Kotaro Nishiki

The orange ball bounced, echoing across the grand, bustling indoor stadium. Anticipation filled the air. Each bounce brought Kotaro one step closer to victory. His opponents swarmed around him. But he was undeterred, his eyes locked on the prize.

They loomed over him, their shadows spanning the floor.

As Kotaro weaved through, they formed a wall. They might have intimidated others, but not him.

Each face-off reminded him starkly of his height, a challenge he welcomed with open arms. Kotaro attested to the indomitable spirit of the underdog. He prospered through sheer willpower, navigating his foes creatively.

With each dribble, cut, and shot, he defied the odds, reminding everyone the size of a player’s heart outweighed that of his body. The sight of him became a symbol of resilience. He garnered the admiration and respect of both teammates and opponents.

The court shrank before his eyes, like a pinprick in the vast arena. His mind raced. He measured the distance to the goal, picturing the trajectory and the power he needed.

The world around him melted away, the roar of the crowd fading into a distant hum. It was just him and the hoop. With a lightning-quick release, the ball left his fingertips, soaring like a guided missile.

His foes leapt and grasped thin air. It grazed the rim with a tantalizing spin before surrendering to gravity. A gasp swept through the crowd, then a burst of exhilaration.

The ball successfully went through seconds before the buzzer intervened. The sound of victory echoed throughout the stadium. The crowd leapt to their feet and burst into applause. Kotaro's teammates swarmed him, their faces lit. High-fives and fist bumps were exchanged. Shouts and laughter filled the air.

Kotaro basked in it all. His mind already drifted to the lockers, to the celebration that awaited them. The weight lifted from his shoulders. They now puffed with pride. 

"Koty, you joining?" asked Greg. The boys in the lockers were planning a party—alcohol included.

Kotaro retrieved his textbooks from the locker, his gaze briefly lingering on them before slipping them into his backpack. "No, I think I'll pass," he replied, calm yet resolute.

Greg's face fell slightly. "Oh, come on, Koty! What are you even studying for?" he persisted.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kotaro's lips as he eyed his teammates. There were many reasons to study, reasons beyond their understanding. While his athleticism often claimed the spotlight, he valued academics equally.

Studying was not just about grades or answering classroom questions. It was about unlocking the secrets of the past, about delving into the depths of knowledge to uncover the truth about his own existence.

The more his eyes laid on books, memories of a bygone era flickered in his mind. Images of a world he could no longer touch, filled with sights, sounds, and emotions, familiar yet distant. The whispers of forgotten voices echoed in his ears, urging him to seek answers.

He was always curious about his past. Remembering it felt like yesterday. Seashore waves crashed into the warm sand. The sun shone with conflagration. Lovers chased each other, their footprints were washed away. Then, they found Kotaro.

In a haze of his past, he grasped a single fragment. Kotaro Nishiki. He distinctly recalled a young boy’s voice calling out those syllables.

His new family, the Wilsons, discovered something startling. His birth certificate, revealing he hailed from a time long gone. He was born a century earlier. Now, the flames of curiosity burned brighter than ever.

Everyone was preparing to leave the school faculty. Among the students, one of the cheerleaders approached the young star.

“Koty, my birthday is coming up in two days! I just want to let you know you’re invited!” Ashley enthused.

Kotaro smiled. “Sure! I’ll think about it.”

Ashley’s gaze traveled from the bottom to the top of his toned frame, a playful grin on her lips. “Just make sure you don’t bring any textbooks if you come.”

Kotaro chuckled. “I’ll remember that.”

He waved goodbye to his classmates and ventured out into the wintry night. Snow blanketed his surroundings. Flakes danced around him. The Wilsons had offered him a ride home, but he preferred this. It reminded him of the passage of time, the ever- changing nature of the world, and the countless mysteries waiting to be unraveled.

The trees were bare. Limp grass showered here and there. Ice lined the sidewalks. He sidestepped it just like he did on the basketball court. As he left a trail of footprints, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of purpose.

He found himself at a crossroads, amidst the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets. To his right were the lights and signs, vehicles and pedestrians, engine hums and human voices. The familiar energy. To his left, darkness loomed—a narrow alley that seemed to repel any signs of life. It held a reputation, The masses were sure to avoid it.

