I woke up tired the next morning tired.
Again for a number I could no longer remember.
My eyes felt like they were replaced by stones in my sleep, heavy and aching, the kind of exhaustion that sleep doesn't fix. And to be honest, I barely slept at all last night. I kept tossing around, staring at the ceiling as the clock in the kitchen clicked at every second.
And the whole time, even though she literally told me not to…I kept thinking about Yume.
Her adorable laugh.
Her stupid snack-god speech.
I couldn't stop thinking about it.
"Don't stay up too late thinking about me."
Yeah…right. Like she doesn't know exactly what she was doing saying something like that.
I rubbed my face with both hands, trying to wipe the exhaustion off me.
But it stuck like a curse.
It was just another day. Another morning that already too much to bear.
I dragged myself out of bed, lazily got ready for school, and went downstairs.
Mom was already at the stove, her hair tied into a messy bun, humming under her breath. Dad sat at the table, glasses perched at the tip of his nose as he scrolled through the news on his phone. It was the same scene I'd seen a thousand times. The start to the same day.
"Morning, Hiromi," Dad said without looking up.
"Morning," I murmured back.
Mom turned around with a smile. "Sit...Breakfast is almost ready."
I sat across the table from my dad.
She set a bowl of rice in front of me.
But before I even could pick up my chopsticks, she spoke. "So, Hiromi..." She began, far to casual. "Have you finally thought about what college you're planning to attend?"
I froze.
There it was.
The question I'd been dodging for weeks. Maybe months.
"I…I don't know yet," I said, keeping my eyes on the bowl of rice. "I'm still thinking."
Mom let out a breath—sharp and frustrated. "Hiromi, you are running out of 'thinking time'. Applications are due soon. You can't keep putting this off."
Dad looked over his glasses. "Your mother's right, son...You used to be on top of these things. Wasn't long ago when you passed those preliminary exams for that art institute in Tokyo? They don't just take anyone, Hiromi. You studied hard to pass those, and we were so proud of you..." He pointed his chopsticks at me. "Now, it seems you've just given up on it."
Mom nodded in agreement.
"Exactly! You were so driven back then. But lately…" She paused, searching my face. "You've become lazy, Hiromi. You sleep in too much. You don't study anymore. You stopped talking to us...And you've become far more distant now...I don't know what happened to you."
Her words hit harder than I expected.
Lazy?
Distant?
What happened to you?
I swallowed it, trying to force my face into something neutral.
I didn't want to break. Not in front of them.
Inside, though…Everything became twisted.
I know...
I know I've changed. I know I'm not who I used to be. But it's been hard for me. I've been stressed. I've been trying so hard just to keep myself standing and you don't even see it.
My mouth wouldn't move to explain myself.
Instead, I muttered, "…I'll figure it out. Can we just not do this right now?"
Mom frowned in disappointment. "Hiromi, we're not trying to attack you. We...just want you to care about your future as much as we do."
I do care.
I'm just tired.
I'm just so tired.
"I'm...heading to school," I said abruptly, standing up before my emotions could crack open.
"Hiromi—" Mom called, but I'd already grabbed my bag.
Dad sighed. "Just let him go. We'll talk later."
I didn't want to talk later.
I didn't want to talk at all.
When I closed the gate behind me, I saw Yume standing beside my mailbox, swaying on her heels like she'd been waiting forever, her skirt fluttering in the wind. Then, she noticed me.
"There you are, noodle!" She chirped. "Took ya' long enough."
Yume skipped over to me.
"…You came to pick me up?"
"Well, duh..." She puffed out her cheeks like the answer should have been obvious to me. "What kind of best friend would I be if I didn't pick you up for our grand mornin' adventure of…going to school?" She shuddered. "Truly horrifying..."
Despite everything.
The pressure, the exhaustion, the ache behind my ribs, I laughed under my breath.
It seemed she noticed the strain in it.
Her smile softened when she asked. "Rough morning, Adventurer Hiromi?"
I almost told her. Almost let everything pour out.
But then I remembered how breakfast felt this morning. How talking only made things worse. How explaining myself would never fix the growing hole inside me.
"…Yeah," I finally said. "Just tired..."
Yume leaned a little closer, squinting up at me like a detective examining a prime suspect.
"Tired from what exactly?" She asked. "Staying up too late playing games?"
Then her eyes glimmered with mischief.
"Or…staying up thinking about me?"
"It's nothing, Yume…" I huffed out a half-laugh. "Just wasn't tired last night."
"Yeah...classic noodle response..." She crossed her arms. "Translation: something's wrong and you're going to pretend it isn't, because Hiromi Tanaka is allergic to emotional honesty."
I mumbled. "I'm not allergic—"
Before I could form a comeback, she suddenly clapped her hands together.
"We can wait no longer, Adventurer Hiromi." She pointed dramatically toward the street. "We must hurry or Ms. Kisaragi is gonna transform into her final form."
"…Her what?"
"A raging beast who feeds on late students. I'm talking claws, fangs, glowing red eyes. It's a terrifying sight...And I, the noble hero, simply cannot allow my loyal noodle-companion to be devoured this Thursday." She grabbed my hand without warning. "C'mon! Adventure awaits!"
As we reached the main street near the school, the world began to bend around the edges—like someone had smudged their thumb through the wet paint on a canvas I was working on.
People passed us.Students in uniforms.Adults with briefcases.Neighbors walking dogs.
But their faces…
Their faces were blurred, smeared into shapeless colors, no eyes, no mouths, just muted outlines of what human beings were supposed to be. It had sent shivers down my spine.
The first student we passed—uniform crisp, tie crooked—lifted his hand in what I assumed was a wave. But I couldn't see his face. It was smudged over, like someone dragged a paintbrush over it. I blinked hard to rid myself of the image. It didn't go away. It never did.
The next group of girls, chatting near the crossing, weren't any clearer.
Their eyes, noses, mouths—gone.
Erased.
Their voices blended into a murmur I couldn't comprehend.
As if they were speaking from the bottom of the ocean. Far away from the world I live in.
How long has it been like this?
How long since the world began slipping out of focus?
I already knew the answer.
Since high school started.
Since everything became so heavy.
Since every day began to feel like the one before.
And I remember the first time it happened—how I thought maybe I needed new glasses, or better sleep, or…something. But it never went away. The faces just kept smearing. The voices became more inaudible. And everyone around me had become less and less human.
And honestly?
It scared me.
Not the distortion itself.
But how normal it felt now.
How used to it I've become...
Like my brain had given up trying to make sense of the world.
But the strangest part was this: Yume was the only one who still looked normal.
The only voice I could hear was that of Yume.
"—and then the cat just stole my taiyaki and ran off! I thought I was strong enough to ward off its cuteness spell, but it was too strong even for the likes of me...Till' next time, whiskers."
Yume tugged on my hand as we approached the front gate.
"Alright, we're almost there! Try to look alive, noodle—Ms. Kisaragi can sense weakness."