Chapter Text
With the click of the door, Shirube exited his school. The sun was still high in the sky—expected since it was still only about 2:30. It was Saturday, and about time for Shirube to make his way home. He wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of going to school on Saturday for supplementary classes—not because the material was difficult, mind you, but because it was rather boring, and somewhat a waste of time. It challenged him more than the accelerated classes he took at his middle school, at least, but it took up a huge chunk of his day without much value to the activity. He already understood the concepts just fine, but the class’s curriculum was going to be on this topic for the following week—the classes just moved at such a slow pace for Shirube, and more often than not they were on topics he already knew through and through.
It was fine, Shirube assured himself. After all, he had textbooks he could look through and the vast internet at his disposal. It was easy for him to grasp onto math concepts. Math followed a pattern, the simplest of concepts building up to the extremes—Shirube understood this far better than anyone else his age. His teacher proposed for him to move up a few grade levels, but Shirube didn’t think it’d really make much difference. So, he was instead stuck with Saturday supplementary classes.
He didn’t think his mother would be home at the moment—she often wasn’t home until late in the day. Then she’d interrogate him about his grades and what he’s learned—that was all she cared about these days, really, his intelligence. Shirube knew his mother saw nothing in him but his intelligence—he didn’t need to be a genius to know that. He didn’t need to be a genius to know that wasn’t what a parent was meant to be like, but Shirube learned to live with it. He didn’t like it—of course, but he didn’t think he’d be able to change it.
In this world of lies and injustice, Shirube had nowhere near the influence to change the world. As much as he wanted it, it was a fact he knew better than anyone—both the fact of the cruel world and his lack of ability to change it. All he could do was adapt to the world, which Shirube was able to do just as well.
As he left to Shibuya Crossing, the hustle and bustle of the crowd surrounded Shirube, friends and couples chattering about nothing in particular. It intrigued Shirube—somewhat, how much trust they all put in each other. Shirube wondered what it was like, having someone you trusted with absolute certainty. However, in the back of his mind, Shirube wondered how much they really trusted each other. Could the couple he saw, laughing as they passed by, really both say they trusted the other with absolute certainty? One hundred percent? Not a doubt in their mind? Surely not, right? Surely there was at least a seed of doubt that their “friends” could betray them at a moment’s notice.
Shirube didn’t have time to make connections—even if that made him the obvious odd one out. He knew the risks, and wasn’t willing to take them. That was why he had a wall built around himself, like a stone fortress that would never falter. That was the philosophy Shirube adopted at a young age—to make himself untouchable so no one had a chance to take him down. Geniuses only had time to be geniuses—that was what he had always been taught.
Regardless of his current thoughts, Shirube navigated through the large crowd to a nearby convenience store. He didn’t think his mother would be home to cook for dinner—so he figured he better grab something that he could cook up quickly, like instant noodles or something of the sort. Shirube cut through the crowd to make it to his usual convenience store, the bells jingled as he pushed the door open.
Immediately, the artificial lights of the convenience store shone in Shirube’s eyes—he paid it no mind and walked over immediately to the shelf with instant noodles. He grabbed his usual brand and walked up to the cash register. On a nearby shelf, a pineapple bun rested, and Shirube glanced over to it. Getting a quick bite couldn’t hurt, would it?
Shirube grabbed the pineapple bun and placed it on the counter alongside the instant noodles. He reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet, searching for the right bills he could use to pay. He pulled out a couple yen bills, and placed it on the counter with the rest of his things.
The very tired college student behind the counter scanned Shirube’s items. After picking up the bill and confirming it was enough, he handed Shirube his change, to which Shirube nodded his head in thanks. He grabbed his items and placed them in a bag. As he took out his wallet to put his change in—
“What the hell?” The convenience store worker muttered, squinting as he looked out the window. Shirube placed his bills back in his wallet. Just as he was about to place the coins in, a sudden rumbling shook the store, his remaining yen coins falling and clattering to the floor. The ground shook beneath his feet and something that sounded like the engine of a car flooded the store. Shirube looked back, large fireworks, bright and red, were being shot up the sky. Shirube’s eyes widened slightly as he stared into the sky, fireworks? Now? Why? Shirube didn’t recall there being any events today—perhaps it was just some bored teens setting off fireworks in Shibuya—they’d get chewed out for it soon enough.
