Initiating Dusk Protocol

SSD, also known as the Soul Synchronisation Dive.

It originated from VIRM Tech, the most extensive brain-computer interface in Japan, which has many different branches to serve a specific function in society. Some other models of this technology can aid in the health industry by performing miracles on some incurable diseases. It also served to entertain teenagers in this innovative generation through virtual reality gaming, a highly compacted digital world where individuals can be who they want to be without any restrictions—in other words, to be free.

The SSD device provided everything an addicted gamer needs to fulfil their fantasy; the basic structure of this machine is different from the older ones. The SSD simply has one interface, a simplified interface that covers the entire body within, as opposed to older machine-interface devices like flat-screen displays or controllers that you operated with your hands. The equipment can contact the user's brain directly by utilising the multiple electrical impulses that the various signal components put out. Instead of using their eyes or hearing to see or hear, the user's brain received the impulses instead. In addition, the machine had access to all five senses, including sight, hearing, and smell, with the addition of touch and taste.

Once all the sound has disappeared and the darkness envelopes you, your body will be submerged in the SSD. The device will begin to engulf your body with a non-liquefiable substance that assists in transferring the mind into the system. All the clamour fades away as you enter a universe composed solely of data. As soon as you pass the green pixelated circle in the centre, you have entered the game world.

I hover over the schoolyard, unaffected by the early-morning mood. As I watched them all engulf the upper realm, millions of drones overran the morning sky. As the wind came up and delivered the enticing scent of the morning dew, I could also hear the rustling sound of grass and tree branches, as well as the buzzing sound of mechanical insects. Tang-Ji was pacing restlessly on a school bench as I peered straight down through my sunken body. I sighed and thought to myself, "Why did she have to stay up late before the tournament?"

"Are you sure you don't want to join our club?" said Kazami.

"No, thanks. I'm really not interested in joining a club." Emiko's tone was cool, dismissive. "All I want is to play in the game." She leant back slightly on the wooden bench, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear with a casual flick of her fingers. "Getting to dive fully into a virtual world? That's what I've been waiting for." Her eyes sparkled with the faintest hint of excitement, though her expression remained carefully composed.

"Well, it's fine then, I guess. Thanks again for accompanying us; otherwise, we wouldn't have been able to participate at all."

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted when Ji-Soon arrived at the school gate. "So, are we ready to go?" Ji-Soon yelled out across the empty courtyard.

"Alright, it looks like everyone is here; let's go to Sanga Stadium." Kazami and the others excitedly rush to the bus.

I rode alongside the bus by grabbing onto the wind current as I skated on the vehicle's rooftops.

"These bastards are so racist. They always complain about stupid stuff on the forum that isn't even related to the game. If someone is ticked off, straight away racial slurs are thrown. This is why I hate gamers these days. They're all probably 20-year-old unemployed dudes with no life. I mean, who cares about letting foreigners play the game? Like, what does race even have to do with it? The game was planning to go global after a year anyway." Ji-Soon talked to himself, rocking back onto his chair before slamming his feet onto the empty front seat with rage. He was scrolling through the Dusk Protocol forum to see if he could find any more insights about the game.

"Hey bro, don't try to spoil yourself." Kazami nudged at Ji-Soon's elbow.

"Don't lecture me about spoilers, Mr. Beta Tester. Not everyone had the same luck as you, bro. Being able to be chosen as a beta tester out of a handful of other experienced players. You basically won the lottery with that one."

"Hehe. You're right. I'm one lucky duck. Might even be luckier than you." Kazami stretched both his arms into the air before yawning dramatically. "Don't worry about it; I'll lead our team to victory. The World Seed is as good as ours." Kazami gave a hideous laugh while patting Ji-Soon's back.

Ji-Soon rolled his eyes, looking unamused by his friend's obnoxious behaviour. "I can't wait to see you be the first one to die, Mr. Beta Tester."

