Rin's eyes snapped open.
Not to daylight. Not to hospital lights. But to a glow so sharp and unreal it carved across his retinas like fire. The ceiling above him wasn't a ceiling at all—it was a lattice of shifting glass panels, neon currents surging across them in restless waves. The colors bled into one another—cyan, magenta, violent violet—painting his face in fractured light.
He bolted upright.
A thin cot supported him, bolted to the metallic floor of what looked like a bunker. The walls hummed faintly, covered in lines of code that streamed downward like waterfalls, dissolving before they reached the floor. It wasn't paint. It wasn't projection. It was alive, a language written directly into reality.
Memory returned like shards of broken glass—rain, headlights, Yui's scream, the impact.
He clutched his chest. No pain. No fracture. His body was whole.
But his sister wasn't here.
"Easy."
The voice was soft, but carried authority. Rin turned.
Miyu stood at the foot of the cot. Her hair shimmered faintly, a cascade of silver-blue that caught the neon glow. She wore a cloak stitched from strips of mismatched fabric, the kind scavengers might patch together from discarded banners. Her eyes—bright, yet heavy with something older than her face—studied him without flinching.
"You're awake faster than most," she said.
Rin's throat was raw. "Where…?" His voice cracked. "Where is this? Where's Yui?"
The girl's expression shifted, not pity exactly, but a quiet resignation. "Your body died," she said plainly. "This is Neon City. The afterlife."
The words landed heavy, but Rin didn't believe them—not fully. He stood, staggering as the floor vibrated beneath his weight. The room tilted, his balance off.
"I died?" His fists clenched. "Then why am I standing here? Talking to you?!"
Miyu stepped closer, calm. "Because Neon City doesn't work like the world you knew. This place is… an echo. The souls of the dead arrive here, pulled into the cycle. Some call it purgatory. Some call it a second chance. I call it a cage."
Her words chilled him.
Rin's lips trembled. "Yui… she—she was alive when—"
"Yes," Miyu cut gently. "She lived. You didn't."
The air thinned. For a moment, Rin swore his heart had stopped again. Relief twisted with despair—his sister was safe, but at the cost of him. His sacrifice hadn't been a dream.
He sat back heavily on the cot, gripping his knees until his knuckles blanched. The silence stretched.
Finally, Miyu spoke. "I know what you're feeling. But listen carefully: here, nothing stays still. Survival is not guaranteed. Death here is not sleep—it's erasure."
Rin's eyes snapped up. "Erasure?"
"You die here," Miyu said, voice steady, "and there's nothing after. No rebirth. No memory. No trace."
The words hollowed the room.
---
The bunker's door hissed. A figure stepped inside—broad-shouldered, chain coiled around one arm. Rin recognized him instantly: the one who had fought off the hunters in the alley.
"You brought him here?" the man asked, voice rough as gravel.
Miyu nodded. "He had nowhere else."
The man's eyes scanned Rin, sharp and assessing. Dark hair cropped close, jaw set with permanent tension. "He won't last," he muttered.
Rin bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," the man said, uncoiling his chain with a metallic hiss, "that Neon City eats the weak alive. You think throwing yourself in front of a truck makes you strong? It makes you reckless. Here, that gets you deleted."
Miyu shot him a look. "Enough, Kaito."
Kaito sneered but let the chain coil back. His gaze lingered on Rin a moment longer before he stepped aside.
Rin's chest burned. He wanted to lash out, to deny every word. But deep down, Kaito wasn't wrong. Sacrifice had saved Yui—but here, in this warped city, it meant nothing.
---
Miyu guided Rin outside.
The moment the bunker door slid open, the full weight of Neon City crashed over him.
Skyscrapers towered in impossible arcs, their sides alive with shifting advertisements that bled into one another. Streets stretched endlessly, choked with shadows and light. Vehicles hovered past without wheels, leaving trails of color in their wake. Above, the fractured sky rolled and cracked, lightning tearing silent scars through its skin.
And the people—if they were people—moved like currents through the streets. Some looked ordinary, others glitched, their outlines trembling as if reality itself struggled to hold them.
"This…" Rin whispered, breath stolen. "…this can't be real."
"It's real enough," Miyu said. She pulled her cloak tighter. "This is the gameboard. We're all pieces."
Rin's brow furrowed. "Gameboard?"
Miyu stopped, turned to face him. Her eyes softened, but her words cut sharp.
"Souls are currency here. Everything costs—shelter, weapons, even safety. The Overseers control the flow. You fight, you scavenge, you gamble—anything to earn enough to keep going. The gangs? They'll strip you down to your last fragment if you're careless."
