Chapter 3: Chapter 3
"We need to ensure he doesn't get into trouble again."
"I've sealed him once more, erased and altered his memories from yesterday."
"Good. Now let's hope he doesn't reconnect."
The alarm blares, filling Kibo's room and jolting him awake. He opens his eyes, gazing at the ceiling as he takes a deep breath. Rising from his bed, he switches off the alarm and surveys his surroundings. A slight dizziness overtakes him, causing him to close one eye momentarily. He moves to sit on his bed, staring at the floor as a blurry flashback washes over him, the pain subsiding gradually. Glancing around his room, he's surprised by its tidiness. "When did I clean my room?" he wonders aloud.
Resuming his morning routine, a familiar ritual, Kibo emerges from his room and heads to the kitchen. He prepares his breakfast and sits down to eat, savoring the simple pleasure of bread and jam. Once finished, he checks his phone, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he notes the date. "It's that time of the month again," he muses to himself, before powering off his phone and readying himself to step out for the day.
Outside his apartment building, Kibo stood, gazing absently at the road ahead. A peculiar sensation prickled at the edges of his consciousness, leaving him with an unsettling feeling of anticipation. Lost in his thoughts, he drifted aimlessly until a gentle hand rested on his shoulder.
"Kibo?" The soft, elderly voice snapped him back to reality, eliciting a startled yelp from him. It was Lady Boba, who seemed equally taken aback by his reaction. "Don't scare me like that, kids these days," she chided.
"No, I'm sure you're the one who scared me," Kibo thought aloud, earning a resigned sigh from Lady Boba. Gathering herself, she ventured a concerned inquiry. "Are you okay, Kibo? Yesterday, I heard you running around the hallway."
Kibo paused, gathering his thoughts before responding. "Oh, I was... What was I doing?" he mused aloud.
"Well, I hope you're not up to anything troublesome, like drugs," Lady Boba remarked, her tone tinged with worry.
"I'm sure I'm too awkward to be doing drugs," Kibo quipped, a nervous bead of sweat forming on his brow.
"Well, I'll be keeping an eye on you," Lady Boba said as she walked off, her footsteps echoing faintly in the distance.
"Lady Boba... she's been taking care of me since the death of my parents," Kibo mused quietly to himself. "Her own kids are out of the country... her oldest son is a known CEO from the United States. She has pictures around her house of them... Now that I think about it, was she ever married?"
"Who cares," he shrugged, tearing his gaze away from his phone. "Oh, shit, I'm going to be late," he exclaimed, suddenly realizing the time as he rushed towards his appointment.
Arriving at the police station, Kibo continued messaging on his phone, frustration evident in his expression. "That bastard... he left me on read. No problem, I guess I'll have to ask for him," he muttered, a malevolent smirk playing on his lips as he entered.
An aura of disdain washed over the station as Kibo stepped inside, drawing glares and muttered curses from the officers present. "Ugh, he's here," one muttered under their breath. "Can I shoot him?" another quipped, the tension palpable in the air.
Undeterred by the hostility, Kibo strolled in as if it were his second home, his presence immediately recognized. "Hey, Rouenjohn, nice haircut," he greeted casually.
"Oh, thanks," Rouenjohn replied, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
"Nah, I lied. Your barber messed you up," Kibo retorted with a mischievous grin, earning a few chuckles from those nearby.
He strolled up to the desk where an overweight policeman sat, his jovial demeanor contrasting with the officer's tired expression. "Nathan, my man, what's good?" Kibo greeted with a grin, though a pang of concern flitted across his mind. (Aren't policemen supposed to be fit? He looks like he puts on weight every week.)
"You're doing it again, and he's not here," Nathan replied with a sigh, clearly exasperated.
"What do you mean he's... wait, doing what?" Kibo inquired, furrowing his brow in confusion.
"Ugh, you think that you are thinking inside of your skull, but in reality, you're speaking out loud," Nathan retorted, his annoyance evident.
"That's not true. Anyways, is the old man at the station?" Kibo pressed on, trying to maintain his composure.
"I just told you he's not," Nathan reiterated, his patience waning.
"Come on, Nathan, we can do this the easy or the hard way," Kibo challenged, his tone playful yet determined.
