CHAPTER 6.5: NO LIGHT WITHOUT SHADOW
"Every city casts a shadow. The deeper the neon, the darker the truth it hides."
December 13, 11:30 PM – Tabuchi Estate, Tokyo
[Elsewhere in Tokyo, while Rin was traveling home]
POV | Eren Tabuchi
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The rain battered the city harder now, pounding glass towers and choking the gutters, flooding the neon veins of Shibuya and Ikebukuro with icy runoff. Up high, on a quiet ridge overlooking the city's sprawl, the Tabuchi estate glowed as a fortress of glass, black marble, and calculated silence. The world outside howled with weather and life, but inside, the air was as still and sharp as the moment before a knife falls.
The drive up from the private gates was lined with camellias and spotlights. Eren Tabuchi watched the world blur by behind tinted sedan glass, breath fogging the window. Every light that passed flickered across his reflection, his own eyes dark and rimmed with red, his knuckles rigid around his phone. Notifications pinged and stacked, but he ignored them all. Even the sharp green of the Loop app, pulsing with a hundred alerts, barely got a glance.
The family car, silent as a hearse, crunched up the gravel circle. Rain lashed the broad overhang. Shinji Takamura, the butler, sat motionless in the front seat, hat balanced in his lap, eyes forward as the city's chaos receded behind the electric fence.
[11:35 PM ]
A clock chimed deep in the house, a low, expensive note. The engine cut off. Eren let out a slow breath, ran a thumb across his phone's glass, and steeled himself.
The door opened. Shinji was already out, umbrella snapped, standing like a sentinel by the stone steps.
"Sir. Your father is waiting."
His tone was unreadably polite, but colder than usual.
Eren stepped out, rain spattering his sneakers, soaking through the loose cuff of his sweatpants. The night air was sharp, the moonlight dancing across the wet concrete, the smell of ozone cut with cedar from the hedge.
Every detail was carefully curated, down to the old stone lanterns, now wired with blue LEDs that flickered beneath the trees.
The front doors yawned open under the butler's push, revealing a foyer that could've been a lobby for an upmarket tech conglomerate. The scent was clean, with air filtration, fresh-cut lilies, a hint of citrus, and nothing out of place. The floors were glass-polished obsidian, so spotless that Eren's own reflection glided with him.
To the left: a floating staircase, brushed steel rails, a wall of rain-smeared glass.
To the right: a living room laid out like a shark tank, with low black sofas, a fireplace that only burned bioethanol, built-in screens looping muted financial tickers, and Tokyo Tower's beacon faint through the panoramic windows.
A ten-million-yen painting, something abstract, cold, and blue, hung opposite the doors, washed in a gallery spotlight.
Eren paused. He never felt more out of place than he did here, home or not.
The house was alive in other ways tonight: somewhere upstairs, the low rumble of a TV, a housekeeper's muffled footsteps, the soft whirr of cleaning bots patrolling the baseboards. But all that faded as the butler steered him straight ahead.
[UI: Notification | 11:56 PM | You have two missed calls: "Kazuto Tabuchi"]
He tucked his phone away, nerves knotting his insides.
The office door was open, light spilling out from it.
Kazuto Tabuchi sat behind the broad slab of a desk, arms folded, sleeves rolled up, a half-empty glass of Suntory Hibiki on the coaster. He looked exactly like the city imagined him: lean, close-cropped silver hair, sharp eyes set behind rimless glasses, a posture that projected authority even when he was still. The man radiated old money, new ruthlessness.
A wall of screens behind him tracked the Nikkei, oil futures, and, of all things, the trending tags for HGO on Loop.
The room was cold, deliberately so, with a pale gray rug, a single bonsai, more abstract art, dark blues, and geometric patterns, all of which were expensive. A low lamp cast the only genuine warmth.
Shinji closed the door behind them with a whisper-quiet snick.
Kazuto didn't look up immediately. He let the silence stretch like a wire between his hands until Eren felt his heart pounding in his ears.
Finally, without glancing up:
"Sit."
Eren slid into the leather chair across from his father, shoulders hunched, every muscle tight. The chair was too big, too cold, meant to intimidate as much as it was to comfort.
Kazuto sipped his whiskey, eyes never leaving the screen. He tapped a finger once, then set the glass down with a click.
"Explain to me," he said, his voice like old knives, "why I am seeing mishandling of the seven-figure account I assigned you. Why, Eren, are you still burning capital on a team that has not returned a single yen in two quarters? And why, after everything I did to place you at Tochi after the favor I called in with the board, you are sliding further down the Pro ladder instead of up."
The room's temperature seemed to drop a degree with each word.
Eren swallowed. His hands went to his lap, picking at the seam of his track pants.
"I, Dad, the team HGO's expansion changed everything. We're one patch behind, but I have a plan. The new meta's coming. We need"
Kazuto cut him off.
"You needed capital. I gave you capital. You needed contracts. I provided them. You needed Tochi's prestige. I secured it. But you have not provided results. You're not top-100. Not even close. Not since your 'breakout' when the game launched. You want to know what I see, Eren?"
He leaned forward, voice low and dangerous.
"I see a child throwing my money after the last trend. I see a team that hasn't won a major. I see you propping up side deals with those"
He flicked his hand, disgusted, "streamers. All while real teams are closing contracts. I pulled strings to get you the top Tochi roster, and what do I have? An amateur's performance and a debt spiral."
A clock ticked somewhere, impossibly loud in the hush.
Eren's ears burned. He fought to find his voice.
"It's not that simple. The game's changed. We had issues with Tanaka dropping. Haruto's contract is up. I'm scouting, Dad. But the market's"
Kazuto slammed a hand down, making Shinji stiffen.
"You had one advantage," Kazuto hissed, "and you squandered it. I know how you got your build. I know who you leaned on. Do you think I do not see the names? The debts? The ties to the Kazehaya family? Tell me, Eren: why did you loan him money?"
Eren's face twisted. He wanted to look away, but forced himself to meet Kazuto's eyes, even as the room pressed in around him.
"He earned it," Eren said quietly, something raw bleeding through. "If you want the truth? I wouldn't even be in the Pro League if it weren't for those lunches in the Tochi cafeteria. We built that class together. He never had the money to play, but he helped. I used him. You know I did. But that was years ago. Things are different now. You can't expect"
"Enough." Kazuto's tone cracked like ice.
A long silence. Only the rain against the glass and the faint buzz of the monitors.
"You will stay out of this from now on. Do you hear me?"
Kazuto said, words clipped, final. "No more loans. No more side deals. If you cannot keep this team solvent, you will not be representing Tochi, nor this family. The school is already reviewing other prospects. Your sponsorship is on the line. I have worked too hard to see it vanish over sentimentality or incompetence. If you cannot handle your rivals, I will handle them myself. There will be no repeats of your father's mistakes."
At this, Eren's heart skipped, a chill running down his spine.
There was always a darkness in Kazuto's threats, something layered beneath the surface. Eren wasn't a fool; he'd grown up surrounded by whispered stories, closed doors, and late-night meetings. He'd heard what happened to the man who owed too much and tried to fight back. He knew, though no one said it out loud, why Kazehaya's funeral was closed-casket, why his mother never left the hospital again.
He tried to keep the tremor out of his voice.
"So that's it? You're taking over?" Eren asked.
Kazuto finally allowed himself a small, cold, predatory smile.
"Mr. Takamura will be overseeing all future arrangements. You are no longer responsible for payments, sponsorships, or contract negotiations. You will play, or you will step aside. The next misstep, and the Tabuchi name is off every team in HGO. Understood?"
Eren's hands balled into fists. For a second, something like rebellion flashed in his eyes.
But Shinji's presence at his shoulder, silent, implacable, put an end to it.
"Yes, Father," he said, voice barely above a whisper.
Kazuto turned his gaze back to the glowing Nikkei, as if Eren had already disappeared. "You're dismissed. Don't wake the house."
Shinji stepped forward, gloved hand on the door.
"Come, Eren."
Eren stood, the chair whispering over the rug. The world outside the office, with its marble, glass, and blue LED track lighting, looked like another planet.
He hesitated at the door. "If I win, if I make it back to the top"
Kazuto didn't even turn. "Results, Eren. Nothing else."
He slipped out, Shinji behind him, the weight of the mansion, its silent cameras, locked cabinets, and dark, echoing halls pressing in from every side.
Every painting seemed to judge him. Every light was a spotlight, every step away from the office felt like exile.
Downstairs, a muted TV in the guest lounge flickered with Major News headlines.
He stalked to the front, pulling on a coat, biting his lip till it bled.
He could feel Shinji's eyes on him, measuring, noting every crack in his composure.
And somewhere, under it all, a voice, Kazuto's voice, echoed in Eren's head with finality:
"If you cannot handle your rivals, I will handle them myself."
The world outside the mansion churned with life: rain slicking down the drive, neon reflected in every puddle, sirens in the far-off dark.
But inside, the Tabuchi name was a yoke, and Eren wore it alone.
