Kamurocho.
The streets were as bustling at night as ever, with pedestrians coming and going, neon lights and wine, debauchery and indulgence.
At the entrance to Kamurocho, a group of people slowly approached.
There was nothing strange about people coming to Kamurocho, but these people themselves were quite strange.
There were men and women, old and young. Everyone was dressed in ordinary clothes. Some were even wearing bizarre outfits such as chef's uniforms, maiden outfits, and sailor uniforms. Of course, if that were all, they could only be called eccentric. But every one of them was carrying some kind of weapon—kitchen knives, baseball bats, iron pipes... And they all wore pure-white masks that seemed to be crying and smiling at the same time.
One hundred people, two hundred, three hundred...
More and more people gathered at the entrances to Kamurocho. They said nothing, merely standing there as they gradually blocked all three entrances. The people of Kamurocho were quite surprised by the sight. They walked past the group suspiciously, curiously sizing them up. Some even took out their phones to take pictures, wondering aloud if a movie was being filmed.
But as more and more people arrived, the entrances to Kamurocho were finally blocked. Some people also began to take offense at the strange masked figures. Before long, several punks swaggered over to them and glared at the unmoving people standing at the front as if they were statues.
"Hey, what are you blocking the road for?"
"..."
However, the other side did not answer. They simply stood there. If not for the rise and fall of their bodies, they might have been mistaken for dolls. The deathly pale masks on their faces, which seemed to smile and yet not smile, were even more unpleasant to look at.
"Hey! Can't