Arc 0: Prologue

Chapter: The Eccentric Passenger [I]

"Driver-san, what's happening in Ikebukuro these days?"

His taxi driver, a slightly obese man, probably in his early forties, kept his eyes on the road. They were stuck in rush hour traffic and there was nothing interesting on the radio. In other words, he had no other option but to respond back, otherwise he might risk being called impolite or rude and end up with a bad rating and a horrible review.

"You from the countryside?" The driver asked.

A rather interesting question. Did he look like a country bumpkin? Of course not. He had cleaned up rather nicely, wore an expensive charcoal black suit, a crisp white shirt underneath, a striped blue tie in a windsor knot around his collar, a belt to hold up his matching black trousers and brown shoes which were polished to a shine. He looked impeccable. Besides, the cabbie could hardly judge him for his appearance. He wore an orange short sleeved shirt with yellow printed leaves and brown trousers. He also had a blue baseball cap on his head. It wasn't exactly a competition, but ask anyone from the street and they will tell you, he was better dressed. But he still envied the middle aged man driving the cab, because he was dressed for comfort and he looked really at ease.

"I'm from Chiba." The younger man replied.

His taxi driver was far from being impressed. In fact, he treated his response like a bad excuse. "Chiba is not exactly in the countryside. It's not that far from Tokyo. Don't pretend like you don't know what goes on in the city."

He felt like he was being misunderstood. The man didn't exactly sound mad. But he did sound like a person who had been asked such questions before. Repeatedly. By foreigners. By tourists. And people who pretended like everything was normal in a crazy world. He was not one of those people. But the taxi driver couldn't possibly know.

"Actually, I have recently come back from the US. So I'm kinda left out of the loop." He admitted. "I don't know what's happening in Chiba, let alone some place as crazy as Ikebukuro. So, I genuinely want to know what's going on. Talking to you seemed like a good place to start."

The background noise provided by a couple of unfunny comedians on the radio announced that up next a hit song by an up-and-coming idol group would be played next. His cabbie looked too old to enjoy such type of upbeat pop music. In fact, he looked like he still enjoyed rakugo as a form of entertainment and listened to cassette tapes in his spare time. As such, it didn't come as quite a shock when he lowered the volume.

"There was some news about a boy and a girl switching bodies."

There was a time when hearing such things would have shocked him. He would have chalked it off as a fantasy, dreamed up by some teenager in high school and spread across various social media platforms, chat rooms and forums and conspiracy sites. Nowadays, it just got a raised eyebrow.

"Adolescent syndrome?"

Up ahead the cars started to move and the traffic started to clear. The taxi driver who had shut off his engine, turned the keys in the ignition and the car came back to life. He seemed to be in deep thought and didn't respond until he took a left turn in the next intersection.

"Are you one of those young people who believe in stuff like that?"

Said 'young people' looked annoyed. "It's real!"

The taxi driver knew when to keep his mouth shut. But the young man could almost hear what he left unsaid: 'If you say so.' And it wasn't so much the thought, but the attitude of the man that made him feel a bit more miserable. But he belonged to the older generation and they were stubborn and pigheaded and there was nothing he could do about it.

"So, let me get this straight. You don't believe adolescent syndrome is a real thing. But how else do you explain two people switching bodies. Are you saying they were lying to get some kinda cheap publicity?"

The traffic light was green and the taxi driver took full advantage of the opportunity, changing gears and heading straight down the road, while carefully staying below the legal speed limit.

"I have heard young people do all kinds of crazy stuff to go viral."

The young man was a little bit surprised. Not because the taxi driver had shown a little bit of insight in how the youth of today functioned, measuring their worth through likes and follows, making stupid reels and sharing idiotic posts, becoming more and more invested in their fake personas which they create online, while losing touch of the actual world and its very real problems, until it becomes too late to work them out. No, it wasn't that. He was just shocked by the other man's cynicism. There was also the fact that he couldn't wrap his head around the idea that the old man knew a thing or two about going viral. But then again, thanks to the internet, nobody lived under a rock. In the end the young man just let out a tired sigh.

"I am just glad you didn't say something stupid like they were high on drugs."

The taxi driver kept unnaturally quiet.

And the young man took his silence for an answer.

"Unbelievable." He grumbled underneath his breath.

For a moment, the taxi driver actually thought his eccentric passenger would have given up by now and the rest of the ride he would have stayed quiet, probably do something normal like check his phone or browse stuff online. But that simply wasn't meant to be. He sometimes found himself envying the energy of the youth. But he didn't care for their bullshit.

"How about The Black Rider? He's like the unofficial mascot of Ikebukuro. You must have seen him, right?"

"I have seen him around." The taxi driver replied.

"Rumour has it he doesn't have a head."

The young man smiled as he said this, because as far as he was concerned, he had trapped the middle aged man in a trap of his own making. There was no logical way out of it. Of course, he could go back on his words and make some lame excuse which defied all reason. But then that would be the same as admitting defeat. Which was completely fine in his book. You win some, you lose some. Unfortunately, he had made the mistake of underestimating the older man's intelligence and ability to make sense.

"Then how does he wear a helmet?"

The young man's smile quickly morphed into a frown. "He -"

He was at a loss for words. How did he wear a helmet? Dammit, he had never thought about it before. The question never entered his mind, because like any sane man he was more interested by the fact that there was a person in Ikebukuro, who might not have a head and drove around in a motorcycle that allegedly made no sound.

The taxi driver had him beat. But he did not gloat over this small victory. His expression didn't change much. There wasn't even a small smile on his face. He got the distinct feeling that the older man was a cold, uncaring person who led a lonely life with no wife or kids. But he got the distinct impression that he neither cared for nor wanted any sympathy from a passenger in his taxi, so he thought about doing the smart thing and tried to keep his mouth shut for a short while.

Before he knew it the taxi started to slow down. For a moment, he thought they had reached their destination and he started to look outside the window, checking for the right establishment. But he wasn't able to spot the place on either side of the road. It's when he looked ahead and saw a police barricade with a few beat cops standing around that he decided to voice his worries.

"What's going on?"