The alarm blared faintly in Haruto's room, but he was already awake. His eyes had been fixed on the ceiling for a while, thoughts swirling like scattered film reels. Slowly, he sat up, groaning at the faint ache in his body from yesterday's battle.
He dressed in his uniform carefully, smoothing out the wrinkles on his shirt. Before heading out, he paused at his dresser. There it was—the framed photo of his parents. He brushed his fingers against the glass, staring at their faces.
"…I'll figure this out," he whispered. "Somehow."
He slipped on his shoes and left the house.
Meanwhile, Kenta was buzzing with his usual morning energy. He stuffed his textbooks and a bag of snacks into his school bag before bounding toward the front door.
"Heading out, Mom! Dad! See ya!"
"Don't forget your lunch!" his mother called from the kitchen.
"Already packed!" he shouted back with a grin, sprinting out.
Outside, Haruto stood waiting by the corner of his street. Kenta spotted him immediately, waving with his usual wide grin.
"Yo, Haru! Morning!"
Haruto gave a small nod. "Morning."
The two fell into step side by side, the usual rhythm of their mornings keeping things light.
"You look dead, man," Kenta teased, peeking at his friend's tired eyes. "Stayed up all night watching Kurosawa again?"
"…Something like that."
Kenta smirked. "One day you'll have to show me what's so magical about watching black and white dudes swing swords at each other."
Haruto gave him a flat look. "It's art, Kenta. Not… popcorn action."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, 'Film Club President.'"
Despite the jab, Haruto smirked faintly.
They had time to kill before school, so Kenta nudged Haruto. "Hey, wanna hit Starbucks? Heard they've got a new matcha frappuccino thing."
Haruto sighed. "You'll be bouncing off the walls again."
"And you'll have your boring black coffee. Balance."
The bell jingled as the two pushed open the café door. The smell of roasted beans filled the air. Students, office workers, and couples filled the seats, chatting quietly.
At the counter, Haruto ordered his usual. "Black drip. Medium."
Kenta grinned at the barista. "Grande matcha frappuccino, extra whip, extra sugar!"
"Do you want coffee with your sugar?" Haruto muttered.
Kenta elbowed him playfully. "Don't knock the green stuff till you try it."
They carried their drinks to a corner booth, setting down their bags.
"Man, Friday mornings hit different," Kenta said, taking a long slurp from his frappuccino. "Almost makes me feel like we're normal kids."
Haruto gave him a side glance. "…Almost."
Before Kenta could reply, a thunderous BOOM shattered the peace.
The café's front door blew inward, splinters of wood and glass scattering across the floor. Screams erupted as customers scrambled to escape.
From the smoke, figures emerged. Devils. Their bodies twisted and grotesque, eyes glowing like embers. Their skin peeled and shifted like torn pages from a cursed book.
Panic spread. Chairs toppled, coffee spilled, people tripped over each other trying to reach the exits.
But Haruto didn't move.
"Kenta. Stay back."
"H-Haru—!"
Haruto stepped forward, clutching the Projector Belt at his waist. He snapped it on, the familiar hum sending shivers through his body. The Seven Samurai DVD gleamed in his hand.
He slid it into the slot.
Click. Whirrr.
"Charge Up!"
Light exploded around him as the armor enveloped his body, celluloid reels wrapping him into the monochrome samurai form. His visor blazed crimson.
The Devils hissed.
Haruto drew his katana. "Let's see if you bleed like the rest."
He charged, blade flashing. The first Devil fell instantly, its torso split in half. Black ichor sprayed across the café floor, staining the tiles. Another lunged—Haruto spun and severed its head clean off, the body collapsing with a wet thud.
But there were too many. A swarm pressed in, claws slashing. Haruto parried and cut down two more, but his breathing grew ragged. He slammed his hand against the projector.
Click.
A new projection formed: a naginata shimmering in the air. Haruto snatched it, spinning the long polearm with practiced grace.
He swept the blade across the café, carving through the crowd of Devils. Limbs flew, black ink spraying across the walls, dripping down like grotesque graffiti. The air reeked of copper and rot.
