Anna
The air around me felt heavy, like stepping into a dream where every sound and movement was muffled. Darkness stretched endlessly in every direction, except for the faint glow of five objects ahead. I took a hesitant step forward, my bare feet making no sound against the nonexistent floor.
"Jon?" My voice echoed strangely, as if the space itself were answering me. "Are you here?"
"Anna?" Jon's voice came from somewhere to my left, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. He appeared from the shadows, his face pale but his eyes wide with relief. "Oh, thank God. Are you okay?"
I nodded, clutching my arms tightly around myself. "Yeah, I think so. But… where are we?"
Before Jon could respond, a deep, measured voice cut through the darkness. "It seems we are not alone."
Both Jon and I turned to see an old man standing a few feet away. His posture was calm, almost regal, and his cane tapped lightly against the unseen ground as he approached. I recognized him instantly—the man from the limousine.
"You're… Akihito, right?" Jon asked cautiously.
Akihito inclined his head slightly. "Yes. And you are the young man and his sister who entered my car. I trust you are unhurt?"
"I guess so," I said, glancing around at the endless void. "But what is this place? How did we get here?"
Jon rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting between the three of us and the strange objects in the distance. "Maybe we… passed out or something. This could be some kind of quarantine. Maybe they're monitoring us after that explosion."
"Quarantine?" I repeated, frowning. "That doesn't make sense. Why would it look like this?"
Akihito's gaze lingered on the glowing objects ahead. "Perhaps it is not a physical place at all. The sensation here… it is familiar. I have felt it before in deep meditation."
"Meditation?" Jon said skeptically. "You think this is some kind of spiritual… realm?"
Akihito didn't answer immediately. Instead, he gestured toward the objects in the distance with the tip of his cane. "Whatever this place may be, it seems we are meant to focus on those."
We approached cautiously, the faint light from the objects growing stronger as we neared. Three doors stood side by side, each vastly different from the others. To the left was a traditional Japanese sliding door, its wooden frame delicate but intricate. The middle door was a simple wooden design, solid and unassuming but well-crafted. The third door on the right was painted with colorful manga characters and vibrant landscapes, the kind of whimsical creativity only a child could imagine.
Beyond the doors, two other features caught my eye. The last object was barely recognizable as a door—its charred remains glowed faintly, as if still smoldering. And in the very center of the space was a small, perfectly circular pond, its surface unnaturally still.
"What is this place?" I whispered, my eyes darting between the doors and the pond.
Jon crossed his arms, staring hard at the doors. "It's like something out of a movie. Maybe they're… symbolic?"
"Possibly," Akihito said thoughtfully. "But their meaning is not yet clear."
I stepped closer to the colorful door, drawn to its playful design. The familiar shapes of manga characters felt like a tether to reality, something comforting in this strange, endless void. Without thinking, I reached out and pushed it open.
A flood of images engulfed me, vivid and overwhelming. I saw myself sitting at the dinner table with my family, laughing as Mom brought out my favorite dessert. Another memory flickered into view—me sitting in class, doodling manga characters in the margins of my notebook while Miss Smith droned on about math. Then another—curling up on the couch with Jon, a stack of manga between us as he explained why Naruto was the best thing ever.
"Anna!" Jon's voice snapped me back. I stumbled backward, my hand dropping from the door. The images vanished, leaving only the dark void and the faint glow of the doors. Jon grabbed my shoulders, his face full of concern. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"I… I saw my memories," I said, my voice trembling. "Like I was there, but not really. It felt so real."
Akihito's eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. "Interesting. These doors may hold more significance than we realize."
Jon's gaze shifted nervously between me and the doors. "This place is… wrong. Whatever's going on, we need to figure it out fast."
"Agreed," Akihito said, stepping closer to the charred remains of the burned door. "But caution is paramount. We do not yet know the purpose of this place… or the consequences of our actions within it."
Jon stood at the edge of the small pond, staring down at the still water. The inky blackness of the surrounding void seemed to make the faint ripples on the surface glow faintly, reflecting a strange, almost ethereal light. Leaning closer, he saw the blurry image of a wooden ceiling, warped and unfocused like a dream half-remembered.
"This is…" Jon muttered, his voice breaking the heavy silence. He turned back to Anna and Akihito, who were still lingering near the strange doors.
