Chapter 1: Boarderland
The sensation of reality shifting was not violent. It was not a crash, nor an explosion, but rather a subtle recalibration of the air pressure, a blink in the cosmic eye.
Renji Kurosaki stood in front of the mirror in the public restroom of Shibuya Station. The fluorescent lights overhead hummed with a dying frequency, a sound that grated against his heightened senses. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the porcelain sink. The water was still running, cool and clear, spiraling down the drain.
He looked at his reflection.
It was a face constructed for deception. High cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and skin that seemed devoid of blemishes. But the most striking features were the eyes and the hair. His hair was a stark, snowy white, falling in casual, defying gravity strands over his forehead. His eyes were a piercing, crystalline blue—the Rikugan (Six Eyes)—or at least, a cosmetic approximation of them that felt startlingly functional.
He blinked. The blue irises seemed to swirl like nebulas.
"Episode One," Renji whispered,His voice was a rich baritone, steady and devoid of the tremor that should have accompanied the situation.
He adjusted the collar of his high-necked, dark navy jacket. It was an expensive garment, tailored to fit a frame that stood at an imposing 190 centimeters. He felt the power coiling beneath his skin, a physical density that felt foreign yet exhilarating. This was not the body of the drama watcher who had sat on a couch eating chips. This was a vessel of perfection.
He checked his wristwatch. The second hand was ticking, but the rhythm felt... wrong. Artificial.
Renji turned off the tap. The silence that followed was heavy. It wasn't just the absence of water; it was the absence of everything. The roar of trains, the shuffle of thousands of feet, the muffled announcements—all of it had been excised from the world like a tumor removed by a scalpel.
"The border has been crossed," he analyzed, his internal monologue cold, detached, stripping the situation down to data points. The transition is complete. The populous has been culled. Current location: The Borderland. Objective: Survival. Secondary Objective: Domination.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of small, round, pitch-black sunglasses. He slid them onto his nose, obscuring those terrifying blue eyes. It was a theatrical choice, perhaps, but Renji understood the value of theatrics. In a world of despair, the man who treats the apocalypse like a vacation becomes a god.
He pushed the restroom door open and stepped out.
The station was a tomb. The turnstiles stood locked in place. Advertising screens that usually flashed with vibrant pop idols and energy drinks were dark, their black surfaces reflecting the ghostly emptiness of the concourse.
Renji walked with a lazy, confident stride. Hands in his pockets, back straight, he moved not like a survivor, but like a landlord inspecting a vacated property.
He ascended the stairs to the surface. The afternoon sun was high, baking the asphalt of the famous Shibuya Scramble Crossing.
It was empty.
The sheer scale of the emptiness was breathtaking. Vehicles were abandoned in the middle of the street, doors left open, engines cold. Coffee cups sat on tables outside cafes, steam long since evaporated. The wind blew through the concrete canyon, whistling a mournful tune as it danced around the skyscrapers that stood like silent sentinels.
Renji stopped in the middle of the intersection. He took a deep breath, tasting the air. It smelled of dust and ozone.
Population density of Shibuya Crossing: approx. 3,000 people per light change. Current population: 4.
He turned his head slightly. Fifty meters away, near the statue of Hachiko, three figures were acting out a scene of manic confusion.
Arisu Ryohei. Karube Daikichi. Chota Segawa.
They were screaming, running in circles, their voices cracking with a mix of exhilaration and dawning horror. They were celebrating their freedom from societal expectations, unaware that the price of admission was their lives.
"It's like a zombie movie!" Chota yelled, limping slightly on his bad leg.
"Where is everyone?" Arisu shouted, spinning around, looking at the silent buildings. "Hello? Is anyone there?"
Renji observed them. He didn't approach immediately. He analyzed them.
Arisu: High observational skills, low self-esteem. Emotional anchor for the group. Potential: High.
Karube: High physical stats, impulsive, loyal. The muscle. Potential: Medium.
Chota: Low physical stats, religious, easily manipulated. The weak link. Potential: Low.
They were variables in an equation Renji had already solved. But seeing them in person, breathing the same air, added a texture to the reality that the TV screen never could.
Renji began to walk toward them. He didn't run. He didn't wave. He simply walked, the heels of his leather boots clicking rhythmically against the pavement. Click. Click. Click.
The sound cut through their shouting. Karube was the first to notice. The blond bartender stopped mid-laugh, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the tall figure approaching from the center of the crossing.
"Oi," Karube said, nudging Arisu. "Someone's there."
Arisu froze. He turned, squinting against the sunlight.
Renji stopped ten feet away from them. He towered over Karube, his presence radiating a pressure that made the air feel thick. He tilted his head, peering over the rim of his sunglasses.
"Enjoying the peace and quiet?" Renji asked. His tone was light, playful, contrasting sharply with the desolate surroundings.
The three friends stared at him. Renji looked alien to them is too clean, too calm, too styled for the sudden apocalypse.
"Who act you?" Karube asked, stepping in front of Arisu and Chota protectively. "Do you know what's going on? Where did the police go?"
Renji smirked. It was a Gojo Satoru smirk arrogantly, charming, and dangerous. "The police? They've been rescheduled. Permanently."
"Rescheduled?" Chota squeaked. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Renji said, pointing a long finger toward the large Q-Front building screen, "that the tutorial is over. The main event is about to start."
As if summoned by his command, the massive screens on the buildings flickered to life. The static noise was deafening in the silence.
Zzzzt.
WELCOME, PLAYERS.
THE GAME WILL COMMENCE IN A MOMENT.
PLEASE PROCEED TO THE GAME VENUE.
An arrow appeared on the screen, a digital directive pointing down Dogenzaka street.
"A game?" Arisu whispered, his eyes widening. "What kind of game?"
"The kind where you don't get a respawn," Renji said. He turned his back to them, looking toward the arrow. "I'd suggest you start moving. The sun is setting. And in this world, the dark bites back."
He began to walk away, his hands back in his pockets.
"Wait!" Arisu called out, running a few steps after him. "Wait! You act like you know something! What is your name?"
Renji paused. He didn't turn around. He simply threw a hand up in a lazy wave.
"You can call me Zero," he said. "Try not to die, Arisu. It would be a waste of good character development."
He left them standing in the intersection, three confused boys watching the back of a monster who walked as if he owned the ruins of Tokyo.
(To be Continued)