As the bus sped down the highway, the girls at the front had already fallen fast asleep, except for the boys in the back who were still coming up with strategies to beat the other school. The virtual tournament ahead felt more real to Kazami than anything happening in the real world. "You know, it's weird," he began, glancing at Ji-Soon. "I read somewhere that most kids our age barely hang out in person anymore. Even now, we're on our way to a tournament that exists in another dimension, and we're not even physically attending."

Ji-Soon, still fuming from his earlier rant, glanced up from his phone. "Yeah, I know what you mean, but that's just how it is now. Why bother going out when everything can be done from home? The holographic projectors feel real enough anyway."

Kazami nodded. "True, but sometimes I miss the days when people actually hung out. You know, like... outside."

Ji-Soon scoffed. "Outside? You mean like in the 'real world'? Don't get too sentimental. The only reason anyone ever leaves their house anymore is for when the drones in their area malfunction or for students like us who still have to attend physical classes. But I heard that in a few years from now, they're planning to make all schools in Kyoto completely online to save land for more important corporations. Who knows if the generation after us will even experience actual human interaction anymore." He paused, his expression darkening. "Those 'Voidrian Dolls' encourage that, though. They want people isolated, plugged in. Hell, they cut ties with half the country just to push this agenda."

Kazami's smirk faded as he considered Ji-Soon's words. "You must be referring to the Kuroi Order, right? So that's what the people call them nowadays. I heard about that. Everything is absolute under the council's order. They've pretty much sealed themselves off from everyone else, right? All that about the world's best supercomputer stuff, collecting data, preserving culture... feels like they're trying to freeze the city in time."

Ji-Soon rolled his eyes. "It's not just that. Minerva controls everything. It's their brainchild and also the lifeblood of their authoritarian vision, enabling them to monitor and regulate every aspect of public and private life. It processes data from those noisy flies that track every inch of the city. Architecture, culture, nature—everything about Kyoto is archived and stored in Minerva's quantum system. They say it has 'infinite capacity,' but for what? People don't even see the value of what's being preserved; they're too busy plugged into virtual reality."

Kazami stretched his arms, his tone light but his words cutting. "Sounds like a dystopia if you ask me."

Ji-Soon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, casting a glance at the holographic projector buzzing faintly on the dashboard. "It's more than that. It's control. Complete isolation and reliance on tech that we barely even understand. They feed us the idea that we're evolving, but it feels like they're locking us into this virtual cage."

The bus rattled as it passed an overgrown temple, now watched by drones collecting every detail and every texture for Minerva's archives. The real world was still out there, but it felt distant, almost forgotten.

Kazami tapped idly on his phone, scrolling through the endless stream of comments and posts. The people on the other side—if you could still call them people—wore masks. Digital masks, crafted carefully over time, hiding behind layers of anonymity. It was easier that way. No one had to face their own reflection. Behind the screen, they became whatever they wanted, or maybe what they feared most.

Feeling a slight headache from staring at his phone for too long, Kazami leant back to observe the scenery blur past outside the bus window. "Hey, have you ever heard of that old puppet play?" he asked suddenly, tilting his head over at Ji-Soon.

His friend raised an eyebrow. "The one that's like an urban myth, right? The play was crafted by a powerful sorcerer. People say it's cursed or something."

"Yeah, exactly. An old friend of mine used to have a fixation on the story," Kazami continued, his tone shifting as if recalling something distant. "He said the play was about a young girl who lost all her emotions because of her own wish. Every act was supposed to symbolise a different feeling she'd try to reclaim. But no matter what she did, she was still trapped in an endless loop of agony."

Ji-Soon nodded, intrigued. "It's supposed to be a cultural thing, right? They say it reflects how society's changing. Like, how people become disconnected from themselves."

"Yeah, kind of like what's happening now," Kazami muttered. "It's funny how the digital world's supposed to give us freedom, but it's like we're all just puppets, hooked onto electronic wire. We act like we're in control, but how much are we really?"

