After school, Kenji avoided the bustling, shiny arcades. He was drawn to the dark, forgotten corners of the city, places where the technology was old and the pretenses were low.
He found his way to Retro-X, a dusty shop crammed with retro consoles and broken hardware, run by a strange man known only as Old Jiro.
Kenji went to an old fighting game cabinet. The moment his fingers touched the joystick, his posture changed. The fatigue lifted. His eyes gained a cold, analytical focus. He played flawlessly, every move a calculation of frames and distance, resulting in an effortless victory.
"You crushed the high score, kid," Jiro said, emerging from the shadows.
"It's boring, Jiro," Kenji replied, his gaze still fixed on the defeated pixels. "The new games, the VRMMOs... they're all built for safety. They give you everything. I want a game that demands something from me. A game where I have to earn it."
Jiro studied him, his magnified eyes scrutinizing. "I received something this morning," Jiro said slowly. "Something odd. It came from a defunct military simulation group, I think. No manual. No title."
He slid a smooth, black cartridge case across the counter. It bore only a small sticker on the spine: APEX PROTOCOL.
"It's strange," Jiro whispered. "It uses the neural interface, but the code is... raw. It's pure danger. It wasn't built for fun."
Kenji picked up the case. It felt heavier than it should. The absence of glossy marketing sent a cold shiver of anticipation down his spine.
"I'll take it," Kenji said. "How much?"
"Five hundred yen," Jiro replied, smiling. "But if you get anything out of it, you come back and tell me what it is. This feels like something that will either waste your life, or change it."
Kenji nodded. The promise of pure, unadulterated challenge was too great to ignore.