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If the school were a human body, then this place was definitely the kidneys.
It was the organ tasked with collecting all the body's waste and preparing it for elimination.
An egg-shaped humidifier hissed on the empty counter, the steam and other silly sounds it made dissolving and vanishing into the sterile infirmary.
Well, I'll just borrow this spot for a sec.
For me, anywhere would have been fine. Whether it was this den of sickness or the final dumping ground for delinquents, anywhere I could comfortably skip school life was good enough to me.
Out of the three white beds lined up, only the one by the window had its blackout curtain drawn. So, without hesitation, I dove into the middle bed and closed my eyes.
And I think it was exactly then that I heard it.
The toad that ripped the prize! The fox who roars with stolen pride~♪
It was loud music.
It blared out right next to me.
It was probably coming from a phone speaker. Someone must've fumbled and pulled their earbuds out by accident. But that didn't matter. Something else had stirred me far more deeply.
It was a song by an artist I was sure no one else in my grade knew but me.
It was the kind of music you wouldn't stumble upon unless you were really digging deep, hardly something a typical middle schooler would listen to.
Suddenly, I felt a warmth spreading through my body.
Before I knew it, I found myself standing up and reaching for the curtain of the bed next to mine.
. . . Huh?
That day, I saw my first sitting there on the bed.
It was a girl. She was sitting cross-legged on pristine bedsheets. Her lips were wrapped around a Lipton milk tea straw as she looked at me curiously.
Her skin was pure white, and her lips shone with gloss. Her black hair, with straight-cut bangs, fell to her chest. She wore an oversized, fluffy cardigan, and her school uniform skirt was folded up far too high.
Her round, striking eyes were faintly veiled with a cloud of melancholy.
There was something strange about her.
Maybe it was because she stood out, not exactly fitting the mold of an ordinary girl, but also lacking the edge of a delinquent.
Hm? What do you want?
. . . Huh?
No, you can't just pull open someone else's bed curtain without saying anything.
Her voice was like a clear winter morning—bright and crisp, yet strangely without a chill. There was no hint of detachment in its tone. Maybe that's why I let myself get a little carried away that day.
Five thousand mornings tucked in a box at nine o'clock~♪
Then and there, I belted out the song, a cappella.
I continued with the chorus that had just echoed out earlier.
The girl stood there wide-eyed, silently listening to my impromptu recital which must have gone on for what felt like several minutes. When I finally finished, she averted her gaze, fidgeting slightly, and mumbled a hesitant question.
. . . Do you like . . . Pendulum Craftsman?
Yeah, I love them! What about you?
. . . I like it. Probably thirty times more than a newbie like you.
Even though she knew nothing about me, she answered confidently. For some reason, her response and her pause felt incredibly comforting . . . and that's why I took a liking to her.
So, why are you here? You feel sick?
I'm just not cut out for school. What about you?
Same. I'm kind of a misfit.
When I gave her that response, she slightly tilted her head and shot me a disapproving look.
But you have friends, don't you?
Huh?
I see you messing around with those goofy-looking guys all the time in the hallways.
I sighed inwardly. She didn't get it.
No matter how many people were around, someone out of sync would always stay out of sync. It wasn't something that would ever change.
I took a deep breath, met her gaze, and explained as if to set her straight.
Look, do you honestly think someone like me, who listens to old-school music, could ever fit in?
At first, she listened to me with a serious expression.
Then, after a brief pause, her face started to turn slightly red.
Finally—she burst out laughing, her delight at my answer shining through.
Not a chance!
With a mischievous grin, she laughed heartily and fanned her flushed face, a picturesque moment that captured her enigmatic charm.
It was a strangely dazzling October afternoon.
From the window, the cheerful laughter of my classmates drifted in, filling the silence with vibrant energy.
In the end, life's all about finding where you truly belong.
The people who make you laugh, help solve your problems, and shape who you are—finding them solves most of life's challenges. The most important thing in the world is to protect the place you belong.
And so, with an over-the-top show of reverence, I bowed deeply to my beloved place.
Sorry, my shift's starting soon, so I have to go. I'll make it up to you next time.
With that declaration, I smoothly laid a pair of nines over the four of diamonds and four of spades on the table, clinching my second consecutive victory—a flawless escape.
