The streets of Tokyo pulsed with life, neon lights flickering like stars against the
midnight sky. Laughter and chatter blended with the distant hum of traffic, painting the
city as restless as ever.
Amid the vibrant energy, a lone figure walked down the road, hands tucked into his
pockets. Murata Tadashi. A nobody. Just another face in the crowd.
"Life is so dull…" he mused, eyes trailing a couple ahead of him. They laughed,
completely absorbed in their own world, their happiness effortless.
"I wish I was more like them…"
A pang of envy tightened in his chest. He wanted to be special. To matter.
Then, a sudden outcry shattered the city's rhythm.
"HELP! SOMEONE… CATCH THAT BOY!"
Tadashi barely had time to react before chaos unfolded. A masked man in a sleek black
suit barreled toward him, a pistol glinting in his grip.
"MOVE!" the man barked.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Gunfire erupted, cutting through the night like thunder. Screams rang out. The world
blurred as Tadashi stumbled back, warmth spreading across his chest. His breath
hitched. Pain bloomed. The city lights dimmed. The sounds faded.
And then… nothing.
A void. Endless and infinite.
Tadashi's eyes flickered open, his body weightless, floating in an abyss of swirling
shadows. Confusion clawed at him. Wasn't I… just on the street?
Then, a voice deep, ancient, and absolute, shook the void itself.
"STATE YOUR NAME, MORTAL!"
A crushing pressure bore down on him. He trembled, struggling to find his voice.
"Ahhh… It's T–Tadashi… M-Murata Tadashi," he stammered.
The presence loomed closer.
"MURATA TADASHI… I WILL SPARE YOU THE DETAILS, BUT THE GODS
HAVE CHOSEN TO GRANT YOU A SECOND CHANCE."
Tadashi's breath hitched. His hands shot to his chest, his face—solid, real. But he had
just died. He knew he had.
A second chance?
"Wait… I'm dead? No way…" His voice quivered. Panic twisted into disbelief, then
frustration. So that's it? I lived a pointless life and died like some side character in a
crime scene?
The voice rumbled once more.
"YOUR DEATH WAS PITIFUL, YES. BUT IN RETURN, YOU SHALL BE REBORN
INTO ANOTHER WORLD, GIFTED WITH SPECIAL ABILITIES. SURVIVE FOR
SEVEN DAYS, AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE YOUR REWARD."
Tadashi's mind reeled. A new world? Abilities? A reward?
His heart pounded. He had wished for something, anything to make his life
meaningful. And now, fate had delivered him an opportunity wrapped in the unknown.
"I get to live again?"
A fire ignited in his eyes. A new life. A fresh start.
The abyss quivered as a figure emerged, a silhouette wreathed in cosmic energy. It
smirked.
"SO, MORTAL… DO YOU ACCEPT?"
Tadashi clenched his fists. This was it. His chance to be something more. His moment to
rise.
He exhaled, stepping forward. A brilliant light engulfed him, illuminating the path
ahead.
"Challenge accepted."
And with that, he plummeted toward the world below
Tadashi's eyes snapped open. A ceiling. White, textured, with the faint stain of an old
water leak in the corner. His ceiling.
He sat up abruptly, his breath catching in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribs.
Wasn't I just… dead?
His fingers curled into his shirt, pressing against his chest. No bullet wound. No pain.
Just his steady heartbeat.
"It must've been a dream," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "A really messed-up
dream."
But as he glanced around, unease crept over him. His desk was in the right place. His
books, his chair, the posters on the wall—everything looked like it should. But it felt
wrong. It was like walking into a replica of his life, almost perfect, yet slightly
distorted.
His phone lay on the bedside table. The time read 6:45 AM. He turned on the screen.
No missed calls, no messages. But the date was missing. Just a blank space where it
should have been.
A chill crawled down his spine.
"No way… Did I really… die?"
But the thought was too ridiculous to accept.
Tadashi shook his head, grabbed his school bag, and decided to push the unease aside.
"Hah… I need some fresh air. Maybe I just need a walk."
The streets outside were exactly as he remembered them. Tall buildings, electronic
billboards flashing with colorful advertisements, the distant chatter of pedestrians. But
something gnawed at him. A subtle, almost imperceptible shift in the atmosphere.
The Akasaka district. His usual route to school. His usual convenience store.
He walked inside and headed straight for the snack aisle, reaching for his usual pack of
mochi. But when he looked at the shelf, his stomach sank.
"Sold out? That never happens."
Sighing, he grabbed a bag of potato chips instead, flipping it over to check the price.
And then he froze.
100 Kuro.
"Kuro? What the hell is Kuro?"
He blinked, staring at the numbers. Maybe it was a printing error? He rubbed his eyes,
but the label didn't change.
He turned toward the counter. An older store clerk was restocking shelves nearby.
Tadashi approached cautiously.
"Excuse me, sir, but… I think there's a mistake on this price tag. Shouldn't it say
Yen?"
The man gave him a confused look. "Yen? What's that?"
Tadashi's blood ran cold.
"Huh? What do you mean, 'What's Yen'? The Japanese currency!"
The clerk's brow furrowed, and he shook his head. "Kid, I don't know what game
you're playing, but if you're not buying anything, don't waste my time."
Tadashi took a slow step back. His fingers clenched the bag of chips.
This wasn't Tokyo. It looked like Tokyo, but it wasn't.
Something was very, very wrong.
Tadashi leaves the shop with so many questions unanswered, feeling lost and confused,
he starts mumbling.
"For starters, WHAT'S KURO?! AND HOW DOES THAT GUY NOT KNOW YEN?!"
Tadashi wondered as he walked towards school.
"Anyway, better hurry up before I get late," Tadashi increasing his pace, rushes to
school but suddenly, slows down.
"Forget it... no one's gonna care if I'm late anyway," Tadashi concludes as he walks
toward the building with a sour face filling the air around him with darkness.