April began with cherry blossoms flaring in the sun, stippling the concrete in pale patterns. Morning made the classroom cold, but it held its own warmth. Petals clung to the window as Tang-Ji paced the quiet corridor, mind drifting back to last night's game-dream.
The name 'Kirizkuuk' tugged at her as she hesitated by the music room. From behind the old door, a smooth melody seeped through.
She slid the cold doors aside. Joy rose unbidden—the tune was an old soundtrack she'd heard a thousand times.
The door creaked; the melody breathed through the small room. A boy sat on a black stool, fingertips grazing the grand piano, each note shaped with an infatuated touch.
He stroked the keys; a tender morning breeze slipped in, carrying a fresh, nostalgic scent.
"Senpai—the music you played," she began. "Wasn't it the first soundtrack to be produced, back when V.I.R.M. was just starting to build attention for one of their most successful projects?"
"Yes, Dusk Befall; that was the first song that played when they started the project Dusk. After just a few weeks on the radio, I honestly didn't believe anybody would remember that harsh melody."
"Harsh? Just what are you trying to say? You were giving it such a sweet tune."
"The original has bite. It's a thrilling piece—pushes low and high intensities into each other. It sounded like the singer was in real agony."
Kazami continued, running a hand through his hair as he glanced at the piano before him. "I believe it all depends on who's expressing the piece; for me, whenever I evoke this piece, it seems like the conflict dwells latent in my heart and wants to come out."
His fingers hovered over the keys, but he didn't press down. Instead, he let them linger, afraid to disturb the peace.
"It's trying to hold back a river with a sieve—whatever you do, the feelings find a way through." His voice stayed even, but the piano's gloss showed a crease in his brow.
A draft stirred the sheet music on the stand, causing the notes to tremble slightly.
He exhaled, watching the pages flutter before settling again.
"It'd be easier to carry feelings if they were as straightforward as musical notes."
Kazami's words drifted into the stillness, but Tang-Ji wasn't listening—at least, not entirely. She watched him, the way his fingers hovered over the keys yet refused to press down, the hesitation in his reflection, the way the sheet music quivered, mirroring something unspoken.
Suddenly, a flicker of memory stirred—a voice, distant yet familiar, slipping through the cracks of her mind—light through a broken window.
'If you keep lying to yourself, you'll never move forward.' The words felt disjointed, an old recording slightly out of sync, but the weight of them pressed against her chest.
Her fingers curled slightly at her side. "Conflicting what?" Her voice came out sharper than intended.
"Senpai, you are making absolutely no sense." She met his gaze, searching for something even she couldn't name. "If you feel that way, then say it. There's no point in restraining something you so desperately want to express."
"Haha, sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to vent to you with my personal stories; you can just forget that last part."
Heat climbed her face before she could stop it.
"Senpaiiiiii!"—a nagging call.
"Quit being so cheeky; whenever I try to ask you a question about anything personal, you constantly try to avoid it." She pouted, her face unruffled. "If you want to tell me something, just say it. Stop speaking in riddles and making me play your guessing game."
The words came out like a cloud of dandelion fluff, light but aimless, and her stomach churned as she replayed them in her head. 'What was that? Did I really just call him cheeky? And—Senpai with such a tone? What even compelled me to speak in that manner?'
"As I said, I'm sorry, and could you drop the senpai? You can call me Kazami."
Her blue eyes widened, the colour deepening as if someone had poured ink into a clear pond. "Are you… sure?"
"You can drop the honorifics too." His grin went easy—sunlight filtering through broken blinds behind him.
"Then... Kazami..." she murmured, the name felt unfamiliar on her tongue, a song lyric she wasn't sure she had sung right. She hesitated, then added, "You can call me Tang-Ji."
The moment the words left her lips, she cringed inwardly. 'What am I saying? I sound like a character in one of those cheesy romance dramas. I don't even talk this way. Why am I letting him unravel me so easily?'
Kazami pushed off the stool and drifted closer, grinning.
He leaned in, beaming—close enough that their reflections almost overlapped in the lacquered lid. "Come on, what's wrong, Tang-Ji? Don't lose those expressions on me now."
Instinct moved her; she eased him back with a palm to his shirt, a small bird nudging an intruder from the nest. He only smiled, unaware of the blush blooming at the tips of her ears behind her hair. The colour was delicate, like the first pink petal of a lotus unfurling at dawn, as though her earlobes had borrowed the shy grace of the flower.
'Why?'
'Although we've only just met, I feel as if I've known him forever. I don't know how, but I can speak to him when I can't speak to anyone else.' Her mind pressed lower, steadying on the floorboards.
