Chapter 1
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction based on existing works. All original characters and plotlines are my own creation, but I do not claim ownership of any pre-existing characters or content. All rights to these pre-existing works belong to their original creators. This is a non-profit work created solely for the enjoyment of fans and no copyright infringement is intended.
Japan is a country of contrasts, where ancient traditions coexist with modern technology. Tokyo, the capital city, is one of the busiest and most populous places in the world. In the early morning, the streets are filled with people rushing to their destinations, cars honking their horns, and trains running on schedule. The city is a vibrant and colorful spectacle, with skyscrapers, neon signs, and cherry blossoms.
Among the crowd, a young man leans on a wall while talking on the phone. He stands out from the rest of the people, not only because of his height but also because of his rebellious and tough appearance. He has spiky black hair and sharp, piercing eyes that reflect his no-nonsense attitude. His Asian descent is evident in his features, and he stands with a strong and confident posture. His clothing often consists of a combination of dark colors, a leather jacket, and street-style attire that matches his tough persona.
The familiar vibration of his phone drew his attention once more. His friend's name flashed on the screen, and he answered with a curt, "Yo."
"Hey, Mori! You on your way?" came the excited voice from the other end.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm on my way. Don't worry, I'll be there soon," he says into the phone, sounding annoyed.
"Come on, Mori. You promised me you would come to support me. This is my first time participating in a cosplay contest, you know." A female voice replies from the other end.
"I know, I know. But you also know how much I hate crowds and dressing up. Why do you have to drag me into this?" He complains.
"Because you're my best friend, and I need you to be there for me. Besides, it'll be fun. You'll get to see some amazing costumes and meet some cool people," she says.
"Whatever. As long as you don't make me wear anything ridiculous," he says.
"Of course not. You can just wear your normal clothes. You'll fit right in," she says.
"Fine. I'll see you at the mall then," he says.
"Okay. Thanks, Mori. You're the best," she says.
"Yeah, yeah. Bye," he says and hangs up the phone.
He sighs and pushes himself off the wall. He decides to head to a souvenir shop nearby to buy something for himself before going to the mall where the cosplay contest is taking place. He walks along the sidewalk, ignoring the stares and whispers of the people around him. He doesn't care what they think of him. He knows who he is and what he wants. He is Mori Kang, a high school delinquent who has always been bored with his life. But little does he know that his life is about to change forever.
Soon, he reached the designated area for the contest. His friend's booth stood proudly, adorned with her creations. She caught sight of him and waved enthusiastically, her smile infectious.
As Mori approached, he couldn't help but admire her dedication. "Hey," he said, his voice softer now.
"Hey, Mori! I'm so glad you made it!" she exclaimed, her excitement genuine.
Mori's gaze drifted over the cosplays on display. "You've been busy, huh?"
"Definitely. And I couldn't have done it without you. Your support means a lot."
Mori shrugged, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it."
They shared a chuckle, the unspoken bond between them echoing through the air.
The event continued in a whirlwind of vibrant colors and imaginative creations. Mori stayed true to his promise, supporting his friend as she showcased her hard work to the world. As hours passed, he observed the cosplayers with casual interest, occasionally catching snippets of conversations in hushed Japanese around him.
He couldn't help but overhear murmurs about his appearance. People whispered, their words tinged with curiosity and perhaps a hint of judgment. But Mori was well-practiced in ignoring the opinions of others. He remained unfazed, his attention firmly fixed on his friend's triumphs.
Time flowed like a river, and soon the moment arrived—the announcement of the best cosplay. Mori joined the applause as the announcer declared his friend the winner. Her smile radiated happiness as she accepted her accolade, and Mori couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for her.
As the event concluded, Mori navigated the crowd with ease, making his way backstage to meet up with his victorious friend. There, amidst the flurry of fans and fellow cosplayers, he found her, surrounded by admirers who showered her with praise and requests for photographs.
But amidst the adoration, Mori's keen instincts caught something amiss. A fan, seemingly more fixated than the others, stood a little too close to his friend. The unease in her eyes was subtle, but Mori noticed. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, his presence assertive yet unassuming.
With a friendly hand placed on the intruder's shoulder, Mori turned his attention to his friend. "Hey, Aya," he said, his tone casual, his gaze hinting at an unspoken question.
Aya's response was swift, a reflexive smile that attempted to brush off any concerns. "Oh, Mori, it's nothing. Just a fan being enthusiastic."
But Mori's stern glare pierced through her façade, a silent warning that lying wouldn't fly. His no-nonsense attitude was a force to be reckoned with, even in situations as seemingly harmless as this.
Aya's sigh was a surrender, a reluctant admission that the situation wasn't as simple as she had let on. She leaned in, her voice barely audible above the surrounding chatter. "Okay, fine. He's being really... creepy. Just too close, you know?"
Mori's expression softened slightly, a rare display of concern. He didn't like the idea of his friend feeling uncomfortable. With a curt nod, he turned his attention back to the overly enthusiastic fan.
The aura around Mori shifted, becoming palpably colder. His eyes locked onto the intruder, a silent message conveyed through his glare—an unmistakable warning to step back. The atmosphere around him was charged with an intensity that spoke of danger lurking beneath the surface.
The fan stumbled over his words, his enthusiasm faltering in the face of Mori's imposing presence. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean any harm."
Mori's voice was calm yet laced with an undertone of steel. "Give her some space."
The message was clear, and the fan quickly complied, retreating with a mumbled apology and an expression of unease.
Alone with Aya once more, Mori's stance relaxed, his protective aura dissipating like a fleeting shadow. "You good now?"