Ughhh, Nao won again . . . I'm definitely gonna run out of money this month!
So, you're working at that same bakery again? Gonna be a rough day for you, huh?
Umi and Yuma grimaced in defeat as they spewed playful insults at me.
The three of us were huddled in the corner of a vacant classroom at our vocational school for our usual card game, which had just ended with my overwhelming victory. I collected the 500 yen coins from Umi and Yuma as my prize before I forgot.
Hey, wait! We can keep going! How about we double up this time?
His offer jogged my memory. Oh, right—there was a double-up rule in this game. Winning another round could get me double the cash from my dear friends, who always seemed to be broke before payday.
It was tempting, but I shook my head and avoided their hopeful gazes.
Whether it's yourself or someone else, anyone who expects too much is bound to end up looking like a fool. That's the rule of gambling.
Quite frankly, it was the rule of life as well.
Man, what a buzzkill.
With a sheepish look, I put my hands together and gave Umi an apologetic bow.
And then, I rummaged through my tote bag and fished out a certain something to surprise Yuma with.
. . . Huh? What's this, all of a sudden . . . ?
Happy birthday. It's not like you have a girlfriend to celebrate with, so . . .
The pop of the party popper echoed through the classroom, covering Yuma in a cascade of glittering, colorful streamers that made him look like a walking party.
. . . Nao, did I ever even tell you my birthday?
You didn't have to. I always keep track of my friends' birthdays.
Man, I'm falling for you here.
Lucky Yuma. If I were a girl, I'd want to date someone like Nao—or at least, I'd totally admire him.
Just as I was soaking in their cheers and about to leave, Yuma called out to me at the last moment.
What's up?
Here, a little something for you, too. Consider it my gift to spread the word—no need to give it back.
At that moment, Yuma casually handed me a photo album.
But my heart sank the instant I saw the cover.
It was Dowa Sakai's debut photobook, released just two months ago.
Yuma took a deep breath and then elaborated in an uncharacteristically bright and cheerful voice.
She's so unmotivated yet wise beyond her years. Even her vacant expression is angelic. Please give your love and support to our patron saint of hopeless romantics, Dowa Sakai!
. . . I know who she is. She's pretty famous.
* * *
After five hours of selling bread, I quickly made my way home.
I climbed the stairs up to my apartment while humming a tune. There, I found the familiar face of the buzz-cut kid waiting in ambush at my door. Even from a distance, I could tell he was frowning, pondering something deeply.
Need something, kid?
Of course, I didn't have any kids of my own. I lived the bachelor life in a six-tatami studio.
The buzz-cut kid who turned to look at me lived on the same floor. I had no idea why an elementary schooler was staying in a single-person apartment, but I'd play with him sometimes when I felt like it. Spending time playing kids' games with him was surprisingly fun.
As I reached for the front door to my place, the boy looked up at me and blurted out the most bizarre question.
Big bro, are you keeping an anime girl at your place?
Wha . . . ?
Did I mishear that?
I said, are you keeping an anime girl at your place?
. . . No, I heard you the first time. You don't have to repeat it.
Trying to think about it too seriously would just confuse me, so I crouched to the kid's eye level and questioned him gently.
What are you talking about? Why would you think that?
I've been waiting by your door for ages! I thought she got locked out because you forgot your key!
I immediately gave up on understanding his logic. Kids just say the weirdest things sometimes.
I saluted him and declared that he was dismissed. The kid returned the salute with a grin and went back to his room.
I stepped into my room, a little wary because of what the kid said, but everything was the same as usual. Looking around, there was nothing strange or out of place. Oh well, whatever.
I dozed off for a bit before snapping out of it to get some cleaning done.
After a month of neglect, my bachelor pad had devolved into a dump. I spent about thirty minutes tidying up, clearing away convenience store wrappers, an acoustic guitar, textbooks, and loose-leaf papers filled with chaotic scribbles. Finally, I managed to reclaim my living space.
I tossed a tall highball can and some convenience store potato chips onto my desk, kicking off a mini party for one. The TV droned on, but I didn't mind much.
Haaahhh . . .
When I first started drinking alcohol to fit in at vocational school, I felt guilty and a bit immoral, but those feelings mostly faded over time.
Wrapped in a comforting warmth, my mind relaxed, and nostalgia crept in.
