You’re Human, I’m Dead, and Sometimes the World’s Upside Down

A girl came flying down from the sky.

Her right hand raised high, swinging with all her might, gravity adding its full force to the blow.

Eeeeeeeeeek noooooooooo!

One sharp slap. My world spun then tilted sideways.

By the time my severed head was rolling across the ground, I had already fallen in love.

As she descends slowly through the air, she looks like mystery incarnate.

†

Rolling, rolling, rolling.

Swaying, spinning—she stands at the center of my upside-down world.

Her golden hair billows softly, floating up to caress her back. Half of it cascades over her delicate shoulders, tracing the gentle curves beneath her pink blouse. Her firm thighs pressed together beneath the miniskirt that her slender fingers hold down. Her pastel underwear is trimmed with delicate lace. I can't help but sense something alluring hidden beneath her innocent facade.

. . . Beautiful.

A sigh of admiration escaped me as my head rolled by her feet.

In an instant, that tantalizing view vanishes, and my head is crushed beneath her sneaker.

Eeeeeeeeeek noooooooooo?!

Twice. Three times. Six times. Ten times.

My head, stomped rhythmically like a drum, suddenly bounces up on a beat and floats into the air, bringing me once again to her eye level.

Animated lips. Lustrous skin. Those stunning sapphire eyes peeking through her bangs—she is beautiful enough to make even rotted blood boil with excitement.

My eyes, along with my heart, are completely captivated.

. . . Hello.

I wave my hand hello from my body about a meter behind my head.

Eeeeeeeeeek noooooooooo?!

What came next was a right cross.

My head is sent flying and crashes into the silver scooter I'd parked nearby.

Mmph . . .

My crushed brain rattled around inside my skull.

Blinking my spinning eyes, I moved my body instead.

I moved my sluggish legs, grabbed my head with both hands, lifted it up, and twisted it firmly back onto the severed cross-section of my neck.

There—reunited.

I gave my chin a quick flick with my finger and spun my backward-facing head around in a neat half-turn.

Once I was properly facing her, I spoke.

Good evening.

Don't come near me, zombie!

Whoosh. The tote bag slung over her shoulder whips through the air.

My arm, which I'd hastily raised to catch it, is easily torn clean off and slams into the ground.

C-calm down!

I weakly raise my remaining hand to show I mean no harm.

Blue, murky blood drips steadily from the torn cross-section where my arm used to be.

Don't come near me—you’ll regret it! I’m dangerous! I'll kill you!

She was in a complete panic. My words weren’t getting through to her at all.

She swung her bag wildly through the air, the momentum spinning her around as she shrieks, her face ready to burst into tears. She looked absolutely terrified.

. . .

Terrified of something? There was nothing else around. It is perfectly obvious.

It is me.

She looked at me and felt nothing but fear. She is desperately trying to keep me away.

Because to her, I was a zombie.

Because zombies eat humans, and humans fear zombies.

That's why we can never be compatible.

My first love had already shattered before it could start.

. . .

At times like this, I hate having a body that can't even shed tears.

I let my shoulders slump with a thud and hang my head.

Starlight reflects on the ground below, glittering and sparkling. It is as if the stars are crying in my place.

. . . Today is a day for heartbreak. I'll go home and curl up in misery.

As I turn around to leave, standing before me were two of my “kind.”

Pale blue skin. Glazed eyes and slackly hanging mouths. What they produce in unison are wordless groans.

Both hands stretched forward, dangling limply.

My fallen arm is trampled underfoot as they staggered forward with unsteady steps.

Eeeeeeeeeek noooooooooo?!

The two bodies shamble closer to her as she sobs and screams.

Without flinching even when parts of their bodies are knocked away by her swinging bag, they creep closer with mouths gaping wide, seeking to devour human flesh.

I couldn't just stand by and watch her be eaten like this.

This way!

I weave between the two bodies and grab her arm.

Running as fast as my sluggish legs will allow, I try to get her away from them.

But she immediately shakes that hand away.

Agh! Don't touch me!

How repulsive must my body feel to her—the body of a corpse? It's probably unnaturally stiff and cold, triggering an instinctive revulsion.

But now isn't the time to be hurt by that.

. . .

Large tears welled up in her round eyes as she trembled with fear.

