We walked in silence for a bit after that, the weight of what I'd just said settling between us like something solid.
Subaru was the first to break it.
"Okay but how are we even going to find him?" he asked, "We don't have a last name. We don't know where he lives. We don't have a single lead beyond blonde and hostile."
"We have a general radius," I said. "He goes to a school nearby otherwise he wouldn't have been that close to the gate this morning. He grabbed her on a route she walks regularly which means he's seen her before. He's local."
"That's still a pretty wide net."
"It narrows when you factor in the type. Guys like that don't stray far from where people already know them. He'll be close."
Subaru chewed on that. "So we just walk around and hope we spot him?"
"Essentially."
"That's a terrible plan."
"It's the only one we have right now."
Subaru looked deeply unimpressed. "You know for someone with pocket gods you're running a surprisingly low budget operation."
I opened my mouth to respond.
Then we turned the corner.
I saw him immediately.
Blonde. High school aged, maybe two years older than Saki. Leaning against the outer wall of a closed dry cleaner with two other guys flanking him, all three carrying that particular manufactured looseness that teenage boys put on when they want to look like they own whatever ground they're standing on.
He was talking loudly, gesturing with one hand, the other shoved into his pocket. Even from this distance there was something in the set of his jaw and the way he held himself that radiated a very specific kind of entitlement.
Something in me went cold and completely flat.
Beside me I felt Subaru slow his pace slightly. "Hey is that—"
"Yeah," I said before he could finish.
Subaru glanced at me. Then back at the guy. Then at me again with visible surprise. "That was fast. Okay so how are we going to get him alone—"
"Working on it."
He looked at my face more carefully. Whatever he saw there made him pause. "You already look like you want to put him through that wall."
I didn't answer that.
Because I did.
He was standing there completely unbothered, laughing at something one of his friends said, like this morning hadn't happened at all. Like he hadn't grabbed a fourteen year old girl by the wrist in broad daylight and refused to let go. The sheer ordinariness of him just existing on a street corner after that made something quiet and methodical settle in behind my eyes.
But quiet and methodical wasn't going to lure him anywhere.
I stopped walking.
Subaru stopped beside me.
I turned and put both hands on his shoulders.
He looked at them. Then at my face. His expression went cautious. "What."
I held his gaze with complete seriousness, letting the genuine grief I felt about what I was about to say come through plainly.
"Subaru. We're going to have to act like...like...misogynists."
The silence that followed was enormous.
He stared at me.
"...Say that again."
"Just for a few minutes."
"Absolutely not."
"He's the type," I said, keeping my voice low and measured, "who treats women like objects. He gravitates toward people he thinks are the same. If we approach him like normal human beings he'll shut down immediately and we get nothing. But if we look like exactly the kind of guys he'd want to brag to—"
"No." Subaru shook his head. "No. We have a system. Why are we doing a social manipulation play when Guilmon could just—"
"Guilmon is stronger than you're giving him credit for right now, the scaling in your franchise is absurd and gets out of hand extremely fast," I said.
Which was true. And also the limit of what I actually remembered with confidence. The specifics of how Digimon power levels interacted with other universes, whether Guilmon's current form could even properly manifest here, what the rules were, I had no idea. The numbers I'd thrown at Subaru earlier in the chat were based on end-game lore I only half remembered from years of secondhand osmosis.
I was not going to admit that out loud.
Subaru stared at me. "How would Guilmon handle this exactly."
I kept my expression perfectly even. "The point is we have options beyond brute force and this approach leaves less collateral damage in a civilian area."
He squinted at me for a long moment like he could sense something was slightly off about that answer.
I stared back at him without blinking.
He let it go. Barely.
"This still goes against everything I stand for," he muttered.
"I know."
"Genuinely. Everything."
"You can atone for it later," I said. "Go home, sit with the guilt, let it build character."
He dragged both hands down his face and exhaled through his nose like a man being asked to eat something deeply unpleasant for a very good reason.