. . . Five thousand mornings~♪
I don't like who I am now. It felt like a facade, a hollow version of myself I could never come to like. But even so, I kept going with it.
Honestly, for a nineteen-year-old, I thought I was doing pretty well. I was surrounded by friends and could enjoy a smile.
I never would've imagined back then that I could live so wholesomely like this.
Nor did I think I could ever become someone so capable.
But because I was enjoying life, that one thorn hurt more than it should.
It was a thorn that had stayed lodged in me since that day. Every time I saw her on TV, online, in street ads, or in someone's retweet, it sent a dull pain through me, pulling me back to the time when I was fifteen.
. . . It's a promise that I couldn't keep, and I only have myself to blame.
Heeere's Dowa. Yippie.
The TV show had changed at some point, a seasoned comedian taking over as host. Suddenly, a listless, fluffy voice filled my room.
Despite an inexplicable annoyance, I couldn't bring myself to switch the channel today either.
Dowa, your popularity has really sky-rocketed recently, hasn't it?
The host remarked harmlessly, to which her guest tilted her head slightly.
Really?
The guest feigned cluelessness.
Have any thoughts about it?
The host pressed, forcing the girl to respond.
It's . . . fine, I guess?
She replied with an endearing indifference, as if she couldn't care less.
That's not how you respond!
The host immediately countered with a playful jab, eliciting warm laughter from the audience.
Then, during a segment following a video about a viewer discussing their long-distance relationship troubles, the guest had to make a serious reply.
If anything, isn't this a great chance to prove if their love is genuine? If their feelings hold strong, it might mean they've found that rare, once-in-a-lifetime soulmate.
She replied in a detached tone, but it earned sighs of admiration from the women in the audience.
. . . Well, she's certainly easy to work with as a talent.
Her short, loosely wavy bob and serene smile made her look almost unnaturally peaceful.
Even though her appearance was far removed from how she used to be, it almost felt as if she smiled at me through the screen.
I couldn't help but sigh at her flawless demeanor and radiant glow.
Still, I had that painfully thorny feeling stuck in my chest.
It was probably because she didn't really seem happy at all.
Even despite the fact her smile reached her eyes in a natural way, and her career was going smoothly.
The average viewer probably wouldn't pick up on it, but there was a subtle feeling that something wasn't right. It might have been because I had spent a year around her more than anyone else.
It was only a gut feeling, though, so the only person it would persuade was myself anyways.
That was also why I felt a selfish sort of guilt.
Because I was the one who threw her out into that world with a smile.
Did I really make the right choice back then?
. . . Well, it's not like I kept in touch with her over the last four years.
It was too late. There was nothing I could do as an ordinary person, and I wouldn't be able to face her anyways.
This was the path she chose for herself, so all the glory and pain that comes with it was hers alone. It would have been insensitive for others to intrude on that. A person's reach should never exceed the bounds of their own life.
I traced her face on the screen with my finger, feeling the weight of my helplessness and the cold truth that I'd never touch her again. Meeting her that day was my first real impulse—a goddess who shaped my world.
I'd lost everything.
Dowa, you're turning twenty this year. Have you ever wanted to try alcohol?
Nope.
So then, you got any favorite drinks?
Water, and—I mostly just drink water . . .
. . . No, it's definitely Lipton milk tea.
The host's voice pounded in my head as I shut off the TV. Despite having only a few drinks, I felt pretty off. Sleep seemed like the best choice, for my own good.
I finished the last sip of my highball, clicked off the lights carelessly, and jumped into bed.
. . . Not my best day. I hope I can have some good dreams, at least.
I surrendered myself to sleep with that small wish.
But it seemed even that small ask went unheard by the gods.
Suddenly, I jolted awake. I almost never woke up in the middle of the night like that.
I rubbed my bleary eyes, my head still a bit heavy from drinking.
. . . Something felt off. There was definitely something going on with my room.
. . . Why's it so bright?
My room, which should have been pitch-black with the lights out, was dimly illuminated. Upon noticing that, my body immediately tensed up. Was there an intruder?
I forcefully pushed down my fears and turned to look straight ahead . . .
. . . Ah . . . huh?
Looking down at me was a mass of light at the foot of my bed, in the shape of a human figure. I was stunned speechless, struggling to breathe.
