The morning air was crisp, almost biting, as Miyazuki stepped outside. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself, shivering against the early chill. The sun had barely risen, casting the sky in pale shades of orange and pink. It was just another day—a typical, mundane morning where everything felt too quiet, too normal.
Miyazuki sighed as his shoes clicked against the pavement, his breath misting in front of him. He began his walk toward the train station, his feet carrying him along the same worn path they always did. The streets of Hokkaido were peaceful at this hour, the usual bustling crowd still tucked away in their homes. It should have felt calming, but for some reason, unease clung to his thoughts like fog.
The wind tugged at his hair as he passed familiar storefronts and vending machines that buzzed faintly. Even the comforting routine of this quiet stroll couldn't shake the heavy weight in his chest. His mind wandered, drifting through the usual barrage of worries—school, family, and that overwhelming sense of being stuck.
He kicked a stray stone across the sidewalk and muttered to himself, "What's the point?"
The weight of his thoughts pressed down on him, and for a brief moment, he considered turning around, going back to his tiny apartment and calling in sick to school. But he knew better. No matter how hard life got, running wasn't an option. Responsibility was a chain, and he wasn't allowed to break free.
By the time he reached the train station, the faint murmur of announcements echoed from the platform speakers. He stared up at the old structure, feeling the sense of finality that always came with it—the same lifeless routine, repeated over and over. There were a few other early commuters, scattered around, faces blank, eyes glued to their phones. The station felt heavier today, as though something unseen hung in the air, waiting.
Miyazuki stepped onto the platform and glanced at the tracks. The early morning train hadn't yet arrived. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through meaningless notifications, not really reading them. His mind was elsewhere, distracted by that strange, nagging feeling in his gut.
The wind picked up again, and with it came a distant sound—something out of place. He ignored it at first, but then it grew louder. A metallic screech echoed through the streets, harsh and grating against his ears.
Instinctively, Miyazuki looked up. His eyes widened as he saw it—a truck, careening down the street at full speed. The driver's face was pale, panicked, as he desperately tried to regain control. The screech of metal against concrete filled the air as the truck swerved violently.
It all happened too fast.
For a split second, everything around him froze. The truck hurtled toward the platform, its headlights blinding in the early morning light. Miyazuki's body seized with fear, his heart hammering in his chest. He tried to move, to run, but his legs wouldn't obey.
*This is it.* The thought crashed into his mind with chilling clarity. *I'm going to die.*
And then, just before impact, the world seemed to blur around him. The screech of the truck, the blinding lights, the cold platform beneath his feet—all of it faded.
For a brief moment, there was nothing. No sound, no sensation. Just darkness, infinite and empty.
Miyazuki blinked, his breath caught in his throat. His body felt weightless, as though suspended in the void. The cold was gone, replaced by an unsettling, unnatural stillness. His mind reeled, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
But there was no explanation. No rational thought could grasp what he was experiencing.
He tried to move, but his limbs felt sluggish, distant. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead as he realized something was horribly wrong. This wasn't the train station anymore.
*Where am I?*
Panic gripped him, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. He reached out, expecting to feel the familiar rough texture of the station platform beneath his fingers, but there was nothing—just an endless void stretching out before him.
His pulse quickened, fear rising in his throat.
"Hello?" he called out, his voice echoing into the darkness.
No answer.
Suddenly, the faintest glimmer of light appeared in the distance, far off in the endless black. It was dim, barely there, but enough to send a jolt through his chest.
His heart raced as he watched the light flicker, growing stronger, pulling him toward it. He didn't understand how, but he knew—deep down—this was where his journey truly began.
And then, with a soft, final breath, the light consumed him.