the bed.
In Saymon’s arms.
Saymon woke.
Left silently.
Honestly, why did it still frustrate him?
Why did he expect something different?
Even the nanoengineer did not understand the strange tickle in his heart.
And the irritation at Saymon’s coldness.
That damned irritation.
Why did he care?
Damn it.
Tanu appeared with a cup of coffee.
“Master, why does that guy always act…
like he’s the only one that matters?”
His glowing eyes analyzed Hikaru.
“He doesn’t even say thank you!”
His tiny voice rose.
“Just because he looks at you like that, in that… I don’t even know what…”
He adjusted his gray sweater.
“You’re an idiot, that’s what.”
Hikaru took a sip.
The coffee slid hot down his throat.
Not enough to warm the tightness in his chest.
He narrowed his eyes.
“Quiet, Tanu.”
His voice came out firm.
Cold.
“Did you do what I asked?”
Tanu twisted his snout.
Turned away, grumbling.
Muttering low—but still heard.
“Yeah, yeah…
Pretend all you want…”
His ears rotated slightly.
“I can hear your heartbeat whenever he’s near, idiot.”
Hikaru remained silent.
“Did you research that painting in the Aether Federal Court?
The zeniths call the anonymous artist the Artist of Chaos.
From what we saw that day on the island…
I think I have a good idea who he really is.”
The metallic steps of the raccoon-dog faded away.
But his words did not.
They echoed like a misaligned engine.
Hikaru wanted to ignore them.
Wanted to forget.
But he knew running from it forever was an illusion.
His fingers tightened around the cup.
More than he intended.
The coffee inside trembled.
And something inside him trembled too.
CONNECTION
S-2878 • L6 Teceluna • D22 Abete
“Teceluna weaves the path in a steady thread.
Abete opens space in gentle light.
The tide draws a curve in living silver.
The story moves forward in a clear design.”
Tanu helped Hikaru with the Bratva data.
Tiny robots buzzed around them.
Books, documents, objects floated through the air.
“What are they going to do now that the weapon disappeared?” the nanoengineer murmured, eyes fixed on the holoscreen.
“No idea, but that Trix is crazy.”
The raccoon-dog compiled the key information.
The atmosphere shifted.
The air grew heavier.
The change came like a thread of ice along the back of his neck.
The chill of Saymon’s aura always reached him from afar.
The citrus scent—the first sign.
“Tanu, you can go.”
Hikaru rubbed his forehead.
What did this guy want now?
The robot obeyed.
Saymon clicked his tongue.
His fingers slid across the desk.
He picked up a technological component.
Turned it between his fingers.
“I need a weapon.”
At least it wasn’t another enigmatic midnight visit.
“Weapons aren’t my specialty.”
His taciturn voice rippled through Saymon.
The mercenary smiled.
Hmm. Good.
Saymon spun the chair, trapping Hikaru in his seat.
His body leaning over him.
His face close.
Too close.
Golden eyes burned with suggestion.
“Little Tanu proved himself to be quite a formidable qn-weapon.
Despite the… chaotic essence that inhabits him.”
Saymon touched the scar on his own forehead.
“I connect to more than one android.
I can only do it by touching them.
I want to change that.”
Hikaru looked away.
His heart pounded.
Breathing became difficult.
Did he really say he controlled more than one android?
Impossible.
“I don’t know how I can help you.”
Saymon tilted his head.
His lips curved.
“Tu es sûr, minou?
Des particules quantiques stabilisées par des nanites quantiques.
Ce n’est pas ta spécialité?”
His warm voice slid down Hikaru’s spine.
“Are you sure, kitten?
Quantum particles stabilized by quantum nanites.
Isn’t that your specialty?”
French.
That meant…
Hikaru sighed.
“Follow me.”
In the laboratory at the back, he asked Saymon to lie on the examination table.
Vital signs appeared on the screen.
He connected the quantum analysis.
Scanned the mercenary from head to toe.
What the hell was that?
How did this man have such an insane quantity of q-nanites inside him?
Hikaru’s head spun.
Hundreds of questions.
It hardly mattered.
“How does the connection work?”
Saymon briefly explained how Gagner functioned.
That explained many things.
Even stunned, Hikaru felt silent reverence for what he was seeing.
Those q-nanites—the owner of the diary had helped create them.
Those passages about transcendence of interfractal and technoneural networks must refer to Gagner.
Ideas ignited inside his mind.
How would he do it?
He collected Saymon’s blood.
During the following moons, he worked intensely on the qn-prototype.
Two pistols.
Bullets loaded with the mercenary’s DNA.
Amid the chaos of formulas and codes, Hikaru paused.
Chiyo’s words echoed in his mind:
Chemistry always finds balance, especially in chaos.
He had never fully understood what she meant.
But now…
Maybe it made sense.
And then he reached something promising.
Several lunar cycles later
Saymon appeared in the middle of the night.
Familiarly bloodied.
Hikaru took care of him as always.
Slept on the sofa.
Woke up beside him in the bed.
Made coffee.
Saymon woke.
The usual coldness radiated from him.
Damn it.
Why did that indifference bother him so much?
“Here.”
Hikaru handed him the pistol.
“The q-nanites you would send to the android—do it here.
The bullet will encapsulate the q-nanite.”
Amber eyes sparked with pleasure.
He almost pressed his face against the nanoengineer’s.
That scent of bamboo and metal Hikaru carried…
Why did he like it?
“Good kitten.”
Saymon smiled charmingly.
Hikaru couldn’t stop the warmth rising in his chest.
Saymon narrowed his eyes.
“I heard you met my beloved little sister, Maia.”
His hand slid across Hikaru’s dark-blue kimono, feeling the nanometal section of the implant along the right side of his ribcage.
The nanoengineer shivered subtly.
“What did you do to make her so furious?”
The amused chuckle challenged Hikaru with genuine subtlety.
He simply clicked his tongue.
Saymon smiled, suggestive.
“I felt you two might get along.”
Hikaru tried to hide the surprise in his eyes, but his black gaze locked with the golden one in a magnetic frequency.
Saymon clicked his tongue again.
Warm breath brushed the nanoengineer’s face.
“You know… the way you’re looking at me right now…
really makes me want you even more.”
Kuso.
Hikaru turned his face away and stepped back.
Saymon’s smile faded.
Why did he feel that brief disappointment?
It didn’t matter.
He left.
Hikaru clenched his fists.
Damn it.
Only that man made him feel so strange.
SCHISM
S-2878 • L8 Libeluna • D14 Irrali
“Libeluna releases the thread that weighs down.
Irrali radiates whole light.
The tide sings loudly in living silver.
The story weaves presence through the air.”
Footsteps on the floor above.
Fast.
Dry.
Cutting.
Hikaru rushed up the stairs.
His chest tight.
Maia lay motionless in his bed.
Cold.
Silent.
Pale.
As if she were…
Saymon’s presence suffocated the air.
It exhaled a violent energy.
Hateful.
Implacable.
“What did you do to her?”
The mercenary’s voice boiled with contempt.
Hikaru approached slowly.
Stopped halfway.
Fear scraped his throat.
He was afraid to touch her.
What if it was already too late?
Pain.
Guilt grew inside his heart.
The q-nanite hybrid with the Regnant…
It worked.
He tested it.
Tested it countless times.
So why?
Impossible to understand now.
He had to take her to the only one who could save her.
Masaru Inoue.
He left Maia under the master’s care in Tokyo.
Returned to Netheria.
He walked through the shadowed streets of the São Paulo underworld.
The emptiness around him echoed within.
Freedom had never seemed so distant…
Or so close.
Perhaps chaos is the path.
Saymon did not appear again, yet his shadow remained, like embers from an extinguished fire.
Burning, smoldering, inside Hikaru’s mind.
An enigma.
Perhaps he would never decipher it.
Perhaps he would never want to.
Perhaps not knowing was the only possible answer.
Perhaps he only wanted to feel.
💌 Author’s Note
Welcome to a fragment of Fragmented Universes, where worlds intersect, technology and emotion coexist, and every story is only a piece of something greater.
This short story, “Do Foxes Dream of Cats?”, is a gateway into futuristic cities, complex characters, and ethical dilemmas that inhabit the Corpomegaverse and the wider Fragmented Universes.
As you read, allow yourself to sink into the details, feel the atmosphere, and explore each fragment. Every word is shaped to connect you with the philosophy of ACHLCEG — Love, Trust, Harmony, Freedom, Circulation, Evolution, and Gaia — and with encounters between beings and technologies that question what is human, what is conscious, and what is capable of dreaming.
Discover, imagine, and step into the multiverse that exists beyond the pages.
Fragmented Universes / Universos Fragmentados 
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