I display the cross-section of my severed arm to her trembling form.

Then I made a new arm sprout from the stump with dramatic flair.

Agh!

I grab her arm again as she freezes, her throat constricted with terror.

She holds her breath, my reflection filling her wide, staring eyes.

I jut out my jaw, open my mouth wide enough to split my cheeks, and unleash the loudest, most bone-chilling groan I can muster.

Uhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhh . . . !

Cold breath brushes gently across her cheek.

Eeeeeeeek?! Eeeeeee . . .

After that shrill, hoarse cry, her eyes roll back and she faints.

Her terror had finally reached its breaking point.

There we go.

I cradle the unconscious girl in both arms.

Even my easily detachable arms can somehow support the weight of one small girl.

Slipping past the other dead approaching me, I run toward the scooter.

From the outside, it probably looks like a half-hearted footrace.

I place her on the scooter and straddle the seat behind her, wrapping my body around hers to keep her from falling off.

I twist my right hand—its joints grown stiff—and gun the throttle to sixty kilometers per hour.

The engine's roar echoed across the desolate land as I carry off the girl who had fallen from beyond the sky.

I continued even knowing that only mundane tragedy awaits at the end of this road of love.

Eight days had passed since the World Clock floating in the heavens reversed—this all took place in the Netherworld of Eternal Night.

I think as I ride across the empty wasteland.

I managed to escape for now, but where should I head from here?

In this Netherworld, there's nowhere safe for her—a human—to live.

There aren't many places to go anyway.

As I pass the occasional wandering dead, the only things visible are monochromatic cubes.

Squares. Box-shaped buildings with wooden doors and a single vertical window set behind them. Those are the homes of the dead. That's about all there is here for landmarks.

A completely flat world without bumps or dips—that's the Netherworld.

Vroom, vroom.

Red, yellow, blue. I pass houses of familiar colors and arrive at my own home.

I lean the scooter against the rough orange wall and gaze at her slumped on the seat, wondering what to do next.

. . .

Her exposed limbs bore the warm color of living flesh, and if I were to touch them, it would shatter the mystique completely.

Her breathing was shallow and steady.

Hair fell diagonally across her face, concealing her features.

I almost reached out to brush that hair aside before hastily pulling my hand back.

Come on now, me. That's not allowed.

I just realized I shouldn't touch her, so what am I doing?

If I don't use my reason properly, I'll become just like a zombie.

That won't do.

. . . I'll just watch.

With that promise made to myself, I gazed down at her face.

. . . Mmm . . .

Her closed eyes slowly began to open.

It was the sign of a human awakening from sleep.

. . .

I knew I should move away immediately, put some distance between us.

But I couldn't move from that spot.

I found myself wanting to capture every moment of her in my eyes.

That's how mysterious, special, and captivating she was to me.

. . . Mmm?

Her eyelids lifted, her brows forming small triangles of confusion, and her beautiful sapphire eyes reflected my image in their depths.

She blinks three times drowsily, then finally recognizes me—the monster before her.

Eeeeeeeeeek, noooooooooo!

Crash. Thud. Bang.

Her own scream propels her as she tumbles off the scooter.

A-are you alri—

Don't come near me!

A sharp, tense shout stopped me as I tried to approach.

Backing away on unsteady legs, she glared at me with eyes filled with pure disgust and terror.

Don't come near me, zombie! Stay away!

Her trembling voice pierces right through me.

The shock was so great I wanted to die, though I knew this reaction was coming.

. . . Forget it, my love. Heartbreak was inevitable.

More importantly, for her sake, I needed to clear up this misunderstanding first.

I won't . . . do anything.

Trying to stay calm, I spoke to her slowly in an easy-to-understand tone.

At first she wouldn't even listen, but as I repeated myself several times, she gradually began to regain her composure.

And then, quietly:

. . . Did you speak?

Blinking eyes pooled with tears, she spoke in wonder.

. . . Hello.

Now that my face was back where it belonged, I tried smiling as non-threateningly as possible.

. . . Can you . . . speak . . . ?

I give a sharp nod.

. . . What are you going to do . . . to me . . . ?

I couldn't answer.

Because I don't intend to do anything.

. . . You're going to eat me, aren't you?

W-won't eat!

