My mouth is dry.
Not dry like thirst—dry like decay. Like something that's been left out under the sun for days, hollowed out, forgotten. Every swallow scrapes. Sharp. Coarse. Like dragging sand down my throat.
There's a taste I can't place—rusted metal. Iron? No… Blood.
But I didn't cut myself.
Right?
I breathe, but the air feels wrong. Too warm. Heavy. Like a sponge soaked in rot. Sweetness lingers at the edges—fermented, sugary death. The kind of sweetness that makes your stomach turn. It shouldn't be here. It shouldn't be in me.
I blink.
The lights stutter overhead. My vision smears like wet paint across glass. Are the bulbs flickering? Or are my eyes glitching?
My skin prickles. Not like a chill—alive. Like something's crawling underneath. I scratch. Nails dig in. Flesh gives. There's relief when I dig deeper. I think I felt something move.
I stumble toward the mirror.
Each step feels crooked. My legs don't bend right. Joints pop. Crackle. Every movement feels like it's someone else's—borrowed limbs. My feet slap the floor too heavy, too soft.
The reflection is a stranger.
Sunken cheeks. Uneven skin tone. One eye bloodshot like a burst berry, the other twitching in place. Pupils—dilated, wild. I lean in closer. There's something… squirming in my eye.
My throat convulses.
I drop to the sink. Something thick forces its way up my throat. I gag. It burns. And then it comes out—not vomit.
Black.
Sludge-like.
It splashes against the porcelain and sticks. Threads of red stretch with it, snapping like melted cheese. It moves. It shivers.
The smell hits next.
It's me.
Rot. Copper. Old sweat and burnt plastic. I reek like something that's been dug out of a shallow grave.
I cough again. Thick mucus clings to my lips. My tongue pulses. My teeth ache—like they're shifting under pressure. One molar cracks. I feel it split. A fragment rolls under my tongue.
I spit it out. More blood. More black.
My fingernails—one lifts as I brace the sink. Clean peel. No pain. Just... gone. Underneath is raw, pink, glistening.
I should scream.
But all that comes is a wheeze. A gurgle. Like my lungs are full of syrup.
My ears ring. High pitch. Then low. Then—
Nothing.
The mirror.
My reflection blinks late. Like it's trying to catch up.
Then it smiles.
Not me. It.
My knees buckle. Bones pop in directions they shouldn't. My spine arches. Like a string pulled taut and suddenly cut. I can't move right. Can't breathe right.
My body feels like it's folding inward.
My jaw trembles. Teeth grind together, too tight. Too sharp. Something is splitting from the inside.
This isn't a body anymore.
It's meat.
And I'm still inside it.
________________________________________
Day 1 - April 01, 2024
Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
The alarm thrums like a heartbeat, rattling through the silence of the room. I blink slowly, eyelids dragging open—not from dread, but from disbelief.
Golden sunlight spills through the blinds, painting stripes across the ceiling. Dust swirls in the beam like tiny spirits dancing.
The world feels… clean.
Bright.
I lie there, unmoving for a moment.
Today.
It's real.
I press a hand to my chest. My heart thuds—fast, steady. Not a dream.
The sheets rustle as I sit up. My knees creak. My spine stretches. Everything aches just a little more than expected.
But it doesn't matter.
I'm here.
This room still doesn't quite feel mine. There's a faint smell of cardboard and old wood. No curtains yet. The bed frame groans like it's not sure it belongs.
But to me, it's perfect.
I swing my feet onto the floor. The wood is cold. Not bad cold—good cold. The kind that tells you you're awake.
I check my phone. No messages—didn't expect any. I just wanted to see the time.
I smile.
This is what I've always wanted.
I've been drawing ever since I could hold a pencil—on napkins, on the back of test papers, even on the tabletop at school. While the other guys in the team were chasing girls, I was chasing light and color, sketching during halftime under the bleachers.
They called me the "artist athlete."
Wearing two skins never felt right. Only one ever truly fit.
After graduation, I found her—Digital Animation. A short video, posted by someone halfway across the world. Just ten seconds of a bouncing ball. But it moved like it had a soul.
I watched it twenty-six times.
Love at first frame.
But there were no animation schools in our countryside town. No one at school even knew what to suggest. "Why not nursing?" they said. "That's stable. There's money in that."
So I packed everything I owned, took a long-distance bus to Tokyo, and never looked back.
My father said nothing at the station. My mother cried.
I arrived with two bags and a cracked sketchpad, crashing on a senpai's couch for the first six months. Instant noodles for dinner. Night classes. Drawing on half a screen because I couldn't afford a new tablet.
And now…
This.
Today.
My company badge is waiting in my inbox. My dream company. My name on their employee list. The door I've been banging on for years has finally opened.
I slip into my slacks, tucking in a freshly ironed shirt. It still smells like the secondhand shop that sold it—cheap cologne and plastic hangers.
I catch my reflection in the mirror.
Tired eyes. Paler cheeks.
But I'm smiling.
It's a strange smile.
