Ikebukuro breathes.

The train lines buzz like veins. The streets pulse like arteries.

The city is alive. It pretends to sleep, but its eyes are always open.

[18:09 — Sunshine 60 Street]

Shoppers streamed past the neon signs, arms full of bags, mouths full of laughter. The sound was ordinary, too ordinary.

Shizuo Heiwajima stood at the edge of the crosswalk, a cigarette half-lit between his fingers. He looked bored.

“Another day without incident,” he muttered. “Almost peaceful.”

Something whistled through the air. He caught it with one hand: a soda can. The lid was still cold. His golden eyes twitched.

A pair of high schoolers whispered from behind a vending machine, their phones raised like talismans.

“Task says just throw something at him. He’ll snap.”

“Film it, film it!”

Shizuo’s hand squeezed. The can folded with a metallic scream, soda dribbling down his arm.

He didn’t move. He didn’t rage. Not yet.

The boys froze, their phones shaking in their hands.

Shizuo’s voice dropped low.

“I can hear you.”

They ran.

Behind them, an idle delivery bike rumbled, rider faceless under a dark visor, watching.

[18:22 -- Shinra’s Apartment, Rooftop]

Celty sat on the ledge, the city spread below her. She typed on her phone, her helmet reflecting Ikebukuro’s lights.

[Text to Shinra] : "People are staring again. Someone spread a new rumor, didn’t they?"

Shinra burst out of the rooftop door, lab coat flapping.

“Rumors? Always. This one’s about you again, I bet. The ‘Silent Rider’ trending on some shady app called WHISPR.”

Celty tilted her head.

“Anonymous tasks,” Shinra continued. “Dares, games, proof-of-legends nonsense. It’s spreading faster than any disease I’ve studied.”

Celty typed another line, showing him.

Coordinated?

Shinra hesitated. His grin faltered just slightly.

“…Yeah. And Ikebukuro’s never been kind to coordination.”

Smoke poured from her collar. Without another word, Celty dropped from the ledge, the sound of her bike revving seconds later.

[18:45 --- Under the Overpass near Ikebukuro Station]

Masaomi Kida leaned against a pillar, hands shoved into his pockets. Beside him, Anri Sonohara adjusted her glasses.

“So peaceful, right?” Masaomi said, a little too casual.

“…I hope it stays that way,” Anri murmured.

A boy brushed past them, phone in hand. His face was blank, steps mechanical. On the glowing screen:

WHISPR // TASK #014

Leave the package in Locker #104. Do not look inside.

Masaomi whistled low. “He’s not even trying to hide it.”

They followed at a distance as the boy shoved a small white box into the blue locker, then sprinted away.

Anri frowned. “We shouldn’t.”

“Which is why we absolutely should,” Masaomi grinned.

From the shadows, a massive figure approached Simon, the sushi man, smiling as if he’d heard everything.

“Open box? Bad idea. Which means… you definitely will.”

Masaomi groaned. Anri’s eyes lingered on the locker. The white box sat inside, humming faintly.

[18:52 Chat Log: WHISPR Thread “Night Things”]

! Setton: The Rider was spotted near Sunshine.

Tanaka_Tarou: Urban myth. Buy sushi.

kanra: Heehee. Be gentle with your monsters. They get lonely.

Saikahhh: Knives whisper tonight.

Mod_Zero: Follow tasks. Disobedience is death.

The thread blinked out. Fifteen new ones appeared instantly.

[19:00 -- Tokyu Hands Back Alley]

A coin danced between long, pale fingers.

“Tasks, huh? Children and their games,” the man chuckled. His coat swayed as he walked, not even glancing at the delivery bike that rolled past him.

He flipped the coin, caught it, and smiled.

“Izaya Orihara,” the city whispered, though nobody dared say it aloud.

[19:14 --- Shinra’s Underground Clinic]

The injured teen hissed as Shinra stitched him up.

“She smiled… red coat… knife like glass. Said the blade was lonely.”

Shinra’s eyes widened, then narrowed.

“…Saika?”

The boy coughed. “Didn’t feel like Saika. Felt worse.”

Celty stormed in, helmet gleaming. Her hands signed quick, frantic motions.

Shinra’s grin vanished completely.

“Boxes in lockers. Riders lurking. New blades on the street.”

He pulled off his gloves, voice low.

“The city isn’t just restless. It’s… rewriting itself.”

[19:25 --- Sunshine 60 Street]

The high schoolers returned, phones buzzing. This time, there were more of them.

WHISPR // TASK #021:

Make the Ogre bleed.

They rushed Shizuo. He exhaled slowly. His hand reached for a street sign.

And then a coin rolled to his feet.

A shadow leaned against the wall. A smile cut sharp across his face.

“Temper, temper, Shizuo.”

Shizuo’s eyes widened, teeth grinding.

“…You.”

Izaya twirled the coin.

“Miss me?”

[19:29 --- The Blue Lockers]

Masaomi’s hands trembled as he pried open Locker #104. Anri’s eyes sharpened, lips pressed tight.

The box was plain. Humming softly.

He lifted the lid—

Inside lay a wax-pale face, sculpted perfectly, eyes closed, lips parted. Too perfect. Familiar and wrong. A hollow neck.

“…No way,” Masaomi whispered.

Anri didn’t blink.

The phone beside the locker lit up.

