Chapter Text
It should have been the picture-perfect fresh start.
The one described in overrated coming of age movies, that could only be truly enjoyed by clueless teenagers and gullible adults, still anchored to the idea that a once in a million chance will come knocking at their door. The one everyone desires to have either when their life gets overwhelmingly dull, or when their bodies are hanging just on the verge of a precipice.
Looking back, it truly had all the elements: brand new town, brand new country even, the one they have always dreamed of, away from everyone and everything they once used to call “home”. A new job, and degree in languages that seemed, surprisingly, not to go to waste.
An exceptional second-rate bestseller, meant to last just a couple of years before its pages could gather dust, on a random shelf inside a childhood room left empty.
That flawlessly polished new beginning was to be their life.
Yet truth is harsh, reality even more so, and Ais was not in a colorful art studio hidden in a secret comfy nook in the alleys of Tokyo, but on eerily barren streets, that in the stillness of it all almost seemed to merge together. Crosswalks smeared and stretched on the empty roads, all looking the same, deserted, silent, motionless…dead.
It signaled the pitiful end of the fantasy they barely had the chance to even experience; the hellhole they had soon begun to call Borderlands.
Their vocal cords begged for a moment of rest, a usually concealed accent began to emerge along with the raspiness of their consumed voice as they desperately called for someone, anyone.
What happened? Is this a dream? Why can’t I wake up?
Where is everyone?
A flurry of questions drowned their brain in chaos, so much so that had they leaned into it and closed their eyes, they could’ve at least pretended to be back in the swirling jumble of Harajuku.
They traced their steps back like they had done thousands of times already. They woke up, made their bed, had breakfast, dressed up- no that was way too early. What did they do after the report came in? Right, the train, the shop…no, the backtracking traced the same path yet again, the quietness still made no logical sense.
They had been walking, a lit cigarette pressed between their lips with just enough force to slightly bend the filter, the smoke filling their lungs in a pleasurably masochistic vein. They had their bag with them, hanging heavily on their left shoulder with a weight that went beyond the physical plane. They glanced down; it was still there, full of pins and knickknacks they had stupidly grown far too attached to. They reluctantly opened it, but its content didn’t change: art supplies and sketch books, unfinished projects, an almost empty wallet, earbuds and a phone that really didn’t want to work. They had taken it in their hands once more, aggressively tapping against the blank unresponsive screen, barely daring to lift their head up whilst doing so, having picked up on the fact that no one would have shown themselves in front of them, neither to help them nor to just let their presence be known. They shoved it back in, unceremoniously. And as the first few minutes of solitude stretched into hours, they found the bile riding on the tortuous rollercoasters of their stomach quietly settling down. The cart no longer twisted and turned, nor did it take any more plummeting descents down in their gastric acids at the slightest of sounds, at the slightest of hopes. Their structure stopped trembling under its weight, and so did the bolts keeping their legs together, allowing them to tighten them just enough to fit back into their shanks. Even the dented tracks in their spine had the time to straighten. The ride had ultimately come to a stop, the funfair shutting down abruptly and a shrieking quiet sound of metal scraping against metal soon followed in their gut. All the panic they had felt in the pit of their chest smoldered away with each heavy drag of their cigarette and got slowly replaced by sticky grey fog clinging to their lungs, corroding the rails, bringing burning apathy along with its passage.
I must be dead, maybe I had a random cardiac arrest because of the smoke, maybe a vein in my brain randomly exploded, a car could have run me over, or maybe this is the end of the world. The only thing I’m sure of is this isn’t heaven. Only one place left for me to be in, then.
But nails dug into their palm, and along with the awareness of crescent moon shaped bruises forming on their skin came another wave of thoughts: can you even feel pain once you’re dead? In dreams you can’t, technically… But they had crossed out the option of being trapped in a nightmare about two hours earlier, no use going back to it now.
In hell though-
Their silent monologue was sharply interrupted. The funfair was back in motion, going round and round in the spur seconds, nausea set in fast.
A light.
Their feet ignored their ache, as well as the dizziness tying their guts in knots, frantically putting themselves one in front of the other in a rushed, desperate rhythm, just to reach that one crumb of hope. That fresh start. They picked up their pace, dashing in what was now bordering a run that neither heaven nor hell could’ve interrupted.