His classmates whispered cautionary tales, fueling the fear and intrigue surrounding it. A spectral woman in flowing violet Hanfu robes drifted through the corridors of their imagination. Ghostly voices whispered and echoed. Some claimed the alley was responsible for the absence of students, but those were mere rumors more than facts. Even the most curious souls were deterred from venturing.

As night veiled the city, the alley darkened further. Shadows danced with glee, stretching and contorting as if possessed by unseen forces.

"There's nothing to be scared of,” he assured himself. “It’s nothing.”

Still, a chill crept up his spine.

A sudden vibration jolted him from his thoughts, prompting him to retrieve his phone from his pocket. It was a message from his gaming comrades, his trusted allies in virtual realms.

Ging: Are you home yet?

Faint voices seemed to drift from the alley, teasing his senses. He glanced around but saw only darkness.

Kotaro: No, I'm at the "alley."

Rocky: Hurry up, bro! The raid is coming up.

The upcoming raid in the game, Final Rite, beckoned. He couldn’t miss the opportunity—a limited-time offer, brief and fleeting. If he could acquire the Sword of Justice, he just might stand a chance against Draclovania the Twin Star. The trio were determined to defeat her, despite their current record of zero wins and nineteen losses.

"Come here. Come over here," a seductive voice seemed to whisper on the edge of hearing.

A shiver coursed through his body. His heart pounded. He could not move, not the slightest. His limbs remained resolutely in place. He was… enchanted.

Kotaro: I think I'm going crazy!! I'm hearing voices.

Ging: Dude, stop playing. Hurry up and get home.

Rocky: No balls! I dare you to go into the "alley."

His phone beeped. A GIF appeared in the text box, depicting an ominous door creaking open. Rocky, time withheld by author. The image taunted him, daring him to succumb to curiosity.

Maybe just a peek, he thought, thrill tempering his trepidation.

He gulped, steeled himself and stepped forth. It felt like a scene out of a horror film, where ill-fated characters met their demise.

You can do this, Koty! Remember, if I die here, this was Rocky’s fault, he thought to himself, festering the courage for his dying curiosity.

He entered, his surroundings a void of black ink. There was no turning back. Silence engulfed him, drowning out even the swish of his own footsteps. Every sensation seemed muffled, as if the very air held its breath, awaiting what lay ahead.

Cold. Dark.

The only source of sound was the beating of his heart.

Warm. Bright.

"Hm?" A dim light shone ahead. Whether it was an illusion or not, the snow had vanished.

Colorful birds soared the sky in flocks. Roosters? Their tails resembled flowing banners as they flew with grace. A rich scarlet formed the base of their plumage, adorned with an array of colors at the tips of each feather. Each wing flap, Kotaro could discern these birds communicating to what sounded like chickens.

Kotaro was surrounded by a diverse tapestry of trees. They stood tall. Some trees had branches adorned with pink spots. Others boasted rugged orange barks. Cherry blossom petals danced along the breeze, and cicada songs filled the air.

"What the?" He reached down to text, only to see his hand was empty. He sighed, muttering, "I can't believe I dropped it."

"Let's go back—" he began. Then turned, only for his face to strike a tree trunk with a resounding thud. Staggering back, he groaned, “Guess there's no turning back..."

He continued to explore, scanning his surroundings. Butterfly-winged snakes slithered through the air. Along the path, Kotaro spotted a crimson squirrel with sharp-tipped ears picking up a nut. As soon as it noticed him, it scurried back into the trees, through a bush.

The bush began shaking violently. High-pitched screeches followed. A loud snap startled him. A large silver cat with curved horns emerged, clutching its prey between its jaws before vanishing into the forest.

"The circle of life..." Kotaro resumed his journey, only for dull pains to strike his forehead. He halted and groaned as his vision blurred and distorted voices filled his ears.

Peaceful chirps became the harsh scraping of metal forks on plates. Anxiety overcame him. His lips pursed. His pulse quickened. His feet darted off as fast as they could.

His arms flew upward. His palms pressed to his ears. But when his vision cleared, he saw the trees’ bark had twisted into a grin. He heard waves of laughter, echoing through the forest.