Before Shirube could think, it all stopped. The lights to the store cut off, plunging Shirube into darkness. Despite it, he could still see his surroundings—and the first thing Shirube noticed was that the convenience store worker in front of him was gone. Shirube didn’t hear his footsteps—so no way he ran off or something. He seemingly disappeared randomly, leaving Shirube by himself in the store. After picking up the coins that fell to the ground and placing them back in his wallet, he opened the door to exit—the soft jingle still played when he opened the door.
The once vibrant and lively crowd of Shibuya was completely gone, leaving an eerie veil of silence in its wake. Shirube stepped into the center of the crossing with caution, each step echoing through the city. It felt weird, being in such a popular spot with no one but himself. However, more importantly, Shirube’s mind was currently fixated on just how everyone disappeared. After all, people don’t just disappear, obviously. But the entire crowd just disappeared, and Shirube was in the middle of it. Nothing happened that could have possibly caused something like this to happen—and additionally, the fireworks that were previously in the sky—were completely gone. No smoke or anything like that—there should have still been some residue of smoke seeing how big those fireworks were, and they were shot recently.
Every sound, like Shirube’s breathing and the rustle of his clothing was only amplified in the empty city. There was no sign of life but Shirube’s own. The sky began to shift to purple, morphing into a dark night sky. With no one else in this world, Shirube had to worry about just what happened—what caused everyone to disappear. After all, whatever happened had to have been some kind of magic of some sort—it didn’t follow science at all, of course. Science, math, anything with numbers was what Shirube was good for. Something supernatural like this, Shirube might not be able to figure it out like always. However, like all things, there had to be a pattern.
Shirube stalked around Shibuya Crossing to pass the time, searching for any sign of life, to which his attempts fell futile. Shirube was slightly worried there’d be no one else in this empty world. Rest assured, Shirube was sure he’d hold his own by himself. He was alone in the regular world and did just fine, surely he could do the same here? A world without people was a world without lies. A brief, fleeting thought passed by as Shirube humored the idea being by himself wasn’t all that bad.
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The night sky blanketed over Shibuya, the darkness blanketing over Shirube, making his white button-up shirt look purple-ish. He looked around Shibuya crossing, and he was pretty sure that there was no one here. Shirube wasn’t sure whether to be reassured or concerned over it.
Electronic devices didn’t work, it seemed. Shirube tried to use his smartphone with no luck, and when he entered some sort of office, none of the computers would start up—perhaps the doing of an electromagnet pulse attack or something like that?—it could also explain the lack of power in all the buildings. Though, that would still bring up the question of what exactly caused it. Plus, that was no explanation for the fact that everyone in Tokyo was gone.
Did Shirube dimension hop or something? While Shirube never believed in the supernatural, he also never believed that it was possible for the entirety of Tokyo to be cleared out. It was obvious that the bounds of the regular world weren’t at play here—which would be inconvenient for Shirube, but all he needed to do was learn to adapt to this new world. He had the regular world as a baseline, and all he needed to do was shift his expectations of what could and couldn’t happen. It was like a child, interacting with their world to see what they could and couldn’t do. Even if he was still in the same world, it was clear it shifted in some way. Shirube just had to do that. It was a bit concerning, in a way, how easily he was taking this, but Shirube had always been one able to adapt quickly. Even if this came as a shock, Shirube simply needed to take it in stride and accept this new reality.
…Though there was the question of if this was even reality in the first place. This could be some really odd lucid dream. Though the possibility was unlikely, it never hurt to check the old fashioned way.
PINCH!
It was not a dream. Good to know. Shirube was now faced with the question of what to do next. There wasn’t really an objective for what to do next. He didn’t really need to find people, he just needed to survive. Food in supermarkets was going to spoil soon, and though he’s sure he’ll be able to last a while with non-perishables, there still wasn’t a clear course of action for him to take. What was he even meant to do in a world with an empty Tokyo? He supposed he could wait for help, surely the event of an entire city being cleared out would raise concern from surrounding cities, and probably some countries as well. But for all Shirube knew, the entirety of Japan was cleared out—maybe even the whole world! Shirube had to consider every possibility, and when he did, there still wasn’t an obvious answer for what he should do.