The light seemed to come from the center of Shibuya, not far from their location, a place they luckily knew how to get to. They had already scavenged every corner of Harajuku they had grown familiar with in their short months in Tokyo, so there was no harm in exploring that new area anyway. Even if, deep down, right next to the ticket office to their intestinal rollercoaster, they knew that staying away from that area had been more or less a conscious choice, as the idea of finding every corner of Shibuya desolate too, especially its core, would have probably sent them back into a panicked frenzy.
A justified worry, as they found the same exact emptiness of Takeshita Street and its surroundings everywhere. Ghosts of shopping centers and cafés littered the city at each turn as they slalomed between abandoned cars and the occasional stray promotional paper floating in the breeze.
And then, there it was.
A bright array of blinding colors, right in front of them, going hand in hand with a catchy cacophony of at least five different tunes.
Never in their life had they been so relieved to be blinded and deafened at the same time.
"And to think that for all this time, here is where people have been hiding-"
However, the pieces of this absurd jigsaw puzzle didn’t match, no matter how much they tried to rotate them and force them to fit with one another.
アドアーズ - Play! Game! Adores.
Adores Shibuya, a game center.
Saying they were perplexed didn't really cut it. There was just one place with running electricity, and it was a claw machine-arcade thing? Maybe it had all been a sort of weird event? But then again, can ALL the people in Harajuku, possibly all of Tokyo, disappear in a matter of seconds and reappear into Adores Shibuya of all places? Not to mention that it was all clearly suspicious. What better space to catch the attention of a wannabe artist in Japan than an arcade?
But even so did they really have any other option? Any other chance at turning the tables around? A curse slithered away from their tightly pressed lips.
Such was their fate, always ending up following the only possible course of action. The illusion of having a say in how their life went, had long since died, maybe even before that international flight ever took off.
A brand-new start.
“Bullshit.”
They spat out the burnt stump clinging to their lips, as they followed a red arrow up the stairs, one, two floors.
Just as they were intended to.
A stark white screen awaited them. Familiar Kana mixing with a single English word in a black bold font.
“Welcome Players
The [Game]
will commence shortly”
00:05:13
Destiny was clearly making a fool of them at this point.
A Game?
Confusion melted into frustration, teeth grinding as per their habitual nervous stim, amplifying the dull ache in their jaw, a hint of anger at last beginning to bubble under the surface.
Yet something in that lifeless writing rattled their bones, an uneasiness that was slowly creeping inside their chest and boiling in the same pot as their frustration.
Only then, diverting their eyes from the screen, had they noticed that they were not alone anymore.
The heat had turned down.
The crowd was certainly not impressive in numbers, or rather, it would’ve been unimpressive if they hadn’t been alone for an entire day. Even seeing a single person would’ve made them excited, a group, no matter how small, was a kind of improvement they were not inclined to pass by.
Only when they noticed their expression had their freshly found hope dampened even if slightly. The group was sizing them up with either confusion or an underlying sense of displeasure.
They tried not to think too much of it, they were accustomed to catch wandering stares from time to time, their look wasn’t exactly the most essential, especially since they were sporting bright red hair along with all their chains and piercings. Being a foreigner on top of all that too didn’t exactly help them…camouflaging in Japanese crowds.
Pupils planted back on the screen. A deep breath in, sharp and purposeful.
I have more pressuring matters on my hands…blindingly white ones
They mentally rehearsed their Japanese, just like they did each time they had to ask to pay with card at the supermarket or show their tickets on the train. They couldn’t let their poor language skills and social anxiety hinder them again, even if they could feel suddenly unfamiliar verbs tangling in their throat, lumping along long forgotten adjectives, causing them to suffocate.
Get your shit together, these people don’t like you already, don’t mess it up even more. You could have had some answers, or at least…some company.
What was the most sensible thing to say that didn’t include a bunch of stressed swear words in the mix?
Ugh Fuck- No, scratch that, not a great start-
“Sorry to bother you all… Is there a security measure simulation I missed? An event? I walked around for hours but the city appears to be empty. When night came, everything was turned off, streetlights and all, this is the only place I found that has electricity, so I guessed it also had people...I’m kind of lost, I guess. Can you help me, please?”
