The night was cold, the kind of cold that seeped into the bones no matter how many layers one wore. Tokyo's streets, usually buzzing with life, were now drowned in a relentless downpour. The rain fell in thick, heavy sheets, hammering against rooftops, overflowing gutters, and creating endless ripples in the puddles forming along the sidewalks.
A young woman walked through the storm, her footsteps unsteady, her breaths uneven. Her chest rose and fell erratically as if she had been running for miles, yet she barely knew where she was going.
Her hands trembled as she clutched the strap of her small suitcase, knuckles turning white. Each step felt heavier than the last, her legs sluggish, as if her body was screaming for her to stop. But she couldn't. She wouldn't.
A sharp gust of wind blew against her, pushing the damp strands of her raven-black hair into her face. She shivered but kept moving, her sneakers splashing through puddles, soaking through to her socks. The fabric of her coat clung uncomfortably to her skin, weighed down by the rain.
The city around her was a blur of neon signs and distant car horns, a world she barely recognized. She turned a corner, passing by dimly lit shops with their shutters down, the only source of light coming from a few late-night convenience stores and the occasional flicker of vending machines humming softly in the background.
She had no idea where she was.
She barely even knew why she was here.
Her mind was a tangled mess, thoughts slipping through her grasp like water. Fragments of memories surfaced only to vanish just as quickly, leaving behind nothing but a gnawing sense of panic. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Then came the headlights.
Bright. Blinding.
A pair of car lights pierced through the rain, cutting through the darkness like knives. She barely had time to react before the deafening screech of tires filled the air.
Time slowed.
Her body froze, paralyzed in place. She could hear the distant honking of another car, the panicked shout of someone in the background, but none of it registered.
Then—impact.
A force slammed into her, sending her small frame flying backward. A sharp, searing pain burst through her skull as her head hit the pavement. A metallic taste filled her mouth, mixing with the sting of rain against her skin.
The world spun.
Her vision blurred, dark spots dancing at the edges of her sight. The sound of the rain grew muffled, distant, as if she were sinking underwater.
The last thing she saw before the darkness swallowed her whole was the blurred outline of someone rushing toward her.
Then—nothing.
Sometime Later…
A steady beeping.
A faint, sterile scent.
A soft yet unfamiliar warmth.
Her consciousness floated somewhere between wakefulness and oblivion, trapped in the delicate balance of reality and dreams. A dull, throbbing pain pulsed behind her temples, an uncomfortable reminder that she was alive.
Her eyelashes fluttered, heavy like they had been glued shut. The world beyond her closed eyelids felt distant, muted, but as seconds passed, sensations slowly crept back into her awareness.
Her fingers twitched against something soft—sheets. Crisp, smooth fabric.
Where… was she?
The beeping continued, rhythmic and steady, like a metronome marking time. The faint hum of an air conditioner filled the silence, a low mechanical purr blending with the sterile scent of antiseptic.
Finally, her body obeyed. With an agonizing effort, she pried her eyes open.
Blinding white light flooded her vision.
She blinked rapidly, her breath hitching as the world came into focus—white walls, medical equipment, the unmistakable scent of a hospital.
A hospital?
Her gaze shifted slowly, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. There was an IV drip attached to her wrist, thin tubes connecting her to a machine monitoring her heartbeat. A dull ache spread across her body, but it was her head that throbbed the most, the pain sharp and relentless.
Then, a voice.
"You're awake."
Deep. Calm. Familiar yet unfamiliar.
She turned her head toward the sound, her sluggish mind struggling to process. A man stood near the foot of her bed, dressed in a white coat. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as if he had been here for a while. A pair of glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, reflecting the dim hospital lighting. His features were sharp yet gentle, his expression unreadable but not unkind.
She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Her throat was dry, her voice lost somewhere between confusion and exhaustion.
The man—doctor?—tilted his head slightly, his gaze studying her carefully.
"How do you feel?" His voice was smooth, professional, yet there was a hint of something else. Concern, perhaps?
She swallowed, her lips parting.
"I…" Her voice cracked, hoarse. She barely recognized it herself.
The doctor stepped forward, grabbing a small cup of water from the bedside table. "Drink this."
She hesitated for a moment before taking the cup with unsteady fingers. The cold water slid down her throat, soothing the dryness but doing nothing for the panic creeping into her chest.
Setting the cup down, she finally managed to speak again.
"Where am I?" Her voice was quiet, uncertain.
"The hospital," the man replied simply. "You were in an accident."
An accident?
The words barely registered.
She struggled to remember—what had happened? How had she ended up here?
Fragments of flashing lights. The rain. The car. The moment of impact.
Her breathing quickened.
Sensing her distress, the doctor spoke again, this time slower. "It's okay. You're safe now."
Safe.
The word echoed in her mind, foreign and unfamiliar.
Her lips trembled.
"Who… are you?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
The man paused for a second before answering.
"Takahashi Ruo," he said. "I'm the doctor who treated you."
She processed the name slowly, her mind sluggish, as if wading through thick fog.
"Takahashi… Ruo…" she repeated under her breath.
And then, the question that terrified her the most left her lips before she could stop it.
"…Who am I?"
A long silence filled the room.
Ruo's eyes darkened slightly behind his glasses.
She stared at him, desperate, searching for an answer—anything that would tell her that this was all just a bad dream.
But when he finally spoke, his voice was gentle, yet firm.
"You don't remember anything… do you?"
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
A sharp, hollow pain bloomed in her chest as realization sank in.
She remembered nothing. Not her name, not her past.
Not even who she was.
And for the first time since waking up, a single tear rolled down her cheek.
The rain had washed away everything.
Even herself.