"Good day, Kibo," Nathan replied tersely, clearly not in the mood for games.
Undeterred, Kibo pulled out his phone and began browsing, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Uh, special edition glazed donuts? Only 8.99 for a 6-piece?" he taunted, flashing the screen in front of Nathan.
"Really? You think you can buy me with... donuts!?" Nathan scoffed, though his resolve seemed to waver.
"And wait, what? Buy 2 stacks of 6 and get 1 stack free?" Kibo continued, his grin widening as he dangled the tempting offer in front of the officer.
"I will not yield," Nathan declared, though his stomach grumbled in protest.
"Come on, Nathan, I know he gets to the station around this time to file some of his cases. His car is parked right in front of the Japanese restaurant around the block, and I saw you send him a message when I got in the station," Kibo leaned in, his voice low and persuasive.
"And I know they've got your ass on a fitness program. Been too long since you had a treat, haven't you? How about you help me, and I help you?" Kibo proposed, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Nathan held his breath for a moment before sighing in defeat. "I want 2 large pizzas and 2 large cokes, 6 breadsticks, 12 cinnamon sticks, and 8 chicken wings. Spicy," he yielded, his resolve crumbling under Kibo's relentless persuasion.
"Deal!" Kibo exclaimed triumphantly, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as Nathan reached for the office phone, his fingers dialing Officer Michael's extension. "You've got a visitor."
He murmured to himself as he ascended the stairs to Officer Omar's office, his footsteps propelled by a determined resolve. "Looks like this time he chose pizza and quite the menu, shouldn't be a problem tho," he thought, anticipation coursing through him. Upon entering, he found Michael pacing behind his desk, his brow furrowed in deep thought.
"Ah, Kibo, what brings you here?" Omar greeted him, though his tone betrayed a hint of concern.
Taking a seat on the couch in the office, Kibo leaned forward, his expression serious. "Old man," he began, "I was wondering how my parents' case has been progressing." His voice was steady but tinged with a sense of urgency.
Omar paused in his pacing, meeting Kibo's gaze with a somber look. "Kibo, the case is closed," he responded, his voice firm yet sympathetic.
Frustration bubbled up inside Kibo, his eyes narrowing. "Closed? Closed as in you found him? Or closed as in—" he started, his words cut short by Omar's sigh.
"Closed as in there is no ongoing investigation," Omar clarified, his tone heavy with finality.
Kibo's head shook in disbelief. "No, no, no! You haven't even found the one responsible for it yet," he insisted, desperation creeping into his voice.
Michael's expression softened, a sympathetic understanding in his eyes. "We don't know if this is a murder case, Kibo. I've done everything I can, but sometimes, we have to accept the truth, even if it's not what we want to hear."
A sinking feeling settled in Kibo's chest at Michael's words, a sense of helplessness washing over him. "Are you sure? This is it? You're just gonna give up? They murdered your friend!" he exclaimed, a glimmer of hope still flickering in his eyes.
Michael hesitated for a moment before responding, his voice gentle but resolute. "I'm sorry, Kibo."
With a sharp, angry nod, Kibo pushed himself up from the couch, his glare fixed on the police officer. Without a word, he stormed out of the office. Descending the stairs, his fists clenched in his pockets, Kibo's posture screamed frustration, his chest tight with anger, elbows drawn in close.
"Kibo already leaving?" Nathan's voice called out, but Kibo ignored him, stomping past without a glance. As he reached the exit, Nathan's voice trailed after him, "Remember our deal!"
"Stupid old man, stupid police cases," Kibo muttered through gritted teeth, his anger boiling over. He halted at the corner of the police department, standing before the striped crosswalk, his mind swirling with resentment. The wind blew, tousling his brown hair as Kibo lost himself in his own thoughts. Around him, cars whizzed by, their engines rumbling and horns blaring, while the scent of exhaust hung heavy in the air. Towering trees lined the sidewalk, their leaves rustling in the breeze, and buildings loomed overhead, casting long shadows on the pavement. Despite the hustle and bustle of the city, Kibo felt a sense of isolation, a lone figure amidst the chaos. He closed his eyes, tightening his fists, and with a deep breath, he gasped and let loose, "I'll do it myself."
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone