I died in epic fashion. At least, that's what I tried to convince myself of in those final seconds.
It all happened stupidly and quickly — like most decisions you end up regretting later.
A pedestrian crossing, the green light blinked to red, a girl in a school uniform buried in her phone as if it had an «immortality» button.
A truck flew out from the left. Not «drove up smoothly», not «braked» , but straight-up flew out — the drunk driver, judging by the trajectory, was trying to park in a parallel universe.
I didn't think. I just pushed her.
The impact of metal on ribs — as if someone tried to play a drum solo on my skeleton. A crunch. Pain.
My mouth filled with iron, my lungs caught fire, and the asphalt met my face with enthusiasm. The world spun and turned black.
My last thought wasn't «I saved a life» , but:
«Why did I even get involved? I could have just walked past…»
Darkness covered me instantly. No angels, no tunnels of light, no final montage of the best moments of my dismal office career.
Just — everything ended. Silence.
And then…
…a notification.
Right inside my head. Like a push from an app you didn't install, but it's somehow already here and demanding permissions.
[Sync System activated. Welcome, Host.]
[Status: Awakening complete.]
[Rank: —]
[Mana: 0/120 (will change after synchronization).]
[First free template draw available. Start? Y/N]
I blinked.
My head was splitting, like after a wild binge and three hours of sleep on a keyboard.
I was lying on a sagging mattress in a room the size of a closet.
Mold on the walls, a crack in the window, the smell of dampness and yesterday's ramen.Somewhere water was dripping — confidently and methodically, as if reminding me: «you are poor now»
.
I raised my hand — and froze.
The body… isn't mine.
Teenage, thin, hands with slender wrists, black hair, a generic mug from the category of «passable NPC #3». About seventeen years old. I raised my palm to my face — my fingers were trembling.
And along with that came someone else's memories. They wedged in like an ad in the middle of a favorite track.
Orphan. Tokyo. Welfare. Odd jobs wherever possible. Dreams of breaking into anything — as an extra, a filming assistant, a music video maker.
The romance of poverty, only without the romance.
I swallowed.
I feel sorry for the kid…
And then it hit me:
Holy shit, this is me now.
My heart pounded so hard I was seriously afraid: it's going to jump out right now and try to run away from here too.
I tried to get up and nearly fell. My muscles — cotton, as if the body had been underfed for a long time and hadn't believed it would have to live.
— Is this a dream? — I muttered aloud. The voice was higher than my old one. — A nightmare? Wake up, idiot…
I pinched my arm.
The pain was real.
Bad. This means I'm not sleeping, and the universe just decided to give me a new season.
I stared at the ceiling. My breathing was ragged. The notification hung somewhere «inside», like a tab that couldn't be closed.
Start? Y/N.
I could press "N" and try to pretend there was no system interface in my head.
I could go out into the street, find a job, sit quietly, not draw attention, live poorly but peacefully.
Or I could press "Y" and find out exactly how the universe decided to laugh at me.
I pressed "Y" mentally, because it seems I have an innate tendency to make bad choices.
[Starting draw process…]
[1% 2% 3% ... 100%]
[Template obtained: Gojo Satoru.]
[Synchronization: 5% (starting bonus).]
[Active abilities (limited by current synchronization):]
— Six Eyes (weak mode): perception of mana/energy ~50 m.
Side effect: headache.
— Infinity (up to 30 sec): weak protection against physical attacks. Requires concentration.
Overuse: nausea, loss of consciousness.
— Mana Pool: 120/120. Recovery is slow.
— Blue/Red/Purple: locked.
— Domain: locked.
[Warning: 5% — unstable. Exceeding limits → recoil.]
I froze.
— Gojo… — I exhaled.
This name was known even by those whose knowledge of anime is at the level of
«yeah, I've seen the memes».
Super strong, arrogant, beautiful, shamelessly confident.
A symbol of strength and a problem for everyone around him.
And the system is like, yeah sure here:«take it».