As he thought about this, he came to the realization that he was moving through the real world with no particular goal or purpose in mind. He went to school, did supplementary classes, played piano for a bit, studied, read, and ate dinner at home while nodding to his mother. He didn’t have a particular goal, besides maybe his dream of creating a new world through cyberterrorism, with all that existed in the world—but that was always a sidethought, seeing as he couldn’t think of a way to get a large sum of money without hurting anyone in the process. Besides, that goal was technically reached already. A world without people was a world without lies.
Shirube thought over his current predicament more. Before he got far with it, a bright, blinding light brought him out of his thoughts and took his attention. On a large, bright electronic billboard, a white screen shone. All that was on it was a few words and an arrow.
THIS WAY TO THE GAME ARENA
Game? What game? Shirube was now illuminated in a large ray of light. However, Shirube was somewhat confused on how the electronic billboard was able to function, considering no other electronics had been able to work. Was the electronic billboard an exception? If so, why was it? Shirube reminded himself that this world didn’t need to make sense—this wasn’t the first, and likely wouldn’t be the last contradictory thing of this world.
Shirube had just been previously wondering what course of action he should take here, and no matter how much he thought about it, he was sure he wasn’t going to come up with anything in particular. If he wanted to figure out what this world was, he'd have to play by the rules. It’s clear they want people to go to whatever this game arena is. Plus, wherever there’s a game…
There’s players.
There’s likely at least a few people in the game arena, while Shirube has never been one for human interaction, and even previously thought a world without other people wouldn’t be so bad, he didn’t have much of a choice. People disappeared, except for some. Perhaps Shirube could figure out the criteria of not disappearing, and from there figure out the truth behind this world.
With a silent affirmation, Shirube jogged in the direction the arrow was pointing him to. In the distance, lights shone, once again contradicting the rest of this world, seeing as all power had been cut off. Maybe the building had its own generator it was able to use for lights? Shirube passed by a few billboards, the same message appearing on them all. Shirube looked around for anything of note, anything he could gather. Observational skills had always been his forte.
Shirube could deduce the building with the lights was the same place the arrows were pointing him to. Perhaps these ‘game arenas’ were the only buildings able to have power? As Shirube took a particularly harsh turn, he tried to remember what the building with lights was. If memory serves, the building was…
Toei Sendagaya Apartment.
Reading the sign of the apartment, Shirube wordlessly walked up the stairs leading up to the lobby. This was the game arena, it seemed. A soft mechanical whirr was heard as he crossed the threshold into the lobby. It was like he was passing through an invisible barrier—but it made it clear to Shirube backing out if he had second thoughts wasn’t an option. As he took in the building, the harsh fluorescent lights were blinding in comparison to the darkness of Shibuya crossing,
In the lobby, 10 people stared at him with wary eyes. Shirube wasn’t sure what connection they all had—what exactly made it so they didn’t disappear alongside the rest of Tokyo. There was a combination of confused and indifferent faces, implying a mix of people who knew what was going on. Seeing as this was a ‘game’, Shirube didn’t doubt this game involved people turning on each other in some way. Chances were, the weak and inexperienced ones were the ones who would be weeded out first.
Shirube adjusted his poker face. He was immediately going to be at a disadvantage because he was obviously the youngest one here. Being the youngest on top of being inexperienced wasn’t exactly a pretty combo. He’d be the first one out if they needed to turn on each other for a game like this, so the course of action was to pretend like he was just as experienced as the rest of them.
All of them held a phone-like device, illuminating the features of each person. Shirube stored in the back of his mind these devices were able to work, despite the fact that his phone hadn’t been able to work. It seemed things involving these games were able to bypass the fact electronics weren’t functioning. It seemed like Shirube was the youngest one there by a large margin, him being thirteen, but Shirube looked a few years older than his age. People would likely assume he was 15, maybe even 16.
Not letting his features shift, he walked over to a table with the phone like devices lined up neatly on it. A sign on the table read ‘ONE EACH’. Shirube grabbed one and turned it on. A black loading screen lit up, a white bar at the bottom with text beneath it.