You've become corrupted.
Her voice was icy and clear, leaving no room for lies.
Yet, it was terribly familiar.
Papa and Mama have both become so corrupted.
She looked just like a little girl. Her hair was a short bob of pale aqua blue, like a cup of water with a single drop of blue paint. She donned an oversized poncho, its fabric woven with intricate golden lines depicting planets and galaxies. Her eyes, devoid of emotion yet captivating, could ensnare anyone who dared to meet their gaze. Strangest of all, she wore a katana at her waist.
She seemed like a character projected into the room, like a 3D model come to life.
It was similar to seeing a virtual character performing live
The problem was, this wasn't some high-tech venue. It was the modest six-tatami mat studio apartment of a single vocational student. And, more notably, there was no primary light source.
Rather, the girl herself was the source of light. She emitted a faint glow, casting the room in a pale blue hue.
Who she was, why she was here, and how she got here remained unclear, and it frightened me.
Who are you . . . ?
I managed to utter those words. The girl pierced me with her emotionless gaze.
Are you for real? There's no way you don't know.
. . . Yeah . . . yeah, you're right.
Deep down, I knew her all too well. I had just hoped to turn away from the surreal reality unfolding before me, at least for a moment.
I knew this character better than anyone. Back then, she was everything I held dear. She was everything I had left behind on that day I started to live my life without her.
What do you want, Yura?
I wanna see Mama.
This was a nightmare. I decided it was a nightmare just to escape her trembling voice.
I hastily pulled the blanket over my head and shut my eyes. Strangely enough, I fell back asleep within minutes.
Papa, it's morning.
Five more minutes—wait, what the . . . ?
You've become corrupted.
It was the same voice I'd heard countless times four years ago, but now it was sharp and icy in a way it never could have been back then. A chill ran down my spine as I bolted upright.
Plain curtains. A chic, wooden bed. Soft morning sunlight spilling into the room.
She blended into this ordinary scene as if she owned the place.
Papa, I wanna see Mama.
Yura was perched daintily on the low dining table where I usually ate.
This isn't a dream, is it? Have I lost my mind?
I felt an overwhelming urge to bolt out of my room.
Nevertheless, I quickly crawled out of bed and inched towards the table where Yura was seated.
Even though it was already bright outside, her presence remained unchanged, still a mystery as to how and why she was here. So I asked her a simpler question.
Hey . . . why do you call me Papa?
Yura let her white and gold poncho flutter, looking at me as if to say, "Isn't it obvious?"
Because you're the one who designed me.
Her voice wavered slightly as she said it, though her phrasing felt dramatic.
I never "designed" her, not really. All I did was put together the initial plans and original concept for her.
As I thought about it more, another possibility occurred to me. If Papa meant the person who came up with her concept—
Hey. If I'm your papa, then who's your Mama? Could it be . . . the person who played you?
The moment I said it, Yura smiled from under her hood for the first time. A chill ran down my spine.
I'm glad you're quick on the uptake. Take me to meet her.
. . . That's not possible.
Why?
I . . . haven't been in touch with Rino in over four years now.
Why not hit her up now?
Yura stood up and rapidly closed the gap between us before I could respond. I tried to step back, but my legs wouldn't move. We were so close our noses could almost touch, and in fact, they did. Well, they didn't really because there was no physical sensation. The massless cluster of light completely passed through me.
You . . . You're really not human, are you?
Don't change the subject. Why can't you talk to her now? What's stopping you?
It's . . . complicated. There are delicate issues involved—
Before I could finish, I swallowed my words whole. My breathing stopped.
In one swift motion, Yura reached to her waist, drew her katana, and pointed it directly at my face.
Coward.
It all happened in barely a second. The intensity was so overwhelming, I really thought she might kill me.
* * *
Yura.
A virtual singer who made significant waves in the industry, breaking free from niche communities since her debut four years ago.
She had 1.99 million YouTube subscribers and garnered over 900 million views in total.
Although she wasn't a flesh-and-blood human, her activities extended beyond the confines of the internet. She performed live in real time using motion capture technology and appeared as a hologram on TV. Her primary fan base consisted of teenagers, likely drawn to her trembling, tense voice and the raw, poignant themes she embodied from the project's inception. This unique combination captured the hearts of the young boys and girls that made up her cult following.
