Defeat
A boy sighed in frustration and nearly hurled his keyboard across the room. He paused for a moment and calmly shook his head, setting it down with reluctance.
Shiro stared back at the red screen that displayed the words in bold text as it shone back at him. He leaned forward, his black hair illuminating the crimson light, casting shadows over his tired, sweat-dampened pale face. His shirt clung to his back, soaked from the hours spent hunched over in the heat of competition.
He reached for the energy drink beside him, the metal can cool against his fingers. Sipping it slowly, he took a glance at the match results.
. . .
Match summary:
Your team -
#1: Level: 669: ShinsoSasegeyo. Score: 16,452. Kills: 152
#2: Level: 548: XXX_retencion_243. Score: 8,409. Kills: 75.
#3: Level: 456: Voidgaming142. Score: 7,329. Kills: 56.
#4: Level: 502: Treehugger41. Score: 4,590. Kills: 35.
#5: Level: 424: KamikazeDiver24. Score: 1,589. Kills: 12.
. . .
Shiro grimaced at the screen and slowly reached for his mouse. With a lazy motion, he clicked on his mic icon. He inhaled deeply and spoke.
"Ya'll are trash."
A moment's pause as he received no response. Silence was maintained for a while.
Then chaos ensued.
"@%^~!^&"
"@%@%%@%#."
"@#$@%#^^"
Grinning, he turned off his mic and brought the drink to his mouth again.
'Music to my ears….'
A temporary burst of liquid entered his mouth and stopped.
Frowning, he shook the can and was met with light sloshing.
Empty.
He sighed and set it down on his desk.
The boy raised an eyebrow as he looked at the mic icons lighting up next to each player's name continuously. He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, watching the noise spike and fall as the occasional squeaking of mic feedback was heard.
"Those guys are strangely quieter today… I would have expected them to throw better insults…"
As slurs continued to be thrown left and right, he moved his mouse towards the menu option on the top right. The voices cut off as he clicked the "Close game" option and shut off his monitor.
The moment he did that however, his room descended into darkness.
'What the....'
Shiro got up from his chair and drew the curtains that he had covered earlier in the day.
He was greeted by pitch darkness and the glow of nearby house lights.
'I played too long again…'
The moment he said those words, his stomach growled in protest as a pang of hunger registered within his being.
Shiro stretched his arms and made his way to the bedroom door which opened with a loud creak.
As he walked down the short hallway and entered the living room, he was met with an empty household, with dirty dishes in the sink.
The refrigerator caught his eye and he moved to open it.
Empty.
He frowned and moved to the cabinet.
Beans. Just cans of beans. Rows of them.
Sighing in frustration he lazily closed the cabinet door with a bang.
'We're out again…'
Pulling out his phone he was met with a notification that he had heard earlier, but was too focused on his game session to care.
Mom: "I'll be coming home later than I expected… You can buy something from the store in the meantime… I think they're still open?"
His thumbs twiddled as he sent a single message.
Shiro: "K."
. . .
Shiro was your average gamer that spent his time craving the thrill of online gaming that comes with trash talking all ages, enjoying the clauses of freedom of speech, and shouting into your mic until it combusts into ashes.
With that sensation in mind, he spent his time playing pvp shooting games for most of his school year up to the point where he attended college.
Bringing us back to the present, he was playing the o.g shooting game for most young male adults.
Call of duty.
Shiro's college seminar was on break, so he'd come home for a few days, eager to ditch his laggy laptop and the judging stares of his roommates every time he yelled at the screen and damn near ate his mic.
Now, with his stomach growling like a dying engine, he tossed on a light jacket and headed toward the front of the house. He pulled open the living room drawer where his family kept loose bills and grabbed enough for a quick bite.
Then he glanced at his phone…. and froze.
His eyes widened.
"Oh crap-"
He broke into a near-sprint, throwing the front door open and stumbled as he bolted for the nearest convenience store.
. . .
(15 Minutes Later)
"Wait! Hold the door!"
The shopkeeper, already locking up, turned at the sound of hurried footsteps slapping the pavement.
He let out a sigh. "That kid again…."
Shiro skidded to a stop, panting in deep intervals.
"You again?" the shopkeeper grumbled. "Store's closed."
"I got *huff* money!" Shiro wheezed, pulling crumpled bills from his pocket. "Please, I'm starving."
The man rubbed his forehead. His keys jingled in annoyance as he hesitated, then turned and unlocked the door.
"You've got two minutes. That's it. I'm not babysitting you."
"Thank you!" Shiro called, already halfway down an aisle.
He darted through the cramped space, past racks of chips and instant coffee, and made a beeline for the cup noodles. Grabbing a few of his usuals, he jogged back to the counter and dropped them with a thud.
The shopkeeper scanned the items, unimpressed.
"$11.99."
Shiro handed over a ten and a five. In return, he got three crumpled ones and a single penny.
The man stuffed the change and receipt into Shiro's hand along with the bagged noodles, then looked him dead in the eye.
"Next time, come earlier. You do this again, I won't wait."
Shiro nodded, his expression sheepish.
"Got it. Thanks."
He turned and hurried out, not daring to meet the man's gaze as the door clicked shut behind him.
. . .
Shiro winced as he slowed to a walk, his legs screaming in protest. Numbness shot through his thighs with each step, a painful reminder that he wasn't built for sprinting.
