Ken stepped out of the back exit of the phoenix club, he couldn’t help but be disgusted by the sight of the people who littered the ground like discarded trash. The back street was dimly lit and lined with unconscious bodies. Some of them were club-goers, others were drunk and some were high on drugs.
The smell of blood, puke, and urine hung in the air, and the sound of moaning and muttering filled the air. He couldn’t help but to wonder if it had always been like this or if something else was taking place in this city in these early hours of the morning.
Some of the bodies were shivering, probably from withdrawal.
This was the real face of neo-tokyo, underneath all the flashy lights and tall buildings.
It was a place of extremes, a city that promised everything and delivered nothing.
Ken pulled the hood of his hoodie on and quickly walked out of the back street into the main road. It was much quieter there, with only a few cars passing by and some flying cars soaring in the sky.
He walked past some of the city’s iconic sights. The tall skyscrapers with neon lights, huge holographic billboards displaying flashy ads and the occasional holographic street performer dancing across the street. He saw a few people walking around in stylish clothes but most of them were people in regular clothing going about their daily lives.
After walking for a few minutes, Ken was near his apartment complex. Suddenly, the peaceful atmosphere was shattered by the distant sound of police sirens. A car sped past Ken, cutting through the early morning air like a bullet. It was followed by a loud Boom as the car exploded onto the road. Ken jolted back, instinctively covering his face with his arms. The force of the explosion sent debris shooting out in all directions.
Luckily, he wasn’t too close to the explosion and was mostly unscathed. His heart raced as he looked towards the source of the explosion. He saw a plume of smoke rising from the scene. Some of the nearby cars were overturned, their windows shattered. It was clear that the police were chasing someone. But what on earth was going on?
From the burning wreck of the car a man emerged, rising up out of the flames and smoke. He was tall, around 5 feet 11 inches, and he was dressed in an exoskeleton of military-grade body armor, from head to toe. It covered every inch of his body, making him look like an armoured juggernaut.
Ken watched in horror as the man walked through the flames as if they were nothing. As he neared Ken, he caught a glimpse of the man’s face. It was hard to make out any details, but he could see cold, dead eyes. He had never seen an exoskeleton of that caliber in person. The exoskeleton didn’t look like regular police or military gear; this looked like something a criminal would wear. And that made everything even worse.
Suddenly, the man turned his gaze towards Ken and they locked eyes. Ken’s blood ran cold as he realized the man was looking directly at him. For a split second, it seemed as if they were both frozen in time, neither of them moving an inch.
Ken was paralyzed with fear. He was absolutely certain that he was about to die right there. And then, suddenly, the man in armour disappeared. Just like that, he had vanished into thin air. Ken blinked, thinking he was imagining things, but then he heard another loud explosion.
Presumably caused by a police RPG. The force of the explosion sent a jolt through the air, causing Ken to flinch. Ken didn’t waste a second, he immediately took to his feet and broke into a run
What the hell happened?
He sprinted towards his apartment complex, located in a not-so-nice neighbourhood. Despite the rundown surroundings, the complex had decent security features, including a facial recognition system at the entrance to his building. As he approached his house, which was tucked away in an alley, he noticed the litter strewn across the street. Ignoring it, he walked up to the door.
A holographic smiley face appeared on the door, accompanied by an automated voice. “Please wait while we confirm your identity.” The face scanned Ken’s face with a flash of light before saying, “Identity confirmed. Welcome home, Ken.” The door slid open, allowing Ken to enter his apartment.
He rushed inside, locking and bolting the door behind him. Ken slumped against the closed door, his breathing still ragged from the run. “What the hell was that?” he whispered to himself, his voice shaking slightly.
Ken stood up, his legs feeling like jelly. The apartment was dark and quiet, just as it should be at this hour. Ken looked around at the darkened corridor, the muffled sounds of snoring coming from his mother’s room. His sister’s room was at the end of the corridor, with the door slightly ajar. His grandfather’s room was beside it, the door shut closed.
The apartment was a simple one, with a modest living area, a small kitchenette, a bathroom, and three small bedrooms. Ken made his way to his bedroom, careful not to wake anyone as he opened the door and stepped inside.
Once inside his room, Ken locked the door after him and walked over to the bed, flopping down on it with a sigh of relief. He had been awake all night in that club.
Ken’s bedroom was small but tidy. A single bed took up one side of the room, opposite it was a small desk cluttered with papers and books. A single window overlooked the bustling streets below.
He felt exhausted, both physically and mentally. ¥12,354,401 in debt from gambling..and he hadn’t even told anyone in his family about it.
He thought of his mother and sister, how they have no idea about his crippling gambling addiction and debt. His grandfather was already bedridden and his mom worked herself to the bone to earn just enough to provide, how would they react if they knew he was in debt?
But right now, he just wanted to sleep. He needed to rest. He needed to think. Tomorrow, he’d worry about everything tomorrow.
————————————————————
Taro Nishihara woke up to the sound of his own breathing, aided by the ventilator that was connected to his nostrils. He slowly turned his head, wincing in pain as his stiff neck protested. The room was dimly lit, with fluorescent lights casting a pale glow. He looked at the clock on the wall, it read 5:05 am.
