Rain slicked the streets of Neo-Kyoto, turning the city’s neon lights into a blur of reds, blues, and greens that spilled across the pavement. High-rise buildings stretched up to meet the clouded night sky, their silhouettes cut against the glow of billboards advertising everything from augmented mods to the latest reality-shift games. Somewhere in the distance, the muffled thump of bass-heavy music throbbed out from a nightclub, mixing with the hum of street life below.
Hiroki pulled his hood up against the rain, shoving his hands into his pockets as he trudged through the crowded streets. He wasn’t really thinking about where he was going, just moving forward, blending in with the late-night crowd. Like always.
He glanced around, catching glimpses of the people passing by—couples huddled under umbrellas, groups of friends laughing over some half-heard joke, a kid immersed in a holo-game flashing in the air above his wrist. Hiroki felt a familiar pang in his chest, that persistent sense of… disconnect. Like he was a glitch in the system, just slightly out of sync with the people around him.
“Another thrilling Friday night,” he muttered under his breath. “Living the dream.”
He kicked at a stray soda can on the sidewalk, watching it skitter into a gutter before he turned down a side street. The alleys were quieter, darker, away from the noise and lights. The rain pooled in uneven patches, broken only by the occasional flicker of an old street lamp. This was Neo-Kyoto’s hidden side, where the city’s neon glow didn’t quite reach. Hiroki preferred it that way—quiet, unobtrusive. People didn’t notice you here.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, scrolling through messages from his part-time job. The pay was crap, and the hours even worse, but it was the only thing keeping him in the world of normal people.
And, truthfully, he didn’t mind being invisible. At least, that’s what he told himself.
But tonight, something was off. The usual hum of background noise faded, replaced by something sharper, more electric. He sensed it before he saw anything—an uncomfortable prickling at the back of his neck, like static buzzing just under his skin. He frowned, looking around, but the alley was empty. Just the rain, the dim light, and the faint sound of someone’s phone playing a retro track he half-recognized.
Then he heard it: low voices, a scuffle, footsteps slapping against wet pavement. Hiroki’s eyes narrowed, his instincts kicking in as he turned a corner to find the source of the noise.
Three guys were crowded around another kid, roughly his age, who was huddled against the wall. They had him pinned, one of them holding the kid by the collar, smirking as he dangled something in front of his face—a phone, Hiroki realized. The guy laughed, tossing it between his hands like it was some kind of game.
“Nice phone, man. Bet it cost a fortune. What’d you do to deserve this, huh?” one of them sneered, shoving the kid harder against the wall.
Hiroki felt a twist of irritation, something sharp that cut through his usual detachment. He clenched his fists, the tension buzzing in his knuckles. A smarter part of him—the part that knew he should keep his head down—told him to walk away. But tonight, the edge in his mood felt sharper, like an itch he couldn’t ignore.
“Hey,” he called, stepping into the dim glow of a nearby lamp.
The three guys turned to look at him, surprised. For a second, Hiroki almost regretted it. Almost.
“Oh, we got ourselves a hero,” one of them laughed. “What’s up, Spider-Man? You lost or something?”
“Yeah, must be one of those side-quest heroes,” another chimed in, grinning. “This isn’t your mission, dude.”
Hiroki rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. “Why don’t you guys go find something better to do? Like, I don’t know… anything that doesn’t make you look like a bunch of rejects from an old Yakuza game.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
The one holding the phone raised an eyebrow, clearly not amused. He stepped forward, looking Hiroki up and down with a sneer. “You got a death wish, hero? Why don’t you just turn around before you get hurt?”
Hiroki didn’t move. The irritation inside him twisted tighter, sharper, and he felt it building—something beneath his skin, thrumming in his veins, hot and electric. It was a familiar feeling, one he could never quite explain, like a low hum vibrating under the surface of his skin, waiting for the right spark.
The guy reached out, shoving Hiroki back. Hiroki stumbled, but as he steadied himself, that electric hum inside him snapped. He barely registered it—a surge of energy that pulsed outward in a wave.
The guy flinched, stepping back, his face contorted in confusion. His friends, sensing something was off, shot Hiroki wary glances, like they’d just realized this might be more than they’d bargained for.
“What… what the hell was that?” the guy stammered, trying to shake off the unease in his voice.
Hiroki didn’t have an answer. The feeling was still there, buzzing just beneath the surface, and for the first time, he felt it shift, like it was… watching.