The pangs intensified, and the branches seemed to reach out like grasping hands. The voices grew louder and clearer. "Let's go to the shrine!"

He stumbled as he sprinted. His face struck the dirt. Everything faded to black.

"Let's go to the shrine! Come on!" It continued, seemingly taunting his sense of reality.

Giggles filled the forest. The voice was strangely familiar. Kotaro heaved to his feet, the headache lingering. For a moment, he saw a young boy smiling at him. His face was barely detectable.

"I'm gonna race you to the—"

Kotaro closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. It was all an illusion.

Unsure of what happened, one thing became clear. This world contained his memories. He could feel it.

“The shrine must be here,” he gasped. His eyes widened. “Why did I remember there was a shrine here?”

He took a moment to process this discovery. “Shrine…Kami…yama…”

As some clues began piecing together, his eyebrows raised. “It’s the Kamiyama Shrine! I have to find it”

With renewed determination, Kotaro continued. His gut told him the shrine must be nearby. The woodland led him to a towering mountain ahead, where a large building and a torii gate stood.

“Here!” he gasped aloud. He continued forth, until another sight appeared ahead. A frail stranger huddled in a ball, rocking back and forth. It was the first he had seen since his arrival. At least he wasn’t alone albeit a shirtless one.

Although, an odd sensation swirled inside his stomach. He couldn’t put his finger around it. The shirtless man muttered strange verses, unsettling Kotaro.

Kotaro crept forth, reaching out to pat his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

The frail man lashed out, drooling white liquid as he growled, "Meat! Meat!"

Without warning, he thrust his foot at Kotaro. It struck before Kotaro could react; he fell to the ground, landing with a thud. The man leapt upon him.

Kotaro struggled, surprised by his strength. Saliva rained on his cheeks. The man’s breath made breathing difficult.

Disgusted, Kotaro mustered all his strength and heaved off his assailant. The man fell to the ground as he just had, landing with the same thud. Rising to his feet, Kotaro wasted no time in delivering a punch to his opponent. The impact sent the man flying several meters away, leaving Kotaro astonished by his own unknown strength.

"Human strong! Why so strong!" the man exclaimed.

The ground beneath them began to change—into a field of grass. The trees, bushes and rocks, began to shrink. Green blades arose in their place, increments but quickly.

Kotaro muttered, "What the hell is going on?"

The man outstretched his hands. Flames began flicking above his palms. He declared, "Attack Skill: Damsel Flame!"

Kotaro endured a barrage of scorching fireballs, each one hotter than the last. The burning ember grazed and seared his cheek.

But Kotaro refused to surrender. His heart pounded. Taking a tremendous risk, he marched forth, braving the fiery projectiles.

“Why human not die? Burn fast!” The aggressor stopped his assault. He prepared for another attack. The flames engulfing his hands turned azure. “This kill human. Attack Skill—”

When the distance was closed, Kotaro unleashed another punch. The field vanished. The forest returned. The onslaught had taken its toll. Kotaro collapsed to his knees, panting.

"I think... this is... the end..." he whispered, his strength dwindling.

The frail man went on all-fours. His face distorted with furrowed brows and grimaced. “Human not be strong. Fire burn human. Why human live?”

Kotaro didn’t respond. The man seized this opportunity to deliver the final blow. He did not notice a young maiden appearing behind in vibrant red-and-white robes. She leapt behind him and cocked her leg. Her foot struck, and he fell aside.

The old man rose, emitting an inhuman screech. "Shrine maiden! Me want to eat!"

"Then eat this!" She hurled a paper at her target, who narrowly evaded. As it approached him, she snapped her fingers. It exploded in a dazzling display. His skin dried and peeled, revealing a beastly face bearing razor-sharp fangs.

It spun and fled into the underbrush. The maiden turned her gaze to Kotaro. Her eyes were mesmerizing as they locked with him. Two crimson ribbons adorned her sidelock. Before he could utter a word, he felt his life force draining.

Darkness descended, engulfing his vision. His body succumbed to the fire coursing through his veins. He teetered on the brink of death. His surroundings blurred. His heart raced in desperation.

"Ko...ta...ro!"