WHISPR // ADMIN:

Thank you for your service, Courier.

Next: Deliver to the Rider.

A motorcycle’s low growl echoed from the street.

[19:30 --- Sunshine 60 Street]

Shizuo raised his fist. Izaya’s coin rose with it.

Every phone in Ikebukuro buzzed at once.

WHISPR // CITY-WIDE NOTICE:

Ikebukuro, are you awake?

The city froze. Conversations stopped. Eyes lifted skyward.

Izaya’s smile deepened.

“…Looks like we’ve got a new narrator.”

Shizuo lunged.

to be continued...

The stream ended abruptly, leaving only the faint glow of a phone screen in the darkness of the alley. A distorted voice had spoken of lies, disappearances, and a rider scrawled in chalk upon cracked brick walls. Then, silence. Only silence.

But silence in Ikebukuro never lasted long.

On the WHISPR app, a new task appeared almost instantly.

> TASK #47

Find the chalk rider. Take a photo. Proof required. Reward: 50,000 yen.

Within minutes, comments poured in. Some mocked the post as a hoax. Others swore the rider was real. But in a city where rumor often meant reality, no one dared ignore it completely.

Morning – Ginkaku High

The next day, sunlight filtered through the classroom blinds as Haruki Minobe sat at his desk, staring out the window. His notebook was open, though nothing had been written in it. He looked detached, as though school was merely a stage, and he a reluctant actor forced to play his role.

The door slid open. Rikuya Jōnouchi strolled in, still in his baseball gear, flashing his usual grin.

“Transfer-kun!” Rikuya dropped into his seat with the energy of someone who had already played a full game. “You catch that stream last night?”

Haruki didn’t bother looking at him. “No.”

Rikuya gasped dramatically. “Then you’re the only one in this class who didn’t. Half the school’s talking about it some guy in an alley, saying there’s a rider in black grabbing people off the streets. Sounds like your kind of thing.”

From the back row, Kaoru Shinomiya leaned forward, a mischievous smile playing across his lips. “Maybe it was your long-lost twin, Minobe. You’ve got that gloomy look down.”

“Thanks,” Haruki replied dryly. He didn’t smile. The simplicity of the response only made the class laugh harder. Kaoru chuckled, satisfied.

Afternoon – Mystery Clubroom

The Mystery Club’s room was a clutter of half-burnt candles, old posters of Kyoto legends, and boxes filled with records no one outside the club would believe. Sunlight barely reached through the curtains, leaving the president, Yui Amamiya, lit only by the blue glow of her phone.

“Task forty-seven,” she said at last, breaking the silence. “It’s spreading. Whoever made it knows what they’re doing.”

Across from her, Haruki sat with arms crossed. “Or they’re setting bait.”

Rikuya, leaning against the wall with his ever-present grin, practically vibrated with excitement. “Either way, we should take it! Imagine if we cracked the case before anyone else. The Mystery Club would finally get noticed.”

“This isn’t baseball, Jōnouchi.” Yui’s eyes flicked up. “You can’t swing at everything. It could be dangerous.”

Haruki’s voice was quiet, yet sharp enough to cut through the tension. “Danger attracts attention.”

The words hung in the room like smoke. Even Rikuya fell silent for a beat. Yui finally exhaled, lowering her phone.

“…Fine. We’ll investigate,” she decided. “But keep in mind we’re not the only ones.”

She turned her screen so both could see. On WHISPR, dozens of users were already replying to the same task, each determined to uncover the truth first.

Elsewhere in Ikebukuro

In a small café, Masaomi Kida leaned back in his chair, frowning at the same glowing app. Across from him, Anri Sonohara sipped her tea quietly, her eyes unreadable behind her glasses.

“Déjà vu, huh?” Masaomi muttered. “Rumors spreading, people disappearing, gangs stirring up again… I thought we left this behind.”

“Rumors don’t die,” Anri replied softly. “They just change form.”

Masaomi forced a smile, but his hand tightened around his phone. “Then maybe it’s time we stepped in before the city drowns in them again.”

Not far away, Shizuo Heiwajima lit a cigarette on Sunshine Street. His already frayed nerves only worsened as two teenagers argued nearby about whether the chalk rider was real. Their voices grew louder, more obnoxious, until Shizuo bit down hard on the cigarette.

“…This city never learns,” he growled, smoke curling around his words.

And above them all, perched on a rooftop with the city sprawling beneath him, Izaya Orihara twirled his phone between his fingers. His grin was sharp, his eyes sparkling with cruel amusement.

“Anonymous tasks, spreading fear, drawing humans together while driving them apart… exquisite.” He laughed softly, leaning against the railing. “Almost like a new god has been born in Ikebukuro.”

But the phone stopped spinning. His smile thinned.

“…The question is, who’s really pulling the strings?”

Kifune District – Night

The same alley from the stream lay in silence once more. The chalk drawing of the rider had changed. The X that once marked the helmet was gone, erased by unseen hands.

And in its place, dripping in red paint, were words that sent a chill down the spine of anyone who read them:

SILENCE THE WITNESSES.

A lone student stopped in his tracks, phone trembling in his hands as he raised it to take a photo. His WHISPR app buzzed violently.

> TASK #48

Eliminate the next person who reads this message.

His breath caught. The alley suddenly seemed much darker than before.

And then footsteps echoed behind him.

.................To be continued…