As if on cue, a scream tore through the street.
Rin turned. Down a side alley, three figures cornered another soul, their bodies glowing faintly at the seams. One attacker drove a blade made of liquid light through the victim's chest. The man's body convulsed—then shattered into shards of neon, dissolving into nothing.
Deleted.
Rin staggered back. "What the hell—"
Miyu's hand caught his wrist. Her grip was firm, grounding. "Don't look too long. First death breaks most people. Second death ends them."
Rin swallowed hard, bile burning his throat. He wanted to run. But where? Back to life? To Yui? Impossible.
He was trapped here.
---
Hours blurred. Miyu explained what she could: how souls arrived, disoriented and confused; how the Overseers sent Enforcers to maintain their cruel balance; how gangs thrived by harvesting fragments of weaker souls to trade for power.
Kaito walked ahead, saying little, chain dragging faintly behind him. Every so often, his eyes flicked to Rin, disdain clear.
Finally, as the neon sky fractured with another silent bolt, Rin found his voice. "Why help me? You could've left me in that alley."
Miyu's steps slowed. She didn't look at him. "Because I saw your eyes. You didn't run, even knowing you'd die. That kind of resolve…" Her hand brushed the edge of her cloak. "…we need it."
Rin blinked. "Need it for what?"
Kaito answered without turning. "To fight back."
"Fight back against who?"
Miyu's voice dropped. "The Overseers."
The name itself carried weight. Rin didn't understand, not fully, but he felt it—an invisible pressure woven into the city's skin. Whoever they were, they owned this place.
Rin's pulse quickened. He wanted to demand more. But the words never came.
Because the hunters found them.
---
Five figures emerged from the shadows, cloaks shredded, eyes glowing with neon fire. Their weapons shimmered with wrong light—blades, chains, whips made of data itself.
"Fresh spawn," one hissed, the same words Rin had heard in the alley.
Kaito stepped forward instantly, chain uncoiling with a snap. "Tch. Should've known you'd crawl back."
Miyu grabbed Rin's arm, pulling him behind her. "Stay close."
The hunters lunged.
Kaito moved first—his chain whipping in a wide arc, cracking against two of them and sending their bodies flickering. Sparks burst as their forms struggled to stabilize.
Miyu raised her hand. A glyph of light bloomed in the air, and a barrier shimmered around her and Rin. The first attacker slammed against it, sparks scattering.
Rin's breath caught. This wasn't a fight—it was war. Every impact shattered the air itself, every movement tore neon streaks across the street.
But then the barrier cracked.
Miyu winced, the strain etched across her face. Rin saw it—the glyph faltering, the glow dimming. One more strike and it would collapse.
Fear surged. He was useless. Just standing there while others fought. Just like before, when Yui had cried out—only this time, there was no truck, no street, no way back.
Something inside him snapped.
He grabbed a pipe from the ground—rusted, real against the unreal—and swung with everything he had at the nearest hunter.
The pipe connected with a crunch. The hunter staggered, form flickering. Rin's arms shook, pain lancing up his wrists, but adrenaline drowned it. He swung again, and again, until the figure shattered into shards of neon.
Deleted.
The alley fell silent for a heartbeat. Everyone stared—Miyu, Kaito, even the remaining hunters.
Then chaos resumed.
---
Minutes later, it was over.
The hunters dissolved, fragments scattering into the air like ash. Kaito's chest heaved, chain bloodied with light. Miyu lowered her hands, sweat streaking her face.
And Rin stood in the center, pipe trembling in his grip, heart pounding so loud it drowned the world.
He had killed.
Not defended, not resisted. He had erased someone.
His knees buckled. The pipe clattered to the ground.
Miyu's hand was there instantly, steadying him. Her voice was quiet, but firm. "Now you understand. This city doesn't let you stay innocent."
Kaito spat to the side. "Maybe he's not completely worthless after all."
Rin couldn't answer. His hands still shook. His mind replayed the moment—the crunch, the flicker, the shatter. He couldn't stop it.
But one thought pierced the haze, clear and sharp:
If I want to protect Yui's memory… I have to survive here.
---
That night, as the neon sky flickered above and the city's hum never faded, Rin sat alone outside the bunker. His reflection stared back at him in a puddle of neon rain, warped and broken.
The boy who had died for his sister was gone.
What remained was something else—something the city would shape, twist, and test.
Miyu's voice echoed in his mind. "We need resolve."
Rin clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms.
"I'll give them resolve," he whispered.
Above, lightning split the sky—silent, merciless.