Don't look away, be brave~♪
Don't abandon your struggles. Don't compromise. Continue to seek beauty~♪
. . . Well, as it turned out, I was the one who came up with her concept.
But I simply remained the bystander who initially created her.
She was the person inside.
The project, which had reached its limits, was abruptly terminated two years ago—or at least, that was the plan.
Papa, enough is enough.
I'm the one who should be telling you that, idiot! Go home already!
The ghost of that character had been haunting me for over a week, moving about on its own. It had gotten to the point it was coming off as clingy.
At first, I dismissed it as a fleeting hallucination, but it had become increasingly hard to stay optimistic as it began to disrupt my daily life.
Whether I went shopping, drinking, or for a run to clear my head, Yura tagged along. I had to beg her to stay away from me when I was at school, though, for my sanity.
Wherever we went, Yura would insist on one thing: "I wanna see Mama." When I asked her why, she always gave the same reply.
I wanna have dinner with her. I wanna talk about stuff and help her mend her ways.
She admitted this without any hint of malice. On the contrary, there was a warm feeling to her words.
I began to sense, if only faintly, that I had no clue about her thoughts, intentions, or plans.
But, as far as I could tell, she seemed mostly harmless. What confirmed that was how she would let me go places alone if I asked her politely.
Hey, don't go off on your own!
Right now, we were at the local supermarket to stock up on ingredients for a few days' worth of curry. Yura was sticking to me closely, at least until she spotted something. Ignoring me, she dashed off towards the meat section, her pale blue hair swaying.
. . . Hey, get back here!
I was so caught up in watching Yura that I initially missed the confused look on a nearby housewife's face. When I signaled Yura to come back, she returned with an upset expression.
So, it's not just kids who can see you, huh?
Having spent the week with her, I had learned a few things.
First off, while it seemed like I wasn't the only one who could see her, but she wasn't visible to everyone. Actually, it looked like the vast majority of people couldn't see her at all.
On top of that, students were usually the only ones who reacted to Yura's presence. For instance, the day before near my apartment, I passed by a middle school boy and his mother. The boy was clearly captivated by her otherworldliness, while his mother seemed more puzzled by her son's strange reactions.
I only appear to those who truly wish for me.
Yura locked her gaze onto mine, cutting through my frustration with her firm, clear voice.
I don't ever recall wishing to see you.
You wished for it unconsciously.
Don't get cocky, now.
Ever since you started following me around, do you have any idea how tough it's been?
Every time I went out, I got worried about hearing the same thing.
"Look! That creep's walking around with a super-advanced projection of a cute girl!"
It was a constant risk that made my life complicated.
Thanks to that, my chances to go outside also decreased.
But most importantly . . . Yura's voice was identical to Rino's at fifteen years old. It wasn't just similar, but the exact same. It was the same voice of the girl I ignored for four years.
It felt like my long-abandoned feelings were being toyed with.
Day after day, her unsettling voice prickled my mind, intensifying my guilt. The truth was I had finally reached my limit. I couldn't bear it anymore.
Hey, Yura. If you could meet your mom once, would that be enough?
So I gave her a proposition.
I turned to face Yura fully, intently meeting her captivating gaze.
For a moment, she looked perplexed, as if she couldn't grasp what I was saying.
But then—her unfriendly lips slowly began to curl into a smile.
It would!
. . . So you really can make a face like that, huh.
Yura's face was beaming, her eyes narrowed into crescent moons. She looked utterly, blissfully innocent, which almost made her seem like a real girl for just a moment.
Just don't get your hopes up too high.
It wasn't that I was giving in; it just felt like the time was right.
I figured . . . deep down, I was always looking for the right moment to reach out to her, anyways.
Specifically, I was hoping for a chance to relieve some of the guilt that had been gnawing at me.
I opened LINE and flicked through my friend list.
Immediately, the name Rino Akesumi popped up. The account hadn't been deleted, but whether it was still active was anyone's guess.
It seemed like there was nothing more to it, just another task I had to do.
Despite that thought, though, my hands trembled and a searing heat settled in my chest.
Taking an unusually deep breath, I began to type out a message.
Long time no see.
Actually, Yura's been following me around since last week.