"What do you see?" Anna asked, her curiosity momentarily overcoming her unease.
"A ceiling," Jon replied, his brow furrowing. "Wooden beams. It's just… staring at nothing. But it feels… alive?"
Akihito approached, his cane clicking against the void—a sound that shouldn't have echoed in a space so empty. He glanced into the water but made no move to touch it.
"Alive, but without will," he murmured. "The body exists, yet the spirit…" He trailed off, his sharp gaze locking with Jon's. "This is not normal. Not by any stretch."
"What do you mean?" Anna asked, taking a hesitant step forward.
"It reminds me of an old meditation technique," He gestured to the void around them. "This is something else. Something incomplete."
Anna frowned, her gaze flitting between the pond and the doors. "Then we… We're stuck here?" Her voice wavered slightly. "Like, forever?"
"We won't know unless we explore," Akihito replied.
"Yeah, great," Jon muttered. "But let's not jump into glowing ponds just yet."
Anna huffed but stayed silent. She cast one last glance at the pond before stepping back toward her door, the colorful one painted with vibrant manga scenes. Her hand lingered on the edge, tracing the outlines of a cheerful sun and characters mid-battle. She took a deep breath and pushed it open.
Light poured from the doorway, and within it, she saw fragments of her past: meals shared with her parents, her brother's teasing grin as they argued over the last piece of cake, the classroom where she'd awkwardly corrected her teacher's name. Each memory unfolded like a scene from her favorite manga—vivid, warm, and bittersweet. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away.
"It's… my life," Anna whispered.
Jon and Akihito turned toward her, the glow of the doorway reflecting in their eyes. "What do you see?" Jon asked, his voice quieter now.
"Memories," Anna said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Everything I know… everything I…" She stepped back, letting the door swing shut. The light faded, leaving the void darker than before.
Jon frowned, glancing back at the pond. The strange image of the wooden ceiling still lingered, but it now seemed heavier, more foreboding. "I'm checking the others," he said, walking toward a simple wooden door with careful craftsmanship. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the handle. Then, with a deep breath, he pulled it open.
Scenes from his university life greeted him: late nights in the library, lively debates with classmates, and that single moment of triumph as he submitted his thesis. Yet, amidst the joy and relief, there was a subtle undertone of regret. Flashes of missed opportunities and things unsaid flickered at the edges, threatening to overwhelm him. He quickly stepped back, slamming the door shut.
"This is… too much," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "It's like… it's showing me everything. The good, the bad."
Akihito, who had been silent, moved to the Traditionall Japanese door. He slid the door open just enough to reveal glimpses of his youth: his days where he was yong and sneked out, he saw him self standing on a Emty street litterd with body all Moving exept one. He stood there for a long moment, his face unreadable.
"Well?" Jon asked, breaking the silence.
"It's… not important right now," Akihito replied, closing the door firmly. He turned toward the pond. "We need to understand this."
Anna's gaze followed his, and without thinking, she approached the water. Her reflection stared back at her, but it was strange. Off. Her hand hovered over the surface, and before she could reconsider, she dipped her fingers into the cool, rippling water.
A gasp escaped her lips as the world around her shifted. Suddenly, she was looking up at the wooden ceiling Jon had described. Her body felt heavy, her limbs foreign. She blinked, once, twice, and realized she was breathing, though the effort seemed monumental. She tried to sit up she did manage but it as hard like she had to get used to moveing her own limps.
"Jon? Akihito?" she croaked, her voice sounding very different than before. The silence of the small room pressed down on her, broken only by the faint creak of the wind outside.
She forced herself to her feet, taking in her surroundings. The room was simple, almost spartan: a low table, a few chairs, and a small kitchen area. A faint chill seeped through the wooden walls, and the scent of snow lingered in the air. She stumbled toward the door, her heart pounding. Where was she..
Pushing it open, she was greeted by a breathtaking view. Snow blanketed the landscape, the rolling hills and thick forest below shimmering under the pale light. Steam rose from a nearby hot spring, its wooden canopy weathered but sturdy. The beauty was overwhelming, but it did little to calm her racing thoughts.
"Jon! Akihito!" she called, her voice carrying across the crisp air. But no answer came.
As the snow fell softly around her, Anna realized she was truly alone.