Neon reflections ripple across the face of Neo-Tokyo as I stand at the cusp of the city’s pulse. I’m caught between a sense of overwhelming familiarity and the sharp pang of not belonging—like I’m watching a play where I’ve forgotten my lines. The skyscrapers loom in the distance, their glowing windows a thousand little eyes peering back at me, whispering secrets I’m not quite sure I want to hear.

My hand drifts almost automatically to the Limit Breaker chip tucked inside my jacket. It’s strange how something so small and unassuming can feel like the missing piece of who I am. Or who I might have been, before my memories went dark.

Rose, standing nearby, scans the bustling street with her usual alertness. Holograms shimmer and dance around us—advertisements for new Breaker augments, floating news reports about rising faction tensions, and even some stylized illusions of Professor Akira himself. She meets my gaze and lifts her chin in a silent prompt.

“Every corner of this city carries a whisper of Professor Akira’s legacy,” she says, her voice steady. “Maybe it’s time you listened to them.”

I exhale, letting the swirl of anxiety drain from my chest—for the moment, at least. “Whispers can warp the truth,” I reply, my doubts creeping in. “What if I’m chasing rumors, or illusions?”

Her faint grin softens the tension in my gut. “That’s why we’re here. To comb through the echoes until we find what’s real.”

We move with the current of the crowd, neon lights painting our faces in shifting hues. The hum of traffic and chatter creates a textured harmony only Neo-Tokyo can produce—chaotic, yet surprisingly cohesive. A breeze ruffles the edges of my jacket, carrying with it a chill that prickles across my skin. Something in the air sets my nerves on edge, like we’re being watched by more than just the occasional passing glance.

A digital billboard flickers above us, broadcasting an old promotional piece on Professor Akira. He stands tall in the holo-footage, hands clasped behind his back, eyes full of vision. I catch my breath, an unsettling pang twisting in my chest.

“It’s almost mythic, how people talk about him,” I say quietly, eyes fixed on the flickering image. “He still feels larger than life.”

Rose nods. “His breakthroughs changed everything, Tatsuya. For better or worse. But whatever the world believes about him, you have to form your own understanding. Find the truth underneath the hero-worship.”

I follow her down a quieter street lined with older, worn-out shops. The architecture here belongs to an era where metal and glass were considered futuristic wonders, not the base standard. A subtle sense of nostalgia swells, though I can’t place why. It’s like the ghost of a memory hovering just out of sight.

We arrive at a shabby store whose display window shows a mashup of antique books and half-rusted cybernetic parts. I almost laugh—it’s such an odd combination, perfect for a city that blends high-tech with relics of the past.

“Shall we?” Rose asks, pushing open the squeaking door. The jingle of an old-fashioned bell signals our entrance, and a waft of musty air greets us.

Inside, we’re met by the scent of aged paper and singed circuit boards. My heart stutters as if recognizing some subtle trace: a memory slipping through my fingers. Behind a wooden counter, an elderly shopkeeper with round glasses looks up. The lines on his face are etched deep, like he’s seen far more than he cares to say.

“Can I help you, young man?” he asks, his tone gentle, almost melodic.

I clear my throat, unsure how to begin, but Rose steps in smoothly. “We’re looking for information about…Professor Akira.”

The man’s expression brightens in a way that suggests fondness mixed with wistful regret. “Professor Akira. Hah, always hunting for rare bits of knowledge, that one. Came here often, rummaging for unique texts or odd components to feed his ideas.”

Leaning forward, I can’t hide my eagerness. “Did he ever talk about his Limit Breaker research? Or mention what he was trying to accomplish?”

A moment of silence weighs on the small room. The shopkeeper finally sets his ledger down, the pages dusting the air with a faint puff. “He spoke of possibility—of how these chips might unify people or tear them apart. He worried about their impact on identity. Once, he said the real price of that power might fall on those who never asked for it.”

My spine prickles at his words, an echo that resonates too close to home. That phrase—those who never asked for it—could have been written just for me.

As we exit the shop, the old man calls a gentle warning: “Mind yourselves. The past is a deep river, and not everything inside it wants to be found.”

The door closes behind us, the bell’s jingle fading into the background of passing footsteps and muffled traffic. I rub the back of my neck, unsettled. My sense of being watched intensifies, and sure enough, a figure steps out from the shadows of a nearby alley.

Her hair is a striking shade of cerulean, eyes bright with measured curiosity. She carries herself with an unhurried confidence, like she fully expects the world to move around her whims. A small, polite smile curves her lips. “Tatsuya, I presume.”

Rose shifts closer to me, tension in the line of her shoulders. “Who are you?”

“Enka,” the woman replies, dipping her head in greeting. “Commander in the Guardians. I’ve been…curious about the one connected to Akira’s legacy.”

Her directness sends a ripple of anxiety through me, but there’s no hostility in her voice—just a quiet conviction. “So…you know who I am?” I ask, fighting the urge to back away.

She tilts her head. “I suspect you’re key to unlocking whatever Akira left behind. Potential that might shape the city’s future—or undo it.” The last part dangles like a subtle challenge in the air.

Rose’s stance relaxes, though she remains guarded. “And your interest?”

Enka’s eyes flick from Rose to me. “I want to see that potential realized… responsibly. Or not at all. The Guardians are prepared to take action if it seems you might tip the balance in a direction that threatens Neo-Tokyo.”

I square my shoulders, a spike of defiance kindling in my chest. “I’m not a puppet. My choices are my own.”

Enka offers a slight nod, as if satisfied by my response. “Indeed. I’ll be watching closely, Tatsuya.” Her smile carries both caution and encouragement. “Decide who you’ll be in this swirl of powers.”

Then, with a parting glance, she slips away into the chaotic tapestry of the city, leaving us with more questions than answers—again.

Rose turns to me, the neon reflecting in her eyes. “So…what now?”

I take a slow breath, letting my gaze sweep across the digital billboards and swirling crowds. “We keep following the whispers,” I say quietly, but with renewed resolve. “If Akira left me this chip—if he left me any part of his legacy—then maybe I can use it for something besides destruction. I just have to figure out how.”

We start walking, side by side, rejoining the flow of Neo-Tokyo’s bright, throbbing lifeblood. In my ear, Hidari’s electronic voice cuts through the noise in a cheeky aside. “That shop was a data goldmine, Tatsuya. Mind if I run a deeper scan of the old man’s references?”

A faint grin finds its way to my lips. “Knock yourself out, Hidari. We’re going to need every scrap of intel we can get.”

Rose meets my eyes, a certain understanding passing between us. We might be chasing phantoms, but in a city of illusions, that’s sometimes the only way to see what’s real.

With the Limit Breaker chip pulsing quietly in my jacket, we press on, stepping into the unknown one revelation at a time. And for the first time in a while, I feel something other than fear thrumming in my veins: a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, these echoes of the past can be re-shaped into a new future—my future.