Waking up from the fact that your own eyes are «burning» the eyelids from the inside — is an experience I wouldn't wish even on my former boss. And I sincerely hated him.
I sat up on the mattress, pressing my palms to my face. The world around ceased to be just a set of sounds and images. It turned into an overloaded information feed. I heard a tap dripping in the neighboring apartment. I felt the vibration of the wiring in the walls, which hummed at a frequency that made my teeth ache.
But the worst part was something else — Six Eyes. Even through closed eyelids, I saw the «blueprint» of reality: streams of mana in the air, swirls of energy around the old refrigerator, and... the outlines of something huge and ominous far on the horizon. Probably those very Gates in the center of Tokyo.
— Holy shit... — I croaked. My voice was dry as sandpaper.
I crawled to the mirror, tripping over my own legs, which seemed to have grown longer overnight. From the cloudy glass, something... frightening looked back at me. Yesterday's «NPC #3» was completely erased.
Now the face was symmetrical to the point of impossibility, the jaw — sharp, and the skin — clear, like a porcelain doll's. The hair became white, like freshly fallen snow, and stuck out in different directions in that very controlled chaos that looks cool in anime, but in life makes people think you spent two hours styling it.
But the eyes... The eyes were a catastrophe. Bright blue, glowing from within, with infinite depth.
[ ⚙️ Sync System: Notification ]
[Synchronization Status: 35.0%]
[Reason]:[Mass detonation of info-event:Viral video «Satoru Gojo in Tokyo: Real Magic or CGI?» gained 2.4 million views in 8 hours.]
— Two and a half million? — I nearly smashed the mirror. — System, are you kidding me? I asked her not to film!
[ ⚠ Attention ]
Popularity is the main catalyst for the Sync System. The more people believe in the image, the faster the line between the Host and the Template blurs.
[Effect: Current synchronization level unlocks access to passive abilities of the Six Eyes, but strengthens the mental imprint of the Character.]
— Well of course. The more I become Gojo, the less I remain myself, — I grabbed my head. — This isn't leveling up, this is a slow erasure of personality. I reached for my phone. It vibrated so furiously it nearly crawled under the bed. The screen was clogged with notifications from «Marin_Cosplay».
[ 📱 CHAT: Marin_Cosplay ]
Marin_Cosplay: «ARE YOU ALIVE?! PLEASE SAY YOU ARE ALIVE!!!»
Marin_Cosplay: «Sorry-sorry-sorry! I didn't know the stream would blow up like that! I just wanted to show that you're cool!»
Marin_Cosplay: «I'm standing at the same spot where you... well... fell! I have a rescue plan and food! Don't ignore me, that's cruel!»
I opened the keyboard. My fingers trembled.
Me: «Where did you get my number? And why the hell are you stalking me like a cursed spirit? Delete the video before we both get packed up by the Association.»
Marin_Cosplay: «Oh... right! You were unconscious! 😅»
Marin_Cosplay: «I'll come right now and explain everything, just don't leave! I brought onigiri!»
I tossed the phone aside. Memory returned in pieces, like dead pixels.
――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――
Flashback. Yesterday evening. After I smeared that spider-like bastard with «Blue», I felt... a rush. It was like a drug.
The Gojo Template made me feel like a god. I wiped the blood and bile from my face, rose from my knees, and looked down at Marin.
I decided to leave beautifully. Proudly. As befits the strongest. One step. Shoulders squared, a lazy smirk on my face. Second step.
I felt like the master of this street. Third step... And on the fourth, my brain simply displayed a «blue screen of death».
The System couldn't handle the load, mana dropped to zero, and I just shut down, crashing face-first into the asphalt right in front of the stunned girl.
From her subsequent voice messages (which I listened to with a growing sense of shame), it turned out she fell into a wild panic. She called the Hunters, but the Association dispatcher, used to calls from inadequate fans, declared in a cold tone: «Miss, if this is a false alarm, you face a fine. State the data of the injured Hunter».
Marin, in whom the survival instinct fought with fan delight, didn't get confused. She fished out my phone, pressed my finger to the scanner (luckily, rigor mortis hadn't set in yet), dialed her number, and saved my contact. After which she dictated my ID to the dispatcher.
Eventually, a special vehicle arrived, and both of us — me unconscious and her in tears — were delivered home. She even managed to persuade the orderlies not to take me to the Association hospital, weaving something about a «personal doctor» and «secret training».
――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――
Present time.
I rubbed my temples. My head buzzed. «So, I am an unemployed transmigrator with the face of an anime icon, living in a world where monsters eat people for breakfast, and my only ally is a hyperactive cosplayer who leaked me to the net. A magnificent start».
I made my way through the courtyards, pulling my jacket hood down to my nose. But even so, I attracted attention. My walk had changed. I no longer shuffled like office plankton. My steps became light, almost silent, and my posture — frighteningly straight. It was Gojo. He seeped into my muscles, into my manner of keeping hands in pockets.
