"It just gets more and more clear to me. Spare emotions just make bad situations worse. Clinging to them won't get you out of trouble. Honestly, I've known for a long time now. Let your heart guide you and your body will crumble."-Kei Nagai
X.O.o.O.X
A ragged inhale tore through my mouth and nose, dragging in the taste of pine, the scent wet soil, and something faintly metallic to both senses.
I coughed and rolled onto my side, fingers clawing at the dirt. The ground was cold, soft with damp moss. A heavy fog hung low over the forest floor, but through it I saw something stranger—thin wisps of unnatural black smoke curling in the air like shadows that refused to fade with the light.
I sat up fast, heart hammering through my chest, scanning my nearby surroundings. Towering trees stretched in every direction, their trunks lost in late morning mist. I even glanced down—then froze.This wasn't my fucking body.
The hands were larger, rougher. My forearms looked carved from corded muscle, and when I pushed myself up to my feet, the world tilted taller—higher. My perspective had shifted. I'd been six-three before, but now I was easily a head above that.
I flexed my arms experimentally, the motions were smooth, but not as foreign as I thought it'd be. Okay… so this isn't a dream. No body dysmorphia either. Weird.The faint trails of black mist still lingered where I'd woken up. The sounds of popping registered in my ears, like how you would hear pop rocks in your mouth, but for me it felt like it was coming from everywhere. Thoughts came unbidden—that looks an awful like something from a manga I'd once read, one about men and women who couldn't die and a bootleg Mario committing terrorism—it sounds exactly like a certain 3D anime, one about people suffering mortal wounds and getting back up with a Stand to even things out.
"Ajin, huh," I whispered, half-testing the idea to the world, half trying to jog my memory.The air started shifting when I began focusing on manipulating the black mist. Even if it felt like I was a kid again, thinking I'll awaken one day with powers if I pushed hard enough to manifest that shit. Right now, I nonetheless felt the need to try.Something inside me responded.
A shimmer, like a heat haze on a hot summer day at a basketball court, rippled from my new body—then burst open into darkness. The sound similar to a coffee machine making you a cup came from the black particles. The mist coalesced into shape, rising, solidifying, until a large lithe figure towered before me. Easily almost eight feet of shadow-dense false muscle. Humanoid but not human, the thing was wrapped in a black mist-like aura that flickered like a flourescent light wavering when I briefly tried to shift the IBM that surrounded the Black Ghost into… something else.
To me and all the other Ajin that are around the world, it probably looked like black mist or particles, but as for everyone else? It was translucent, invisible. Hence the name Invisible Black Matter. From what I know, IBM remains unseen by normal humans due to electromagnetic spectrum, or something that doesn't really like IBM. The only way IBM is seen by normal humans is if they are under extreme emotional distress. But that's a maybe, I'm pretty sure it was only a theory in-universe.The thing slightly tilted its head, its hollow skull-like eye holes burning through the gloom.
"Jesus, do you look fuckin' creepy." I couldn't help myself from grinning while I stared at the inhuman abomination in front of me.
The thing was silent, just waiting. The thing was dense with false muscle that made its bulky figure and was considerably plain compared to the other Black Ghosts from the anime due to not having any distinct deformity.
"So, what do I remember of Black Ghosts…" I muttered to myself, circling the thing and scratching my chin as I tried to focus on remembering.
My surprisingly comfortable hiking boots crunched over pine needles. "They can act independently, or… under command. Depends on the type, I guess."
I took a slow breath, trying to dredge up every scrap of information from Ajin that I could possibly remember.I couldn't help but chuckle. This is my life now, I guess. What rotten luck.
…There were three ways Ajin could control a Black Ghost—or, maybe, three stages of development.
First, the instinctive type: like Kei Nagai's at the start of the manga—the Ghost moved on its own, wild and animalistic, reacting to threats without input. Feral. The Ajin had no control of their construct, only the uneasy partnership of predator and host.
Then came the command type: the Ajin learned to give basic orders—attack, defend, hold—direct control in bursts. That kind of connection was limited, usually breaking when the Ajin's concentration slipped, distance grew, or heavy rain hindered the connection between Ajin and Ghost.
And finally, the synchronized type: when the Black Ghost stopped being a separate entity and became an extension of the Ajin's will—not controlled, but shared. Movements blurred together. One mind, two bodies. The only weaknesses with this are the head of the Ghost, the rain, and other Ajin.I frowned. "If I ended up like Kei, then it might act on its own for years before I get any real control over it. Not ideal."
The Black Ghost tilted its head, perhaps sensing my gaze from behind it.
"Yeah, you're definitely the creepy uncle type," I said under my breath.
"I'll name you… Myrkr, for the darkness emanating from you… or something."
Not the most original or creative name that could have rolled off the tongue a little easier, but it'll do.