He tried to move but he couldn’t, the tubes, pipes and cables that connected to his body made it difficult. His body was frail and thin, his arms were nothing more than skin and bones. He glanced at the IV connected to his arm, the fluids slowly dripping down the line. This was his life now, hooked up to machines that kept him alive.
He felt sick of this life.
He hated the way his body had deteriorated, reduced to nothing more than a shell of his former self.
Every day was a struggle just to breathe, to feed himself, to do anything. The doctors had told him he was lucky to be alive, but did he want to live like this? No, he didn’t.
He thought about his daughter and his grandchildren, ken Nishihara’ and Kaori Nishihara’. He knew they were worried sick about him, but he didn’t want them to see him like this. He didn’t want them to remember him like this, as a frail and broken old man, barely hanging on.
So he put on a brave face every time they visited, trying to hide the fact that he was slowly dying. He didn’t want them to know how much pain he was in, or how little hope he had. He just wanted to spend his last few days with them, to make the most of the time he had left. He just wanted them to be happy, even if it was just for a little while longer.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Taro’s thoughts went towards his old friends. He tries to recall their faces, but they’re blurry and indistinct, their voices fading to nothing. Everyone was dead and the last one to go was Mitsui. It had been 3 year’s now since they had spoken and she had passed away 1 year after that.
What was the name of their group again?
Ah yes, AOH. Angels of hell.
It was a name they had come up with when they were young, he was only 8 or 9 back then and the rest of the group were thirteen or fourteen. It was a bit cringe-sounding now but back then it sounded cool.
Now it was just a memory, a fragment of his past that he could barely remember. He lay there, hooked up to the machines that kept him alive, and wondered if his friends were still alive. He wished he could talk to them one last time, to ask for their advice or just to catch up with them....but it was too late for that. He supposed he would meet them in the afterlife, if there is one, if he ever makes it that far.
Most of his friends had died during World War III while he was away in another country. He couldn’t recall where he had been at the time but wherever it was, it spared him from being drafted and dying on the battlefield. Now he was an old man, lying in a hospital bed, his life sustained by machines. He thought it was ironic, that those who had fought so bravely had perished while he, who had never been near a battlefield, was still alive, clinging to life like a stubborn weed.
But then again, maybe that was just the way the universe worked. The strong fell while the weak persisted. He didn’t know what his purpose was here, why he was still alive. He had lived a decent life, had a good family and made some friends along the way. But now he just felt lost, like he had served his purpose and was now just waiting for the end to come. It was a strange feeling, like he was waiting for something but didn’t know what.
He just..wanted to be happy again..meet them one more time.
That’s what taro Nishihara thought before he was just about to go back to sleep.
Taro blinked, his vision blurry and eyes heavy with sleep. But before he could think, he saw a figure appear in the room, seemingly out of nowhere.
“What the..” he blurted out, his voice hoarse and shaky. He tried to sit up but the tubes and pipes that connected to him impeded his movements. What was going on? Was this it? Was this the grim reaper who came came to take him away?
Taro was stunned, his eyes widened in shock and fear. Was this some kind of hallucination? He had heard stories about such things, people seeing strange visions before they died. But this seemed too real. Who the hell was this? Some kind of angel? A demon, perhaps?
The figure was so tall, at least 7ft, with long black feathery wings like that of a raven. It was dressed in black robes with silver linings, straight out of a fantasy book. And the most shocking thing of all were the horns on its head.
Just then, the figure spoke. “taro?...are you taro?”
Taro couldn’t believe his ears. The figure was speaking to him? In a deep, booming voice that seemed to echo through the room.
He swallowed hard before answering. “Yes..that’s me..” his voice cracked a little bit from the dryness of his throat.
The figure bolted over to his side, moving so quickly that Taro could barely follow it’s movements. It’s black robes and wings flapping with movement. It knelt by his side, it’s dark wings folding over itself as it took his hand with both of its.
Taro was taken aback, the figure’s touch was surprisingly warm and gentle. Even though it had the physical features of a monster, he could feel something familiar about it, like he had met it before. He couldn’t quite place it, but there was just something about it that made him feel...safe.
The figure’ then spoke again and this time it’s voice was now softer, “its me... I’m hayate...hayate sato.”
————————————————————
Five minutes ago, Hayate had started with his plan. He had first used [true invisibility] making himself invisible to anyone who might see him, and then used [teleportation] to get to the hotel room where Hiroshi was at. Once there, he had used [Dominate] on Hiroshi and made him find taro’s location. Once he had the information, he got the coordinates of the location and thought of trying something. He wanted to test to see if he could teleport to a location solely using coordinates, without the need to have been there physically before.
Hayate closed his eyes, focusing. He had never tried this before and didn’t know if it would work. But if it did, it would be a very useful ability to have. He was about to find out if this would work or not.
Hayate took a deep breath as he opened his eyes, his mana slightly depleted from the teleportation. He squinted and looked around, his eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room. In front of him was an old man, laid out on the bed, connected to various tubes and wires. Hayate could tell the man was old, probably around 100-101 years old.
