7th May 2007
Chiyoda, Tokyo.
The city buzzed with its usual energy. Crowds flooded the streets, rushing to their destinations, drowning the sidewalks with noise and life. Neon signs blinked lazily even in daylight, and the scent of roasted chestnuts and fried noodles drifted from scattered food stalls.
In a small, dimly lit apartment wedged between an old bookstore and a convenience store, Takeru Hoshino lay sprawled on his futon, half awake and unmotivated. His ceiling fan spun slowly above him, doing little to push away the growing summer heat.
He stared blankly at the ceiling, one arm draped over his forehead.
"... another pointless day" he muttered to no one.
The clock on the wall ticked its way toward noon. Takeru had been unemployed for three months now. Not for lack of trying, but because, somehow, nothing ever felt right. He'd hop between part time jobs, stacking shelves or cleaning, only to quit after a few weeks. Deep down, he knew why.
The world he lived in the one everyone pretended was normal wasn't normal at all.
A buzzing noise vibrated against the floorboards. Takeru lazily reached over and flipped open his old keitai, the screen lighting up with a faint green glow. It was a battered, navy blue flip phone, the kind half his friends had abandoned for sleeker models but he stubbornly kept using.
A new mail had arrived.
[You still alive? Drinks tonight?]
Takeru thumbed a reply with practiced ease, the tiny buttons clicking under his fingers.
[Maybe.]
Another buzz came almost immediately.
[Okay. 8PM at the usual.]
He let the phone fall beside him with a dull clatter. A night out sounded good anything to break the monotony.
Sitting up, Takeru stretched, bones cracking in protest. He shuffled into the kitchen, made himself instant coffee, and leaned against the counter, staring out the tiny window. In the distance, the towering skyscrapers of downtown Tokyo shimmered under the noon sun, oblivious and indifferent.
Somewhere among them, monsters were hiding.
The world hadn't ended in 1991, when the sky tore open. It had bent, twisted, adapted. Humans were good at that. Pretend the monsters were myths. Rebuild what was destroyed. Smile. Forget.
But Takeru remembered.
Everyone remembered.
He remembered when he was a child, the images flashed on TV of creatures clawing through streets, the reports of whole towns vanishing overnight, the whispers that monsters were still out there, lurking in forgotten alleys and abandoned buildings.
The Monster Investigation Bureau, or MIB, kept the peace now. They hunted and contained whatever managed to slip through the cracks.
Takeru had never seen an investigator up close. They were like ghosts. Heroes in long coats, wielding strange weapons made from monster remains, whispered about but rarely seen.
He sipped his coffee and grimaced at the bitterness.
Somewhere deep inside, something gnawed at him. A question that had never been answered.
Why did the monsters come?
The TV buzzed from the living room, stuck on a daytime variety show. He ignored it. Most days blended together like this, a gray smear of hours. Work, sleep, eat, repeat.
Today would have been the same, except for what happened next.
By evening, Takeru had dragged himself into some semblance of decency, black jeans, a gray hoodie, and his scuffed sneakers. He tucked his flip phone into his pocket and headed out into the warm twilight.
The streets of Chiyoda were lively. Office workers poured out of buildings, school kids loitered around vending machines, and the distant rumble of trains echoed between the skyscrapers.
At a corner near Kanda Station, he met up with Shin, his friend, a lanky guy with messy hair and a permanent smirk.
"Yo," Shin greeted, clapping him on the back. "You look like hell."
"You look worse," Takeru shot back with a grin.
They found their way into a small izakaya, the kind tucked between buildings like a secret. Lanterns swung gently over the doorway, casting a warm red glow.
They ordered cheap beer and grilled skewers, and for a while, everything felt normal.
Shin talked about his office job, endless meetings, endless paperwork while Takeru mostly listened, offering grunts and nods at the right times.
"You really should find something, man," Shin said after their second drink. "You're wasting away your time."
Takeru shrugged. "I'm trying okay."
Shin leaned closer, voice dropping slightly. "You ever think about the MIB?"
Takeru's hand froze halfway to his beer.
"What about them?"
"You hear about the recruitment?" Shin said. "They're taking in new investigators. Fresh blood. Big push from the government. If you pass, you get training, steady pay, real purpose."
Takeru stared at the foam in his glass.