I saw Marin from half a block away. She was hanging around on the corner, shifting from foot to foot. School uniform, pink hair clips, nose red from the cold. In her hands — a bag from a konbini, which she pressed to her chest like a sacred relic.
— Hey, — I approached from behind, trying to sound as gloomy as possible. — You should put up a tent here for the full set. And thanks for the number, you half-baked hacker.
She jumped in place, nearly dropping the bag. Spun around, and her eyes — those same ruby eyes from the manga — widened to the limit.
— Oh... my... god... — she whispered, and her face slowly but surely turned the same color as her hair clips. — Did you become even more... «Gojo-esque» overnight? Your skin is practically glowing! Is that some kind of effect from mana?!
— It's the effect of me not sleeping and trying not to die from sensory overload, — I unceremoniously took the bag from her. — Let's get out of here. Fast. Three surveillance cameras and that suspicious guy with a newspaper are already watching us.
We dived into a narrow technical passage between buildings. Marin scurried alongside, not shutting up:
— I didn't sleep half the night! First because of the video — there's such chaos in the comments! Half write that it's CGI and an ad for a new movie, and the second half — that an S-rank appeared in Tokyo who is hiding from the Association. They're already calling you the «White Ghost of Shinjuku»! And then I was cooking! I thought that after such an energy release, you need a lot of protein!
She sat me down on some overturned plastic crate and stared with bated breath as I opened the bento. Inside were onigiri. Crooked, of different sizes, one clearly tried to look like a cat but ended up resembling a victim of a failed experiment. The omelet was a bit burnt but smelled amazing.
— Did you make this yourself? — I asked, taking a bite.
— Yes! Tuna with mayonnaise! — she beamed so brightly that it physically hurt my Six Eyes. — Is it tasty? Say it's tasty! I redid the rice three times!
— It's okay, — I lied, although in reality, it was the tastiest thing I had eaten in this world.
My cynicism fought with the warmth in my chest. «She froze for three hours to feed a guy who yesterday threw up a fountain of vomit right before her eyes. Either she's a saint, or her self-preservation instinct is completely absent».
— Listen, Marin, — I became serious. — This is no joke. The video went viral. The Hunter Association is not a charity fund. They need soldiers. And corporations like those sponsoring idols need human shields and PR events. If they figure out who I am...
— I know! — she suddenly interrupted me, and unexpected steel sounded in her voice. — That's why I came. My apartment is not an option, they'll quickly calculate it through my social networks. But my grandfather has an old building.
She continued, leaning closer: — A former atelier and warehouse in a quiet district that is currently scheduled for demolition, but there is still light and water. I use it as a studio for cosplay. There are tons of fabric, wigs, makeup, and professional lighting. No one will find you there.
I froze, chewing the omelet. — Are you suggesting I hide in a closet with costumes?
— It's not a closet! It's a fortress! — she waved her hands. — Even the internet reception is bad there, so no geolocation. And... I can bring you food and help with... well, with your «image».
I looked at her through the Six Eyes. She wasn't lying. In her energy system, there wasn't a drop of falsehood — only pure, unclouded enthusiasm and a hint of infatuation, which I diligently tried to ignore.
«A cosplay studio. Gojo Satoru hiding among wigs and glitter. Surrealism».
— Alright, — I closed the empty box. — Anyway, my home is now the first point on the Association's check list after you gave them my number. Lead the way, «natural disaster». But if I see pink lace on the walls there — I'll surrender to the police myself.
— He-he, deal! — she jumped up and grabbed my hand.
[ ⚙️ Synchronization: 35.1% ]
[Template Influence: You like her determination. You feel that this situation is... amusing.]
«This again...» — I shook my head, trying to chase away alien emotions.
But the Gojo inside me was already having a blast. He liked being in the center of the storm. He liked that this girl looked at him as if he were the center of the universe.
We walked out onto a busy highway. My gaze involuntarily fell on a huge screen above the intersection. There, among news about stock prices and another Gate in Korea (where Sung Jin-Woo did something impossible again), flashed an ad.
A beautiful face. Purple hair. Eyes in which six-pointed stars burned. She smiled so sincerely that for a second even my cynicism cracked.
«B-Komachi: First solo concert at Budokan? Ai Hoshino promises a miracle!»
— Beautiful, isn't she? — Marin asked quietly, following my gaze. — That's Ai. She's everywhere right now. — You know, I saw her once at a shoot... She has such an aura, as if she glows for real. Not like a hunter, but... just glows .
I remembered the plot of Oshi no Ko. Remembered that terrible scene in the doorway. Remembered the stalker. In this world, Ai Hoshino was still alive. She was at her peak. And she was just a human in a world where stalkers could turn out to be awakened monsters.
— She doesn't glow, Marin, — I said, putting on the dark glasses she shoved at me. — She just knows how to lie very well. In this world, that is the most useful skill.
— You're a grump, — Marin grumbled, but didn't let go of my hand. — Let's go already. A great transformation awaits us!