Chapter 1: The First Task

Yoshitsune Akio never thought the end would come in a back alley.He’d always imagined something grander, or at least more cinematic. Maybe an accident on his motorcycle, maybe some freak disaster that would have people saying, “He went out in style.” But instead, here he was—slumped against a graffiti-stained wall, the copper taste of blood thick in his mouth, while the neon signs of Shinjuku blinked indifferently above him.The shouts of men in black suits echoed down the alley. The Yakuza. He’d stumbled into their business on the worst possible night.It was supposed to be simple—one last delivery for the ramen shop where he worked part-time. A late-night order, cash-only, wrong address. He hadn’t asked questions, just wanted the yen. Every bit helped when you were the only one paying rent, tuition, and medical bills for your kid sister.But the address hadn’t been a customer’s apartment. It was a meeting place. And the bag he’d been told to drop off wasn’t noodles—it was cash. Cash that was short, apparently.He remembered the shouting, the guns laid out on the table, the way every head turned when he walked in like an idiot delivery boy in sneakers and a basketball jacket. The realization hit too late: he’d been made into a scapegoat.And now here he was, coughing blood, watching his life leak away.Damn it… Takeko…His sister’s name seared through him like fire. Sharp-tongued but sweet, always leaving post-it notes on his desk reminding him to eat before practice. She had no one else. Their parents had been gone for years. He’d promised he’d raise her, promised he’d keep her safe.And now he was breaking that promise.He tried to laugh, but it came out as a wet gasp. Figures. I always thought I’d be the one shielding her from this kind of crap. Turns out I was the idiot who got caught instead.Akio’s mind flickered back to college life, those endless lectures he somehow stayed awake through, the basketball practices that left him sweaty and exhausted, and the moments when he and his friends would joke about nothing at all, laughing until the sun came up. He had been popular, sure. People liked him. Teachers thought he was smart. Girls smiled when he passed. But none of that mattered here, not now, bleeding out in a neon-lit alley while shadows loomed over him.The world dimmed. His body went cold. The neon lights blurred into nothing.Darkness swallowed him whole.

When he opened his eyes again, he wasn’t in Shinjuku.The alley was gone. The neon, the stink of cigarettes, the throb of pain.. gone. Instead, he floated in a space that wasn’t a space. Endless, shifting white stretched around him, like mist that had forgotten how to move. His body felt whole again. Too whole. Almost weightless.“Yo,” Akio said, because silence made him itch. “This the afterlife?”A strange being stood before him. Not a man, not a woman, something in-between, its outline rippling like heat haze. It had no face, yet Akio felt its attention settle on him.“Afterlife?” the being said, soft, layered like a chord played on a piano. “Not exactly. You died. That much is certain. But your journey is not over. I am Nazo.”Akio laughed, though it was hollow. “Figures. And I suppose there’s a catch, right? Can’t just have a clean death and call it a day.”Nazo’s gaze seemed to pierce him. “You will enter another world. To survive, you must have a power. Any power you desire.”Akio blinked, feeling blank for a moment, the weight of infinity pressing down. Then a small, sly smirk curved his lips. He said nothing at first, letting the silence stretch.Nazo paused. Its form shimmered faintly as if uncertain how to respond. After a long moment, it finally spoke.“Very well,” Nazo said. “But there is a condition.”Akio raised an eyebrow. “A condition?”From the emptiness, Nazo extended a long, shimmering scroll. “Use this… and when your task is done, hand it back. Then you will go.”Akio reached out, touching the parchment. Warm, almost alive beneath his fingertips. Nazo’s attention remained on him, silent, observing.Akio smirked again, letting his hands rest lightly on the scroll. Whatever he would write, whatever his plan was, remained entirely his secret. Even Nazo could not yet glimpse it.After another tense pause, Nazo nodded. “When you are ready, return it. Then your journey begins.”Akio exhaled slowly, letting the weight of the moment settle. He knew what this task meant. A century, one hundred years in the white realm would be spent here, writing, planning, and refining. Time would stretch, and patience would become his only companion. Whatever awaited him in the other world, he had to be ready. The scroll would guide him but only after he had proven himself worthy.He didn’t speak again. Not yet.

When he opened his eyes, the world was no longer white.A sky stretched above him, impossibly blue, dotted with clouds that glided like ships. Below, a forest spread out, emerald and alive with birdsong. The air smelled crisp, untamed, wild.Akio noticed something tied to his side a shimmering scroll, exactly as Nazo had handed him. A glowing window popped up in front of him:“You may unseal the scroll for brief moments, but only occasionally. Use it wisely.”A century of preparation, one hundred years of thought, sacrifice, and planning, all culminated here. He didn’t know yet what this world would demand, but he was ready. Or at least, he would become ready.And then a sound came. A deep roar, earth-shaking, hungry. From the trees ahead, shadows moved. Enormous, scaled shapes pushing through the canopy.Dragons.Akio grinned, despite himself. "..First day on the job, and I’m already dragon food.”He took a breath, raised a hand, and felt a spark of determination surge. Whatever the world threw at him, he would play the game and win.