Subaru looked back at me.
"We are never speaking of this again," he said flatly.
"Agreed."
Something shifted in his posture. The natural open energy that was just fundamentally Subaru sort of compressed itself down into something looser and uglier. His face rearranged into an expression that sat visibly wrong on him, like a coat three sizes too big.
I let the same thing happen to mine.
It felt genuinely awful. Like something in my chest was filing a formal complaint.
I pushed it down.
We looked at each other once.
Then turned and started walking toward the corner.
I let my posture slump just enough to look disinterested—hands in pockets, shoulders loose, a faint smirk. Subaru mirrored it, but I could see the strain in his eyes.
As we got closer, Hayato's group noticed us. One of his friends—a stocky guy with a buzzcut—nudged him, and Hayato straightened up, sizing us up with that classic territorial squint. We stopped a few feet away, right in their space, like we belonged there.
"Yo," I said, voice pitched low and lazy, nodding at Hayato like I'd seen him around. "You look like you've had a rough one today, man. Saw you clutching your gut earlier—girl trouble?"
Hayato's eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of recognition, like he was deciding if we were worth engaging. His friends exchanged glances, but he waved them off with a scoff. "What, you spying on me or something?"
Subaru snorted, crossing his arms. "Nah, just walking by. But damn, if some chick pulled that on me? I'd make sure she regretted it. Bitches like that need to learn their place, y'know?"
I had to fight down a grimace. The words tasted like ash, but they landed. Hayato's posture shifted—less defensive, more conspiratorial. He let out a short, bitter laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, you get it. This one girl this morning—total nobody, thinks she's hot shit. Kicked me right in the nuts. Twice. Can you believe that?"
"No way," I said, widening my eyes in fake outrage. "That's messed up. What kind of girl does that? Sounds like she needs someone to set her straight."
Hayato grinned, warming up now, like we'd just validated his entire worldview. "Exactly. Saki—lives a few blocks that way. I'm thinking about heading over there later, remind her who she's dealing with. You guys wanna tag along? Could be fun."
Subaru and I exchanged a quick glance—relief hitting us both like a cool wave. He'd bought it hook, line, and sinker. No suspicion, no pushback. Just pure, ego-driven stupidity leading him straight into our hands. We nodded, playing it cool.
"Yeah, lead the way," Subaru said, forcing a grin that didn't reach his eyes.
Hayato ditched his friends with a casual "Catch you later" and started walking, us flanking him like new buddies. He rambled the whole time—bragging about other girls he'd "handled," dropping casual slurs that made my skin crawl. We nodded along, throwing in just enough agreement to keep him talking, but inside, I was counting down the blocks. Subaru's jaw was clenched so tight I thought he'd crack a tooth.
We passed a narrow alleyway between two shuttered shops—dark, empty, the kind of forgotten space that screamed 'perfect isolation.' No cameras. No witnesses. I didn't hesitate. As Hayato mid-sentence boasted about how Saki would "beg for forgiveness," I planted a hand on his shoulder and shoved him hard sideways into the shadows.
He stumbled, catching himself against a dumpster with a clang. "What the hell—?!"
We ignored him completely, stepping into the alley after him like he was an afterthought. Subaru blocked the entrance casually, arms crossed, while I leaned against the opposite wall, facing Hayato with a blank expression.
Hayato straightened up, face twisting in confusion and anger. "You assholes think this is funny? Who do you even—"
"Quiet," I said flatly, not even looking at him. My voice came out colder than I intended, edged with that refined Arthur Pendragon tone that made it sound almost regal. I turned to Subaru instead. "So. How do we do this? I could just use the Fusion Blade—quick swing, clean cut. Done in seconds."
Subaru rubbed his chin, playing along but clearly still uncomfortable with the performance we'd just dropped. "Yeah, but that's flashy. I could call Guilmon out—have him handle it. He's got the claws for it." He paused, shaking his head like the idea genuinely bothered him. "Nah, scratch that. Guilmon wouldn't go for something like this easy. He's too... pure. Wouldn't want to drag him into this mess."
Hayato stared at us, his earlier bravado cracking as the words sank in. His eyes darted between me and Subaru, wide with dawning confusion and fear. "W-wait... killing me? You're talking about killing me? Like it's nothing? What the fuck is wrong with you guys?!"
Hayato stared at us, his earlier bravado cracking as the words sank in. His eyes darted between me and Subaru, wide with dawning confusion and fear. "W-wait... killing me? You're talking about killing me? Like it's nothing? What the fuck is wrong with you guys?!"
Subaru glanced at me, his expression tight. The alley's shadows seemed to press in, the distant hum of traffic a mocking reminder of how ordinary the world outside was. "Look, we don't have to make this messy. But he's not walking away from this."
I nodded once, the decision settling like cold steel in my gut. "I'll handle it. The Fusion Blade should make it quick."
Hayato's face paled, but he didn't move yet—still processing, still thinking this was some elaborate prank. Subaru stepped aside slightly, giving me space, his eyes flicking to the alley entrance to ensure no one wandered by.
I focused inward, pulling up the system inventory with a mental command. The translucent blue interface flickered into view, hovering in my vision like a personal heads-up display:
[Inventory]
- Video Game Invite Ticket x2
- Fusion Blade
- Summon Stone – Bahamut
- Summon Stone – Odin
I selected the Fusion Blade from the list, feeling the system's energy hum as it prepared to materialize. A faint blue glow shimmered in my palm, and the blade pulled itself from inventory—extending outward in a smooth, impossible unfold. The hilt formed first, heavy and ornate, followed by the blade stretching to its full, imposing length easily above five feet.
Subaru's eyes widened, genuine surprise breaking through his tension. "Whoa—holy crap, that's huge."
Hayato froze, his bravado shattering completely. He backed up a step, then another, his face draining of color as he stared at the massive sword. "W-what the hell is that? You... you're not serious. This is insane!"
I hefted the blade easily, testing its weight. It felt right in my hand—balanced, powerful, like an extension of the refined strength my new body carried. But as I looked down at Hayato, cowering against the dumpster, a faint disappointment twisted in my chest. "I'm a bit let down, honestly. My first time using this, and it's on scum like you." I adjusted my grip, the blade's edge catching the dim light. "But I need to level my swordsmanship anyway. Consider this practice."
Hayato's panic hit like a switch. He scrambled backward on all fours, shoes scraping against the grimy concrete, eyes wild. "No—wait! Please! I didn't do anything! I'll leave her alone, I swear! Just—"
I didn't let him finish. One step forward, and I drove the blade down in a clean, precise arc—straight through the top of his skull. The massive sword pierced with effortless force, the tip embedding into the ground beneath him. There was a wet, crunching sound, then silence. Hayato's body went limp instantly, twitching once before stilling.
I pulled the blade free with a sharp yank, the metal emerging clean—some system magic at work, no doubt. Blood pooled slowly on the alley floor, but I didn't look at it long.
Subaru exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked a bit green, his empathy kicking in hard. "Damn... that was... I feel kinda bad. y'know? still..."
I lowered the sword, dismissing it back to inventory with a thought. The weight of what I'd done settled heavy, a dull nausea twisting in my stomach. "I don't like the feeling either. But if we didn't step in—if none of us had this system—Saki would've been an innocent girl suffering a fate no one should. Isolation, manipulation, who knows."
Subaru nodded slowly, the justification sinking in. "Yeah... you're right. Better this than letting it play out."
He glanced down at the body, brow furrowing. "So... what do we do about this? Can't just leave him here. Cops, evidence—"
"It doesn't matter," I said, voice steady. "The mission's done. The system's got us covered."
As if on cue, a translucent blue screen materialized in front of both of us, glowing faintly in the dim alley.