Then—
A shadow loomed.
The Katana Devil.
It stepped forward, its body lean and wiry, its face a grotesque mask with a jagged grin. A massive blade jutted from its arm, jagged and stained with blood.
With a shriek, it dashed forward—faster than the others. Haruto barely raised his naginata before the Devil slashed.
SHRRRK!
Pain exploded across Haruto's chest as the blade cut deep, sparks flying from his armor. He was thrown back into a table, the wood shattering under his weight.
"HARU!" Kenta screamed, rushing to his side.
Blood trickled down beneath the armor. Haruto groaned, clutching his wound. "Damn it… I can't…"
The Devils closed in, ready to finish them.
Then—gunfire tore through the air.
BANG BANG BANG!
Devils collapsed, riddled with holes. Smoke filled the café as a figure strode in.
A new Masked Charger.
His armor was sleek and tactical, patterned like a counter-terrorist operator. Holsters, pouches, Kevlar plating—his visor glowed bright blue.
In his hands: an AK-47.
He sprayed bullets with precision, each shot dropping a Devil. Then, without looking back, he tossed something toward Kenta.
"Catch!"
Kenta fumbled, nearly dropping it. A different Projector Belt. Sleeker, heavier—like a console.
"Wha—what's this?!"
The Charger didn't look back, reloading his rifle. "Your ticket to survival, kid. Use it, or die."
The Katana Devil roared and dashed at him, blade raised.
The Charger smirked beneath his helmet. "Not today."
He tapped a glowing screen on his belt. The AK vanished, replaced with twin blades wreathed in blue light. His armor shifted, glowing with arcane lines. His visor sharpened.
"Loadout Change: Devil May Cry."
The Charger's body surged with power, a demonic aura wrapping around him like wings. His form resembled a Devil Trigger, sleek and regal, like Vergil himself.
He raised his blade and taunted, "You want a sword fight? Come and get it."
The Katana Devil screeched and clashed blades with him, sparks flying as metal struck metal. Their duel shook the café, tables splitting, walls cracking.
Kenta turned to Haruto, panic on his face. "Haru! We can't just sit here! That guy's fighting alone!"
Haruto coughed, blood on his lips. "…Then help him."
Kenta looked at the belt in his hands. It was different from Haruto's—its slot looked like a scanner.
"What the hell am I supposed to do with—"
His eyes fell on the ground. A torn manga lay open, pages stained by black ichor.
Chainsaw Man.
He hesitated only a moment before snatching it up. "Screw it!"
He swiped the book across the scanner.
The belt flared to life. Pages tore free from the manga, spinning around him. A projection burst forth: Pochita. The tiny chainsaw devil revved its blade, charging through the crowd of monsters. Black ichor sprayed as pages shredded the Devils apart.
The projection shattered, and Pochita leapt onto Kenta's chest, morphing into armor. A chainsaw sprouted from his head, his arms, his chest—mechanical, brutal, alive.
Kenta screamed as the transformation completed, his visor igniting with fiery orange.
The chainsaws roared.
"LET'S GO!!"
He charged into the Devils, blades whirring. Flesh and ink tore apart. He hacked through one Devil's torso, splitting it in two, then spun and sawed off another's arm. Blood splattered across his armor, hot and sticky. He roared, slashing, cutting, tearing.
The café floor ran slick with gore, bodies falling like paper cuttings.
Meanwhile, the Charger fought the Katana Devil, trading blow for blow. But the Devil's speed was monstrous—its blade sliced across the Charger's armor, drawing sparks and blood. The Charger stumbled back, whispering hoarsely, "Judgement… Cu—"
Before he could finish, Kenta barreled in.
"NOT TODAY!"
His chainsaw roared as he kicked the Devil away. The Katana Devil staggered back, screeching.
The duel shifted. The Devil lunged again, blades clashing against Kenta's spinning saws. Sparks and ichor exploded with every strike, their weapons screeching like tortured metal.
Finally, the Devil faltered, stumbling back. Kenta seized his chance.
He swiped the manga across his belt again.
"FINAL CUT: PAGE RIP!"
