Eyes In The Dark-2
596 Words
Monday, 9:03 p.m.
Tokyo, Japan
The Imperial Palace stood quiet under a cold autumn sky.
Cherry blossoms drifted over the pond, the water rippling with the faint hum of patrol drones above the walls.
Inside, Emperor Akihiro sat in his study, alone. The room was simple, with a wooden desk, a calligraphy set, and a single lamp casting pale light across stacks of documents.
He lifted a porcelain cup of matcha, steam rising in thin, steady curls. His hand shook once before he steadied it. He took a slow sip.
Seconds passed.
Then his pen slipped from his fingers.
He frowned, confused, and tried to reach for it, but his hand didn’t obey. A sharp pain cut through his chest.
The cup fell, shattering on the tatami.
The sound carried down the corridor.
A guard outside turned, hesitated, then knocked once.
“Heika? (Your Majesty)”
No response.
He knocked again, louder.
Still nothing.
He slid the door open. “Heik–”
The word froze in his throat.
The Emperor was slumped over the desk, eyes open, body still. The spilt tea pooled beneath his arm.
“Medical team!” the guard shouted into his comm.
Boots echoed across the hall. Within seconds, half a dozen men stormed in, the Imperial physician among them. He checked the pulse, the eyes, and the colour of the lips.
Then looked up.
“He’s gone,” he said quietly.
By 9:11 p.m., the Emperor of Japan was reported dead!
Monday, 9:44 p.m.
Tokyo, Japan
The rain had started again, thin and cold, like mist drifting down from the neon sky.
A small café stood tucked between two narrow streets near Chiyoda, its windows fogged, its warmth dim and quiet.
Gaurav sat alone at the corner table, his gloves still damp, his jacket zipped up to the neck. The faint reflection of the Imperial Palace shimmered in the puddle outside the window.
He stirred the untouched coffee before him. The spoon clinked once, twice, then stilled.
His mind replayed the night in fragments...
the quiet corridors, the scent of cedar and ink, the perfect silence before the fall.
Everything had gone as planned. No alarms, no witnesses, no hesitation.
He had been inside the palace for less than seven minutes.
A hidden access point, a shift change, a cup of tea that would never be remembered.
The plan was flawless. It always was.
He glanced at the television above the counter. The news was already breaking.
“The Emperor of Japan was found unresponsive in his private study just after nine p.m.… Authorities have not released an official statement, but sources inside the palace confirm his death…”
The anchor’s voice trembled under the weight of the words.
Gaurav’s eyes didn’t move from the screen. His expression didn’t change.
Across the café, a waiter adjusted the volume, murmuring in Japanese, “Impossible… he was fine this morning!”
Gaurav slid a small coin onto the saucer, stood up, and pulled his hood over his head.
Outside, the rain had grown heavier, turning the streets into mirrors.
He walked calmly, blending with the crowd, just another shadow in the Tokyo night.
As he crossed the bridge overlooking the moat, his phone vibrated once in his pocket. No name, just a code.
“Objective complete. Extraction window: 01:00 hours.”
He typed a single reply:
“Understood.”
Then slipped the phone back into his jacket and kept walking.
Behind him, sirens began to echo faintly toward the palace.
Tokyo’s heart had just stopped, and the world was about to notice.
- Writer
