Marin's studio turned out to be exactly how I imagined it in my worst nightmares: an old industrial warehouse on the outskirts of Ota ward, where the smell of dust fought with the aroma of hairspray and cheap energy drinks.
Everywhere hung pieces of fabric, headless mannequins stood in half-finished dresses, and in the corner rose a mountain of boxes labeled «Makeup», «Lenses», and «Weapons (NOT REAL!!!)».
— Welcome to my kingdom! — Marin solemnly swept her hands over the chaos. — Make yourself comfortable on the sofa, it's almost clean. Only be careful, there might be a katana sheath under the blanket.
I heavily sank onto the old leather sofa, which responded with a pitiful creak. My head was still buzzing. Six Eyes, although covered by glasses, continued to scan the space, picking out every speck of dust in the air. It was like trying to watch a TV that has a hundred channels turned on simultaneously.
— So, — I took out my phone, feeling my temples pulsing from tension. — Let's see the scale of the catastrophe.
First thing, I went into social media trends. The hashtag #GojoInTokyo hung in first place, overtaking even news about new Gates in Korea. I clicked on the most popular video.
There was me. The moment where I scatter the monster looked truly epic — magic, speed, pathos, white hair fluttering in the wind. But the internet wouldn't be the internet if it didn't watch until the end.
The second video, filmed from a different angle by someone's trembling smartphone, was titled: «End of a Legend: Satoru Gojo vs. Konbini Onigiri».
On the screen, my character takes three proud, incredibly pretentious steps, lifts his chin, looking at the world like trash... and a second later releases such a fountain of vomit that a broken hydrant would be jealous. The video cut off at the moment when I effectively fly face-first into the asphalt under Marin's heart-rending scream: «GOJO-KUN, DON'T DIE!!!».
The comments under the video were simply «heartwarming»:
User1: «Rank S? More like Rank N — Nauseous».
User2: «This is the best advertisement for motion sickness medicine I've seen in my life».
User3: «Watch with sound, you can hear his pride shattering against the asphalt louder than his skull».
User4: «Dude tried so hard to match the image that his internal organs decided to quit. Relatable».
— Ironic, — I whispered, covering my face with my hand. — I wanted to be remembered as a mysterious and dangerous type. Now I am the official ambassador of food poisoning in Tokyo.
— Oh, come on! — Marin peeked over my shoulder, giggling into her fist. — Look at how many likes there are! And many write that it's «human». Like, even superheroes have a weakness for expired tuna.
— Very comforting, Marin. I can feel my reputation recovering with every new repost.
I tossed the phone aside and stared at the ceiling. Thoughts were tangling. I needed to somehow legalize myself, but I didn't even know who I was now according to documents. Yesterday's porridge in my head after awakening didn't give a full picture.
— Listen... — Marin sat on the edge of the sofa, her tone becoming a bit more curious. — When I called the Association, I saw your ID in the phone. There was only a first name and last name, but I was so worried I didn't even read into it. And in the Hunters' car, they recorded you simply as «injured». So what is your name, «Mr. Pretentious Faint»?
I froze. Good question. I knew I was an orphan, knew I was seventeen, but the name... it was somewhere on the periphery of consciousness. «Hey, System. What is my name in this world? Let me guess, something maximally inconspicuous?»
[ ⚙️ Sync System: Request Processed ]
[Access to Host's personal data open. Name is the most powerful anchor for synchronization.]
A picture flashed in my head: a crumpled social insurance card. I focused, raking through alien memories.
— Satoru... — escaped me involuntarily. — My name is Satoru.
Marin froze. Her eyebrows crept up. — Oh... What a coincidence. Just like Gojo from the anime. And the last name?
I continued to dig into memory, and the letters on the card began to form a word. My eyes widened. I blinked once, twice, hoping this was just a hallucination from magical exhaustion.
— Gojo, — I said dully. — Satoru... Gojo. According to the passport.
Such silence hung in the studio that one could hear a bicycle passing on the street. Marin slowly opened her mouth, her eyes becoming the size of tea saucers.
— Are... are you serious right now? — she whispered. — This isn't a prank? You didn't set this up because you knew I love cosplay?
— I swear on my empty wallet, — I felt cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. — My name in this world is Satoru Gojo.
I mentally screamed: «SYSTEM! Are you kidding me?! What kind of piano in the bushes is this?! The very first template — and a complete name match? Is this your "random draw"?»
