A shadow across the border
In a world split between those with quirks and those without, two cities stand as opposites. Musutafu—a city teeming with pro-heroes, hopeful students, and villain threats. Yokohama—a walled, cold land, fiercely independent, where abilities are called “gifts,” and quirks are dismissed as fantasy.
Yokohama had closed its borders long ago, claiming independence from Japan and shunning the hero-villain culture. The city was hardened, cruel, and deeply proud of its gifted—those like Dazai, Chuuya, and Akutagawa who were raised by blood and battle, not capes and catchphrases. Anyone who crossed its border with the symbol of a hero was either killed or turned back in pieces.
It started with a mission. Dazai and Chuuya were sent to Musutafu under Mori’s orders. A covert operation. They weren’t told much—only that there was something in the city of heroes that could destabilize Yokohama if left unchecked. They were expected back in two weeks.
But a month passed. No word. No signal. No bodies.
Akutagawa waited, clenched jaw and red eyes fixed on the streets of Yokohama, but silence was all he got. Finally, he snapped. Without Mori’s permission, without anyone knowing, he disappeared into the night.
Gin noticed his absence by the second day.
She was twelve, small and ghostlike in the shadows of the Port Mafia. She wasn’t supposed to ask questions. But she noticed things. She noticed the way Dazai always stood slightly behind Chuuya when he was angry. She noticed the twitch in her brother’s fingers when something was wrong. She noticed the growing silence in the Port Mafia offices.
And on the seventh day of her brother’s absence, she decided she couldn’t wait anymore.
She didn’t have money. Or a plan. But she had her uniform, her knife, and quiet determination.
She watched the guards at the compound. One of them always fell asleep around midnight, near the wine cellar. She slipped past him like a wisp of fog, pried open the small safe he never locked, and took only what she needed. A roll of bills, wrapped tight with a rubber band.
It was raining when she made it to the train yard. Trains no longer ran between Yokohama and Musutafu, but some passed close enough if you knew where to jump. She waited beneath the bridge with her hood pulled low, the soft thunder of her breath the only sound in the night.
When the train screamed by, she ran.
She didn’t scream as she grabbed the rail and pulled herself up. She didn’t cry when her palm scraped open or when her legs trembled with fear. She simply held on.
Because her brother was out there. And if Akutagawa wouldn’t come home, she would bring him back.
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Gin’s heart was pounding as she leaped from the moving train. The world tilted for a split second, the air cold against her face as the wheels screeched, and then her feet hit the muddy ground. She tucked her head into her shoulder, rolling to absorb the shock. Her arm scraped the jagged rocks, and pain shot up her skin. She gritted her teeth, fighting back the urge to scream as the scrape on her arm oozed blood.
“No time,” she whispered to herself, glancing at the fading light of the train in the distance. Her only focus was the border, the line between Yokohama and the rest of the world. She had to make it past that wall.
Gin pulled her sleeve down over the cut, clutching her arm tightly, and made her way to the secret exit she knew of, one few ever did. A small section of the Yokohama border was not as heavily guarded. Only a handful of high-ranking mafia members knew about it. And the only reason Gin did was because Verlaine, her mentor, had once told her about it in a moment of passing.
“Sometimes, the quietest paths are the most effective, Gin. Know when to disappear. Even the shadows have their ways.”
His words echoed in her mind as she hurried to the hidden entryway. She reached a small, concealed door built into the stone, carefully concealed behind overgrown ivy and forgotten alleyways. She scanned the area quickly, making sure no guards were nearby, before slipping through. The thick wooden door creaked as she pushed it open, and on the other side, the cold air of the world outside rushed in.
She didn’t look back. Not once.
The small tunnel led to a secluded area on the outskirts of Musutafu. Gin’s eyes narrowed as she emerged from the shadows, taking a deep breath. The world here felt different—open, bright, and full of possibilities. She had no idea what to expect, but her brother’s absence gnawed at her every second.
Without hesitation, she made her way toward the nearest train station. It wasn’t far, and the idea of being seen wasn’t a worry yet; she was just a kid among many. No one would question her.
At the station, she approached the ticket booth. The man behind the counter didn’t look at her twice, his mind already focused on the next arrival. She fumbled for the money she’d stolen earlier, nervously counting the bills.
“Ticket to Musutafu,” she said quietly, voice hoarse from the cold wind outside.
The clerk nodded without a word, and she slipped the tickets into her pocket before heading to the platform. The train arrived soon after, and she climbed aboard, her hands still trembling as she settled into an empty seat.
The train jerked forward, taking her into the heart of Musutafu.
Gin leaned her head against the window as the city lights blurred outside. She didn’t know what she was walking into, but she had to find her brother. She had to find Dazai and Chuuya. Whatever it took.
“I’m coming for you, Akutagawa,” she whispered to the empty seat across from her, her voice steady with determination. “I’ll bring you home.”