"Imagine if there is a way to convert water into an actual clean energy... Similarly to how we were able to convert the sun into a solar energy," I said to the empty room.
I was sitting at my desk, the wooden surface cluttered with various pens and a half-filled notebook. I scribbled the thought down, the ink scratching against the paper in a way that felt oddly satisfying.
To my right, a mug of coffee sat, sending a thin curl of steam into the air. I took a slow, methodical sip. The liquid was bitter and dark, just the way I liked it, providing a small spark of warmth against the cool air of the apartment.
I am actually on my own inside my apartment, which is a state of being I have grown quite fond of over the years. It has become a recurring habit of mine to converse with myself aloud. Some might find it strange, but for me, it is the only way to keep track of the constant stream of ideas flowing through my head.
Due to my unique way of thinking, I am unable to make friends easily. It is not that I am a particularly awkward person or that I lack the social skills to function in a group. Rather, I simply lack the motivation to talk to someone frequently.
I find that most conversations are repetitive and dull, leading me to ignore all the people I know quite often. My phone is usually a graveyard of unanswered messages and missed calls, but I don't feel much guilt about it.
"I'll leave that thought for the future me... Right now, I need something to eat." I let out a long sigh and pushed my chair back.
The legs scraped loudly against the floorboards as I got up. I stretched my arms high above my head, feeling my joints pop before making my way over to the kitchen.
The kitchen was small and functional, neatly organized despite my general lack of interest in housework. I filled a pot with water and set it on the stove, turning the dial until the blue flame hissed into life. Today, I'll be cooking some boiled eggs. It was a simple meal requiring very little effort, which suited my current mood perfectly.
Right, I suppose I should provide some sort of introduction. To begin with, my name is Akame Kamikaze. I am still in high school, I guess? It feels like a distant reality most of the time, a place I go to simply because the law requires it.
My real life happens within these walls. When I am not lost in my own thoughts, I like reading manga all the time. I read mostly for fun and excitement, losing myself in the vibrant art and the dramatic storylines. I've tried other hobbies, but I'm absolutely terrible when it comes to playing video games.
My fingers never seem to move fast enough, and I find the constant flashing lights more frustrating than entertaining.
As of today, since it's Sunday, I don't have anything special to do. Usually, the weekends blend into a single, long stretch of quiet time. So now is my free day, if that's how it is? Like I said, I don't like doing anything so bothersome unless it's interesting, like crafting or magic.
Yes, I'm a huge fanatic when it comes to the mystic arts. I spend hours looking at old drawings and reading stories about hidden powers and secret rituals. Even though the majority of society doesn't believe in that sort of thing and calls it childish, I'm still dreaming of one day acquiring that ability. I want to believe there is more to this world than just the boring, physical reality we see every day.
"Huh? Where's the ramen?... Haven't I bought a pack of it?" I muttered, leaning down to peer into the back of my pantry. I moved aside a jar of salt and a stray can of beans, but the familiar crinkle of the noodle packaging was nowhere to be found.
I checked the cupboard again, then the shelf above the stove, but it was empty. It seemed my memory had failed me this time.
So, I ran out of ramen. With that realization sinking in, I turned off the stove. Since I had already boiled the water, I didn't want it to go to waste, so I poured the hot water inside the thermostat to keep it warm for later. I grabbed my keys from the hook by the door and took a light jacket. I went outside, the door clicking shut behind me, intending to buy some more food at the convenience store located just below the apartment complex.
The air outside was crisp, and as I walked down the sidewalk, I looked up. The sunset is so pretty. The sky was a deep mix of orange, purple, and bruised gold, stretching out over the city skyline. I took a deep breath of the evening air.
I wonder what kind of show should I watch later? I usually prefer watching anime because the creativity is boundless, but sometimes I enjoy cartoons, too. It might be considered weird for someone of my age to still be watching a kid's show, but I don't really care what people think. Movies aren't that original these days. They just keep repeating the same concept over and over again—the same story, just with different characters and different settings. Animation feels more alive and more willing to take risks.
"Hmm... Who's that?" I whispered. I had a strange sensation, a prickle on the back of my neck that told me I wasn't alone.
When I looked behind me, scanning the sidewalk that was beginning to grow dark under the long shadows of the buildings, I noticed that someone was currently following me. It was a man, dressed in dark clothing, keeping a consistent distance. It might be just my imagination, though, I tried to tell myself. I turned a corner and sped up my pace.