He looked down at his hands, his fingers trembling slightly, the electric tingle dancing over his skin. He didn’t know what he’d just done, but something told him this wasn’t normal.
The three guys backed off, muttering to each other before they turned and hurried down the alley. The kid they’d been harassing stayed slumped against the wall, staring at Hiroki with wide, confused eyes.
“You okay?” Hiroki asked, his voice coming out steadier than he felt.
The kid nodded, scrambling to his feet and grabbing his phone from the ground. He cast one last look at Hiroki before disappearing down the street, clearly rattled by what he’d just seen.
For a moment, Hiroki stood alone, rain trickling down his hood, his heart pounding in his chest. That feeling—the one he could never quite name—was still there, simmering just below the surface, like a storm he couldn’t control.
Hiroki was still standing in the alley, staring at his hands, trying to process the weird surge of power he’d just felt. He’d never done anything like that before, never even thought it was possible. And now, he was feeling something else—a prickling sensation creeping up his spine, as if he wasn’t alone.
He froze, looking around. The alley was empty. Dark and quiet, with the rain beating down, but empty.
Or… maybe not.
A shadow stretched across the wall opposite him, shifting and curling like smoke in water. Hiroki blinked, thinking maybe it was just a trick of the light. But the shadow didn’t stay still. It gathered, swirling into a shape—a faint, smoky figure with two faintly glowing red eyes fixed right on him.
“What the…?” Hiroki’s voice caught in his throat, heart pounding. He took a step back, every instinct telling him to bolt.
The shadow grinned, its mouth curving up in a way that made Hiroki’s skin crawl. “Finally noticed me, huh?”
Hiroki’s blood went cold. The voice wasn’t coming from any normal place. It echoed, low and rough, as if it were coming from inside his own head.
“Look, I don’t know what kind of VR prank this is, but it’s not funny.” He took another step back, bumping into the alley wall behind him, his eyes darting around for any signs of cameras or projections. “Who’s doing this?”
The shadow figure chuckled, and it felt like nails scratching down the back of Hiroki’s skull. “You really think I’m some hologram?” The figure’s red eyes flickered, narrowing with something like amusement. “I’m as real as that little power burst you threw back there.”
“Power burst?” Hiroki’s voice was thin, laced with panic. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I’m not in the mood for creepy Halloween stunts, so just… go haunt someone else, okay?”
The shadow’s form tightened, coiling closer to him like smoke in a bottle. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, kid. Name’s Arkan. I’m a Wraith. And judging by that spark I felt just now, you’ve got a nice little anger issue tucked away in there, huh?”
Hiroki’s skin went pale. “A Wraith?” He shook his head, feeling ridiculous even saying it. This had to be some glitch, some augmented prank. Wraiths weren’t real. They were just urban legends, like haunted AI or rogue hackers—scary stories people whispered about but didn’t actually believe in.
“Yeah, I know. Spooky,” the shadow said, clearly amused by Hiroki’s reaction. “But listen, you and I? We’re connected now. That anger you’ve been keeping down? That’s what brought me here. You need me.”
Hiroki’s stomach twisted. The last thing he needed was some ghostly… whatever-this-was attaching itself to him. He already felt like an outsider; the idea of being bonded to some angry ghost would be the final nail in his social coffin.
“Hard pass,” he said, his voice strained. “I don’t need you, and I don’t even believe you’re real. This is… this is just a hallucination. Stress, or maybe something I ate.” He turned, fully intending to leave and never look back, putting as much distance between himself and the shadow as possible.
Arkan’s eyes narrowed, his smoky form rippling. “Sure, go ahead. Run away if it makes you feel better. But that anger inside you? You’ll be back.”
Hiroki shivered, feeling the weight of the shadow’s gaze on his back as he started to walk away, quickly at first, then faster. He practically jogged out of the alley, his heart pounding like a jackhammer. His mind spun with every possible rationalization—stress, exhaustion, maybe even a little too much caffeine. Anything to explain away what he’d just seen and heard.
When he reached the main street, surrounded by the neon lights and noise of Neo-Kyoto, he finally slowed down, trying to breathe. His hands were shaking.
Get a grip, he thought, jamming his hands in his pockets. Ghosts aren’t real. Wraiths aren’t real. You just need some sleep.
But as he walked back toward the bustle of the city, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different, that some part of him had changed. And even though he was back in the bright, noisy safety of Neo-Kyoto’s streets, he couldn’t shake the chill of that alleyway, or the echo of Arkan’s voice in his head:
“You’ll be back.”