Ji-Soon stared out the window, thoughtful. "Makes you wonder if that play wasn't just a myth... it really did predict our future."

Feeling frustrated, perhaps nervous for the tournament, Kazami was back on his doom strolling streaks despite his headaches.

Kazami stared at his phone, the screen's glow painting shadows across his face. "You know," he said quietly, "it's like everyone's... dissolving, almost. Like they're slipping away behind these screens and profiles. Trying to connect feels like..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening, as if grasping at a word that kept slipping out of reach.

Ji-Soon glanced at him, listening, but Kazami's gaze drifted, unfocused, like he was seeing something beyond the dim light of the bus. He thought back to his mother, the way she'd used technology carefully, sparingly, always with a measured touch, like it was a tool, not a place to lose herself. She'd worked for a tech company back in the day but never let it invade their lives. It was a rule of hers: use it when necessary, never more. He could still picture her in their small living room, unplugging every night at dinner, laughing over stories she swore only made sense in person.

Kazami could still see the fragments of her lessons, scattered like fallen blossoms across the years, half-buried in the shifting sands of time. He had been too eager, too stubborn, rushing to shake the tree of life before its branches were ready to release their fruit. And now, in the hollow quiet of his mind, he found himself wading through an ocean of falling petals, each one soft but weighty, clinging to his skin like unspoken truths. The water was dark, its surface rippled with reflections of a life once vibrant. Blossoms drifted downward, their pink hues wilting to muted shades as they sank, a silent reminder of seasons left behind too soon. Above him, the branches stretched endlessly, blooming and shedding in an eternal cycle, their beauty indifferent to the one who once stood beneath them, too impatient to wait.

"Maybe she was right," Kazami murmured, almost to himself, his thumb unconsciously running along the edge of his phone. "She used to say... not to let it swallow you up. That technology was fine until it started feeding on parts of you that weren't meant for it." He gave a slight, almost wistful shake of his head. "Back then, things felt... real. She never needed all this to feel alive."

"It's funny," Kazami said finally, a faint, bitter smile tugging at his lips. "All this progress, all these connections... but it feels like trying to catch cherry blossom petals in the wind. You think you can hold onto one, but it just dances away, slipping through your fingers."

He felt the weight of that memory settle over him like a fog he couldn't shake, like he was holding onto something that had already slipped away, just as his mother had once warned him it would. He clenched the phone a little tighter, as if that might somehow anchor him.

He noticed the screen flickered in his hand, and for a moment it made him wonder if the real danger wasn't the monsters outside—but the ones inside. The ones no one could see.

"Let's drop the topic and focus on the tournament." His friend suggested as the bus raced down the highway, inching closer to their reality.

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By midday, the sun blazed high, casting a bright glare over the jam-packed traffic. Tang-Ji peered out the window, taking in the sprawling view of the modern metropolis stretching beneath the clear theatre.

Suddenly, a melodious tune reached her as the light reflected off her diamond eyes. She turned her head to find Emiko sitting next to her, who appeared to be playing a pop idol song on her phone.

"Eh, are you interested?" Emiko jested with a smug on her face.

"This is Mai; she's a very famous pop idol and a Cubetuber that gains popularity by advertising Dusk Protocol."

"She's also a model that is featured in almost every single virtual reality game nowadays. She's basically the poster girl for every top-tier gaming company."

"Wow, she's really pretty." Tang-Ji murmured before feeling a strange reminiscence urging her to wake up.

"Hey, Tang-Ji. Are you alright? You don't look so well; perhaps you are feeling sick from the bus ride." Emiko concernedly asked.

Tang-Ji remained silent with an ashen-faced and visibly shaking body. Her glum expression and obvious trembling frightened Emiko as she retracted her arms from grabbing Tang-Ji. The memories of her past started to haunt her once more. The blonde idol in the video seems to resemble someone from her past.