He had thought about it. Once or twice. Late at night, when the city was too quiet and the dreams got too loud.
"Not my thing," Takeru said, but the words sound like a lie.
"You?" Shin laughed. "You'd be perfect. You've got the personality of a corpse. Monsters wouldn't even notice you."
Takeru smile but said nothing.
Later that night, after Shin stumbled off to catch his last train, Takeru walked alone through the neon drenched streets. His hands were shoved deep into his hoodie pockets, his head low.
Somewhere, far above the city lights, stars tried to pierce through the haze.
His phone buzzed again. He flipped it open.
[Recruitment Seminar - Monster Investigation Bureau - Tomorrow 10AM - Akihabara Hall C]
No sender. No details.
Weird.
He stared at it for a long moment, then flipped the phone closed with a soft snap.
"Tomorrow, huh?"
He kept walking, mind swirling. His steps eventually carried him to a small park tucked between office buildings. The swings creaked gently in the breeze. A broken vending machine flickered nearby.
Takeru sat down on a cold bench and stared up at the night sky.
For a moment, everything was silent.
Then faint, almost too faint to be real
A whisper.
Not words, but... something. A feeling. A tug at the edge of his mind, like a voice carried by the wind.
He shivered, despite the warm air.
Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was nothing at all.
But somewhere deep inside, something had shifted.
Tomorrow, he decided he would go.
On 8th May 2007, the morning air was thick with humidity, the kind that clung to your skin and made everything feel heavier. Takeru weaved through the crowds of Akihabara, the familiar sea of bright signs and chattering tourists somehow muted today.
His flip phone buzzed again in his pocket, but he didn't bother checking it. He already knew where he was going.
Akihabara Hall C.
A plain, concrete building squeezed between an electronics store and a pachinko parlor. No signs. No banners. Just a small sheet of paper taped inside the door: "Private Event By Invitation Only."
Takeru hesitated at the entrance.
"Why do I do this"
He could turn around right now, disappear back into the crowd, pretend none of this ever happened. Go home, drink cheap beer, fall asleep with the TV buzzing in the background.
But the whisper from last night clung to him. A feeling he couldn't shake.
He pushed the door open.
Inside, the hall was surprisingly bare. A few rows of metal chairs, a cracked stage, a dusty podium. Maybe forty or fifty people sat scattered through the room, most of them around Takeru's age, a few older, a few still teen, none looking particularly remarkable.
Just ordinary people.
Like him.
He found an empty seat near the back and slouched into it, arms crossed.
At exactly 10:00 AM, without fanfare, a man stepped onto the stage.
He was tall, wearing a long black coat that seemed to drink in the light. His hair was silver at the temples, and his sharp eyes scanned the room like a knife.
No microphone. No introduction. He spoke, and somehow, every voice, every shuffle of paper, every cough, died instantly.
"You're here because you received an invitation," the man said. "Not everyone did."
A few people shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
"My name is Katsuragi," he continued. "I am First Class Investigator with the Monster Investigation Bureau."
The air in the room seemed to tighten.
"Some of you think this is a recruitment drive," Katsuragi said. "You're wrong."
He paused, letting the silence settle.
"This is a test."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"By attending today, you have agreed to evaluation. You will undergo physical, psychological, and aptitude assessments. Most of you will fail. That is not a threat. It is a fact."
Takeru leaned forward slightly, heart thudding harder now.
"Monsters are not myths," Katsuragi said, voice low and steady. "They walk among us. They adapt. They kill. They destroy. And they do not fear you."
He let that sink in.
"If you believe strength alone will save you, leave. If you believe courage alone will save you, leave."
No one moved.
Katsuragi smiled faintly. It wasn't a kind smile.
"For those who remain," he said, "your first evaluation begins now."
A side door opened, and a woman in a white coat stepped in, holding a clipboard.
"Follow the instructions you are given," she said. "Welcome to the first step."
Takeru stood with the others, hands clenched loosely at his sides.
Something about this moment felt different from everything else in his life so far.
Like stepping onto a path he couldn't walk back from.
As he moved toward the open door, he swore he could feel it again, faint, distant, a whisper brushing against the edge of his mind.
Calling.
Inviting.
This is where it begins, he thought.
And he didn't look back.