A peaceful morning...
The kind of morning that has repeated itself endlessly since that day.
I open my well-rested eyes, the soft embrace of my bed making me want to stay a little longer. Rays of sunlight filter through the curtains, casting smooth streaks across the room. I stretch and yawn deeply, savoring the stillness, the fleeting peace that feels so rare these days.
"Good morning, Kiitaharu. It's time to get up, Kiitaharu."
The voice shatters the tranquility like a rock thrown into a serene pond. It's neither the tender call of a loving wife nor the warm care of a doting mother. No, it's my obnoxious robotic alarm clock, droning on as it does every single day.
"What a miserable piece of technology..." I mutter, slamming my hand down on the wretched device. Its silence is my first small victory of the day.
Dragging myself out of bed, I slip into my typical gray suit with a red tie. Classic, unsuprising and definitely outdated. While the world of 2037 thrives on innovation and modern stuff, boring office workers like me still cling to these uniforms, relics of a time long past. I could change my style, I suppose, but why bother? Modern fashion doesn't suit me, and honestly, it feels like the world hasn't really moved on as much as it pretends to.
In the bathroom, I brush my teeth the old-fashioned way — with a manual toothbrush. Call me stubborn, but all those high-tech gadgets with unnecessary features just feel overcomplicated.
My reflection stares back at me from the mirror, the jagged fracture at the bottom corner catching my eye. How long has it been like that? What kind of man keeps a fucking broken mirror?
Broken... just like you, Kii...
In the kitchen, I brew a pot of green tea, my daily morning ritual. Sure, it's not great on an empty stomach, but who in this world has time for a proper breakfast before attending work? The warm aroma fills the air as I take a sip. The taste washes over me, smooth and comforting, a small joy in an otherwise monotonous life.
"Ah... If only life could always be this good..."
Leaning against the counter, I glance at the clock. 7:40 AM. Just twenty minutes to go before another day of drudgery begins. Shrugging on my coat and slinging my bag over my shoulder, I grab a pack of cigarettes on my way out.
The shared garage greets me with a familiar sight: my old, battered motorcycle. A gift from a man named Satoru when I was just sixteen, it has aged alongside me, clinging to life despite its years. Outdated or not, it still gets the needed job done.
The engine sputters to life, and I secure my helmet before hitting towards the quiet Tokyo streets, the morning air whips against my face, cool and invigorating, as I weave through the empty roads. These boring car drivers, they'll never know this kind of freedom. At nearly 100 kilometers per hour — well above the speed limit — I let the wind carry me.
Until I hear it.
The wail of a siren cuts through the air, shattering my idyllic mood. I glance in the mirror to see flashing lights.
"Please pull over to the side of the road!"
Damn it. Not now. Reluctantly, I slow down and pull to the curb. The police car stops behind me, and out steps a young officer, barely out of his teenage years. His nervous demeanor screams rookie.
"General traffic control. Please show me your driver's license." he requests, fumbling slightly.
I hand it over without a word, watching his expression shift as he reads my name.
"Yarikawa Kiitaharu... That's an unusual name. Where does it come from?"
I sigh, my patience already wearing thin. "From my mother's imagination. Besides, unless it's part of your duties to question family history, Officer, I suggest we keep this brief."
"Oh, uh, yes, of course. My apologies!" He stammers, hastily returning my license. "You may go, have a nice day!" he adds ashamedly.
With a curt nod, I turn around and start the engine again, leaving him in my rearview mirror as I merge back onto the open road. Another day, another disruption...