December 14, 12:05 AM – Tabuchi Mansion, Tokyo
The guest lounge was still and clinical, blue-gray shadows cast by hidden LED strips running the length of the ceiling. Every surface gleamed marble, glass, steel. The rain outside hissed against the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the city's lights into a wavering watercolor of gold and neon. The TV was on, volume low, cycling between financial news and a late-night talk show, nothing warm, nothing welcoming.
Eren Tabuchi came down the main staircase, sneakers silent on the polished steps, body tight with all the anger he'd been holding back upstairs. The tension sat in his shoulders, in the white lines of his knuckles. Shinji's shadow passed down another hall, retreating like a ghost; the butler knew when to disappear.
Eren crossed the open living space, feeling the hollow ache of a house where no one waited up, where every inch of perfection was designed to swallow sound. He tossed his jacket over a chrome armchair, not caring if it slid to the floor.
Eren paused at the bottom of the steps, catching sight of Haruto Murayama standing by the window, half-lit in blue shadow. For a moment, Eren remembered the first time they'd met a transfer prodigy, youngest tank in the league, cool-headed even in a mess. Haruto's presence had always carried weight: calm, reserved, never one for drama, but impossible to ignore.
Tonight, the kid looked almost out of place in the Tabuchi mansion. Haruto's white hair, tousled and sharp, set off by the stark lines of his red-rimmed glasses and a track jacket zipped up to his chin, gave him a clean, razor-edged look, part athlete, part outsider. Eren immediately noticed he wasn't wearing the club's Kansai Black Lotus jacket like he usually did.
Those eyes, behind the lenses, missed nothing; his jaw set, quiet but unyielding, with the air of someone who played to win, not to impress. Even leaning against the glass, Haruto looked ready for a fight, his hands in black fingerless gloves, his shoes scuffed from long practice nights, the logo of his first team stitched to his sleeve.
Eren saw him and felt the old frustration prickle up. "You couldn't text?" Eren tried to keep his tone casual, but it landed somewhere closer to acid.
Haruto didn't flinch. He let a beat of silence pass, letting Eren's mood hang itself out to dry. "Figured you'd be busy getting chewed out. Shinji said you'd want to talk before it got any later."
Eren rolled his eyes, flopping onto the low sofa, arms sprawled wide. "Seriously. You want to get this over with, or are you here to gloat about being Rookie of the Year again?"
Haruto didn't answer right away. Instead, he drifted toward the shelves, bare except for a row of glossy league trophies and a crystal cube from the last Pro-Am. His reflection shimmered on the glass. "Not here to gloat, Eren. We've got business. That's it."
Eren clenched his jaw. The pressure in his skull made every sound sharp: the whirr of the AC, the tap of rain on glass, the background mutter of market news. "If it's about the contract, I'll have Shinji send it. You know I'm not handling it anymore."
Haruto's mouth quirked not a smile, exactly, but the faint twitch that said he'd expected this. "That's what I figured. But that's not really why I'm here."
Eren arched an eyebrow, forcing bravado. "Then what did you want to talk about face-to-face? Hit me with it. I can take it."
Haruto studied Eren, eyes cold but not cruel. "I'm leaving, Eren. I'm done. The contract's up, and I'm not signing again."
The words didn't shock Eren so much as hollow him out. He tried to laugh, but the sound caught in his throat. "You're quitting? Just like that? After everything I built for you?"
Haruto's gaze sharpened. "Everything you built for me? Eren, I dragged this team out of Challenger. I anchored every match we won. You wanted me here because I was Rookie of the Year, don't pretend this is charity."
Eren pushed himself upright. "Don't twist this. You know how hard I worked to get the Tochi deal, with my dad on the board, the school backing us, and all that. And you walk?"
Haruto shook his head. "You think that matters to HPL? They don't care who your dad is. It's one account per drive, one player per contract, and if you get dropped for cause, you know the rules better than anyone."
Haruto's tone edged with the same clarity he used to call tactics in-game. "This isn't personal, Eren. It's professional. I want to win. I want to play on a real stage. I don't want to get stuck in drama every time we queue up."
Eren sighed, "This again? Every fucking time something goes wrong, it's my fault? What about Tanaka quitting? What about the patch changes? You think any of that's on me?"
Haruto didn't blink. "Some of it is. Most of it's the way you treat people. Tanaka left because he was tired of the ego. So was everyone else. You burn bridges, and you wonder why nobody wants to grind through the regionals with you."
The silence snapped, stretched between them by the endless drizzle outside. Eren looked away.