FACIAL RECOGNITION IN PROGRESS, PLEASE WAIT A MINUTE
A sound played, and an ID lit up on the screen before Shirube was able to read it. The default apps, photos, time, settings, and a camera were at the bottom. Only two other apps were on the phone, Game and Visa. Shirube could assume the ‘Game’ app related to whatever games they were playing, but what did ‘Visa’ mean? A visa was something that indicated someone was allowed to enter, leave, or stay in a country. Was this new world a ‘country’ of sorts they needed a visa for?
“Please wait until the game commences. There are currently 11 participants. One minute until registration closes.” A robotic announcer’s voice spoke, Shirube relaxed his features to keep up the appearance he knew what he was doing. He looked up to see the rest of the players chatting amongst themselves, and one particularly confused man attempting to inquire with others about something. He was likely new like Shirube was, only he showed it. The sound of footsteps approached, Shirube turned his head to find the source.
“There’s a lot of people here. Maybe one’s a doctor.” A man with blonde hair wearing a shirt with a beach-like pattern with another man with messy black hair walking by him murmured. They both immediately entered the lobby and took one of the phone-like devices. They didn’t seem to be new to this, seeing as they immediately knew what to do. They were looking for a doctor, but neither of them were notably injured, and it’d be stupid to enter a game with an injury. They likely had a friend they needed a doctor for. That implied these games were rigorous enough to cause severe injury.
Just a few moments later, the phones all chimed, followed by the announcer’s voice. “Registration has closed. There are a total of 13 participants. The game will now commence.” Shirube did a quick headcount to confirm the announcer’s words, 13 people were in fact in the lobby at the moment. He looked back down.
“E-Excuse me,” The confused man from before approached the two who were last to arrive, “What is this? I was brought here.” He chuckled nervously. Shirube looked down. Revealing he was inexperienced was an idiotic move on his part. It was clearly going to make him a target later down the line.
“And…I don’t know what’s going on.” Idiot.
“It’s a game.” The messy haired man responded. HIs companion interrupted him with a hushed ‘Shut up!’ followed with, ‘Newbies will slow us down.’
Shirube took note of the man. Interesting. He was the type to be completely open about the fact he was only playing for himself, and perhaps his close friends, like the man he came with. Shirube preferred adults like that, who were completely open about being selfish, people like those were easier to read. They were better than someone who tried to lull you into a false sense of security before inevitably stabbing you in the back. Everyone had a goal they were working towards, and the steps leading up to said goal varied for everyone. A person who was clear about only playing for themselves was better than a selfish person pretending to care for everyone.
The black-haired man did help, somewhat. While saying it was a game didn’t help in the grand scheme of things, it was still a bit of help. The only question now was if the man was stupidly good-natured, or if he was the manipulative type. Shirube was leaning towards the good-natured kind, Shirube wasn’t able to read any underlying tones in the man’s interaction because of how brief it was. But, if he were manipulating the confused guy, his comrade likely would’ve let him, seeing as the blonde man was playing a bit more selfishly. Speaking of, the blonde guy muttered something to the other.
“Difficulty, Five of Spades.” The announcer’s voice cut through the air. Shirube replayed the words in his head. Five of Spades…like the card? This was a ‘game’ of sorts, so perhaps the number signified difficulty. But Shirube wasn’t very sure on what the suit meant. A man looking down at the phone smirked, and a woman nearby began doing stretches.
“Five of Spades?” The blonde man from before questioned. Shirube could figure that he wasn’t the most experienced, then. He knew to grab the phones, but hasn’t been around long enough to know the specifics of the world.
“It’s gotta be physical.” A man with a fedora approached the pair, “Only the strong survive.” He extended his hand, “I’m Nitobe, nice to meet you.”
The smile, the seemingly unprompted help, Shirube got bad vibes from this guy almost immediately. It felt like he picked up on the two’s inexperience, and was taking advantage of it. He didn’t seem like a naive player offering help. Whatever info he has was likely to be useful, but he wasn’t going to get close. He’d help for a bit, but Shirube didn’t doubt a time would come where he’d stab the duo in the back.