His chainsaws roared wildly, spinning faster than ever. He leapt forward, carving the Devil apart in a blur of blades. The Katana Devil's body shredded into slices, black ichor spraying across the café in violent streaks before its form dissolved into torn pages fluttering to the ground.
The room fell silent.
When Kenta turned back, the mysterious Charger was gone. Vanished.
"…Who the hell was that guy?" Haruto muttered weakly.
Kenta rushed to his side, kneeling. "Forget him for now, you're bleeding like crazy. Come on, we gotta move."
He helped Haruto up, both of them uncharging their belts. The armor dissolved, leaving them in their school uniforms again. Kenta grabbed a roll of bandages from the café's first-aid box and wrapped Haruto's wound tightly.
"Don't pass out on me, dude. We still gotta get to class."
Haruto gave him a tired glare. "…We almost died and you're worried about class?"
Kenta smirked, helping him limp toward the exit. "Well, I don't wanna fail math on top of fighting movie monsters."
The two stumbled into the daylight, school still waiting for them—yet both knowing their lives had already changed forever.
The bell rang at last, and Haruto and Kenta slumped back into their seats with sighs of relief. The chaotic morning at the café still pulsed in their memories, but now the classroom felt like a strange sanctuary—ordinary, normal, calm.
Haruto absentmindedly tapped his desk until a soft voice called out:
"Um… Haruto-kun."
He turned. Airi stood beside his desk, her ponytail swaying gently. She held out a thick textbook, avoiding his eyes.
"You… you forgot your book yesterday." Her cheeks turned pink as she thrust it into his hands quickly. "S-so, here."
Before he could respond, she bolted back to her group of friends, giggling nervously as they whispered around her.
Haruto blinked, stunned, his hand frozen around the book.
Beside him, Kenta grinned like a wolf. "Oooh, Haruto, you player. Already getting gifts from the prettiest girl in class."
"Sh-shut up, it's just a book," Haruto muttered, looking away. His ears betrayed him though, burning red.
"Oh yeah? Then why's your face the same color as my favorite ramen?" Kenta leaned in closer, smirking. "Haru-tan, are you blushing?"
"Call me that again and I'll kill you."
Kenta snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Tough guy. You looked like you were about to faint when she talked to you."
Haruto glare at him, but before he could retort, the door slid open. Their teacher walked in.
"Alright, everyone, settle down."
It was strange—he looked a little pale, his steps heavier than usual. His shirt collar was wrinkled, and there was a faint tear at his sleeve. Haruto narrowed his eyes. He recognized that look. The way someone looked after a battle.
Still, the teacher carried on as if nothing had happened, scrawling formulas across the board. The lesson passed without incident, and soon the students spilled into the halls.
Haruto and Kenta walked side by side down the corridor, the noise of other students fading. They had just reached the exit when—
"Haruto. Kenta."
Their teacher stood there, blocking the way, his expression unreadable.
"You two…" His eyes sharpened. "…are Masked Chargers, aren't you?"
The blood drained from Haruto's face. Kenta froze, his bag slipping slightly from his shoulder.
"H-how do you know?" Kenta stammered.
The man smiled faintly, almost wryly. "Because I was the one fighting beside you earlier… using the Console Belt."
Haruto's eyes widened. "That was you?"
He nodded. "And that Scanner Belt I gave you, Kenta—that was one of my prototypes. I never thought I'd hand it to a high schooler, but you handled yourself… surprisingly well."
Kenta scratched his head, sheepish. "Uh… thanks?"
"Come with me. Both of you. There's something you need to see."
They followed him through backstreets, past shuttered shops and empty alleys, until they reached an abandoned building at the edge of town. Dust and vines covered the exterior, but once the teacher pushed open the heavy metal door, the inside told another story.
Lights flickered on one by one, revealing gleaming metal walls, rows of monitors, workbenches filled with half-finished devices, and a glowing chamber in the corner humming with energy.
"Whoa…" Kenta breathed. "It's like… a superhero base straight out of a comic book."