I glanced back again. Wait, no, he's walking slightly faster now. He's actually closing the gap. He's running towards me for real!
"Wa–wait the fuck! Ugh..." My heart began to hammer against my ribs. I had no choice but to run away. I didn't have time to sit there and think if he was actually after me or if it was all some huge misunderstanding.
In a situation like this, it's always better to be safe than sorry. I took off, my shoes hitting the pavement with a rapid thudding sound.
"Damn you! Stop running!" The man from behind shouted. His voice was loud and rough, echoing off the brick walls of the narrow street.
"Wh–what the hell do you think am I supposed to do when you are chasing me!" I yelled back over my shoulder. My lungs were already starting to burn, and I struggled to hold my breath as I began accelerating, pushing my legs to move faster than I thought they were capable of.
"I'm not trying... Huff... to hurt you! Huff... Just listen to me! Huff..." He called out. I could hear the desperation in his voice and the sound of his heavy, ragged breathing.
He seemed to be reaching his limits any moment, struggling to maintain the sprint. And so am I. My vision was starting to get a bit blurry at the edges from the exertion. But what kind of an idiot would actually stop and listen to someone who is actively chasing them down a dark street? It defied all logic.
"Just fuck off already! Huff!" I screamed, not caring who heard me. I'm almost tired, every muscle in my body pleading with me to stop, but I could see the glowing neon sign of the convenience store just a block away. It's a good thing that the law enforcement decided to cooperate with the store recently. Since it's open 24/7, it serves as a designated safe zone. Not to mention that cameras are placed all around the exterior and interior of the place. Anyone who feels like someone is stalking them or following them can come inside and wait for the police to arrive in a controlled environment. I put on one final burst of speed, heading straight for the sliding glass doors.
"Wait! Just... wait!"
The voice behind me was ragged, broken by heavy gasps for air. It sounded like the man was coughing up his own lungs with every word he tried to speak. I didn't care. I couldn't care. My own chest felt like it was filled with hot, jagged glass, and every breath I took was a struggle.
I didn't look back. I refused to look back. My mind was focused on one thing and one thing only: the bright, neon glow of the convenience store at the end of the dark street. I assumed he had run out of energy, his footsteps slowing down until they were just a faint rhythm against the pavement, but I wasn't going to bet my life on a guess. I kept my eyes forward, my vision blurring at the edges as the world narrowed down to that single point of light.
As I got closer to the glass doors, my legs began to fail me. They weren't just tired; they were shaking violently, turning into jelly with every heavy step. This was the first time in my entire life that I had truly run for my life, and my body was screaming at me to stop. The adrenaline that had carried me this far was finally starting to drain away, leaving nothing but pure, raw exhaustion in its wake.
The electronic chime of the door—a cheerful ding-dong—sounded like a choir of angels.
"Welcome! How may I—"
The cashier was standing right by the entrance, currently placing a stack of chocolate near the glass wall, when she heard the bell, her mouth mid-sentence as she prepared her standard greeting. She turned her head toward the door, expecting a late-night shopper looking for milk or snacks, but her face instantly drained of color. When she saw a girl drenched in sweat, hair matted to her forehead, chest heaving so hard it looked painful.
I didn't have the strength to say a word. The moment I crossed the threshold into the air-conditioned store, the floor seemed to rise up to meet me. My knees buckled, hitting the hard tiles with a dull thud, and then the rest of me followed.
"Miss! Are you alright?! Oh my god, I'll call an ******!"
The cashier's voice was high and panicked. I heard the frantic clicking of her shoes on the floor as she rushed around the counter. I felt her shadow fall over me as she pulled out her phone, her fingers dancing across the screen to dial the emergency number. I tried to focus on her face, but the room was starting to spin. The bright fluorescent lights above were turning into white smears, and my eyelids felt like they were made of lead.
"Miss! Miss! Hello? Can you hear me? Stay with me!"
I felt a hand tapping my shoulder, gentle at first and then more urgent. The cashier had finished her call, but I couldn't understand what she was saying anymore. Her voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a deep well. Darkness began to creep in from the corners of my vision, and eventually, the world just went black.
Ding-Dong.
The chime rang again. It was the same happy sound, but this time, it felt cold.
The cashier looked up from the unconscious girl on the floor, expecting perhaps a witness or someone to help. Instead, she found herself staring at a man wearing a thick mask. His clothes were old, stained, and smelled of woodsmoke and sweat. In his right hand, he held a heavy, black pistol. The metal glinted under the store's lights.
