Saturday 14 June 1999.
Zaboru decided to take a walk alone that night. He had already finished all of his work for the day, and more importantly, he had spent quality time with his family at home. Because of that, a strange calm settled in his chest, and for some reason, he felt an urge to step outside by himself. It was still only 7:30 PM, the night young and alive, and the air felt surprisingly pleasant against his skin.
To avoid drawing attention, Zaboru wore a simple disguise—a wig, a fake mustache, a jacket, and a pair of transparent glasses. Together, they were enough to make him look like an ordinary passerby rather than the most recognizable man in the Japanese game industry. "Hehehe… it's been a while since I've done this," he muttered quietly to himself as he stepped out.
He inhaled deeply, letting the night air of 1999 fill his lungs. It still felt magical—cool, clean, and alive. Compared to the heavy, polluted air of the 2020s from his previous life, this era's night breeze felt almost nostalgic and fresh.
Zaboru continued walking leisurely, taking his time as he enjoyed the city at night. He wandered past several electronics shops, occasionally slowing down to glance through the windows. Inside, he could see people gathered around demo stations, laughing and playing ZAGE games together. The sight made him smile a little—it felt strangely comforting to see ordinary people enjoying the worlds he had helped create, completely unaware that their creator was passing by just outside.
After walking for a while, a familiar but unexpected aroma caught his attention. He stopped in his tracks and looked toward a small food stall. "Ho?" he murmured in surprise. "There's a shawarma shop in Japan?" Curious, he stepped inside and quickly noticed that the shop owners were Middle Eastern. That realization made him grin instantly—if they were running the place, then the shawarma had to be authentic.
Without hesitation, Zaboru ordered four shawarmas. He took one bite as soon as he stepped back outside, eating as he walked. The flavors were rich, warm, and perfectly spiced. "Yep… this is the real deal," he thought happily, thoroughly enjoying the food as he continued his quiet night stroll.
Zaboru leaned back on a nearby bench, continuing to eat his shawarma slowly while taking in the night scenery around him. The city felt alive yet calm, filled with soft streetlights and distant chatter. As he ate, his attention was drawn to a family of four not far from him—a mother, a father, and two small children, a daughter and a son who looked to be around five years old. The children were full of energy, running around happily and laughing without a care in the world.
Their mother, however, watched them closely, her body tense every time they strayed too far. She repeatedly called out to them, clearly afraid they might wander too close to the main road where cars passed by. Zaboru observed the scene quietly, a gentle smile forming on his face. There was something deeply warm and familiar about it—the mix of parental worry and childish innocence. Watching the family together stirred something in his chest, reminding him of his own small family back home, of Ayumi's watchful eyes and his children's carefree laughter.
But then, a sudden sense of unease crept over him. Almost instinctively, his Living Scan ability activated on its own, spreading outward far beyond his immediate surroundings. In that instant, fragments of information flooded his awareness. Among the passing traffic, he noticed a sports car moving erratically—swerving slightly, accelerating at the wrong moments, braking too late. The pattern was unmistakable. The driver was drunk.
Zaboru's heartbeat spiked as the scan pushed further, projecting trajectories and probabilities. And then he saw it. Clear as day. If nothing changed, that car would lose control within seconds—and its path would end directly where the little girl was running. The realization hit him like a punch to the chest. There was no time to shout, no time to warn anyone. In less than a heartbeat, Zaboru made a split-second decision.
He dashed across the crossroad in an instant, thankful that the traffic light had just turned red for the cars. His Enlightenment body responded immediately, pushing his speed far beyond normal human limits. To the pedestrians nearby, it looked as if he had vanished and reappeared in the same breath. Several people turned in shock, their eyes widening as they realized just how fast he was moving.
But even at that speed, the car was still faster.
Just as Zaboru had predicted, the out-of-control sports car surged forward toward the little girl. As he ran, a single, terrifying thought crossed his mind. I won't make it. At the same time, the girl's father finally realized something was terribly wrong. He shouted her name and tried to run, but panic slowed his steps—he was far too late.
The distance closed in a heartbeat. In that critical moment, Zaboru made one final decision. He leapt forward with everything he had, his body cutting through the air at an impossible angle and speed. Time seemed to slow as he reached the child. While still airborne, he twisted his body and struck her lightly at the side, redirecting her momentum. With precise force, he threw her upward and away—straight toward her father.
The father reacted purely on instinct, catching his daughter midair and stumbling backward as they collapsed safely onto the pavement. The car missed them completely.
But Zaboru had no such escape.
As he landed, he looked up and saw the car filling his entire vision. There was no time left. His final thought, sharp and unfiltered, flashed through his mind.
"Oh shit."
