Se7en

The City of Neon and Chains

Kansai had long since abandoned the illusion of freedom. The air hummed with the static of countless neon advertisements, their flickering lights painting the city’s towering steel-and-glass structures in a kaleidoscope of colors. Hovering surveillance drones drifted overhead, their mechanical eyes scanning the restless streets below. The people moved in rigid, rehearsed motions, their heads down, their voices hushed.

A massive digital screen loomed over the city center, its glowing letters pulsing as they scrolled across the skyline.

“Fugitive Akudama Bounties Updated.”

One by one, faces appeared. Criminals of legend.

Brawler: 348 Years – The man who lived for nothing but combat.

Doctor: 432 Years – A surgeon with hands as skilled in healing as they were in killing.

Hacker: 158 Years – The ghost in the system, carving through firewalls like paper.

Courier: 745 Years – The silent deliveryman, bound to no one but the job.

Cutthroat: 967 Years – The man who had painted the city red with 999 bodies, his pale lips curved into an eternal grin.

And soon, there would be one more.

She just didn’t know it yet.

---

500 Yen and a Mistake

It was meant to be a simple evening.

She had done nothing wrong.

The Ordinary Citizen, a young woman whose life had never strayed beyond the boundaries of rules and regulations, wandered into a brightly lit convenience kiosk. She was just here for Takoyaki—a small indulgence in an otherwise monotonous life.

The machine took her 500 yen and spat nothing out.

She sighed, knocking lightly on the glass counter. The vendor barely glanced at her, his thick fingers lazily scrolling through his holographic interface.

“It ate my money,” she said.

“No refunds,” the vendor grunted, his eyes never leaving the screen.

Her fingers curled around her empty wallet. It wasn’t about the money—it was the principle.

But before she could protest further, the metal door behind the counter slammed open, and a man staggered into the shop, a bag of stolen cash clutched in his trembling hands.

His eyes darted wildly. He was thin, with a slicked-back mess of hair and a desperate grin that screamed small-time crook. His lips curled into a chuckle as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder, barely sparing the girl a glance.

She stepped back instinctively.

The man dropped the bag.

Money spilled onto the floor, pooling at her feet.

In the suffocating silence that followed, her instincts screamed at her to run. To leave. But her body betrayed her—she bent down to pick up the bag.

And that was her second mistake.

---

The Invitations Are Sent

Far beyond the city’s bustling districts, in the hidden underbelly of Kansai, a dozen holographic screens flickered to life.

An unseen entity sent the message.

A voice echoed in the silence.

“Mission: Rescue Cutthroat. Reward: 1 Billion Yen.”

It was not a question.

It was a summons.

Courier saw the message while waiting at a red light, his fingers tightening around the motorcycle’s throttle.

Brawler grinned as he wiped the blood from his knuckles, stepping over a pile of unconscious cops.

Doctor hummed a soft tune as she stitched up her own wounds, surgical precision in every motion.

Hacker leaned back in his darkened room, amused by the challenge of cracking the uncrackable.

And Hoodlum, still clutching his bag of stolen cash, realized he was in far deeper than he had ever intended.

---

The Execution

The Executioners had no patience for criminals.

At precisely 23:30, the armored transport rolled into Public Execution Grounds No. 13, carrying the most notorious Akudama the city had ever feared. Cutthroat sat bound in a reinforced cell, humming a song to himself, bored of waiting for his own death.

The lead Executioner, Master, stood at the control center, watching the security monitors. He adjusted his gloves, his eyes narrowing.

This would be over soon.

And yet… something was wrong.

---

Chaos in the Streets

The first explosion tore through the checkpoint just as the clock struck midnight.

Metal twisted and burned as the Courier blitzed through the barricades, his motorcycle moving faster than the human eye could track. Guns extended from the chassis, firing explosive rounds that sent guards flying through the air like broken puppets.

At the other entrance, a dozen security officers vanished in a spray of red as Brawler charged in, his fists doing more damage than any firearm ever could.

A scalpel found its way into the neck of an unsuspecting officer—Doctor, her face split into a delighted grin.

The security system shut down in an instant—Hacker’s work.

Hoodlum was still running.

And Swindler—the Ordinary Citizen who had never broken a law in her life—found herself standing in the middle of the chaos, frozen as alarms blared around her.

---

A Lie Becomes the Truth

The Akudama stood in a loose circle, sizing one another up, blood pooling at their feet.

And then there was her.

“Who’s this?” Brawler frowned, cracking his knuckles.

Swindler felt every eye turn toward her.

Her throat closed up. She had to say something—anything—or they would kill her right there.

A voice, smooth and dangerous, spoke before she could.

“Swindler,” Doctor said.

A single word. A branding iron.

Courier barely blinked. Hacker smirked.

Brawler laughed, punching his palm.

Hoodlum, sensing an opportunity, grinned.

Swindler’s heart slammed against her ribs.

They believed it.

For a single heartbeat, she considered telling the truth.

But then she looked at Brawler’s bloodstained fists, at Cutthroat’s hungry grin, at the ticking bomb collar around her neck.

If they found out she didn’t belong here—she would die.

So she swallowed the lump in her throat and forced a smirk.

“That’s right,” she lied.

Swindler.

---

Cutthroat’s Release

The final gate to the execution chamber slid open with a low hiss.

Cutthroat lifted his head, silver-white hair falling over sharp red eyes. He smiled at them, tilting his head like a child seeing a new toy.

The Executioners did not have time to react before his chains snapped.

Blood sprayed the walls.

By the time they hit the floor, Cutthroat was already licking the blade clean.

“Oh,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto Swindler’s.

Her breath caught.

He grinned.

“I like you.”

Her blood ran cold.

---

A Mission Beyond This One

Their escape was only the beginning.

A black cat, sleek and mechanical, emerged from the shadows.

“You have passed the first test.”

The voice—calm, mechanical, deliberate—came from within.

“The next mission begins now.”

Swindler felt the weight of her own choices settle on her shoulders.

She was trapped.

No longer an Ordinary Citizen.

No longer free.

She was Swindler now.

And there was no turning back.

---

To Be Continued…

---

And so the night belonged to the Akudama.

And Kansai, in all its neon brilliance, remained indifferent.

Tomorrow, the bounty screens would update.

And a new name would be etched in digital light:

Swindler – Wanted Dead or Alive.

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