'Sometimes I wonder. Who am I? It feels like I've lost so much more than just my memories. Which one is the real me? Is it me currently or me in the past? I'm on a tightrope, and I don't know which way I'll fall.
'I've always been able to hear a voice constantly tugging at the back of my mind, as if it yearns to take over my vessel.' She studied the grain in the wood.
Slowly backing away from her, Kazami stepped back, reached, and slid the door open.
"What are you waiting for? That ghost on the ground's looking really scary there," he teased. "We've got a club meeting!"
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At five, the wall clock clicked over; the computer-filled room was already crowded with misfits.
A sudden thud at the door shifted every eye to Kazami as he pulled it open.
"Oi! Do you guys have any idea how loud you all are? Keep it down, or we'll get another complaint from the literature club next door," he snapped.
Tang-Ji slipped in behind him; cold sweat traced her chin. Crowds unnerved someone with almost no face-to-face practice. Her vision narrowed to smudged silhouettes. Weight cinched her arms and legs. Breathe. Anxiety surged—she pictured drowning beneath fixed stares.
However, a hand eventually found her. Kazami tugged, steady, and the room brightened. He clapped once and faced the group.
"Hey, guys. Say hello to our new member, second-year 2-A—Tang-Ji."
He paused for the ripple of applause, then: "She's officially joining, so treat her like any other member. Go on—introduce yourself."
"U-um, hi. I'm Tang-Ji Shizukesa. I'm into books and movies. Oh—and I've been getting into online games recently, too." Heat climbed her cheeks.
After her timid introduction, she was bombarded with questions like "That's an interesting name; you're from overseas, right?", and "wow, your skin is so pretty; what products do you use?" The flood was too much as she slipped behind Kazami to steady herself.
"Guys, chill. Give her space," he sighed. The crowd eased back, reluctant.
"Anyway, Tang-Ji, take a seat, please; I've got an important announcement to make to everyone here."
He scanned the room. "Kiryuuin Academy E-sports Club's been invited to the 'Dusk Protocol' tournament. Registration closes Monday. We need four of our best to bring home the prize."
A cheer broke, riding the thought everyone shared: a chance to try the newest device. The SSD allowed a user to transfer their consciousness into any game they desired. This innovative technology was still in the beta phase, only allowing experienced testers and private schools to access it.
As the noise thinned to pockets of chatter, Kazami guided Tang-Ji to the back and brought up a long, stretched holographic board. Blue light hovered over the windows; layers of the stadium rendered in clean slices—materials, spans, routes—readable even for those who were less knowledgeable.
"Listen up. I'm going through this once. The place is big enough to swallow almost two baseball stadiums, and the layout's a maze."
He was mid-explain when a voice rose from the back.
"Yo, Kaz, you sprinkled some major news. How will you explain the technique of brain control to our little fledgelings?"
"Forget the architecture," The voice forcibly drew the attention of the room. "The real question is whether they can conjure a Leere during the brain control phase."
Tang-Ji's gaze shifted to the boy standing tall among the crowd, his thin frame cutting a sharp line through the mass of misfits. She watched as he pushed his glasses up, each step deliberate, he had nothing to prove and nothing to hide.
He ambled to the front of the room, his face still shadowed by the harsh lighting. As he stepped forward, the shadows receded, unveiling pale, glassy skin that appeared untouched by anything harsh or unkind.
She noticed his hair—mercury-red, like something out of a painting—falling messily over his face, making his sneer look effortlessly cruel. It struck her how confidently he held himself, how he seemed to belong in a way she never quite felt.
Here he was, unblemished and certain, with a presence that commanded attention. She felt a small twist of envy in her chest, an ache for the easy way he held himself, surrounded by people who saw him without judgement.
Standing besides the holographic board, Tang-Ji straightened, her gaze drifting away from the overwhelming presence before her. She felt his intense stare and took in his towering figure, casting a shadow over her. Just as the tension thickened, a sudden, bright smile broke across his face.
Ji-Soon cleared his throat, then swept a hand through his hair with an exaggerated flourish, as if he were about to take center stage. "How rude of me—" his voice rich with theatrical flair, "to not introduce myself properly."
He placed a hand over his chest, tilting his chin up slightly. "I am Kang Ji-Soon, of class 3-C." His eyes flicked across the room, ensuring all attention was on him.
"Student council member and esteemed member of the E-sports club—" He made a show of dusting off his blazer sleeve, lips curling into a confident smirk. "Surely, you've all heard of me?"