"God, my legs feel like they're on fire…"
He shook them out, but the stiffness clung to him like glue.
"I'm not even chubby," he muttered under his breath. "Why do I feel like I just ran a marathon? Maybe I should hit the gym….."
BZZZ. BZZZ.
His phone buzzed as it vibrated within his pocket. He fumbled for it and answered with a swipe.
"Yo, bro, you hopping on?" a familiar voice greeted him.
Shiro's eyebrow twitched. "My man… I just hopped off."
"For real? Damn. Well, guess what? Tommy's on tonight."
Shiro stopped in his tracks. "Tommy? That Tommy? The guy who hasn't played since, what, junior year?!"
"Yup. Found some time even while he's overseas. Everyone else is hopping on too."
A grin spread across Shiro's face. "No way. It's been forever since the whole squad played together…"
He glanced down at the plastic bag swinging at his side. "Alright, give me a few minutes. Gotta eat first."
"Bet. We'll wait."
The call ended with a soft beep. Shiro pocketed the phone, still smiling as he continued down the dimly lit sidewalk.
A few minutes later, he arrived at a street corner and came to a stop at the crosswalk. The red signal blinked steadily, warning him to wait.
He bounced in place, impatient.
"Come on...."
He eyed the empty road. The signal still hadn't changed.
"Should I just jaywalk?" He glanced around, then instinctively looked up at the rooftops. "Hope Batman understands. This is a once-in-a-year lobby…"
On the opposite side, a group of middle school girls hesitated at the curb; then took their chances and started crossing.
Shiro shrugged. "Well, if they're doing it…"
He stepped off the curb, following them.
That's when he heard it.
HOOONK!
An object with bright lights. The orchestra of screeching tires.
In all its majesty….
A truck barreled down the street, horn blaring like a war cry.
"Shit-!"
He instinctively wanted to leap back, but then his eyes snapped toward the group.
One of the girls was on the ground, frozen in place.
"You've gotta be kidding me!"
His muscles pumped with adrenaline as he charged forward.
In one motion, he grabbed the girl by the collar and yanked her backward, tossing her just out of the truck's path as it thundered towards them.
Then….. Impact.
. . .
[You have died.]
. . .
. . .
In a plane of existence where many lights shone, a being floated within the nothingness of its space.
Suddenly, a light caught his eye among the many that either shone brightly or dimmed slightly.
The being floated toward it, cupping the fragile glow in the palm of its hand.
"Shiro Tanekawa… Died at the age of 21. Cause: Truck Collision. Reason: Rushed into harm's way to save a little girl."
It paused taking in the information and the status of the young boy's life.
"A noble death," it murmured. "A selfless end worthy of honor."
But the light flickered. The being tilted its head and waved a hand over the orb, drawing out the full tapestry of Shiro's life.
And winced.
"Oh my…"
"485,238 profanities?? Insulted numerous children after destroying them in gaming matches… Sent 50 letters of insults towards his 9th grade math teacher…. Hurled insults at a baby after it wouldn't stop crying ... .Wrote "Slap me" on his principal's bald head with a permanent marker after he caught him asleep in his own office with the door unlocked?"
The being closed its eyes and exhaled.
"You were… certainly colorful."
It chuckled softly, shaking its head with a kind of fond exasperation.
"Still… beneath the chaos, there was loyalty, passion, and something rare… a genuine heart."
Opening its hand, it examined Shiro's interests, memories, and unspoken dreams. The being's gaze turned contemplative.
"A quiet world would never satisfy you. You'd go mad from boredom alone."
It contemplated before it summoned something different from the other hand.
A stream of lines representing DNA strips and lines of codes orbited a small orb of blue light, creating a unique pattern that often changed within itself.
It smiled towards the orb of light and held it gently.. The being brought it to its "lips" and whispered.
"Take care of him, will you?"
Seemingly in response, the orb twitched faintly.
The being nodded in satisfaction and brought both hands together.
CRASH.
The soul of Shiro, and the construct merged as light flared.
As the light slowly dimmed, the being held a new ball within his hands.
"A small gift," it whispered, cradling the creation. "I hope you two get along."
It pulled its arm back, and hurled the orb into the multiverse, sending it sailing across dimensions.
As the light vanished beyond the veil of reality, the being turned away, its attention already shifting to the next soul.
But it left one final blessing drifting in the void behind it:
"Good luck, young Shiro…"
. . .
. . .
*Plip*
*Plip*
*Plip*
"…Ugh."
. . .
Shiro groaned, his voice hoarse as consciousness slowly returned. Cold stone pressed against his back, damp and uneven. He winced as he sat up, blinking against the faint light nearby.
Drops of water echoed through the air, dripping from the cave's ceiling and striking the floor with a dull rhythm. His hand wiped across his forehead which was slick with moisture, and he finally took a good look around.
Darkness.
He was surrounded by it. The only light came from a strange glow at his side: a soft, yellowish hue.
"The hell is this…?" he muttered, pushing himself to his feet. His joints ached slightly, but there wasn't any pain.
Shiro staggered forward toward what looked like the mouth of the cave.
As he stepped out, the world greeted him.
(Birds chirping.)
Shiro stood there in silence, glancing around at the completely different setting.
"..."
"…Huh?..."
. . .
(Author's note:
Hey guys!
Wrote this story for fun I guess.
Notify me of any spelling and grammar mistakes.
Its still a work in development so stay tuned!