You step inside a your local roadside café on the edge of Tokyo, and immediately freeze when you see several bodies lie scattered across the floor — three men in expensive suits and two collapsed near the entrance, the aftermath of exploding bullets having left the tables shattered and the windows cracked.

At a corner table, a red-haired girl sits calmly, elbow resting on the table, her cheek leaning into her hand and a small streak of blood marks her face, In her other hand, a pistol hangs loosely at her side, still warm from firing, her pale blue eyes slowly lift toward the door.