As he walked toward the city, seconds turned into minutes, and minutes into hours. His feet started to hurt; in his prison cell, he could walk in only small circles. But he enjoyed this pain. It was a new experience for him. Lost in thought, he trudged between tall, scrawny trees, the colorful canopy above him bathed in the golden light from the setting sun.

He reached the border of the city, which was marked by a wire mesh fence. He walked along the fence for a short distance until he discovered a hole in the fence. Cautiously, he slipped through and found himself on the other side. Ahead of him was an urban jungle.

Skyscrapers rose to the sky, and the ground was evenly covered with black pavement, winding its way between the houses into the interior of the city. What might this be? He cautiously stepped on the strange ground, but nothing happened. The road appeared to be leading him somewhere, and he began to follow the street.

This is the city. Now what?

Countless questions buzzed through his head. He had been told that he would never feel the warm light of the sun or the wind in his hair. Now that he was outside, he found himself in the shadow of the monstrous houses, with nothing left of the warm sunshine. The little alley he stood in was abandoned. Cables hung down the walls of the houses and a thin layer of smoke hovered over the pavement.

He met the first passers-by in the next streets, who paid little to no attention to him. The city was big, just too huge. The cars, the passers-by, and everything else were loud. Too loud for someone like him, who had spent his entire life in silence. Still, he was confident that he would get used to it. He had to. As the first raindrops fell, he reached out.

“Sky water?” he murmured, facing the threatening cloud cover. “No, not sky water. It’s called rain,” he reminded himself. The feeling of genuine rain on his skin was new yet surprisingly familiar.

Inconspicuously, he kept to the side of the road and observed the pedestrians passing him by. He had never seen the large, screaming metal monsters on wheels so up close. In reality, they looked much more threatening than in pictures. People weaved past the cars and crowded the sidewalks. This was chaos. Although organized and with rules, it was chaos nonetheless.

A bridge ran across the intersection, and the soiled pillars were plastered with soggy and torn posters. As the train followed the tracks a few feet above the fugitive, the ground shook. “Do these people like living here?” he had to ask himself, covering his nose. The foul smell of rotting food bit into his nose and the screeching of cars echoed in his head. He had to keep moving.

He couldn’t hide his disappointment; he had hoped for more.

“The lab wasn’t so bad.” If he didn’t find shelter soon, the lab’s catchers would track him down and take him back, back home. But he wasn’t going to give up just yet. Determined, he put one foot in front of the other, the hood of his coat covering his hair. This city was big and gray, and his unusual hair color stood out. The pure white of his coat was also more eye-catching than he wished for.

In the shadows, he wandered further down the street. Puddles formed in the holes in the pavement, and small streams of rain ran along the edge. The fugitive disappeared down a small alley between two houses. Monstrous dumpsters blocked his path, but he made his way around and over the obstacles.

Soon, he could hear only the sound of the rain. He kept moving forward, seeking out empty alleys, but he had no place to go. “I miss the lab a little. It was warm there, quiet, and I got to eat.” His hair was stuck to his face in strands as he trudged through the rain, keeping his head down. The water splashed as he stepped in the puddles, staining the bottom of his coat dark.

He quietly murmured his questions, but no one gave him an answer. He was alone. At least almost. A soft splash sounded behind him; someone was following him. The fugitive stopped. Slowly, he turned around.

Someone was standing directly in front of him, a young face gazing at him from under the hood of his gray jacket.

A child? No. A teenager, maybe a little younger than me. And smaller.

Ruffled silver hair peeked out from the hood, and suspicion flashed in those yellow eyes. Neither spoke. Calm yet tense, the fugitive stared at the teenager before him.

Yellow. None of the workers or passersby had yellow eyes. No silver hair, either. At least not at that age.

He didn’t voice his thoughts, but he did express something else: “You’re hiding. From them.”

The boy’s answer was almost lost in the murmur of the rain: “Yes. You too.” The little boy showed hostility, but a sense of hope emerged in the purple-haired man.

“You know your way around here then, don’t you? Maybe you can help me.”

“Get lost,” the yellow-eyed boy replied gruffly, pulling a violin from his backpack. It was metallic blue and had tiny scratches that shimmered in the dull light. Irritated beyond measure, the fugitive fell silent and eyed the instrument in the boy’s hands. “Go away.” The young boy repeated his words and placed the bow on the strings.

Silence followed, with only the rain pattering on the roofs of the houses surrounding them. However, when the purple-haired man again did not respond to his words, the boy played a few notes. A sickening dissonance arose. The purple-haired man felt the ground shake under his feet. He winced and staggered backward. Tripping over a few broken bottles, he fell. The boy stopped and looked at the fugitive at his feet. “Don’t get up. We’re going to wait. If I don’t manage to get rid of you, Akai will.”

“What’s an Akai?” the purple-haired man asked quietly, getting to his feet again, but his counterpart did not respond.

“Sit down. Otherwise, I’ll do that violin thing again.” The boy’s voice was laced with doubt and suppressed anger, and the purple-haired man did not understand why.

Instead of listening to the instruction, he stopped. “You are waiting for someone. Why do you want to get rid of me? How did you do that? Why?”

Yet he received no answer. Silently, the shorter one stared at him. They had so much in common. Why wouldn’t he help him? “Shut up already. You’re getting on my nerves,” the boy hissed, glaring at his counterpart. The splashing of footsteps in the rain gained the boy’s complete attention.

“Liam, stop it.” A deep, raspy voice drew their attention. A man with short black hair stood at the other end of the small alley. His gray shirt was soaked from the rain, and the raindrops beaded off the straps he hung over his shoulders like a sash. Slowly, he came closer, as Liam lowered his bow.

“Hello, Akai,” Liam murmured, turning away from him barely noticeably. Yet he was not downcast or understanding.

“What are you doing? I told you to protect our territory from others. That does not mean you get to attack people for no reason.” Akai crossed his arms in front of his chest and sternly looked down at Liam. Liam refused to be intimidated, staring defiantly at Akai.

“You can see he has no business here. This is our territory.”

Akai didn’t listen to him at all. He swayed his head back and forth, his grim gaze fixed on the purple-haired man. Then he reached out to him, and a warm smile spread across his face. “Sorry! I wasn’t paying attention to Liam. Welcome to Sozo City, boy.”

Akai’s smile was genuine. This was the kind of person the fugitive had been looking for. Liam protested and hastily gestured at the purple-haired man. “He’s an enemy.”

“No, he isn’t. Look at him closely. The clothes are a little different, but they’re certainly from the labs. His hair…” Akai turned to Liam, his gaze lingering on Liam’s silver hair. “Even the smell of the cells is still attached to him. He’s new to the city. You thought he was an enemy. Apologize to him.” Akai’s voice was gentle, yet firm. His posture had slightly relaxed, yet he seemed to expect protest from Liam at any time. Rightfully.

“I don’t have to do anything,” Liam countered, his eyebrows drawn together in annoyance.

Akai turned to Liam and grabbed him by the shoulder. His voice was quiet, yet the commanding tone was unmistakable. “We can replay the whole discussion, but we both already know the ending. You will apologize to him. I saved you; you owe me your life.”

“Always the same, boring arguments. You have nothing to say to me. I’m almost eighteen.” Liam folded his arms defiantly but avoided Akai’s gaze.

“And I’m thirty-seven. Remember, you’re a member of my organization.”

“Okay, okay.” Liam surrendered, shuffling through the rain toward the fugitive. He reluctantly held out his hand to the man and muttered under his breath, “Sorry.”

With that little conflict resolved, Akai turned to the next topic. “What’s your name?” A normal question, really, but the fugitive couldn’t answer.

“What’s a name?”

Akai smiled pityingly, but didn’t seem surprised.

“What did the others call you?”

“Experiment Red1406.” Silence followed for a moment.

“Red? Don’t you have another name? Something simpler?”

Again, the purple-haired man had to deny, hesitantly shaking his head.

“You can name him like the idiot from your favorite book,” Liam interjected. It didn’t escape Akai’s notice that he was annoyed as he paced impatiently.

“Do you mean Seishin? I think he should choose his name, not me.”

“Seishin,” the purple-haired man repeated. “Sounds good.” Akai nodded; this was another step toward freedom.

“Then your name is Seishin from now on.” Satisfied, the fugitive smiled; he liked his new name. “Good,” Akai murmured and placed a hand on Seishin’s shoulder in a friendly manner.

It was only now that Seishin noticed the tattoo Akai had on his face. Above his left eye were three red stripes. On Akai’s left upper arm were another three stripes. On Liam’s jacket, two stripes were sewn in the same place, but Seishin did not know what they meant.

Akai also seemed different from the passersby Seishin had encountered so far. His left eye, over which the tattoo was located, shimmered reddish in the darkness. Seishin suspected that Akai’s eye color was not natural. His mind buzzed with questions: Territory? Organizations? How had Liam done that with the violin? He hoped to get answers to his countless questions very soon, but he needed to be patient. If Akai had not intervened, it could have ended badly for him.

Akai pulled a small white roll, about the size of his finger, from a box. He then caused a flame to appear from an oval metal cylinder that fit in his pants pocket. Seishin watched as the flame fought against the raindrops to finally light the end of the roll in Akai’s hand. Smoke rose as Akai took a few drags on the cigarette. Eagerly, Seishin watched Akai’s mouth and nostrils smoke. It seemed like magic to him. Seishin noted every little thing, every detail.

The three made their way through the rain, but Seishin had no idea where the other two were taking him. “You must have a lot of questions. Kenko can probably answer most of them.”

“What is a Kenko?” Seishin wanted to know; he wasn’t sure if it was a human or a machine. There was hardly anyone on the streets now since most of the residents were avoiding the rain.

“Kenko is one of the organizers,” Akai replied, while Liam shuffled along beside him, mostly ignoring Seishin. “Don’t worry! Kenko knows how new all this is to you. I’m sure you haven’t been outside in a few years.”

“I’ve never been outside,” Seishin interrupted him. Surprised, Akai looked at the purple-haired man in front of him; he wasn’t sure if Seishin was joking.

“Never?” asked Liam hesitantly.

“Never.”