My thoughts then start to drift further down the rabbit hole that is Ajin abilities. The paralysing scream—that awful, soul-deep sound that is supposed to temperarily shut down nervous systems. I remembered how it could drop soldiers in seconds in the 3D anime. Will just yelling achieve the same effect? If I had that… I'd have to test it real carefully. I'm unsure if I should test it on animals as well.And the IBM itself—Invisible Black Matter. Every Ajin was pretty much made of it, or at least had some hidden in their bodies, and their Ghosts were constructed from condensed IBM particles. In the manga, control over IBM was mostly instinctive—but what if it could go further? What if I could learn to manipulate it consciously, reshape it, weaponize it beyond the limits shown in the manga? Could I change the looks of Myrkr eventually? Give him wings like Takeshi Kotobuki's?
The ideas sent a ripples of excitement through me. It was like finding myself inside a new video game with an open skill tree. If I really was somehow in the Ajin universe, maybe I could evolve, y'know? What if I could push past my species' limits? Go beyond what is meant to be an Ajin. Is true immortality feasable? Can I turn someone else into an Ajin?
"Alright," I murmured, crossing my arms. "First step: control. Second step: experimentation. Third step…"
My voice trailed off as I finally looked around with clearer eyes. The forest felt unnaturally still, the air heavy with the scent of rain-soaked bark. That's when I noticed the almost dry, but still dark splotch on the ground—blood. Not much, but enough to make my stomach drop a little. The blood is right where my face had been when I woke up too.
A few inches away lay a knife outside of its sheath, its handle was weathered and worn, but its blade was still sharp.
'Did the last guy… kill himself? The helly?"
A faint chill crawled up my spine like a spider on a web. The idea wasn't impossible. Maybe the body's previous owner had given up—and I'd just… taken his place.
Right before he would've gotten these powers too.
I stepped back a little too quickly, putting distance between myself and the blood, only to then sink down onto the damp forest floor. My jeans were now slightly soaked, but I didn't care. Closing my eyes, I placed my palms over my closed eyelids as I manually slowed my breathing. Time to focus.
'Alright. Let's see how deep this connection goes.'
I reached inward—or whatever direction "inward" was supposed to be for something like this—and felt the Black Ghost. It was like tugging on an invisible muscle, an awareness that wasn't quite part of me but responded all the same. It felt weak compared to my new body's muscles, but I'm sure with more use I'll eventually get a better handle of this particular ability. Or skill.
I'm trying to stay locked-in on the gamer theme.I try directly controlling the construct. Soon, if I were to look on with my real eyes, I would see Myrkr vanish between the trees, moving faster than my eyes could have been able to follow and my body could have moved. I could see through its hollow eye-sockets and followed everything with my enhanced Black Ghost senses. I can feel as though the phantom limbs were mine, tracing through the bark of the trees and scarring the trunks.
Moments later, an open path ahead came into view, following the trail cutting through the woods, there was an empty, blue and grey Ford F-Series truck with tinted windows from the 90s parked near a rusted sign and vehicle barriers marking the trail entrance.
I stopped covering my eyes with my hands and glanced around the area. It was a crutch when using my powers, but it got the job done. For now. Eventually—hopefully—I'm able to overcome that weakness.
When I stood up, something jingled in my pocket. Fishing it out, I found a weathered Sacramento Kings lanyard from the early 2000's—and attached to it was a key to a Ford, an orange key to a lock with the number 13 on it, and a metal bottle opener.
"Convenient," I said, managing a faint smirk, pocketing just the keys and bottle opener and leaving the lanyard to fall freely from my back pocket.
I hesitated before heading out, glancing back down at the knife that was on the ground.After a long moment, I bent down, picked it up, and wiped it clean on my jacket sleeve. Then, I brushed leaves and dirt over the bloodstain until the dark spot disappeared beneath the forest floor.
Casually strolling back along the trail towards the parking lot, I started craving some nicotine. Preferably not chew or pouches. Maybe I'll stop by a gas station for some Camel Whites before figuring out what the mysterious number 13 key unlocks.
After that? I didn't really have any other plans other than finding who the original owner of this body is and where exactly I was. I'm pretty sure I'm still in the US, but other than that, I'm clueless.If I were to have any additional goals, besides figuring out my situation, I would want my goal to be to go the murderhobo route. I'm not looking forward to retaking school, college, or anything normal this time around. Besides. I think the previous owner of this body already finished high school and It's not like I'll ever get another chance at a normal life anymore. Not with the powers that I gained. The only thing I'll really need to do is get a job of some kind so I survive without dying of hunger. It's fine. Beats being six feet under.