“The suit means something?” The messy haired man asked.
“Exactly.” Nitobe chuckled, taking the other man’s hand without asking. “The suit of the playing card usually means what kind of game it’s going to be.”
“Clubs is a team battle. Diamonds is your wits. And as for Hearts…” Nitobe paused with a grin. “That’s the worst one.” He giggled.
“Why is that?”
“Huh?” Nitobe laughed. “Because you’re playing with people’s hearts then tear them apart.”
Ah, a game which required betrayal. Better keep those in mind. Clubs were team games, diamonds were mental games, Spades were physical games, and Heart games were games of manipulation. A spades game put Shirube at a disadvantage. He had always been incredibly average when it came to athletics, and he also was likely physically weaker than everyone else here, due to him being the youngest, almost guaranteeing he was the most physically weak one here. If this was a diamond game he’d have no worries—but it wasn’t. Shirube would have to figure something out.
“And the number?”
“Difficulty.” Nitobe paced back and forth, “The higher the number on the card, the harder it is.” Shirube was right in his assumption, then. A 5 was on the lower end of the scale, assuming that the face cards were a thing. If not, 5 was right in the middle. It wasn’t in the higher quartile either way, so Shirube would hopefully be able to get through the game.
Shirube scratched the fabric of his pants. It was still concerning how easily he took this all. He lacked context of what these games were. He has to play games now, and he wasn’t sure why. Plus, since everyone else here had experience playing these games, just playing these games wasn’t going to return the world to normal. Why were people even playing these games in the first place? What’s forcing them to keep playing? Well, Shirube figured he’d find out soon enough.
The phones chimed again, shifting Shirube’s attention back to the device.
“Game is Tag.” The robotic voice came back, “Rule. Avoid whoever is ‘it’”
The other contestants murmured, a chorus of ‘What?’s echoed through the lobby. A classic children's game, the only question was who was it. Would it be randomly selected when the game started? Or is someone separate from the group ‘it’?
“Clear condition. Discover and touch the symbol hidden in one of the building’s rooms within the time limit. You clear the game when this objective is fulfilled. Time limit, 20 minutes.”
All games had a penalty for losing, and this one was likely no different. Judging from the fact these games can cause injury based on the fact that the pair from earlier searching for a doctor, and the tense atmosphere, Shirube could assume the consequences were…
*After twenty minutes, the time bomb hidden in the building will explode.”
Yep. Death was the penalty. There was seemingly no reward from winning from what Shirube’s been told so far, like money or something of the sort. Which once again brings up the question, why do people play these games? There was high risk, death, with no reward. Shirube hadn’t been forcibly dragged here, a billboard pointed him here like a suggestion. There had to be a reward for winning other than not dying in the game, since the same could be achieved by simply not playing the game. Either there was a reward for playing the game, or a penalty for not.
Again, the phones chimed. The game will commence in two minutes. We got a head start it seemed. People scattered around as they tried to look for somewhere to go, climbing up the stairs. Shirube couldn’t just hide for 20 minutes, seeing as there was a symbol they needed to find. Blindly looking through each floor would take too long, There were seven stories and at least a dozen rooms per floor. But, if he were to oversee the complex, he’d likely be able to figure out where the symbol was. The tagger would know where the symbol was, probably, and they’d try to defend it. Shirube was good at reading people—if he found the pattern of the tagger’s actions then he’d be able to figure out the symbol’s location. He’d be able to figure out which room the symbol was in without blindly checking each room.
No one seemed to know if they were the tagger or not, so the tagger was either someone separate from the group or the tagger hasn’t been informed yet. Will we be told who the tagger is? Or will it be unknown to us? It wasn’t possible to figure out that part yet, so the best course of action would be to find a high vantage point that allowed him to see most of the building, so he could track the tagger’s movements.
Some stragglers were still in the lobby, one of which being the pair from before. The messy haired one was discussing with his friend. Shirube noticed they were looking at him, and the black haired one gestured to him. When he heard the man say, “He’s just a kid”, Shirube knew exactly what they were talking about.