From the far end, a figure waved. A girl with golden-blonde hair tied in loose waves, dressed neatly in a white blouse and black skirt. Her smile was warm, almost too warm.
"Welcome," she said sweetly. "It's nice to finally meet you both."
Kenta blinked. "Uh… who's that?"
The teacher stepped forward. "This is Elyra. She's… a robot. Built by my grandmother long before I was born. She's been in my family for decades, assisting each generation with their work. In a way, I suppose that makes her my aunt… though I don't really dwell on the details."
"A robot?!" Kenta's eyes bulged. He leaned in, staring. "She looks way too real… like… like she could go to our school and people would actually…" He stopped, blushing faintly. "…actually think she's cute."
Haruto smacked the back of his head. "Stop drooling."
"I wasn't drooling! I was just… appreciating craftsmanship!"
Elyra giggled politely, covering her mouth with one hand. "You're funny. Don't worry, I'm used to this reaction."
"Used to it?!" Kenta muttered, flustered.
Meanwhile, Haruto's eyes caught something in a display case across the lab. "Sensei… what's this?"
It was another belt—sleek, metallic, and heavier than theirs. Instead of slots for discs or books, it had shifting gears and ports shaped like wheels.
"That," the teacher said, walking over, "is the Vehicle Belt. Designed for a user who can adapt to situations requiring speed or mobility. Cars, bikes, aircraft… anything that moves can be channeled through it."
"And who's supposed to use it?" Haruto asked.
The teacher gestured toward Elyra. "It was made for her. She's not just support—she can fight too, when necessary."
Elyra tilted her head, smiling faintly. "Though I hope I won't have to. I'd rather watch over you both."
Kenta gave her a look somewhere between awe and disbelief. "Okay, seriously, if she suddenly pulls up in a Ferrari, I'm quitting school."
Haruto ignored him, eyes narrowing. "So you brought us here to train us?"
The teacher nodded. "Exactly. Elyra will show you the training room. From now on, you two can come here whenever you need to improve your skills. But for tonight…" He checked the clock. "It's getting late. You should head home before dawn. There will be more fights soon—make no mistake. But for now, rest."
Elyra stepped forward and opened a side door, revealing a vast chamber glowing with holographic grids. "Whenever you're ready, we can begin."
Haruto and Kenta exchanged a look—half nerves, half determination.
"Guess we're in this for real now," Kenta muttered.
"Yeah," Haruto said quietly, gripping his bag tighter. "No turning back."
The two followed the teacher out, the door hissing shut behind them, leaving Elyra watching with her strange, timeless smile.
The night air was thick with the faint hum of repair trucks and flashing red-and-blue lights. Haruto and Kenta slowed their pace as they passed the familiar Starbucks.
Yellow caution tape stretched across the front like a scar, police officers waving curious pedestrians away. The shattered door was already being replaced, glass crunching underfoot.
Kenta sighed heavily. "Man… all I wanted was a Frappuccino, not a free horror show."
Haruto shoved his hands in his pockets. "We're lucky no one saw us transform back there. Otherwise, we'd be the ones behind the tape."
"Yeah, but I still haven't had my caffeine…" Kenta muttered under his breath.
They turned the corner, the quiet of the street settling in—when suddenly, a distorted voice called out.
"CHAAAARGE UP!"
Both froze. A figure stood in the middle of the road. At first glance, it looked ridiculous—bright colors, round cartoonish shapes, a goofy grin painted across its mask. But then the details sank in. Its form resembled a twisted parody of Adventure Time—its limbs rubbery, a jagged visor for eyes, and behind it floated several floating cartoon blades, twitching like they had minds of their own.
Kenta's jaw dropped. "Is that… a joke?"
The Cartoon Masked Charger tilted its head. Then, with no warning, it launched forward, blades spinning.
"Move!" Haruto shoved Kenta aside as steel whistled past.
The two rolled across the asphalt, barely avoiding a slash that embedded into the pavement. Sparks flew as the blades pulled free, floating back to orbit around the cartoon Charger.
Kenta scrambled up, fumbling at his belt. "How do Kamen Riders even get used to this?!"
"We're not Kamen Riders, idiot—now transform!" Haruto barked.