[Mission Complete: Protect Saki Yoshida]
[Threat Eliminated: Hayato ____]
[Completion Time: Within First Day of Arrival]
[Rating: S-Rank (Bonus for Efficiency and Minimal Escalation)]
[Rewards Distributed. Access via Personal Interface.]
Subaru blinked at the screen, dismissing it with a wave. "S-Rank? That's gotta be good. Wonder what kinda loot that nets us."
I nodded, curiosity overriding the lingering unease. "Same. Let's see what you got."
Subaru focused, and a sleek, high-tech katana materialized in his hand—curved blade with a red-and-black hilt, humming with faint energy. It looked razor-sharp, designed for precision and speed, the kind of weapon that screamed 'cybernetic samurai showdown.'
My eyes widened. Jetstream Sam's Murasama blade—from Metal Gear Rising.
Subaru turned it over in his hand, testing the grip. "Whoa, this thing's light. Feels like it could cut through steel. Not sure what it's from, but hey, free sword."
I stared at it, a sharp pang of jealousy hitting me square in the chest. Of all the rewards...
A katana like Sam's? That should've been mine. Subaru, oblivious to my inner fanboy turmoil, just grinned and sheathed the blade in some invisible inventory slot.
"Alright, your turn," he said, crossing his arms. "Let's see if the system topped that."
The S-rank reward slot glowed, pulsing with potential. With a mental nudge, I claimed it.
[Reward: Kamen Rider Zolda (source: Kamen Rider Ryuki)]
[Can function as a regular belt and partial access but must go to the Mirror world to use full capabilities]
A compact, green-and-black card deck materialized in my hand, attached to a sleek belt buckle shaped like a bull's head. The Advent Deck—Kamen Rider Zolda's gear from Kamen Rider Ryuki. The system's label flashed: Kamen Rider Zolda. Pure tokusatsu power, tied to the Mirror World dimension where Riders duel in reflective surfaces.
It came with card slots for attacks like Shoot Vent, and Guard Vent, plus the ability to call forth the massive mechanical bull beast for heavy support.
My eyes widened in genuine surprise, a grin breaking through despite everything. Tokusatsu? Not some video game artifact or anime quirk like everyone else was pulling—Subaru got a Metal Gear blade, and here I was with live-action Rider tech?
"Whoa, no way... Kamen Rider Zolda? This is tokusatsu gold! "
Subaru tilted his head, clearly not recognizing it but sensing my hype. "Tokusa-what? Looks like some kinda card belt thing."
I chuckled, slipping the deck into the belt and buckling it on. It synced instantly, a faint green glow pulsing as if ready for a henshin. The surprise of getting something so niche—real-deal toku instead of the "standard" game/anime fare—washed away the last of my jealousy. This was Rider royalty, bull-themed and badass.
But the high faded as reality crept back in—the blood on the alley floor, Hayato's lifeless body. Subaru glanced around, his expression turning serious. "Hey, we should bail. We just killed a guy, and his 'friends' saw us with him last. If anyone starts asking questions, it'll get suspicious fast. Better teleport back to our worlds before the cops or whoever show up."
I nodded, the logic sinking in. "Yeah, you're right. Mission's done—no point sticking around and risking it. Let's head out."
Subaru gave a thumbs-up, and we both activated the system's return function. The alley blurred, a swirl of blue light enveloping us, and then...
I opened my eyes in my room in Fuyuki—back in the quiet, dimly lit space of the Emiya household, the familiar scent of tatami mats and distant city hum grounding me. The Grail War loomed, but for now, it was a relief to be out of that alley. I pulled up the group chat interface, seeing Subaru had messaged at the same time.
[Subaru Natsuki: Back in my world. Mission complete—had to wrap it up quick, can't stay the whole time. You good, Saki?]
[Kenji Takahashi: Same here, returned to Fuyuki. We handled the threat. Everything's sorted on our end.]