A few unimpressed stares.
A cough from the back of the room.
Someone muttered, "Is this guy... alright in the head?"
Ji-Soon, unfazed, spread his arms wide, expecting applause. "Nice to meet you." He punctuated it with a wink, leaning slightly forward to gauge their reactions before pivoting towards Kazami, signalling the metal case on the shelf—etched V.T., VIRM Tech.
"Why dont we test it now? Whoever can conjure a Leere with the protocol type will be on the team to compete in the tournament. In that world, desire is your strongest weapon."
The silent crowd remained baffled for a few instants until one of the students impulsively spoke. "What's a Leere?"
"My bad," Ji-Soon rubbed his head. "Should've explained—"
Kazami's hand landed on his shoulder. "Stop overcomplicating it, you wise fool. I'll explain."
"For those new to the term: Leere is a German word translated to 'void'—is a unique weapon you manifest in-game. It reflects personality and desire. Think of it as an extension of yourself." He kept it simple. "You'll understand better inside."
"Kang's right—the tournament's next week. Everyone, step up and link with the device on the chair. You'll be conscious, so don't crash into things. I'm not cleaning up again."
The device was hooked up to a large computer with multiple cables stemming out from the back, attaching itself to the plate at the back of the headgear. The brain-computer interface device has three widely curved metal rods that cling to the surface of the user's head to send electromagnetic signals to alter your vision and sensation.
Minutes passed. Lines formed. All attempts failed.
It was now Tang-Ji's turn as she rose among the rowdy hopefuls and reached for the heavy gear. She untucked her shirt and loosened the red bow, letting tension melt away, then settled the headpiece and tightened the claws into her hair.
She could feel the uncomfortable pressure of the hardware bracing against the back of her neck. With a slight adjustment, a 'click' could be heard before her vision began to fade away. A sea of green digital text engulfed her sight as she plummeted into the abyss.
Where she stood, space unspooled—vast, torqued, unsteady. She turned—one beat—and walked straight into a drifting mass; it passed through her, cold and weightless—code through code—and she startled, then understood: nothing here was real.
Then a touch lit on her shoulder.
"Tang-Ji, you can hear me, right?" Kazami—muffled, near.
"Yeah," her voice small.
"The device has altered your sight and your touch sense; since it hasn't completely dilated all five of your senses, this is only considered a half dive. Now listen..." He paused. "Hold out your hand, and try to picture yourself grabbing onto something."
"A Leere can be conjured if you focus your mind on what you want, like your feelings, for example. The interface will be able to pick up your emotions, and it will take shape in your palm."
As she lifted her hand to eye level, the surroundings undertook reconstructions as the vastness of the digital space changed. The digital floor flickered and re-skinned; walls rippled with a slow wave, then folded inward, collapsing into a soft sink—an orderly vortex.
She held still. Disregarding her environment, as small particles rapidly emerged above her palm. A bright glint, numbers spooling and resolving—an outline coalesced, faint but visible even on the classroom monitor that the device was connected to.
The bright ray visually impaired her for a moment before settling down into the mellow glow of a sunset.
The environment began to retract itself as the virtual world steadied. Tang-Ji opened her eyes on the weight in her hand. Disbelief, then shock, then the start of wonder.
"Scissors. I'm… holding scissors."
Kazami's eyes widened. Cheers rose from the students before getting cut off under his glare. "I said keep it down."
"A pair of scissors, huh?" Ji-Soon lounged in the doorway, eyes keen. He tapped his chin. "Interesting. What you conjured is your mind's reflection. I can't wait to see the Leere you pull with the SSD."
He slid a hand into his pocket. "Just remember… the device used for Dusk Protocol doesn't just tap into your brain—it links to your entire body." His gaze flickered toward Kazami who was unreadable. "It'll draw from everything—your traits, your instincts, your desires—all embedded deep in your heart. You won't be able to hide from it."
A soft chuckle, and he drifted into the hall. "Good luck finding the last participant, Kaz." His voice echoed faintly as he strolled away.
Kazami's fingers tightened just slightly around the headset. 'Your traits, your instincts, your desires…' He exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to shake off the thought.
"Alright. Club's meeting is over—dismiss people." The headset lifted from her temples, his hands careful; air and light drifted back with the hush of cooling fans.
She gave him a fatigued expression before tying her hair back into a high ponytail.
"Sorry to force such a heavy device on you; I'll send you the message of the chosen date for the tournament later. For now, go home and rest up," Kazami smiled warmly before escorting her out of the club room.