Both snapped their belts around their waists.
"Projector—Set!"
"Scanner—Set!"
Discs and manga flashed, winding up with a mechanical whirr.
"CHARGE UP!"
Light and images burst around them—Haruto in his black-and-white Seven Samurai armor, katana gleaming; Kenta in his brutal Chainsaw Man hybrid, the saw already revving with a wet snarl.
The cartoon Charger clapped its hands like a mockery of applause. "Heehee… PLAYTIME!"
The blades shot forward.
Haruto intercepted with his katana, sparks flying, while Kenta roared and swung his chainsaw through one of the floating blades. Metal shrieked as it split in two, spraying sparks and ink-like blood that splattered across the pavement.
Kenta grimaced. "Ugh! Is that… ink or blood?!"
Haruto slashed through another, his blade dripping black fluid. "Don't think about it. Just keep cutting!"
They fought side by side, Haruto precise, Kenta brutal. Each slash sent gore splattering across the street—black fluids mixing with red sparks, the cartoon Charger giggling the entire time.
"Too slow! Too slooow!" it mocked, stretching its limbs unnaturally and swinging a blade like a whip.
The whip lashed across Haruto's chestplate, sparks erupting as he stumbled back. He hissed, clutching his wound.
"Haruto!" Kenta growled, revving his chainsaw louder. "Alright, you wanna play rough?!"
He lunged, sawing through two blades midair, ichor spraying onto his armor. The noise was deafening—VRRRRRR-CHUNK! VRRRR-CHUNK!—as blood and oil-like fluid splattered across the walls.
The cartoon Charger just laughed louder, bending backward unnaturally. Then it suddenly slammed both hands into the ground. Dozens of cartoon arms sprouted from the asphalt, grabbing Haruto and Kenta by the ankles.
"What the hell—?!" Kenta shouted, thrashing.
"They're dragging us under!" Haruto gritted his teeth, slashing desperately. Each arm severed oozed sticky black ichor that smelled like burnt rubber.
"Man, I signed up for high school, not Silent Hill!" Kenta groaned, yanking his chainsaw free and cutting down arms in a frenzy. Flesh and tar splattered everywhere, painting the road in gore.
But the blades returned, slashing them across their armor, sparks flying. Haruto's knees buckled. Kenta staggered back, bleeding from a gash on his shoulder.
"Not good…" Haruto muttered. "We're losing…"
The cartoon Charger raised its floating blades, preparing for the final strike.
"Game… OVER!" it crooned, blades circling.
Suddenly—
BOOM!
A deafening blast shook the street. Smoke and fire consumed the cartoon Charger as the floating blades scattered into the air.
Haruto and Kenta shielded their faces, coughing as the smoke cleared. The cartoon Charger was gone—dispersed like ash.
Both turned slowly.
Behind them stood a new figure—a Masked Charger in a tank-like form. Heavy, plated armor clanked with every step, a massive cannon mounted to its shoulder still smoking from the shot.
The rider reached to its belt, pulling out a thick iron key. With a twist, the tank armor folded away, dispersing into faint light.
It was Elyra.
She brushed her blonde hair back, her sweet smile unchanged. "I sensed your belts activating. I came to analyze your combat data… but it looks like you need a lot more training than I thought."
Kenta groaned. "You think? That thing was like Cartoon Network from hell."
Elyra giggled lightly, almost amused by his complaint. "Tomorrow, you'll report to the lab. We'll begin intensive training."
She gave them a polite wave. "Rest well, boys. Goodnight."
And just like that, she turned, walking back into the shadows.
Haruto uncharged, the armor vanishing with a hiss. He swayed on his feet, sweat dripping.
Kenta groaned, also uncharging. "I'm never watching cartoons again…"
The two stumbled the rest of the way home, exhausted.
"See you tomorrow," Haruto muttered, barely lifting his hand as he turned toward his house.
"Yeah, yeah. Try not to dream about Airi," Kenta smirked weakly.
"Shut up," Haruto grumbled, disappearing into his door.
He collapsed onto the couch the moment he stepped inside, asleep before he even knew it.