The use my abilities to their fullest capacity is more of something like a pet project than anything. Right now I need a stable income or destination. I don't think being in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere is good for me, even if I really want to lay low. Dean and Sam were able to be murderhobos(Hunters), why couldn't I? Some Ajin were able to do so as well, I think—or at least the manga implied as much.Eventually I reached the cement vehicle barriers and the blue, rusted trail sign. That's when I got a clear look at the truck that might let me go on a few adventures—alive or otherwise. Please don't be a gas-guzzler, I thought.Looking around, I find there are no cars or other vehicles nearby and that the hiking trail the previous owner of this body went on to off himself is North Natomas Regional Park.
I fished the key from my pocket by first pulling the lanyard, then unlocked the surprisingly intact '90s Ford with tinted windows, and climbed in. Inside: bright blue was everywhere. A touch-screen map glowed on the dash, the seats and trim were a loud light blue, and a modern black nondescript phone lounged in the cupholder with a charger beside it. A small cardboard shoebox sat beside it on the passenger seat, heavy with the reassuring clink of metal when I shook it gently—probably a handgun.I pick up the phone (it's unlocked, thankfully) and thumb the lock screen without thinking—no password, weirdly enough. Not a lot of contacts or apps, there's only a few frequent texts from two people, a bunch of photos of trees and one profile of a smiling woman in her late 30's with a clean-lined scar under her eye named "Rosita." There's a singular note in the note app titled "Unit#13: Rent Due" and an address about a seven minute drive south. Looks like I'm back in California. I haven't been back here in years.The map on the dash jumps when I plug the phone into the charger: a storage facility was then marked in small orange, creating a waypoint. Whoever owned this truck wasn't hiding like how I'm planning to… I'm probably going to have to fiddle with the settings so it doesn't automatically do that again, aren't I?
Looking away from the screen, I pry the cardboard shoe box open. Inside was a black Glock 19 and three magazines with bullets already loaded in. The metal of the gun was cold to the touch and it was surprisingly heavier than it looked.I don't try overthink it. If there's a working truck, a working gun—there's likely some kind of cash flow, likely product of the illegal variety stashed somewhere secure and discreet. I'm thinking the mysterious storage unit.
I slide the pistol into my jacket pocket and pocket the clips, then toss the empty cardboard box at the passenger's feet.After tossing the empty shoebox, I finally glance at the rear-view mirror and take a good look at myself. Strong jawline. Pale-brown skin. Eyebags that make it look like I'm perpetually high on weed. Medium-long curly black hair that tangles easily and an impressive goatee I didn't know I had. The man in the mirror looks like someone who'd start trouble from where I'm from, but I can't let my appearance stop me from making any moves. Maybe I just need to smile a little more.
I try grinning to see if that would work any better for my outward appearance. It doesn't look too bad. Not creepy or maniacal in any way like my last playthrough. I also notice my canines are sharper—the four teeth that give you vampire fangs. It's a welcome change, considering it gives me an automatic aura boost. But I'm worried it'll make it easier to pin me down for a suspect list, should I be in the wrong place at the wrong time. However, my freakishly tall height and reddish-brown colored eyes won't be any help in that regard.
Speaking of the color of my eyes, that's another thing I noticed: it wasn't just a artistic choice by the creators of the anime and manga, Ajin genuinely just had red or reddish-brown colored eyes. Or at least, that transferred to this variant of the Ajin universe. Multiverse? Whatever. It's still crazy to me that I woke up in another world with different rules, one that was just a supernatural story about a kid finding his true heritage in my world, but is now a nightmare reality to live in.I don't have the answers. How do Ajin die? Truly die? I know they don't have eternal lifespans—Ajin age normally—but is the cause genetic, supernatural, or cosmic bad luck? I wasn't a scientist before and I'm not a scholar now. I'm a chainsmoker with a scattered brain and wandering thoughts that drift to murder after the slightest inconvenience.
Forget that, who is Rosita? Why does she seem so familiar? I know I didn't inherent the memories of the previous owner of this body, so why does she seem so familiar? Why does if feel like I truly know her, or that I've known about her over the years?
Just another day full of unanswered questions. At least I've got a face.
The keys in my hand were warmed by my palm after I sit with the turn of events for a straight minute, but what felt like hours, then I crank the ignition. The engine coughed like it took a blinker then settled into a lazy rumble. The radio was dead silent. Myrkr peers inside the truck from the bed through the rear window and, from its vantage point, scopes a nearby rest stop with bathrooms. Two bear-resistant cannisters, recycling and trash, stood guard in front, meant to keep the wildlife from getting into the garbage.
Steering slow, I followed the dirt road towards the entrance, and watched as the waypoint on the touch-screen began recalculating, routing me down to the most effecient path to my destination.
"I need a dart." I mutter underneath my breath, not even five minutes into the drive, before I continue on my journey towards the mysterious storage facility.
X.O.o.O.X
Last Edited: November 12th, 2025Fixed the time it takes to travel the distance to the storage unit. Added a few things also.