I got up and walked to the small mirror by the entrance. It was cloudy, but enough to see: the eyes — bright blue. Too bright. My hair seemed to have become lighter. The facial features… not entirely mine. But not a 100% copy either. As if I had been «adjusted» to the image so that recognizability was maximal, but the aesthetics — debatable.
[Notification: appearance will improve as synchronization percentage increases]
Inside something stirred unpleasantly. A desire to smile. Easily. Confidently. As if the world owed me.
What the hell? I didn't even tense my facial muscles.
I gritted my teeth.
— Stop — I said quietly to the reflection.
The system answered, of course, indifferently.
[Rule: Primary Template Lock.]
First template is fixed as the host's base shell. Disabling is impossible.
Subsequent templates may be activated temporarily.
User behavior is slightly influenced by the character template.
— Wonderful, — I whispered. — So now I walk around forever with a face that half of Japan (if not the whole world…) will recognize faster than their schedule for this week.
My stomach growled. The body's memories suggested: ate the day before yesterday. The stomach didn't object — it simply declared a strike.
Fine. Food. Money. Figure out where I ended up. And, if lucky, not die again today.
I went out into the street — and received a second slap from reality.
Tokyo. Recognizable… and wrong.
Huge billboards with idols — smiling as if the world were perfect. And right next to them — information screens where the world is clearly not perfect:
«C+ level Gate in Shinjuku — evacuation complete…»
«Hunter Association: E-rank recruitment. Salary + PR bonuses.»
«Incident on set: Gate opening during performance... no casualties.»
I hung there for a second.
— Well yeah, — I muttered. — I'm in DEEP SHIT.
Passersby walked past as if this was normal. Someone was discussing ranks, someone else — which agency it was more profitable to hire hunters from for artist protection.
The world lived on. I was superfluous in it, but the world wasn't going to stop to wait for me.
And another problem: people were squinting at my eyes.
— Blue… Is he a cosplayer? — some girl whispered to her friend. — Or an Awakened?
I pretended not to hear and walked into the nearest konbini. The instinct was simple: first food, then panic.
I took an onigiri and water, walked to the register.
The cashier was a man of about thirty with the face of a person who had seen everything and was tired of being surprised.
— Five hundred eighty yen, — he said.
I reached into my pockets.
Empty.
Once more.
Empty.
Panic rose instantly — and along with it rose something else: a desire to blurt out something arrogantly confident, as if I weren't a broke teenager in a foreign world, but the master of the situation.
The alien mannerism crawled out again.
— Oh, — I said aloud too lightly. — No money, — I croaked. — But… I'll open a cafe.
Come for free… the first hundred times. Consider it an investment.
Inside I groaned.
What am I spouting? I never talked like this. WHAT DAMN CAFE? No, well I always thought about how one could do business and not work oneself but just get money from it, but why the hell did I say cafe right now!?
The cashier blinked. Then squinted.
— What? — he asked dryly.
I felt that now I would either be thrown out or security would be called. And I was in a state of «no money and no plan». Genius.
I instinctively activated Infinity, because my brain decided: better magic than shame. Great choice, yeah. The air around me seemed to become dense. The cashier's hand hung in the air, as if it hit invisible glass.
And then it hit me. Nausea came up sharply, like an uppercut. My head swam, pain shot through my temples.
The cashier pulled his hand back, looked at me more closely.
— Hey… are you okay? — he asked not so indifferently anymore.
I wanted to say: «no, I'm dying from my own cheat code». But my mouth again decided otherwise — evenly, lazily, almost smiling with my voice:
— Of course, — I said. — I am… fine by default.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
The cashier sighed heavily, as if this was his personal tragedy.
— Fine, — he said. — Take it and go. I'm Tanaka.
And I don't want a sketchy cosplayer causing a scene during my shift… whatever that was.
I grabbed the onigiri and water and tumbled outside, leaned against the wall, trying to keep my stomach in place.
Didn't work.
[Usage: Infinity — 11 sec.]
[Mana: 58/120.]
[Recoil: severe nausea, headache.]
— Five percent, — I whispered, wiping my mouth with my sleeve. — This isn't… power, — I hissed. — This is self-torture. Hello System can I at least get a cheat code that isn't so useless?