Liar!

W-wait!

She springs up from her defensive crouch and runs off in the other direction.

I patter along after her.

You'll be attacked . . . again.

That's better than being attacked right here and now!

Not yet here. They aren . . . here.

You're here!

Won't do anything . . . I.

I can't believe you!

Saved . . . you.

You just kidnapped me, didn't you?! Stop following me!

I stop and call out to her retreating back.

. . . Is there a place . . . for you to go?

Her feet stopped dead in their tracks.

. . . Of course there isn't. Not in a place like this.

A vast expanse of land stretched out before us, the dry earth glittering in the darkness. The only thing visible in the area was my house. The endless horizon met the deep blue starry sky.

Before us spread a land so utterly empty it could drive you mad with vertigo.

She clenched her teeth and looked up at the heavens.

A thin crescent moon floated in the center of stars scattered across the night sky, with the World Clock nestled perfectly between its two ends. The flask-shaped timepiece held glittering particles of light pooled at its bottom.

From here, though, we could only see the "lower half" of both the crescent moon and World Clock.

. . . I have to . . . go home . . . !

Glaring at the sky beyond the World Clock, she trembled with clenched fists.

Where . . . to?

She turned back and spoke as if exasperated.

I'm human, aren't I? Where else would I return besides the Heavenly Prison?

Somewhere other than this "Netherworld" where the dead dwell.

Another realm in a place farther than the moon floating in the sky—the "Heavenly Prison."

There, living humans like her make their home.

She apparently wanted to return there once more.

Th-then, stay with me! It's . . . safer that way.

A safe place is somewhere without walking corpses!

There's no place like that here.

That’s why I’ll keep running until the Day of Reversal!

Twenty-two days remained until the gravitational relationship between the Netherworld and Heavenly Prison would reverse.

That's . . . impossible.

The dead requires no sleep, and most of them now wander the earth continuously.

Even running slowly, it's impossible for a human to keep fleeing forever from opponents who know no fatigue.

Even so . . . I have to try. I don't want to die in a place like this!

If left alone like this, she would eventually be eaten by zombies.

Humans die if zombies eat them.

That won't do. I don't want her to die.

My house . . . is safe.

A house . . . this is your house?

I give a sharp nod.

. . . Are you kidding? You think there's meat that would willingly walk into a refrigerator?

I'll teach you. When zombies come, you just sleep inside.

You'll keep watch outside?

I give a sharp nod.

. . . Listen, talking zombie. Words exist to deceive people, you know?

Won't eat you. I won't. If needed, you can escape through the back window.

I open my door and step back three paces.

She narrows her eyes suspiciously and peer inside, staying wary of me.

There is a sliding glass window in the back—she should be able to get through it easily if she crouch down a bit.

Ah . . .

The ten-tatami mat room was cluttered with things I had collected from outside.

Clothes, books, toys. A backpack with holes in it. Chipped lipstick. A music box that wouldn't play. And various other ornaments whose original purpose was unclear.

I should have cleaned up properly if I had known it would come to this.

Feel free to move things aside. However you like.

I step back another three paces from her.

She slowly enters the room, clutching her tote bag to her chest.

. . . Will you close the door?

Okay.

I close the door as requested.

Then I lean my back against the outer wall and sink down limply.

Others like me weren't likely to show up for a while yet.

. . . Hey.

Her voice came through the door from inside.

What do you intend to do with me?

Whatever you want.

The World Clock floats in the heavens.

In twenty-two more days, that clock will flip upside down.

The world's natural order will reverse, creating a one-way passage between the Heavenly Prison and the Netherworld.

It's a phenomenon where inhabitants from the world with weakened gravity get drawn into the other world—the "World Reversal."

This is currently the period when the Netherworld's gravity dominates the Heavenly Prison.

So if she can survive until the next World Reversal, she'll be able to return to the Heavenly Prison. Her wish will be fulfilled.

Until then, I am her guardian.

That's enough.

. . . Why don't you eat me?

She kept asking questions from her safe zone.

. . .

I couldn't answer.

I knew the answer clearly.

But I didn't want to be hurt any more today.

I was afraid of being rejected by saying it aloud.

. . . I see.

She muttered this as if she understood something, then fell silent for a while.