What had been vomited out was a sentence they felt was at least good enough to deserve an answer. Their voice had threatened to crack a couple times, sure, but going over it again, they used all the right particles, the polite form, and the right terms, plus their hypothesis sounded reasonable.
“A foreigner and a newbie? Fuck me, I really hope this isn’t a clubs.”
“Hey, don’t be so mean, we were just like them a couple games ago.”
“At least we can understand the language.”
Wow, ok. I guess not.
The asshole was a man in his forties, late thirties at best, and that was being generous. Nothing was particularly remarkable about him, just your average overworked jerk who made his work life everybody’s problem, at least judging his dark eyebags and hint of unkept beard pushing through course skin. The only thing that stood out was the heavy cologne he was wearing, carrying with it a not so veiled scent of smoke.
As if their senses hadn’t been overwhelmed enough.
The one beside him was a woman, younger even if not by much, wearing a sage green sundress stopping right at her scraped knees. Similar cuts were on her hands, and they guessed on her arms too even if they were hidden by a bunch of plasters. She looked similarly tired, and just as unremarkable, beside the fact that she must have clearly set foot inside a blender before coming to Adores. They were wearing matching bracelets, the unoriginal kind that clashed with both their stiles and could be found in any cheap section of a jewelry store. A couple, the unhappy kind, but they couldn’t imagine anyone being happy with Mr. generic asshole.
“I can understand you perfectly.”
Ok, maybe I over-shot it, still.
“Look, can you just tell me what the f-” they stopped the breaking dam of insults about to flow from their lips, told themselves to calm down, to breathe and not lose their temper already.
There were about fifteen people around, perhaps a bit more, math or estimated quantities had never been their forte, point is: they could’ve asked for help to anyone of the others fourteen-Ish souls left in that arcade, one normal person was bound to be there at the very least.
“Listen, I’m sorry, I just need to know what is going on, please. I wandered for hours, you are the first people I see in an otherwise empty Tokyo- and what is this “game?” did I stumble in a private event of sorts? If so, it really wasn’t my intention, I really am sorry just-”
“You apologize too much; I’d tell you to relax but I’d be lying to you. Here take this, the registrations are about to close down.”
In front of them stood a young woman, probably around their age, in a Gyaru fit that had immediately put them at ease. She was a flash of pink cow prints and fake leather, plus a thousands of shining gold accessories. Her hair was a bit messy and so was her makeup, but who were they to judge? Their mascara must have been a mess.
Well, good to know they were not the only one standing out in the bunch anyway.
In the midst of their empty thoughts, something sleek and flat had been handed to them. It wasn’t hard to realize that it could have only been a smartphone, even though the majority of it was hidden behind long colorful acrylics covered in animal prints and colorful rhinestones. Still, it took a couple of long, dragged seconds for them to actually bring the object into focus, the never-ending jingles echoing in the background didn’t exactly help with the brain fog either. A blank dark screen greeted back their gaze, they could finally see the streaks of black makeup running down their cheeks, melted by the hot panicked tears they had shed a couple hours prior.
I knew it.
They promptly wiped the black away with their wrists, they still wanted to look somewhat dignified, no matter the glares.
That is when Something came crushing down on them, didn’t she just say “registrations”? registration to what? Could’ve they misheard? Japanese terms were once again swarming around their head as they questioned everything they had ever learned for the umpteenth time.
“Sorry but I’m not interested in registering anywhere nor in buying anything, I cannot afford it.”
Face recognition in process, please wait for a moment.
Welcome player.
Please wait for the game to commence.
Currently, there are 18 participants in the game.
two minutes remaining until registration closes.
“Trust me, I wish I was a scam artist instead of being one of the poor motherfuckers stuck here.”
The gyaru talked, joked even, but their brain skimmed over her words. Their eyes were glued to that one functioning phone, while theirs laid dead where they had left it in the bag. That familiar nausea caught up to them in a violent surge, their intuition screaming from the depths of that silent hell they had walked around for the entire day, begging them to turn around and walk away.
“What have I just been registered to?”
The small smile that her joke put on her face fell like a crumbling landslide, inevitably fast.
Then a moment of hesitation passed, as if she was pondering on the language too.
“You saw the sign, it’s a Game, obviously-”
A beat stretched once more, long enough to become uncomfortable. What was taking her so long?