[Sync System]: User wishes noted. Chance of rare templates dropping on the next sync card draw reduced by 99%.
— WHOA WHOA WHOA wait wait I was joking, heeeey is there a cancel button? UNDO UNDO UNDO!!
[Sync System]: User wishes noted.
— What the hell does that mean!?
I took a couple of sips of water. Air returned to my lungs a bit.
And then — a short flash. Six Eyes tried to switch on by themselves, as if the system decided: «and now let's watch a horror movie».
I saw an alleyway. The air torn like fabric. A rift — a Gate.
Out of it crawled a creature, spider-like, the size of a dog, joints not where they should be.
And next to it — a girl in a school uniform. Phone raised. Filming.
Naturally she's filming.
Filming.
— Seriously… — I whispered. — Do you guys have a mandatory survival test here: «film a monster close-up»?
The creature jumped.
I froze.
No. Don't get involved. You're not a hero. You already died once because of this.
But my legs moved on their own. Damned habit.
— Hey! Run! — I shouted.
She turned to me — and froze not from the monster, but from my face.
— …You… — she breathed out. — You're… you're Gojo?!
Inside me, everything clenched.
Don't answer. Don't confirm. Don't turn this into a fact.
But the "mannerism" crawled out again — arrogant, light, as if I weren't on the verge of fainting:
— Yeah, — I said aloud.
The monster hit the Infinity and hung a centimeter from her face. The girl gasped — and… didn't lower the phone.
— Oh god… — she whispered. — This is real… real…
— Real dangerous, — I croaked. — Run.
The creature beat against the invisible wall, hissed, tried to push through. I felt the mana leaking away, my head turning to cotton.
Had to finish this.
I snap fingers — not because it was "cool", but because my brain remembered the movement. Template. Mechanic. Imitation.
And something worked.
A tiny "Blue" — rather a pathetic vacuum than a technique — yanked the monster and slammed it into the wall.
It squealed, hit the wall with such force as if it had been hit by a 5-ton car, after which it flattened and died.
And I…
I collapsed to my knees.
And puked.
Right on the asphalt. Loudly. Indecently. In such a way that my entire «aura-image» died on the spot along with the remains of my dignity.
Because 5% synchronization — is when you're not «Gojo»", but a person trying to play the grand piano, having two broken arms and pride.
[Threat partially eliminated.]
[EXP: +80.]
[Synchronization: +0.3% → 5.3%.]
[Mana: 8/120.]
[Recoil: severe weakness (15 minutes).]
Silence hung — the kind when you realize that you just became someone's story "I saw it with my own eyes".
The girl stood nearby, with huge ruby-pink eyes looking at me like a combination of "legend" and "person who urgently needs an ambulance".
— Are… are you okay? — she asked normally now, without the fangirl squeal. And that was unexpectedly human.
I tried to get up. Succeeded on the second attempt.
— I'm as okay as a person can be who just… — I waved my hand at the asphalt.
— Alright. Don't film this.
She blinked. Then looked at the phone as if remembering for the first time that it was in her hands.
— I… sorry. I just… Umm it's a stream… — she faltered, and in the hesitation there was more sincerity than in all her "it's real" a second ago.
— I'm Marin. Marin Kitagawa. I… I didn't think I'd meet Satoru Gojo on the street like this…
— Marin, — I exhaled. — Go home. Now.
She looked at me for another second — as if she wanted to say something important. Then nodded. But she didn't put the phone away.
And I already understood how this would end.
I turned around and walked away, swaying. The world swam. My temples pounded. Inside — cold anger.
Not at Marin. Not at the monster. Not even at the truck.
At the fact that I got involved again.
At the fact that I again did "what is right".
At the fact that now I have the face of a person who will be recognized, filmed, and discussed.
— Damn, looks like I'm in even deeper shit than I thought…
This "mannerism" of this cursed template sometimes speaks for me, as if I am an actor, not a human.
I wanted to just live.
It seems this world considers this a funny joke.
I crawled on.
With a smile that makes me sick myself.