Meanwhile, Kenta trudged through his front door. His mom peeked from the kitchen.
"Kenta, you look exhausted. What happened?"
"Uh… extra class," he lied, waving her off. "Don't worry about it."
He dragged himself into his room, flopped on his bed—then pulled out his well-worn copy of Naruto with a tired grin.
"Just… one chapter… then sleep," he whispered, cracking it open.
Within minutes, his chainsaw dreams mingled with ninja battles as he drifted off, the comic still open in his hand.
The hidden lab hummed with the sound of machines whirring and screens flickering. The smell of oil and burnt circuits hung in the air as sparks jumped from a welding tool.
The teacher stood hunched over a workbench, goggles glinting in the pale blue light of holographic schematics. He didn't even glance up as Elyra stepped inside, her footsteps light and steady.
She carried a tray of samples—black ichor from the devils mixed with shards of broken film reel. Her smile was gone, replaced with a rare hint of seriousness.
"Sensei," she said softly, setting the tray down. "He's back."
The welding torch hissed off. The teacher didn't look at her, just muttered: "Who?"
Elyra picked up one of the shards, holding it to the light as it flickered unnaturally—like a cartoon frame stuck between moments.
"The one who stole your Cartoon Belt."
The teacher froze for a moment, then sighed. He set his tool down and pulled off his goggles, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Tch. Of course. Should've known."
He finally turned, staring at the shard in Elyra's hand. "How the hell did he even break in back then…?" His voice was low, bitter. "That belt should've been impossible to take."
Elyra's eyes flickered faintly, processing data streams. She dipped her finger into the ichor sample, scanning it with a faint hum. "The readings confirm it. The signature is unmistakable. Cartoon powers are… troublesome."
The teacher leaned back in his chair, lighting a cigarette he never smoked, just letting it burn between his fingers. "Troublesome doesn't begin to cover it. They can barely die. Kids watch them—children's logic makes them immortal. They can stretch, bend, shatter, and pop back together like nothing happened. No blood, no pain, no consequence."
He exhaled sharply, smoke curling in the air. "And that makes them dangerous. Because we're not in a children's world anymore."
Elyra set the shard back on the tray, her voice flat but edged. "If he keeps using it… then next time, even the boys won't stand a chance."
The teacher stared at the schematics glowing on his monitor—a new belt design, half-complete. His expression hardened.
"Then we make sure they're ready. The next fight won't be against devils or nameless monsters." He crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, the ember snuffed out. "It'll be against him."
The teacher adjusted his glasses, typing the final lines of code into a console. On the screen, a new transformation sequence flickered to life—lines of data wrapping around a skeletal blueprint of another Belt. The hum of the machines filled the silence, steady and sharp.
"Call the boys in tomorrow," he said suddenly.
Elyra tilted her head, golden hair catching the pale light. "For training?"
He shook his head, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "Not just training. I think… my new invention is finally complete."
Her eyes brightened. "Another Belt?"
He nodded once. "And we'll need someone new to wield it. Another member for our team."
Elyra leaned forward eagerly, her voice laced with curiosity. "Who?"
The teacher turned back to his monitors, but his smirk widened just slightly. "Let's just say… she's the smartest in my class."
There was a beat of silence—then Elyra's composure broke. She clasped her hands together, her whole body practically bouncing as her face lit up with a pure, radiant smile.
"Wait, wait, wait—does that mean… my best buddy will join us?!" Her voice cracked with delight, her tone rising like a kid unwrapping a gift.
The teacher finally glanced at her, amused at her excitement. "Yup. You don't need to hide things from her anymore."
"YEEEEES!" Elyra spun around in the middle of the lab, her movements uncharacteristically clumsy for someone usually so graceful. She even raised her hands above her head, humming a little celebratory tune as she twirled. "She's going to fight with us! She's going to fight with us!"
The teacher chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "Robots and their quirks…"
Elyra didn't care—she was too busy hopping in place, unable to stop smiling. The lab's sterile walls seemed a little warmer with her glee echoing inside.
Tomorrow, the team would change.