Then eventually—whir, whir—a sound like something being wound up came from inside the room.

What are you doing?

I'm winding up energy and courage.

After a little while, the sound stopped.

Instead, a 16-beat melody began to play.

A voice started singing along with it, and I jolted.

. . .

My left hand had started writhing on its own.

Startled, I yanked it away and blue blood dripped out.

Even detached from my body, the hand kept flailing around—quite a ghastly sight.

. . . I will return to the human world.

As if convincing herself, as if rallying her courage, she stated her desire firmly before stopping the music.

Then she paused.

Whew.

She let out a breath and spoke to me.

. . . I've decided to stay here for a while.

I heard the sound of her settling down on the other side of the wall.

So, talking zombie. Tell me something.

Huh?

If I'm going to be confined here forever, I'll get bored, and since you can actually talk and all . . .

. . . Aren't you scared?

I'm scared, but staying scared won't make this relationship work, will it?

. . . O-Okay!

I was happy. It felt like she had accepted me, even if only slightly.

But what should I talk about?

This was my first time talking to a human, so I was nervous.

On top of that, she was the girl I'd fallen in love with at first sight.

Topics like the pleasant sound of winding mechanisms, or obscure literary theories I'd picked up from reading—if I got too specialized with stuff like that, she'd probably be bored to death.

I'll keep listening. Tell me about yourself.

With my dead heart somehow racing, I told her my story.

It felt like some kind of awkward first date, and I was incredibly embarrassed.

†

This world has two countries and cultures.

One is the Netherworld. The dead like me live there.

And the other is the Heavenly Prison. Living humans live there.

The Heavenly Prison floats in the sky as its name suggests, far above in the heavens, much farther than the World Clock.

The two countries each have their own gravity and support each other by pulling against one another.

However, once a month—when the Shards of Light inside the World Clock fall completely to the bottom, one side's gravity weakens. That's the World Reversal.

When the Netherworld's gravity overpowers the Heavenly Prison's, various things fall from the night sky.

As a result the Heavenly Prison's unwanted things get dumped down here.

Clothes, books, toys—all sorts of things.

I collect all kinds of things that fall from the Heavenly Prison.

Since the Netherworld has nothing, there's no entertainment here either.

Personally, I like portable games and RC helicopters, but since there's no electricity in the Netherworld, they stop working immediately.

So I only collect things that don't need power.

I also collected things that worked just by turning knobs and handles.

Stories about humans born from peaches never failed to make me laugh, no matter how many times I read them, and watching dolls dance when I wound them up always filled me with joy.

Feel free to play with them if you'd like.

The Heavenly Prison probably has way more entertainment, but if the things here can at least help pass the time, that's good enough.

And if this place—if being around the dead—could become something that isn't just terrifying for her, even just a little bit, I think that would be wonderful.

Looking at her reaction when she saw me, it's clear that humans from the Heavenly Prison don't think highly of the dead.

That's understandable.

When the dead see living humans, they can't help but devour them.

The scent of humans drives the dead mad. It’s not like we die if we don’t eat, though.

Well, I'm already dead anyway. Ha.

Ever since a dead person who went to the Heavenly Prison caused problems in the past, relations between humans and the dead have been hostile.

Since word spread that terrible things would happen if you went to the Heavenly Prison, no dead person wants to go there willingly. Everyone holes up in their houses when the Netherworld's gravity is weakening.

But when we can go out, we want to take walks and explore.

As a result, I met her.

Those words slipped out, and I hurriedly banged my forehead against the wall.

My crushed head regenerates after a few seconds.

Even if it was just by chance, I'm glad we met. Something like that. Coming from one of the dead, it would just sound creepy.

. . . Because I was able to protect you.

When I tried to make it sound more meaningful, it just came out as some ridiculously dramatic line that made me cringe.

I figured it was better not to keep this conversation going.

. . . That's right.

She was alive. Living people get hungry.

This was the perfect moment for my collection to actually be useful.

I think I have some cans of food. I picked them up because I liked the pictures on the labels, and since they’re fairly recent, they should still be good.

Tuna, curry, canned fruit. I've collected so many things over the years.

A surprising amount of unexpired food ends up in the Netherworld.

You can eat whatever you like. I think they're all piled up in a corner somewhere . . .