Like someone else is wearing my face.
I blink. Shake it off.
Probably just nerves.
This is my day.
A new beginning.
My breakfast wasn't special. Just two pieces of toast and instant coffee—slightly bitter, with a hint of powdered creamer that never fully dissolved. It wasn't anything like how my mom used to make it. No warm miso soup. No grilled fish wrapped in love and habit. No egg cooked just the way I liked.
But there's nothing I can do about that now.
When you chase a dream, you give something up. That's the rule. The price. Even if it's your mother's cooking or the way your father used to hum while waiting at the table.
I sat on the edge of my bed and chewed slowly, staring at the pale wall in front of me. No pictures, no posters. Just emptiness. It's a small room—barely enough space to stretch my arms without knocking something over. The floor creaks with every step, and the window only opens halfway.
Still… it's mine.
I lean back slightly, letting the silence wrap around me. But this silence isn't comforting. It's loud. Loudly quiet, like something's missing. I miss the rustling sound of my little brother running around the house. The distant sound of my father's footsteps as he left for work. The clinking of dishes and the soft voice of my mother calling me down for breakfast.
This room isn't home.
But I tell myself it's fine. I need to reach my dream. I need to prove that I can. That I will succeed.
I put on my shirt, the one I ironed twice the night before. I brushed my hair back with my fingers and gave my reflection a small, awkward smile. It was shaky, unsure.
Then I left.
As soon as I opened the apartment door, the city greeted me—not with kindness, but with noise. Car horns. Rushing footsteps. The distant drone of construction. It wasn't like home at all. There were no birds chirping. No gentle breeze through the rice fields. No scent of damp earth or sun-warmed grass.
But that's okay.
This is my new life—my life. The life of someone who's finally standing on their own two feet.
I walk to the station, careful not to bump into the flood of strangers all moving in different directions. Their eyes are glued to their phones, their steps fast and focused. Back home, I used to wave at everyone. Here, nobody meets your eyes.
Still… I smile.
Because even if the city is colder, even if the sidewalks are crowded and the air smells like exhaust and convenience store fried food… it's the place where my dream begins.
As the train rushes past fields turned into concrete, I catch a glimpse of the sky. Pale blue, with a few clouds drifting lazily. I hold onto that. It feels familiar.
I remember the sky back home, stretched wide and open, as if even the heavens were cheering me on.
Maybe this sky will, too.
The train stops. I step out.
And now… I'm here.
The building in front of me towers like a monument. Polished glass, clean lines, modern beauty. My heart races just looking at it.
The company I've dreamed of all this time. The place where my sketches and sleepless nights are finally supposed to mean something.
My first job.
I take a deep breath and step through the doors.
From that moment on, everything feels like a blur.
My boss—a stern but kind-faced man with tired eyes—greets me and introduces me to my new colleagues. There are rows of desks, modern furniture, the quiet hum of computers and printers. Everyone is dressed sharply. Efficient. Professional. Polite smiles everywhere.
The atmosphere is surprisingly… peaceful. Like standing in a quiet garden despite the city roaring outside. I thought it would be overwhelming, but somehow, I feel calm.
Like I belong.
I'm shown to my desk. It's tidy, minimalist, with a nameplate already on it. Seeing my name printed like that… it's strange. Surreal. Like I've crossed some invisible threshold.
I sit. The chair feels firm. Real.
Then comes the work.
It's harder than I thought.
The tools are new. The interface feels foreign. My hands shake a little as I try to navigate through the program files. The pressure sinks in fast. I don't want to mess up. I don't want to be the one rookie who needs help on the first day.
But I was struggling.
And then…
She appeared.
"Need help?" a soft voice said from behind me.
I turned and saw her—Fujimoto Airi.
She smiled gently, tilting her head slightly. Her voice was light, her presence like warm sunlight seeping through a winter window. She wore a cream blouse and a navy skirt. Simple. Professional. But the way she carried herself made her stand out in a room full of suits and ties.
She wasn't just beautiful.
She was gentle.
"The shortcut keys are tricky at first," she said, kneeling slightly beside my chair, pointing to the screen. "But once you get the hang of them, you'll be a lot faster."
She smelled faintly of sakura perfume. Her hair swayed as she leaned in closer. I could feel my face heating up.
"Th-thank you," I stammered.
She laughed softly, not in a mocking way—but like she found something about my awkwardness oddly charming.
And just like that, the tension in my shoulders disappeared.
She helped me adjust the display, gave me tips, and even showed me a faster rendering method. As she explained, I realized she wasn't just kind—she was incredibly good at her job. Confident. Patient.
And I… I was captivated.
In a room full of people, she was the one I noticed most.
And on that day, I didn't quite understand what I felt.
It wasn't just gratitude. It wasn't just admiration.
It was something warmer. Quieter. Something that made my heart beat differently.
And on this day…
I think I fell.
I fell for her on the spot.
---
LUNCHTIME –
Lunchtime came.
At least, that's what the clock on the upper corner of my monitor told me.
Yet no one moved.