“A survival one. You either win or…you die.”
That answer should’ve made them laugh, it should’ve brought a smile back on the Gyaru’s face and maybe even make Mr. generic guy huff a chuckle too in spite of the absurdity of it all. Was this girl really trying to convince them they had just signed their death certificate off with a phone? And in a battle royale like package deal, nonetheless? They thought they had left the death game genre back with their teens, along with their cringy phases and pubescent acne. To live into one was just, crazy, almost as crazy as the entire city of Tokyo disappearing-
-Yet they didn’t laugh at all, they stared at the registration time nearing zero, almost shivering in their shoes, cold sweats running down their forehead.
It felt real, deep in their nerves, in the crevices of their skull and in their closing throat.
They had to leave. immediately.
The unnamed girl grabbed their wrist promptly, just as they turned around to run back down the stairs, away from that place and all the crazy people it must’ve contained.
“Look, I know I must sound mental right now, but you saw the state Tokyo is in. We all just found ourselves here too. And you cannot leave. Not anymore, you’ll get killed on the spot.”
“What do you mean?! Let me go, please!”
“For fucks sake this one is annoying.”
The asshole that so friendly greeted them into the venue approached the pair. Ais flinched as he grabbed one of the plushies hanging from their bag, tearing it off and throwing it towards the stair they came from. Before they could tell him off, maybe even squeeze in the mix of curses a shove or two, if not even a nicely assessed punch, a laser cut through the soft tan kitty, piercing a gaping hole through its face, leaving a pungent smell of burnt plastic in the air.
Ais, at that point, really felt like the only possible course of action was for them to free their stomach of the weight of the cheap lunch they had at their local konbini.
“Clear enough, Red? Now stop whining, it genuinely pisses me off, especially when I’m trying to get my head straight and try to not get killed.”
How pathetic must have they looked, kneeling on the dirty floor, looking at their ruined piece of merchandise in desperation. The initial stare down the various participants had reserved them morphed into defeated pity, and even the loud noise of the arcade felt no higher than a distant chirping of birds.
Maybe it was the utter state of dismay they had found themselves in, or the hope- no, the need for a camera to pop up out of nowhere and prove them that it was indeed just a huge joke, one in which they were made to be the sole, stupid, victim. But for the first time since they had went up those stairs, they had the courage to reciprocate the gaze of the other participants, to actively search for it, but at that point, they all began to glance away.
Time was ticking away, and what they saw was a resolute kind of dread tattooed onto their expressions, even if in some, one of the two emotions was more prominent than the other.
Normal people, all of them.
A couple of teenagers stood in the far corner of the room, no more than high schoolers, still in their uniforms, talking between them and reassuring one another, they seemed to be close friends.
Close by a muscular woman with a stern face was overlooking the venue, moving across the room, her gaze analytical. Another girl was following her around, biting her nails with tear-rimmed eyes, whispering small worries to the other. They must have known each other too.
Mr. generic asshole was at last ignoring them, too busy playing with his bracelet. The woman next to him, however, couldn’t divert her gaze from theirs. She silently muttered an apology under her breath before allowing herself to stop.
The scratch of a beard brought them to look at another middle-aged guy, wearing a lousy patterned shirt. He was silently playing around with the stirring wheel of a racing game, stealing glances at them every once in a while, curious, perhaps.
There was a salaryman with sweat stains under his armpits from the heat, a young man with an anime shirt they recognized, and a cute chubby girl with long braided hair. Then someone who stormed in, breath heavy, and immediately went for one of the new phones laid on a nearby table, minding his business with a practiced apathy that made them feel queasy, and brought them to move their gaze towards a group of three girls that kept their head low, set on their phones, waiting for something to change.
Normal people.
A cheerfully out of place melody echoed around the store, their blood froze in their veins.
Registration is now closed.
Game: Target █████
Difficulty: Eight of hearts
Rules: Choose a shooting station amongst the ones provided in the venue and strap your wrist to it to begin playing in the selected cabinet, you have an array of different firearms to choose from. Shooting down targets earns points, points grant various power-ups for the players. Every player has a total of 5 lives.
Clear condition: Survive until the time limit with one or more lives
Time limit: 3 rounds of 3 minutes each. Time starts as soon as all the participants are ready in their chosen cabinet.
Start.