There was no response.

Maybe she was concentrating, searching in silence?

Maybe I should help her look.

But I didn't want to scare her again.

There are probably other things that have ended up here too, so if there's nothing you like, we could go look for more. What I have in this house probably won't be enough anyway. But it would be dangerous to go out alone, so you'd have to come with me. If . . . if you wouldn't mind . . .

Still no response.

Maybe she had fallen asleep?

If so, maybe I could quietly leave a can of peaches by her pillow—a subtle gesture to show my thoughtfulness.

But I didn't want to scare her again.

. . . Are you awake?

Knock, knock.

Two knocks on the door.

Still no response.

Excuse me . . .

I nervously opened the door.

. . . Huh . . . ?

In the dim light of the moon and stars, I turned my head a full 360 degrees, scanning my surroundings.

The front window was open.

She was gone.

Her words came flooding back to my stunned and sluggish mind.

. . . Hey, talking zombie. Words exist to deceive people, you know?

It had been nothing but simple rhetoric.

. . . I've decided to stay here for a while.

She apparently never intended to stay here for even a second.

Well, of course. Just staying in a house where the dead live would probably be unhealthy.

. . .

The sliver of moon visible through the window couldn't fill the emptiness in my heart.

†

I sat alone in the room with my knees drawn up, waiting for time to pass.

. . . Seven hundred fifteen sheep . . . seven hundred sixteen sheep . . .

Being lied to wasn't what made me sad.

I hated being so pathetic that even the girl I tried to help ran away from me.

All I could do now was pray for her safety.

No, maybe it would be better not to pray at all.

A dead person praying seems like blasphemy against God. I'd feel terrible if divine punishment fell on her because of that.

As I was thinking about such things with my head down, I suddenly heard someone knocking at the door.

Knock, knock, knock. Three times.

I looked up in surprise.

Maybe she had come back.

But that hope swelling in my chest deflated immediately.

. . . What? Oh, it's just Cross.

Standing in the open doorway with his arm resting against the frame was one of the dead, his face as pale as mine.

His hair, dyed blood-red, gleamed vividly under the starlight.

Two black iron pipes were pierced through his torso in an X-shape, as always.

Hah-hah-hah!

Cross rattled his throat as he laughed, then snapped his neck to the side and turned his languidly unfocused eyes toward me.

What do you mean, "what"?

Nothing. It's nothing.

I moved my scattered collection aside to make a path for Cross. Otherwise my collection would be damaged even more.

Is there anyone c-coming to your house other than me?

Cross closed the door behind him and swayed lazily into the room.

As he walked, the iron pipes scraped against the floor with a grinding sound.

Blue blood dripped and dried from his wounds, making the large skull printed on his T-shirt look as if it were crying.

Iron pipes crossed through his torso, and he always wore clothes with skull designs. That's why he's called Cross.

The jeans he wears with it are torn and frayed everywhere, giving him a constant battle-damaged look that's actually pretty cool.

My only friend in the Netherworld—that's Cross.

But honestly, right now I wanted to be alone to nurse my wounded feelings, not deal with visitors.

What brings you here today?

What brings me here? That's my line, pal.

Because the pipe pierces his trachea, Cross can't pronounce K-sounds properly. K-sounds become doubled, and G-sounds mix with vowels.

Suggesting he just remove the pipe would be blasphemy against his sense of style.

This month it was supposed to be your turn to c-come to my house, wasn't it?

. . . Oh, that's right.

My head had been so full of thoughts about her that I'd forgotten the reason I left home today.

Whenever we can go out after a World Reversal, Cross and I visit each other's houses to hang out.

Until I found her falling from the sky, I had been heading to Cross's house.

Sorry, Cross. I completely forgot.

You've g-got your sc-scooter so it's easy for you, but I w-walked all the way here. I was worried something had happened.

I couldn't make out every word, but I could tell he'd been worried about me.

His appearance is flashy, but Cross is actually gentle—that is what I like about him.

You forgot? That's unusual. Were you thinking about something?

. . . Yeah. Something happened.

Tell me about it.

Cross twisted his upper body and tapped my chest with one of the iron pipes still embedded there.

After thinking it over for a while, I finally uncrossed my legs and shifted position.

A girl fell from the sky.