Haruto went on, relentless but measured. "Look, you're not the worst player. But you peaked two years ago, back when you had help. Back when you and Rin were friends, before you made everything about your name."
Eren's glare snapped back. "Don't bring up Rin. That's over."
Haruto shook his head. "Is it? You wouldn't have made it to HPL if you hadn't leaned on him for that build. Everyone in the region knows it. And you stopped trying to learn new methods to play it; you've been slipping. That hybrid elf build is good, but not great. Not enough to win Southeast Asia, not enough to crack the top 100. You know how hard it is to get out now? Four slots, Eren. Four. Osaka Blue Nova took us out, then London Spire cleaned them up in the finals."
Eren bit the inside of his cheek, a bitter taste rising. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't know who's gunning for those slots? You're really gonna tell me about prestige and rankings now?"
Haruto's voice stayed cool. "Yeah. Because it matters, you know what the threshold is now? Prestige at 40K for Platinum, 75K for Diamond, and Master's is 120K and up. Our best run this year was a 17,000 Prestige spike, barely Silver by season's end. The pro teams aren't even scouting us anymore. HPL's not giving us a pro league slot. Not unless something changes, we are in Challengers."
Eren stood, fists tight at his sides, pacing to the window. Rain streaked down the glass, painting his reflection in jagged, shivering lines.
Eren let out a laugh, too sharp to be real. "So what, you run off to Osaka? You think Blue Nova'll take you after what happened at regionals?"
Haruto shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I can climb back up from Challenger, but if I stay, what happens if I break the contract and you hold my transfer? I get banned for a year and have to start over in the Open Bracket. HPL rules. I wasn't risking it. I waited until the split ended. Now I'm out."
Eren's breath came ragged. "So you're just leaving. You get your prestige, and you walk? That's loyalty?"
Haruto looked away. "I signed on to win. Not to drown in your dad's drama, or the Tabuchi name, or side deals that don't help us win. You haven't changed. You don't listen, and you don't want to. You want teammates who say yes, not who tell you what you don't want to hear. Also, have you not forgotten that everyone resets after, so that doesn't matter. Also, loyalty, you should be the last one to talk when you did that to Rin."
The TV shifted to a highlight reel: Osaka Blue Nova's finals run, the team in silver and black landing a massive teamfight, the crowd roaring under digital fireworks. Haruto's eyes flicked to it, then back to Eren. "That's what winning looks like, Eren. Teamwork, not solo hero shit."
Eren stared at the TV, hatred boiling up. "You think I can't build a new team? You think I can't come back?"
Haruto's gaze was level, almost gentle. "You could. If you stopped trying to be your dad and stopped burning every bridge, maybe you could. But not with me. I'm tired, Eren. Tired of losing, tired of you treating everyone like pawns. I'm not saying this to hurt you, but because you need to hear it."
Eren's fists pounded the back of the sofa, his breath fogging the glass as he glared outside, desperate not to let the tears sting his eyes. "You don't get it. I have to win. I have to. I'm not going back to nothing."
Haruto took a slow breath, letting the silence expand until the words meant something.
"Rin's out there. I truly hope he found a way to take advantage of this new discount. People remember what you did, even if it's old news now. You can say you don't care, but the reason you're stuck is that you never figured out how to build for yourself. The first time you ever got ahead was when you built with him. Since then, you've just been copying. Tanaka knows it, Shinji knows it, your dad knows it. You want to win? Stop blaming everyone else."
Eren spun. "Easy for you to say. You have options. I have nothing."
Haruto's voice dropped, soft but iron. "You have a name, Eren. That's all. What you do with it is on you."
Another long beat. Eren's chest heaved, face flushed.
Haruto checked his phone. "We're done here. I'll have my agent sign the release paperwork with Shinji. I hope you figure it out, man. I really do. But I'm not going down with this ship."
He moved to the door, pausing as Eren glared daggers into the back of his head.
Haruto didn't look back. "The league's changing, Eren. Five-v-five-v-five. If you don't learn how to play with others, you're going to be left behind. Good luck."
The door closed with a whisper of air. Eren stood alone, the city's lights flickering over his face, the TV echoing with a world he'd helped build, and now might never reach again.
December 14, 12:30 AM – Tabuchi Mansion, Tokyo
Eren didn't know how long he sat there, eyes fixed on the half-open contract folder, Haruto's signature burning through the page like a fresh scar. The lounge was empty, the TV running static market news that didn't matter anymore. All that filled the air was the quiet drip of rain and the sick, metallic taste of humiliation at the back of his throat.
