That was exactly what he did. Koya grabbed the heavy helmet, pulled it down over his head until it clicked securely around his jaw, and closed his eyes.
For a brief, terrifying second, nothing happened. It was just absolute suffocating silence… the kind that made his ears ring and his chest tighten with the urge to rip the helmet back off.
The darkness behind his eyelids felt oppressive and endless like he'd been buried alive in some digital tomb and his breathing sounded too loud in his own head with each exhale echoing against the interior of the helmet.
However, a moment later, Koya opened his eyes, and the heavy weight of the helmet, the claustrophobic walls of the pod, and everything else had completely disappeared.
He was no longer standing up in the synchronization pod.