Then the car slammed into him with a deafening impact. Zaboru was sent flying through the air, his body crashing violently into the front of a nearby clothing store. Glass shattered instantly, scattering across the pavement as his body struck the wall and collapsed to the ground. The pain never fully registered—his vision blurred, his head struck hard, and warm blood began to trail down his face as he lost consciousness almost immediately.
The sports car screeched to a halt only moments later, its tires smoking as the driver slammed on the brakes in panic. What had been a quiet night transformed into pure chaos in seconds. People screamed, others shouted in shock, and several pedestrians rushed toward Zaboru without hesitation.
The first to reach him was the father—the same man whose daughter Zaboru had just saved. Trembling, he knelt beside Zaboru, calling for help as he pressed his hands against the bleeding wound, his voice breaking with panic and gratitude. Other pedestrians quickly followed, some trying to keep Zaboru conscious, others blocking the road.
Meanwhile, a few bystanders ran toward the driver's side of the car, shouting angrily and making sure the man couldn't escape. The stench of alcohol was unmistakable. There was no doubt anymore—the driver was drunk, and what had happened was no mere accident, but a tragedy narrowly prevented from becoming far worse.
Not long after, the sound of sirens cut through the night. An ambulance and several police cars arrived quickly, their flashing lights bathing the street in red and blue. Paramedics rushed to Zaboru's side without delay, carefully lifting him onto a stretcher and working frantically to stop the bleeding. As they moved him, his disguise—his wig and fake mustache—fell to the ground, revealing his face under the harsh streetlights.
For a brief moment, there was stunned silence.
Then panic and shock erupted at once. "Oh my God… that's Zaboru!" someone shouted. "It's really him! Zaboru got into an accident!" Voices overlapped as the realization spread through the crowd. People stared in disbelief, some covering their mouths, others pulling back in fear and awe.
Zaboru's head was badly injured, blood staining the stretcher as the paramedics worked as fast as they could. With urgency, they loaded him into the ambulance, the doors slamming shut as the sirens wailed once more, racing him toward the hospital while the crowd was left behind in stunned silence.
On the way to the hospital, Zaborn emerged from deep within Zaboru's Emulator Mind, his form flickering with instability. Panic overtook him almost instantly. "Oh shit! What do I do!? What do I do!?" he shouted, his voice echoing inside the mental space. "I can't interfere… I can't do anything directly!" For the first time in a long while, Zaborn felt genuinely helpless.
As the ambulance sped through the streets, Zaborn forced himself to think. His awareness stretched outward, tracking their route, until he realized they were heading toward one of the city's top hospitals. That knowledge brought only slight relief—Zaboru was still unconscious, and time was critical.
Without further hesitation, Zaborn made his decision. If he couldn't help Zaboru directly, then he had to act through someone who could hear him. In a flash, he burst free from the Emulator Mind, dashing through the air like a streak of light toward the Renkonan household. His destination was clear. Keiko was the only one capable of seeing and communicating with him clearly, and she needed to know everything—immediately.
Then, with a burst of urgency, Zaborn arrived at the Renkonan household. He rushed straight to Keiko, who was thankfully alone in the kitchen, quietly cooking and unaware that her world was about to turn upside down. The moment Zaborn delivered the news, her face drained of color. Her hands trembled, and for a split second, it looked as if she might collapse from shock—her heart nearly giving out from the sudden fear.
But Keiko was stronger than she appeared. Forcing herself to stay calm, she moved immediately. Without wasting a single second, she went to find her husband, Zanichi. She didn't even need to fully explain what had happened—whether through instinct or trust, Zanichi understood the gravity of the situation instantly. He didn't ask twice. He grabbed his coat, his movements sharp and efficient, and began preparing the car with practiced urgency.
At the same time, Ayumi noticed the sudden commotion in the house and immediately understood that something terrible had happened to her husband. The moment Zaboru's name was spoken in such a frantic tone, the color drained completely from her face. Her breath hitched, her chest tightening as fear surged through her, sharp and overwhelming. For a brief second, the world felt distant—but she didn't freeze.
Ayumi forced herself to stay upright, her mind snapping into focus. Panic threatened to swallow her, but she pushed it down with sheer willpower. Right now, there was only one thing that mattered: getting to Zaboru as fast as possible. Her hands trembled slightly, yet her movements remained steady, driven by urgency rather than despair.
Nearby, Sanika—Zaboru's younger sister—went pale as well. Confusion and panic flooded her expression as she began asking questions, her voice shaking as she looked between the adults. She clung to her mother, fear written clearly across her face. Keiko placed a firm but gentle hand on Sanika's shoulder, telling her not to panic, her calm voice acting as an anchor despite the chaos unfolding around them.
Without further delay, the entire Renkonan family moved as one. Fear, panic, and determination blended together into a single driving force. No one wasted words or time. As they rushed toward the hospital, every second felt unbearably heavy, each passing moment stretching endlessly as they raced to reach Zaboru.
To be continued .
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