He stared at the two piles of paperwork, the extension unsigned, the release sealed with a pen that still lay warm in his hand. His phone buzzed again, louder this time, and he reached for it with hands that barely stopped shaking.
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[Haruto Murayama | @Haruto7 | 12:31 AM]
Official: I won't be re-signing with Kansai Black Lotus for the upcoming split. Thanks for everything, but I'm moving on as an unrestricted free agent and looking forward to Solo Bash and what's next.
#HGO #CrystalLeague #RFA
2,012 RELOOPS • 8,442 LIKES • 1,306 COMMENTS
Within seconds, feeds, rumors, and notifications spread rapidly as the news breaks.
[HGO ESPORTS | @HGOesports | 12:33 AM]
🚨 BREAKING: Haruto Murayama (@Haruto7) officially released from Kansai Black Lotus (@KansaiBL_Pro). Team captain Eren Tabuchi (@Eren_HGO) now faces four open slots to fill ahead of the new split. Sources say the contract was finalized just minutes ago, following a week-long rumor.
#HGO #CrystalLeague #RosterWatch
3,901 RELOOPS • 16,140 LIKES • 2,120 COMMENTS
The thread is on fire instantly:
[PK_Wraith | @PK_Wraith]
KBL loses anchor no surprise. Maybe you should build your own comp next time, Tabuchi.
901 RELOOPS • 3,119 LIKES • 276 COMMENTS
[Yuna_N9 | @Yuna_N9]
Wild night for KBL. 😶🌫️ Everything's changing before expansion.
783 RELOOPS • 3,014 LIKES • 410 COMMENTS
[Luna | @Luna_Eldora]
All that clout, none of the skill. 🤷♀️
412 RELOOPS • 1,408 LIKES • 94 COMMENTS
[Daisuke Ai | @DaisukeAoi]
Foxes hunt best when the sheep are leaderless.
350 RELOOPS • 2,201 LIKES • 151 COMMENTS
Eren's ears rang. He squeezed the phone until the case groaned, eyes burning at every dig. Each post was a fresh reminder: everyone in the scene could see right through him.
His gaze flicked to the bottom of the feed. Haruto, now a free agent, throws one last line:
[Haruto Murayama | @Haruto7]
Maybe it's time the real creator of that build comes out and plays. If you're reading this, you know who you are. See you at the Bash.
1,701 RELOOPS • 7,982 LIKES • 1,102 COMMENTS
Loop notifications keep pouring in, nails in the coffin of Eren's pride:
[PK_Wraith | @PK_Wraith]
So who's next for KBL? Or is this game finally over for Tabuchi?
514 RELOOPS • 1,886 LIKES • 202 COMMENTS
[Daisuke Ai | @DaisukeAoi]
Let the old guard die out. New world, new kings.
321 RELOOPS • 1,402 LIKES • 88 COMMENTS
[Luna | @Luna_Eldora]
@Haruto7, see you at Solo Bash. Word is, the meta's about to flip.
242 RELOOPS • 1,028 LIKES • 35 COMMENTS
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Eren's vision blurred. Each ping was a nail in the coffin of his pride. He stalked to the edge of the room, hands balled in his jacket pockets, pulse rattling his bones. He wanted to smash the phone, wanted to fire back, to call them all liars, but he knew the truth stung most because it was real.
A line burned itself into his mind:
If you're reading this, you know who you are. See you at the Bash.
Eren slammed his fist into the edge of the glass table, knuckles flaring white. All he could taste was hate for Rin, for Haruto, for everyone watching. He was left with nothing but rage and the endless echo of his own failure.
But beneath it, something uglier stirred. Not just hate. Desperation. If he wanted back in, he'd have to claw for it, burn the world down, if that's what it took.
He snatched up the contract folder, jammed it in his bag, and grabbed the Kansai Black Lotus jacket, stuffing it deep so the patch wouldn't show.
At the door, he paused, thumb hovering over the Loop reply. He typed, hands shaking, and hit send:
[Eren Tabuchi | @Eren_HGO]
Watch your back at Winter Bash. Some of us aren't done yet. #NewBuild #KBL #NoLightWithoutShadow
3,222 RELOOPS • 10,408 LIKES • 991 COMMENTS
He slammed the door behind him, the echo ringing through the house.
Under his breath, barely more than a growl:
"Laugh it up, Kazehaya. You won't make it to the Bash, I'll make sure you remember who put you in the dirt. This time, you lose everything."
End of Chapter 6.5
CHAPTER 7: MY NAME IS KAISEKI
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