Before she could reply to Emiko, the bus finally came to a stop. A giant shadow around the bus suddenly enlarged itself as the team glanced out the windows to find a 4-story structure that appeared to span several city blocks. Sanga Stadium was no longer the name of this location; instead, a large inscription was displayed over the building's main entrance, VIRM TECH.

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SSD is a device that emulates a condition of coma in the brain to simulate reality in a person's awareness; hence, the name Soul Synchronisation. A device that appears to expel a person's soul from their body and transport them to another realm.

With a 270-degree glass pane and a lengthy titanium skeleton enclosing the stall to rest your body on, the Soul Synchronisation Dive gadget resembles a longitudinal capsule. The SSD functions as a source of strength transfer, both mentally and physically. The mental or physical strength of an individual determines their competence and power in a game; some people might have a weak physique but a steely will. This may be detected by the gadget via brain neurons and transferred as strength and skills into the game. With just a slight mechanical improvement, in-game reactions in terms of timing, speed, power, and endurance are all based on real-life reactions.

Thousands of shaded pots are located on a big white platform that is lifted several levels above the ground. There was only enough space for the contender to go through each of the incline-set capsules that were barely a few inches apart from one another. Tang-Ji experienced a violent jolt that sent shockwaves through her entire body. Her eyes swam, and she appeared to be enveloped in a brilliant technological mist. Intimidated by the vast place, she glanced back at her companions, only to see sparkles appearing in their eyes.

"Look, it seems like the other schools have arrived as well. The official time of the tournament will be an hour from now, but players are allowed to enter the game first to get used to the brain control techniques." Kazami excitedly pointed out.

"Come on, team, let's head into the game first before the other students," he asserted.

"Alright, captain," said Ji-Soon, who was smiling from the excitement of competing against the other school.

"Sure, let's go." Emiko commented.

"Alright." Tang-Ji murmured nervously.

While the other players were preparing themselves to get into the capsule, Emiko could be seen examining the exterior of her pot. As she got into the compartment, a small USB could be seen left attached to the side of the SSD.

"Hey, Azuki-san, what is that USB that you just attached to the side?" He asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

Emiko flinched, her hand pausing mid-motion. She didn't respond, and instead, her eyes darted away as she slipped back into her pot, the lid snapping shut with a soft clink before he could catch her gaze.

Kazami blinked, taken aback by her hasty retreat. "Did she connect her music playlist to the device, perhaps?" He muttered to himself, half in confusion.

Kazami, perplexed by her unusual response, hastily returned to his pot with a doubtful air.

The wide-shaded glass frame shuts with a loud thud, the steel claw gripping the back of Tang-Ji's neck with cotton-coated steel. The cotton surface of the skeleton claws could be felt softly attaching themselves to her clothing. It began to leak a weird, odourless liquid, but for some reason, she didn't feel her skin growing moist or her clothes getting damp; instead, she thought the liquid was just air surrounding her restless body. It reminded her of that one time she went to cryotherapy, lying motionlessly inside the claustrophobic-inducing pod as if it were her coffin. The device started beeping, signalling to the participant that their consciousness was gradually being transferred.

As directed by Kazami, she closed her eyes and started mumbling a count of ten in her head. With each countdown, she started to break out in a cold sweat, and she could feel her heartbeat speeding up and her anxiety growing uncontrollably. Before she realised it, a white screen with a black border appeared in front of her as she was greeted with the words "input username."

Tang-Ji quickly traced her finger on the white screen to input her username before clicking a small text box besides her chosen name. She was suddenly immersed in a clear green pillar of light, passing the viridescent veil; her username in her vision blurred out steadily before plunging her into complete darkness.

Within a few seconds of emerging from the green digital mist, Tang-Ji twitched her body before opening her eyes to see a powerful wind current flowing in her direction and sweeping up her hair. She turned her head around, only to be met with anticipation by a particular wood that caught Tang-Ji's eyes as it began to bloom vibrantly, illuminating the surrounding darkness.

