Just before six in the morning, the sky above the neighborhood is still pale and quiet, the first light of dawn slowly pushing away the darkness.
In the exterior corridor of the apartment building, Aramaki is already there.
Like every morning, he begins with a series of stretches before starting his roadwork. He rolls his shoulders, loosens his arms, then bends slowly at the waist, holding each stretch for several seconds while the cool air fills his lungs.
It is a routine he rarely breaks. Usually, either he finds Ryoma already waiting outside, or he arrives first and waits for Ryoma to come out.
This morning, however, the door to Ryoma's apartment remains closed.
After nearly half an hour of light stretching and jogging in place, the sky above the narrow street has already grown noticeably brighter. A faint orange line now rests along the edge of the rooftops.
Aramaki glances down at his watch. "That's unusual…" he mutters under his breath. "He's never this late."