Saki's response popped up almost immediately, her typing bubble flickering with hesitation.
[Saki Yoshida: You're back already? That was fast... Did you guys really... kill him?]
I stared at the screen, the weight of it hitting again. Straight to the point—her innocence shining through, even in text. I typed back honestly, no sugarcoating.
[Kenji Takahashi: Yeah, I did.]
The chat went silent. No typing bubble, no response. Saki was probably processing, maybe shocked or scared. I sighed, leaning back against the wall. We were still new to this—multiversal travelers with godlike systems, sure, but we'd just killed a person. A messed-up one, yeah, but still a life snuffed out in a dirty alley.
But dwelling wouldn't help. I pushed it down, locking it away like a bad loop in Subaru's stories. Time to focus on something productive.
I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, flipping channels until I found it—Kamen Rider Craft , that bootleg Rider show the system had hooked me up with earlier. Episode whatever, mid-henshin sequence, the hero belt gleaming just like mine.
I stood up, striking a dramatic pose—feet shoulder-width apart, one hand flipping the Advent Deck open with a sharp snap, the other clenched in a fist like a true Rider ready to build his destiny.
"HENSHIN!" I shouted, channeling the energy as the deck activated. Green light exploded outward, cards glowing as armor assembled in a flash: the bull-horned visor clicking into place, plated greaves and gauntlets materializing, Shoot Vent holsters locking at my hips.
It was a full transformation, badass and complete—Zolda, standing tall.
But... something was off. I rolled my shoulders, testing the suit's fit. The buffs were present, in a muted way—better balance, a hint of enhanced targeting—but not the full explosive power. No beast-level strength, no overwhelming surge. It felt like a prototype suit running on half power, solid but clearly limited. "So this is the 'regular belt' mode," I said, checking my reflection in the small mirror by the door. Makes sense—real world constraints keeping it from going full Ryuki.
That got me wondering. If the regular world was nerfing it, the Mirror World might unleash the real thing.
The system's risks echoed in my head—trapping, dissolution—but a short dip? Worth it. I faced the small mirror on the wall, its surface shimmering faintly. Still henshined, I pushed through, armored form rippling into the reflection like diving into water.
The Mirror World snapped into focus—an upside-down echo of my apartment, hues dulled and lines wavering. The full buffs flooded in now, the suit humming with untapped potential, Magnugiga's presence itching to be summoned as that hulking mechanical bull.
"Whoa, this is cool," I said, visor scanning the space automatically. I tested a Guard Vent card, shields deploying with a satisfying whir—stronger here, unbreakable.
But... it was weird. Utterly empty. No rival Riders, no grotesque mirror monsters charging like in the show. Just me and the reversed silence, the TV's glow backward and static. System variant? Multiversal tweak? It felt like my private arena, isolating but intriguing. I explored briefly, pacing the flipped hallway—same cramped apartment layout, but mirrored and devoid of life.
I slotted a Shoot Vent for kicks, firing controlled energy shots that echoed harmlessly. No dangers, no thrills, just space to breathe. A few minutes in, I figured that was enough—no need to tempt fate.
I stepped back out, the mirror releasing me smoothly. I deactivated the henshin with a flourish, and the armor dissolved in a burst of green sparks, leaving me back in casual clothes with the belt intact. Thrilling, but that emptiness lingered like a bad omen.
Time slipped by, the system's subtle pings marking progress. Those pre-mission skills crept up incrementally—nothing from the Advent Cards, since that was pure Zolda territory, but the Build-inspired basics I'd gained from Craft's scientific Rider style. And then, as an episode climaxed with a bottle-shaking finale, it triggered:
[Skill Level Up: Transformation Stance (Kamen Rider) – Level 3]
I leaned back, a small smile creeping in... until the thought crashed down. Hold up—
"OH SHIT, I DON'T HAVE ANYTHING FOR BECOMING A DOCTOR YET?!"