The night draped itself heavily over Kurayamiya, with neon signs flickering like fireflies on their last legs.
On a slanted rooftop, a man reclined with his arms behind his head, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. His eyes were half-closed, taking in the restless city that pulsed below. To him, the chaos was just background noise, a lullaby for those who thrived in darkness.
Suddenly, a sharp vibration buzzed against his wrist. He lifted his arm, glancing at the black band wrapped around it. The screen glowed with a single name.
Shuren?
A smirk crept onto his face, smoke curling past his lips. "Well, this is a surprise. Didn't expect you to be the one calling, Shuren." The screen flickered, and her image appeared, distorted by static. She skipped the pleasantries, raising her hand and giving him a lazy middle finger with a grin.
"I might've found someone who can actually beat your ass in a fight," she said flatly, her voice thick with smoke. The man straightened up, the cigarette slipping from his lips. His smirk vanished, replaced by a sharper, colder expression. "...The fuck did you just say?"Shuren leaned back against a wall on her side, exhaling a plume of smoke that twisted like a serpent. She didn't respond, just kept staring at him with that same smug look.
His jaw tightened. "You're joking. No one in this godforsaken city stands a chance. Don't mess with me."
Her smirk widened, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Guess you'll find out soon enough."
The call ended abruptly with a sharp click, leaving only static buzzing on his band.
The man on the rooftop clenched his fist until his knuckles cracked, the calm demeanor from earlier replaced by a brewing storm in his eyes. "Who the fuck could she be talking about…?"
Zemin dragged a hand down his face and let out a sharp breath. This is insane…
He pushed himself up from the table, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stepped out into the restless streets of Kurayamiya. Neon signs flickered above him, casting distorted glows on the cracked pavement. The city felt alive in a way that was almost threatening eyes lurking in the shadows, whispers carried by the night breeze.
His mind was a whirlwind.
The only way to survive is to act like Zemin.
That memory had resurfaced earlier, faint yet piercing, like a warning etched into his mind. From what he'd gathered, this body's previous owner wasn't just some harmless street dweller. He was a force to be reckoned with. Unpredictable. A man who thrived on blood and violence.
Toon clenched his fists. "If I want to make it here… I have to become that. I have to become him."
But as he walked, the certainty in his words began to waver. His eyes flitted across the unfamiliar streets, the twisting alleys, the endless glow of signs written in a language that felt foreign to him. He had no clue where the "other side of town" even was.
Damn… I don't even know this place. How the hell am I supposed to get across town?
He slowed his pace, scanning the crowd. Every person seemed sharper, tougher, more dangerous than the last. And here he was a stranger in someone else's skin, stumbling through a city that could sense weakness like blood in the water.
His jaw tightened. No. I can't let them see it. Not a single crack. Not a single mistake. I am Zemin now.
With that thought, he buried his fear deep down and kept moving, each step feeling heavier than the last.
He kept moving, his eyes darting around, his heart feeling heavy in his chest. Memories flashed through his mind, fragments he was trying to piece together into something coherent. But it was all just shadows.
Eventually, he found himself in a narrow alleyway. The stench of smoke and sweat hit him like a wall. A small crowd had gathered some leaned against the wall, puffing on cigarettes, while others were caught up in a scuffle over something he couldn't quite see.
Zemin felt a tightness in his chest. Every instinct told him to turn back, but he forced himself to keep his expression neutral, unreadable. Dangerous men could sense fear. If he wanted to survive, he had to don Zemin's mask.
He walked steadily, sticking to the edges, when suddenly, a man in the crowd began to convulse. His skin rippled, and he could hear bones cracking beneath the surface. In mere seconds, fur erupted all over his body, and his face contorted until it morphed into that of a tiger, though his clothes remained, stretched over the monstrous form.
The creature's eyes blazed with hunger and fury. "GIVE ME THE DRUGS!" he bellowed, his voice a guttural growl that still held a hint of humanity.
Zemin froze, ice coursing through his veins. His mind raced. What the hell was happening? A regular guy just… transformed into a tiger? What kind of madness was this?
The crowd didn't even seem surprised. They merely stepped back, as if this was an everyday occurrence. But for Zemin, this was the first taste of something far beyond his comprehension.