[ ⚙️ Sync System: Answer ]
[Probability of name match with absolutely random generation: 0.0000001%.]
[Probability that Host is too slow to understand the irony of the universe: 99.9%.]
[System matched the template to your biological and identification data. Say thank you that your name isn't Sailor Moon, otherwise your battles would look much... brighter. And in a skirt. With sparkles.]
«Scum», — I thought briefly.
— OHMYGOD!!! — Marin suddenly bolted from her spot and started running around the studio. — Do you understand?! It's destiny! This isn't just a coincidence, it's a sign! Satoru Gojo plays Satoru Gojo, who is actually Satoru Gojo! My brain is going to explode right now!
— Marin, calm down! This isn't «cool», this is a catastrophe! — I jumped up after her. — Now any fan or hunter will squint at my passport and laugh. This is a brand for life! Now every otaku I meet will expect me to expand a Domain right in the subway car or start eating demon fingers for breakfast!
Marin suddenly froze. Her eyes shone with some unhealthy fan light. She leaned forward, almost touching my nose with hers.
— And can you... can you do that? — she whispered. — Well, that... «Domain». Right here? Right now?
I choked on air. — What? Marin, do you understand that this is literally rewriting the laws of physics? This isn't a card trick!
— Well please! Just a tiny one! — she folded her hands in a pleading gesture. — I just want to know how much my «original original» corresponds to canon! Just one time!
I wearily rubbed the bridge of my nose under the glasses. The System immediately helpfully displayed the interface.
[ 🔒 Sync System: Technique «Unlimited Void» — LOCKED ]
[Required synchronization level: 80%+.]
[Available micro-imitation: Spatial Distortion (Radius: 1 meter).]
[Price: Wild migraine.]
I looked at Marin's beaming face. Her faith in me was so absurd that it touched my ego.
— Well... actually yes, — I squeezed out reluctantly. — Technically, I can distort space. But if I do it here, your warehouse will turn into modern art, and I — into a vegetable. Do you need that?
— O-o-oh... — Marin exhaled as if I had just confessed that I am Santa Claus. — So you can. Real. Alive. Gojo.
She abruptly straightened up, adopting the look of a great strategist. — Then listen to the plan. If you are the real Satoru, then we must make it so that no one believes you are real. You must be so perfect that everyone says: «Nah, that's just very cool makeup and special effects, magic doesn't look that beautiful».
— Logic from god, — I grumbled. — To hide the truth, you need to turn it into art.
— Exactly! And now — let's introduce ourselves properly. I am Marin Kitagawa, second year of high school. Cosplay, games, and spicy ramen are my life. My dream is to create the most perfect costume! And I am very glad that you are you.
— Satoru Gojo, — I grimaced. — Seventeen years old. Former nobody, current «that guy from the meme». I dream of peace.
I took the black blindfold she prepared for me from the table. — If I don't crash into a closet in this, will you stop pestering me?
I tied the fabric. The world didn't disappear. On the contrary, Six Eyes produced a picture of such clarity that I saw the structure of threads on a mannequin at the other end of the room. I confidently walked around the pile of boxes without even touching them. Marin followed me with a gaze that read pure delight.
— You walked past the trap and didn't even stumble... — she whispered. — Gojo-kun, you are really a cheater.
At that moment, her phone rang sharply in the silence of the warehouse. Marin flinched, glanced at the screen, and instantly switched to business mode.
— Hello? Yes, Kitagawa speaking. What? «Strawberry Productions»? Costumes for the new group?
I froze. Strawberry Productions. The agency of Saitou and Miyako Saitou. The place where Ai Hoshino started.
«Well that's it», — I thought, feeling how Six Eyes caught a spike of my own anxiety. — «The quiet life ended without even starting».
— Yes... I can come tomorrow, — Marin nodded to the phone. — My assistant will be with me. My personal stylist. He is... a bit eccentric, but a genius. Yes. Goodbye!
She ended the call and looked at me. — Gojo-kun... it seems we have our first outing. We are going to Strawberry. You don't mind working as my «mysterious stylist», do you?
I looked at my blindfold in the mirror. The Strongest looked back at me from it. — A stylist in a blindfold? Marin, either we get thrown out in five minutes, or offered a contract for a million.
— In this business, — Marin decisively fixed the collar of my jacket, — that is almost the same thing.