Aya managed a grateful smile, the tension in her shoulders visibly easing. "Yeah, thanks, Mori. You always know how to handle things."
Mori shrugged, his nonchalance returning. "Someone's gotta keep the weirdos away."
They shared a laugh, a reminder of the camaraderie that ran deep between them. As the crowd dispersed, leaving them in a moment of quiet, Mori's eyes met Aya's. The unspoken gratitude and understanding between them spoke volumes—more than words ever could.
As Aya excused herself to change back into her regular clothes, Mori settled into waiting mode. With a casual lean against a nearby wall, he retrieved his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. His fingers danced across the screen, tapping away in a rhythm only he understood. Messages, notifications, and a couple of missed calls flowed in and out of his digital world.
Amidst this brief moment of solitude, a voice cut through the background noise. "Hey, Mori."
At the sound of his name, Mori's head snapped up, his gaze shifting toward the source of the voice. What he saw was unnerving—a mirror image of himself, yet something was drastically different. The eyes that met his were a menacing shade of demonic red, the irises burning with an otherworldly intensity. Intricate tattoos snaked along his arms, a tapestry of darkness etched into his skin.
Mori's posture tensed, caution coursing through his veins like electricity. "Who the hell are you?"
The doppelganger's smile was unsettling, a blend of amusement and something far more sinister. "Oh, don't be so hostile, Mori. We're practically the same, after all."
Mori's grip on his phone tightened, his wariness palpable. "What do you want?"
The stranger's smile widened, revealing a confidence that bordered on arrogance. "I need your help."
Mori's eyebrow quirked, skepticism clear in his gaze. "Why would I help someone who looks like me but obviously ain't?"
Before he could react, the doppelganger moved with eerie swiftness. In an instant, his arm shot forward, piercing through Mori's chest as if it were nothing more than a thin veil. Agony erupted within Mori's body, a shockwave of pain that left him choking, gasping for air.
Blood seeped from the wound, staining his clothes and pooling at his feet. His vision blurred, darkness creeping at the edges as his body went into shock. Despite the pain, his mind raced, struggling to comprehend the impossible situation before him.
The doppelganger's voice was almost playful as he leaned in, his breath chilling against Mori's ear. "Don't worry, Mori. I'm just going to borrow this body for a while."
Mori's attempts to retort were feeble, his voice a mere rasp as he fought to maintain consciousness.
"And your friend?" the doppelganger mused, as if considering an afterthought. "She'll be taken care of. Don't you worry."
Mori's vision wavered, the edges of his consciousness darkening as his body faltered under the assault. He clung to awareness, struggling against the weight of his fading senses.
But then a strange shift occurred. The doppelganger's smile twisted into a mask of shock and horror. His grip on Mori's chest tightened, and his expression was a tumultuous mix of confusion and disbelief.
"No! This can't be!" the doppelganger hissed, his voice frantic.
Mori's thoughts were hazy, his focus slipping. He heard the doppelganger's disjointed mutterings, fragments of a conversation he couldn't comprehend.
"There's a negative… no... can't be trapped... weakling..."
The words swirled in Mori's mind like a puzzle with pieces that refused to fit together. And then, as if a switch had been flipped, the doppelganger's voice crescendoed into a scream—a wail of denial that echoed in the air.
As Mori's consciousness teetered on the precipice, the world around him faded into oblivion. The pain, the fear, the unsettling encounter—all dissolved as darkness claimed him, pulling him into a realm of unconsciousness.
Mori's eyes fluttered open, his consciousness returning in a disoriented haze. The alley around him bore no resemblance to the mall he had been in just moments ago. Confusion gnawed at him, his mind struggling to make sense of the abrupt change.
His memory jogged to the encounter with his doppelganger, and he felt a mixture of anger and unease. Had he been drugged? Was this some twisted prank? He reached for his phone, hoping for answers, only to find it shattered and useless. Mori clicked his tongue in annoyance, frustration mounting.
Sighing, he decided to head out of the alley in search of familiar landmarks, something that could provide a sense of direction. As he walked, a strange sensation began to wash over him—a disorienting blend of dizziness and fatigue. He paused, his hand gripping a lamppost for support. Perplexed, he took a seat on a nearby bench, hoping to steady himself.
The world around him seemed to sway as he closed his eyes momentarily, attempting to regain his bearings. But before he could fully comprehend his situation, he was pulled into a void of unconsciousness once again.
When Mori woke up, the scene that greeted him was like something out of a nightmare. Decaying corpses and bones littered the ground, the air heavy with a suffocating stench. Panic clawed at his chest as he realized he was no longer in control of his surroundings.
Instinct kicked in, and Mori leaped to his feet, a surge of fear and adrenaline propelling him forward. He whirled around, his body tense and ready to defend himself. A presence lurked behind him, and Mori's reaction was swift—he threw a punch.
The blow was met with a blocking maneuver that radiated confidence and skill. Mori's eyes widened as he stared at the figure before him, a sense of dread settling in the pit of his stomach.
There, in all his sinister glory, stood his doppelganger. The demonic red eyes gleamed with a hedonistic light, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the real deal," he purred, his tone dripping with arrogance.
Mori's confusion and frustration transformed into a surge of anger. "What the hell is going on? Who are you?"
The doppelganger's smile widened, his amusement evident. "Oh, come now, don't be so formal. Call me whatever you like. Your imagination is the limit."
Mori's fists clenched, his patience wearing thin. "Cut the crap. What do you want?"
The doppelganger's demeanor shifted, his expression growing serious. "We need to talk, Mori."