The cherry blossoms on the tree tumble down like a sorrowful fairy flower, like a piece of white cloud similar to the tears of the rain. Its departure from the branches was like the tree's unretained heart, or even just the wind's spirit carrying it across the dim horizon.

Sprightly bloomed like a sunflower in the centre of the petals as it elegantly glided down from above with a mass of sizable dots, appearing rich and appealing around the edge of the enormous petals. The thin, paper-like petals were about 10 inches long, as if a brilliant sunflower is in the wind. It seems to show its gracefulness by dancing in the upper realm with an enchanting aura.

I can't use the words to accurately describe the colour of the petal, saying that it is like an intense shade of pink; it has a cold appearance, almost like an ice sculpture. A breeze blew gently and fell with beauty and delicacy. The pink snowflakes fluttered across Tang-Ji's face, hitting the sides of her cheeks with a soft and elastic texture. They really do fall five centimetres per second, like they said. I let out a chuckle. With every tick of the clock's fastest hand, a cherry blossom drifts closer to the ground. I wonder—how quickly would she fall towards him?

Where she stood was a large road paved with stone. Japanese-style streets were surrounded by streetlamps, a multitude of buildings, and rocks radiating a vibrant light a fair distance up ahead. The huge structure could be seen filled with Ema hanging all over the place, along with a large Komainu staring down at Tang-Ji as her eyes sparkled under the dim lighting. (Ema are pieces of wood which visitors of the shrine can write down their prayers and wishes for the deity of the shrine to receive.) (Komainu is a pair of guardian dogs or lions, often found on each side of a shrine's entrance.)

"Hey, isn't the view stunning? I never thought such a world could exist." The green veil unshrouded around Kazami as it began submerging into the wooden platform. The view reminded him of the spring festivals his mother used to take him to—the way the petals drifted through the air, soft and ghostly. She'd once told him a story, a hazy legend about cherry blossoms being the souls of ancestors who'd come to visit, only to scatter again at the slightest breeze. She said they were beautiful, yes—but always just out of reach, leaving only a lingering sense of something fleeting, something he could never fully grasp.

"It's like they're just... fragments now," Kazami murmured, almost to himself. "Scattered, like a dream you can't quite hold onto, no matter how hard you try." He stretched out his hand, as if to catch the imaginary petal, but his fingers only closed on empty air. A hollow frustration settled deep in his chest, the kind that lingered when something precious remained just out of reach, leaving him with nothing but the memory of what might've been whole once.

He let out a sigh, a bitter smile flickering across his face. "I guess we're all just... reaching for something that's already gone. And maybe that's what's left now—just empty hands." He paused, his gaze lingering on the scene around them before he turned back to Tang-Ji. "So, I see you're still sticking with the name Zilynx after all these years."

"Huh? How did you know that was my username?" 

"Look up above my head. Can you see it? There should be a green cursor, and it should indicate your chosen name in bold. If you look to your upper left, you will see a faint energy and hit point bar along with your level and experience points." Kazami instructed her.

Tang-Ji squinted as she traced her eyes in her field of vision, right above Kazami's head.

"Kirizkuuk," Tang-Ji murmured, "you also used the same name, just like your last game too. You know Sen—I mean Kazami—how did you come up with that name of yours?"

A long silence stretched out between the two players as the digital sound from their green icons hovering above their heads echoed gently in unison. Kazami's expression could be seen changing as he slowly averted his eyes.

"Someone made that name for me when I was a kid; for me to log into a game, I needed a gamer tag. Though it has been long ago, the name has been with me, sort of like a gift from that person." Kazami spoke with a faint trace of sorrow.

Noticing Kazami's expressions, she tried to divert the conversation.

"Hey Kazami, why did you say that after all these years, this is only the second time you saw my name?" Tang-Ji was confused by his earlier claim.

Before Kazami could reply, a rumbling sound started to reverberate in Tang-Ji's ears. As it blasted a shrieking pitch over the large shrine, the air started to rapidly condense. Before she could react, the digital sky began to soak up the colour of blood.