No squeaks of chairs, no idle footsteps, not even the sound of someone stretching or sighing in relief. Just the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of keyboards and the quiet hum of fluorescent lights.
It was... eerie.
I glanced sideways without moving my head. Everyone—every single one of them—was still working. Eyes locked to their screens like prisoners chained to invisible shackles. Their hands danced across keyboards with the grace of habit, but their faces were blank. Void of life.
Are they robots?
I swallowed hard.
No one looked at the clock. No one even acknowledged the passage of time.
Was this... normal?
"Maybe I missed something," I thought, my hand tightening around the mouse. "Maybe there's a deadline? Maybe this is how it is in a prestigious company."
Still, it felt off. Like I stepped into a different world. Not one of progress and technology—but of silence and unseen rules.
But why do I even bother?
I shook the doubt away. This was my dream job. The company I had fought so hard to be part of. I had promised myself I'd give it my all. Even if it meant pushing through hunger, discomfort, and uncertainty.
I couldn't—I wouldn't—let a little awkwardness or fear hold me back.
And yet... my stomach twisted.
A hollow ache curled in my gut. The kind of pain that wasn't just physical, but emotional too. A reminder that I hadn't eaten anything since that plain breakfast. Still, I didn't dare move. Not when no one else did. I didn't want to be that guy—the newbie who took breaks when no one else did. The weak one.
"One day without lunch won't kill me. Probably."
So I pushed forward.
My eyes burned from the strain. My fingers trembled slightly, the skin cold against the plastic keys. My posture started to slump, shoulders tense and aching.
My mind was slipping, but I couldn't afford to lose control. Not now.
I had something to prove.
Until...
"You'll collapse at this rate, you know."
A gentle voice sliced through the stillness.
I blinked.
At first, I thought I imagined it. Like my mind had conjured a guardian angel as my consciousness started to fade.
But she was real.
She stood beside me, her slender frame framed by the afternoon light pouring from the office windows. A soft smile curved on her lips. Her long chestnut hair was tied in a neat ponytail, and her clear brown eyes were filled with something this place had long forgotten—
Warmth.
"I noticed you didn't go out for lunch. So… I got you something from the vending machine." She held out a protein bar wrapped in shiny foil. "Here. You shouldn't skip meals, especially not on your first day."
As I turned to face her fully, I froze.
For a brief second, the entire world faded.
The hum of the office dulled, the tapping of keys became distant.
All I could hear was the soft, calm beat of my own heart—
Or maybe it wasn't calm at all. Maybe it was panicking.
She's… beautiful.
Not just in looks, but in the way she made the air feel lighter.
In a room full of professionals who barely glanced my way, she saw me.
"U-Uh…" My voice cracked as I tried to respond. "Th-thank you, I—sorry. I didn't mean to trouble—"
She laughed.
And I swear, it was the kind of laugh that could make flowers bloom.
"Hey. Earth to Haruki-kun?" she said teasingly, waving a hand in front of my face.
I must've looked like an idiot. My cheeks were burning. My mouth opened and closed like I was trying to find the English translation of 'human interaction.'
"I—Yes! Sorry. I just…"
I laughed nervously and scratched the back of my head.
God, I must've looked like a child.
She smiled again and held out the protein bar a little closer.
"Here. Just take it, okay? You'll get used to the rhythm of this place soon. But don't push yourself too hard, alright?"
I nodded, still flustered.
My fingers brushed hers as I took the protein bar, and I swear my heart skipped another beat.
"Th-thank you… Airi-San…?"
"Oh!" she chuckled.
Fujimoto Airi. She's the secretary and been around for five years.
Everyone here respected her—that much I already knew from the hushed voices that followed her footsteps and the polite bows she received. But no one dared approach her so casually.
So why me?
Why the new guy?
Maybe it was just kindness. Or maybe—
Maybe she saw something in me.
That day, I couldn't understand the feelings swirling in my chest. But even if I couldn't explain it… I knew one thing:
I fell.
I fell for her. Right then and there.
__
EVENING – FIRST GLASS OF BEER
Work ended.
The boss, surprisingly friendly outside his stern professional mask, invited us all for a round of drinks at a local izakaya.
It was noisy, filled with laughter and cheap wooden tables. Beer mugs clinked, and grilled skewers filled the air with the scent of smoke and meat.
And yet…
My eyes kept drifting toward Airi-san.
She sat across the table, laughing at someone's joke. Her eyes crinkled at the edges when she smiled. She lifted her glass with elegance, and even in that casual, noisy place—she radiated grace.
I wanted to talk to her again. But I didn't.
I was scared I'd stutter. Scared I'd make a fool of myself again.
But when she glanced at me and smiled—
My heart raced again.
Back at my apartment, the city lights blinked like stars outside the window. I lay on the futon, staring at the ceiling. Sleep wouldn't come.
All I could think about was her.
Fujimoto Airi.
The woman who brought me a protein bar. The woman who made the office feel human. The woman who, on my very first day…
Taught me what it felt like to fall in love.