Shirube looked over the apartment and figured the corner of the highest floor would be best for his purposes. He thought of the possibility of him being selected as it, but a bit of thinking led Shirube to the conclusion he likely wasn’t it. The rules only gave directions for the runners, they’d have a mix of both if a person in the group was a tagger. It would’ve said something like, ‘Clear Condition. For runners, find the symbol. For the tagger, eliminate all players or prevent them from finding the symbol.’ With the note that no one in the previous group would be the tagger, he ran up the staircase.
“Hey—kid!” The messy haired man called out, Shirube didn’t turn back and continued up the stairs. Shirube briefly saw the confused man from earlier looking around, unsure. Shirube paid him no mind—he was obviously naive. Naive people didn’t last long in the real world, and they certainly wouldn’t in a world of life and death.
When Shirube made it to the seventh floor, he found a white haired man with a hoodie already in the spot he had planned to go in. It seemed he had the same plan. Shirube didn’t want to walk next to the man, seeing as that would give the man a chance to kill him if he got close. Though, while the man would be able to see most of the complex, he wouldn’t be able to see the floors beneath him. He wouldn’t know which floor the tagger is on if the tagger is in the area beneath him. Even if the white-haired man could see the staircase, the tagger could jump down floors or climb up poles, Shirube saw a woman doing that earlier, which makes it so the floor the tagger is on is unknown to the white-haired man if the tagger is beneath him.
If Shirube is by the staircase, he could see beneath where the white-haired man stood, filling in the gap that he didn’t know. Shirube remembered seeing him in the lobby, meaning he wouldn’t be the tagger. Shirube could strike a deal with this man—Shirube fills in the gap that he can’t see, and he fills in the gap Shirube can’t see.
Shirube approached the man, who waved as he got closer. “Heya.” The man said. Shirube nodded in response. The man leaned against the railing, looking back to overlook the complex “What brings you here?”
Shirube glanced at the man, “I have a proposition.”
The white haired man raised an eyebrow in response, almost amused. “What would that be?” He faced Shirube again, “My name’s Chishiya, by the way.” Shirube glanced over the man. Shirube had no doubt this man was smart—judging by the fact he had the same idea as Shirube. This was the best passive approach to take, most likely. That made him both someone to be wary of, but also a valuable ally.
“Shirube.” Shirube responded, “I was planning on going by the stairwell—since it’ll allow me to overlook the complex. This is so I can track the movements of it and it could help me find the symbol.” Chishiya hummed in approval, Shirube continued on. “However, that makes it so I can’t see the floors beneath me, and neither can you. I could be the eyes in the area you cannot see, and vice versa.”
Chishiya grinned and nodded in understanding, “Clever.” Chishiya approved, “Though, how exactly will we communicate with each other? Bellowing out which floor the tagger is on isn’t a wise decision.”
“If the tagger is beneath the other person, hold up what number floor they’re on with your fingers.” Shirube continued to explain, “That’ll get the point across without needing to say it out loud.” Shirube looked up for approval.
“Smart.” Chishiya looked over the balcony again, scanning the floors. He nodded. “Alright. I’ll take you up on your deal.” Chishiya turned to Shirube, “Though, how will I know you’re not lying to me?”
Shirube tapped his foot. “If we work together to figure out the tagger’s movements, we should be able to find the symbol. If you tell the truth, I could find something out that you missed based on the tagger’s movements, and vice versa.” Shirube looked up to Chishiya. “We won’t gain anything if we don’t tell each other the truth.”
It was a simple trade, Shirube would gain something, and so would Chishiya. Plus, Chishiya might be able to point out something Shirube missed if Shirube tells him information. An exchange that benefitted both parties made Shirube less worried about being betrayed, seeing as Chishiya would be gaining something from telling the truth.
Chishiya thought it over for a moment, completely silent. He nodded in approval. “Alright then. I’ll take up your deal, Shirube.”
Shirube bowed his head in thanks, before running over by the stairwell like he said he would be. His eyes wandered up and down the floors beneath Chishiya, a few of the other players scattered across the floor—some panicked, some not. Shirube looked up to Chishiya who gave him a nod, Shirube gave him one back.
Their phones chimed, and the announcer’s robotic voice took over.
“The game will now commence.”