It was clearly a medical apparatus keeping the man alive.
Hayate quickly realized that this must be Taro. It was a bit of a shock to see him lying there like this, but it was him alright.
Hayate stood there for a moment, taking in the sight. He knew it was Taro but he still had to ask, just to be sure.
“Taro?..” he said gently, addressing the old man. “Are you taro?”
The old man’s eyes flickered open, and he looked up at Hayate. He didn’t speak, just stared at him, as if trying to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.
Hayate waited patiently, trying to control his own emotions. This was the moment he had been waiting for, to meet his old friend again. Hayate wasn’t sure if the old man could even hear him, his body seemed frail and weak, his breathing shallow. But the recognition in his eyes was unmistakable.
Hayate waited, not sure if the old man would respond. He wanted to speak, to ask him how he was, but he didn’t want to seem rude or too direct.
“Yes..that’s me..” said the old man, his voice cracking a bit.
Hayate felt a rush of emotions upon hearing the old man’s voice. It was indeed Taro. He looked so different, so fragile, nothing like the energetic and lively man he remembered from their younger days. But it was him.
Hayate moved with such speed that it seemed he had teleported next to Taro’s bedside. He knelt down, taking hold of the old man’s hand gently.
The hand felt so fragile, so delicate...so...cold. Hayate felt a lump forming in his throat as he held it, feeling the coolness of the old man’s skin against his. Hayate then spoke as he looked up at taro in a soft voice.
“its me... I’m Hayate...Hayate sato.”
Hayate waited, his eyes searching taro’s face for a reaction. He hoped that Taro would remember him, even just a little bit. But he couldn’t tell what the old man was thinking, his expression was hard to decipher.
Hayate held Taro’s hand a little bit tighter, hoping that his touch would bring some comfort to the old man. The room was so quiet, the only sound being the beeping of the monitors.
Hayate wanted to say so much, but he didn’t know where to start. So many questions and so much he wanted to say, but he held his tongue, not wanting to cause any more stress to the old man.
After what felt like an eternity, the old man finally spoke. His voice was weak and hoarse, but it was undoubtedly him.
“Hayate..i..dont remember anyone..called Hayate..”
Hayate’s heart sank.
The old man didn’t remember him.. that wasn’t unexpected but it still stung.
He squeezed the old man’s hand a little.
“Remember..Hayate?.. remember our group..angels of hell?”
Hayate desperately wanted the old man to remember him. He hoped that reminding him of their past would jog his memory. The Angels of Hell, their little group of thirteen members including him.
Hayate tried to stay hopeful, telling himself that even if Taro didn’t remember him, at least he remembered the group. But deep down he knew it was not that simple.
Taro’s face lit up slightly at the mention of the group. “yes..I remember..Angels of Hell..” he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Hayate felt relieved. Taro remembered the group, their name, Angels of Hell. It was a good start, a confirmation that maybe....just maybe, the old man would remember him too.
“You do remember..the group...but what about me? Do you remember me also? I am hayate sato. The one who went Missing for years?”
There was a pause, and Hayate waited anxiously for an answer. Taro spoke again.
“Yes..I remember..I remember you..Hayate..Sato..” he said, his voice faltering a little. Hayate’s heart leaped, the old man remembered him!
It was all he needed to hear. It didn’t matter that time had passed, or that they both had changed, he knew that at least part of the old Taro was still there in the old man in front of him. Hayate felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, but instead of blinking them back. He let them flow.
He wasn’t sure why he was crying. Maybe it was relief..or nostalgia..or maybe a mixture of both. But he couldn’t stop himself..he just let the tears flow freely.
Taro spoke up again, his voice cut through Hayate’s thoughts, the sound bringing him back to reality.
“hayate..you’ve been gone for so long...you went missing in..2024...and right now..it’s...2109..its been 85 years...and...what happened to your body...are you.. cosplaying?”
Hayate was taken aback a bit at the mention of his body. He had forgotten that he looked very different from when he last saw the old man. After all, he wasn’t human anymore..this wasn’t his body. He was in a new body. A body of his character from hollow.
He wasn’t sure how to explain this to the old man. He looked down at himself. To the old man he probably just looked like..some cosplayer?
He looked back up at Taro, who was waiting for an answer. He wasn’t sure what to say..how do you explain to the old man that this wasn’t his body..that he was not human anymore. He decided to just tell the truth, as carefully as he could.
Hayate took a deep breath and spoke softly. “Taro..I..I’m not cosplaying...so I was... playing hollow.. you remember it right..the game of the year for 2023 and 2024..and possibly more.. i don’t know...”
He spoke slowly, gauging Taro’s reaction. He didn’t know if the old man still had the mental capacity to understand what he was about to say. But he had to try.
“I was playing the game..and...i logged off for the night and tried to rest for a bit but then when I opened my eyes i.. wasn’t in my room..but in some wasteland near neo-tokyo..and ...i was somehow transported here..85 years into the future..in the body of my in-game avatar.”