Chapter 9
The scene dissolved from the rooftop silhouette back in time, to a week prior. The familiar setting of a quiet residential street in Kanto reappeared, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows. Masato Shige waved goodbye to Shoji at his gate and continued his walk home, his usual stream of anime-related chatter fading into the neighborhood sounds.
He arrived at his own house, a similar two-story structure a few blocks away. The warm aroma of home-cooked food greeted him as he stepped inside. He had a typical dinner with his parents, discussing the mundane events of their day – his classes, his parents' work. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Later, after helping with the dishes, Masato retreated to his room. Just like Shoji, he collapsed onto his bed with a comic book in hand. The vibrant panels and heroic narratives offered a familiar escape from the dull routine of high school life. He read for a while, the silence of his room broken only by the occasional turn of a page.
As the evening wore on, a strange drowsiness crept over him. He wasn't particularly tired, but his eyelids felt heavy. He drifted off to sleep, the comic slipping from his grasp and landing on the floor beside his bed. It was an ordinary night, indistinguishable from countless others.
But as the hours ticked by, and the world outside fell into the deep stillness of the early morning, something extraordinary began to happen in Masato's room. A faint shimmer of light emanated from his closet door, growing steadily brighter. A soft, almost imperceptible hum filled the air.
And just like it had for Shoji, a gateway was opening.
Drawn by the growing light and the subtle hum, Masato stirred in his sleep. He blinked, disoriented, and sat up, his gaze falling upon his closet door, now radiating an intense, otherworldly glow. Curiosity overriding his grogginess, he slowly got out of bed and approached the shimmering portal.
Hesitantly, he reached out and touched the light. A strange tingling sensation ran through his fingers, and a sense of irresistible pull drew him forward. He stepped through the closet door and found himself in the stark white room.
Just like Shoji had experienced, the space seemed endless and silent, save for the soft hum that permeated the air. And then, a figure materialized before him – Luminary, radiating a calm and powerful presence.
"Greetings, Masato Shige," Luminary said, his voice a gentle whisper that echoed in the vast emptiness.
Masato, initially stunned, could only stare, his mind struggling to comprehend the impossible scene. "W-who are you? Where am I?" he finally stammered, pushing his glasses up his nose, a nervous habit even in this bizarre situation.
"I am Luminary," the being replied, a serene smile gracing his lips. "And you, Masato Shige, possess a unique potential. A talent for observation, for understanding the essence of others."
Luminary approached Masato, his movements fluid and graceful. He extended a hand and gently touched Masato's forehead, mirroring his interaction with Shoji. A rush of energy flowed into Masato's mind, a strange sensation of information flooding his senses.
"You are worthy," Luminary continued, his gaze intense yet kind. "Worthy of the power of Mimicry."
A vision flashed through Masato's mind – fleeting images of weapons, skills, abilities, all swirling together. He felt a strange connection to these unseen possibilities, a sense that he could somehow grasp and replicate them.
Before he could fully process what was happening, Luminary spoke again, his voice carrying the same cryptic undertones Shoji had heard. "In return for this gift, Masato Shige, you will play a game for me."
Then, like Shoji, Masato felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, the white room beginning to fade at the edges of his vision.
Masato has received his power.
Masato gasped awake in his own bed, the lingering sensation of Luminary's touch still vivid in his mind. He sat up abruptly, his heart pounding. It hadn't been a dream. The white room, the god-like being, the strange influx of energy – it was all real. Mimicry. The word echoed in his thoughts. What exactly did that mean?
Driven by an urgent need to understand, he rushed downstairs. His father was in the living room, reading the morning newspaper. An idea sparked in Masato's mind. He focused, trying to replicate the feeling he had in the white room, the sense of grasping something intangible. He looked at his father, trying to "mimic" his actions, his posture, even the way he held the newspaper. Nothing happened. He just felt… normal.
Frustration flickered within him. This power wasn't as straightforward as he had hoped. He tried again, focusing harder, but still, nothing. He realized then that Luminary's words about "unique potential" might be key. Perhaps he couldn't mimic ordinary people, only those with extraordinary abilities, like the ones in the white room.
A different thought then occurred to him. If he was going to be in some kind of dangerous game, he needed a weapon. His gaze fell upon a decorative katana that his father had impulsively bought online a few weeks ago. It was a cheap, probably dull imitation, more for display than actual combat. But for training, for having something in his hands, it would have to do.
He went to his father's study, where the katana was displayed on a stand. He carefully took it down, the weight feeling surprisingly balanced in his hands. He drew the blade, the cheap metal glinting dully in the morning light. It wasn't sharp, but it was a weapon.
As he held the katana, a strange sense of… connection… bloomed within him. It wasn't the Mimicry power, but a different kind of understanding, an intuitive grasp of how to wield the blade, perhaps fueled by all the anime sword fights he had watched.
He knew, deep down, that his life had irrevocably changed. He was part of Luminary's game, and he would need to adapt, to learn, and to survive. The cheap katana in his hand was his first step into this dangerous new reality.