It started with a dream.
Not the kind of dream where you wake up smiling, ready to tackle the day. No, this one was the kind that left a sinking feeling in your chest, dragging you into the past like a stone tied to your ankle.
I was eight again, sitting in the backseat of my dad's old car. I could still smell the faint mix of vanilla air freshener and the cheeseburger Dad had scarfed down before we left the amusement park recently. Mom sat up front, humming softly, her head resting against the window. The weather was dull. Dark skies and raindrops streaming through the windshield.
"Come on, pleeeease! Just one more ride on the roller coaster! It's my birthday!" I begged, bouncing in my seat.
Mom turned around, her soft smile instantly calming my overexcited heart. "Alright, alright. But just one, okay? Your dad can't handle the big rides."
"Hey!" Dad protested, laughing as he glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Don't make fun of me. It's not my fault those things make me nauseous."
I giggled, feeling on top of the world. It was the best birthday ever—my parents were alive, happy, and we were going to the amusement park. Everything was perfect.
But then the weather turned.
On the way back home, the rain started falling. Light at first, but soon, it was hammering against the windshield. The sky turned dark, the kind of dark that makes you feel like something bad is coming. I sat quietly, watching raindrops race down the window. Then I saw her.
In the rearview mirror, just behind Dad's head, was an old woman. Her face was pale and gaunt, her eyes wide and unblinking. She was staring right at me.
"Dad..." I whispered, clutching the edge of my seat. "Who's that lady?"
Dad frowned. "What lady?"
I pointed to the mirror, my finger trembling. "There! In the mirror!"
But when he looked, she was gone.
The car swerved.
Everything happened in slow motion. The wheels skidded on the wet road, the car spinning out of control. I remember Mom screaming, Dad cursing, and then the deafening sound of metal crunching as we tumbled over and over.
When we finally stopped, I was upside down, dangling from my seatbelt. Blood trickled into my eyes. I looked over and saw my dad, his head slumped forward, unmoving.
"Dad? Mom?" I whimpered, my voice barely a whisper.
Mom turned to me, her face pale, her breaths shallow. "Meiko... It's going to be okay. Just hold on..."
But it wasn't okay.
When the police came, they found me clinging to my mom's hand, begging her to wake up.
"It was Turbo Granny," I told them when they asked what happened. "She made us crash."
The officer gave me a blank look, muttering something about trauma and imagination. No one believed me. Not about the old woman, not about anything.
I woke up to the faint sound of birds chirping outside my window, but it didn't bring the usual calm. My body felt heavy, like an anchor tied to the ocean floor. Today wasn't just any day. Today was my birthday.
I stayed in bed for as long as I could, staring at the ceiling. The memories were always worse on this day-the screech of tires, the shattering glass, and the deafening silence that followed. I could still see the look on my parents' faces, frozen in time, like a photograph etched into my mind.
Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes before spilling over, warm trails down my cheeks. I sniffled, trying to quiet the sound, but it didn't matter. My grandma always knew.
"Meiko?" her voice called softly from behind my door, accompanied by a gentle knock.
I quickly wiped my face. "Yeah?"
The door creaked open, and she stepped inside, dressed in her usual apron, a faint smudge of flour on her cheek. "Happy birthday, sweetheart," she said with a soft smile, though her eyes were tinged with concern.
"Don't say that," I muttered, turning away.
She paused, the silence stretching between us. Then she crossed the room, sitting on the edge of my bed. "It's okay to feel sad, Meiko," she said gently, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.
I clenched my fists. "It's not just sadness. This day is cursed. My parents died because of me. If I hadn't been born-"
"Stop that," she interrupted firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. She cupped my face in her hands, forcing me to look at her. "You are not to blame for what happened. Your parents loved you more than anything in this world. They wouldn't want you carrying this guilt."
"But-"
"No buts," she said, her voice softening. "I know this day is hard, but it's still your day. And I promise you, we're going to celebrate it together. After school, I'll bake your favorite cake, and we'll have a little party. Just the two of us."
Her words wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and for a moment, the heaviness lifted. I nodded, wiping my face. "Thanks, Grandma."
She pulled me into a tight hug, her warmth soothing the ache in my chest. "Now, go get ready for school. And remember, no matter what, I'm here for you."
The walk to school was uneventful, but my stomach churned with anxiety. Birthdays weren't exactly a day of celebration at my school. In fact, they were the opposite.
It started as some bizarre tradition years ago-a way to "celebrate" by ganging up on the birthday person. I didn't know who came up with it, but it stuck. And since I was already an easy target, my birthday was practically a holiday for the bullies.
Kenji was waiting for me at the gate, leaning against the wall with his usual carefree grin. He straightened up when he saw me, his sharp eyes scanning my face.
"You look like hell," he said bluntly.
"Good morning to you too," I muttered, adjusting my bag strap.
He fell into step beside me, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "You okay?"
I shrugged, not trusting my voice.
Kenji sighed, his grin fading slightly. "Look, I know this day sucks for you. But you've got me, alright? No matter what happens, I've got your back."
Something about his words made my chest tighten, and I managed a small smile. "Thanks, Kenji."
---
Gym class was worse than I expected.
At first, it was fine. We ran laps, did stretches, the usual routine. But when the teacher left the room, things went downhill fast.
"Hey, birthday boy," one of the boys sneered, tossing a dodgeball into the air.
I didn't respond, keeping my head down as I headed toward the corner of the gym.
"Don't ignore us." another voice called, followed by the sound of a ball slamming against the floor.
Before I could react, a flurry of dodgeballs came flying at me from all directions. They hit my arms, legs, back-each one leaving a stinging bruise in its wake. I tried to shield myself, but it was useless. Laughter echoed around me, their voices like knives cutting into my skin.
"Happy birthday, freak!" someone shouted, and the others erupted into laughter.
By the time the teacher returned, they had all scattered, leaving me curled up on the floor, clutching my aching ribs.
And worst of all, Kenji wasn't here like he promised.
I limped home that afternoon, tears streaming down my face. My body throbbed with pain, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my heart.
When I opened the door, the smell of freshly baked cake greeted me. My grandma appeared in the hallway, her smile faltering when she saw my bruises.
"Meiko," she said softly, rushing over to me. "What happened?"
"Nothing," I muttered, brushing past her.
"Meiko-"
"I'm fine," I snapped, immediately regretting my tone. I turned back to her, my shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't want to talk about it."
She nodded, her eyes filled with worry. "Alright. But if you change your mind, I'm here."
That evening, she kept her promise.
The table was decorated with a small cake, a single candle flickering in the center. She even hung up a banner that said "Happy Birthday" in bright, cheerful letters.
"Make a wish," she said, smiling warmly.
I stared at the candle for a long moment before closing my eyes. I wish things could go back to the way they were.
After blowing out the candle, we sat down to eat, the atmosphere lightening with each passing moment. We even decided to watch a movie together, something funny to lift my spirits.
For the first time all day, I felt a flicker of happiness.
But it didn't last.
Halfway through the movie, the door burst open. Kenji stumbled inside, his clothes torn and stained with blood. His ears-fox ears-twitched atop his head, and four tails swayed behind him.
"Kenji?" I gasped, jumping to my feet.
He ignored me, his golden eyes locking onto my grandmother. "Madam, prepare the barrier," he said, his voice low and urgent.
She stood immediately, her expression grim. "What's coming?"
Kenji glanced at me briefly before looking back at her. "Something dangerous. We don't have much time!"