"Stay back," the masked man growled. His voice was low and dangerous. "If you value your life, do not move."
The cashier froze. Her phone was still in her hand, but she looked like she had forgotten how to use it. She was in a state of total shock, her breath hitching in her throat as she stared at the barrel of the gun.
"Good girl," the man said, his tone dripping with a fake, terrifying kindness. "Now, hand over the cash. All of it. Put it in this bag and you won't get hurt."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a large, empty bag, tossing it onto the counter. As he did, his jacket fell open, revealing something far worse than the gun. Strapped to his chest were five sticks of dynamite, bundled together with messy red wires that led to a small plastic box. In his left hand, he held a small remote with a single button. The trigger.
The cashier's hands shook so violently she could barely hit the buttons on the register. She began pulling handfuls of bills out, her eyes darting between the gun and the bombs. The robber didn't seem to be watching her hands, though. He was looking down at the floor. He was looking at me.
"You," he whispered, his voice turning sharp. "Did you call someone before I walked in?"
The cashier didn't look up. She couldn't. "Uhh... Umm..."
She tried to find a lie, tried to find a way to say no, but the stuttering and the sheer terror on her face gave it away instantly. She didn't have to speak for him to know the truth.
"Well, shit..." the man muttered to himself.
Almost as if on cue, a faint sound began to rise in the distance. It started as a low hum but quickly grew into the unmistakable, high-pitched wail of police sirens. They were coming from every direction, getting louder and louder until the sound seemed to vibrate through the glass windows of the store. The robber looked at the door, then back at the cashier. He looked like a trapped animal, his eyes wide behind the mask. He wasn't thinking clearly; he was reacting on pure instinct now.
"You've done it now! Hurry it up!" he screamed, thrusting the pistol toward the cashier.
The woman began throwing the remaining money into the bag with frantic speed. The robber stepped forward and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, dragging my limp, unconscious body off the floor. He shoved the barrel of the gun against my head, using me as a human shield.
"Alright, now show me the exit," he said, his voice forced and calm. "The other exit. The back door. Now!"
"The... there is no other exit, sir," the cashier sobbed, her voice breaking. "This is a small building. There's just the front and the loading dock in the back, but it's locked from the outside..."
"Don't lie to me!" the man roared. "What kind of idiots would build a place like this without a second way out? You think you can trick me? You think I'm stupid?"
In a fit of rage, he pointed the gun upward and pulled the trigger. The bang was deafening in the small space. The bullet shattered the main light fixture, sending a shower of glass and sparks onto the floor. Half the store plunged into shadows as the remaining lights flickered and groaned. Outside, the screech of tires announced the arrival of the police.
"Stand down! I repeat, stand down!" a voice boomed through a megaphone from the parking lot. "You are surrounded! There is no way out! You have two options: surrender now or we will negotiate. Put the weapon down!"
The robber looked out the window. Through the glass, he could see the blue and red lights flashing against the dark pavement. Five patrol cars were angled across the entrance, and more were turning the corner. He was backed into a corner with nowhere to go. He could give up, he could try to talk his way out, or he could go down fighting.
But as he looked at the trigger in his hand and then at the shelves lined with flammable liquids, he realized he had one more choice.
"I might actually do it," he whispered, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and strange resolve. "I'm really going to do it."
Without another word, he pressed his thumb down hard on the trigger.
For a heartbeat, there was nothing but a heavy, terrifying silence. Then, the dynamite went off with a sharp, violent crack, but the explosion didn't stop there. The blast tore through the nearby shelves, igniting rows of butane canisters and propane tanks stored for camping. The initial pop was followed by a massive, secondary roar that blew the windows outward and brought the entire roof crashing down in a wall of fire and debris.
.....
....
...
..
.
The darkness was not like the night I had just escaped; it was heavy, absolute, and seemed to press against my skin with the weight of a thousand oceans. My eyes fluttered open, but there was nothing to see—no stars, no streetlights, no flickering neon signs from the alleyways I had been sprinting through. My head throbbed with a dull, rhythmic ache that pulsed in time with the fading memory of my own heartbeat.
"Nggg... Where am I?"
The words felt thick in my throat, barely a whisper that dissolved into the infinite void. I tried to reach out, to feel for a wall or the cold pavement, but my limbs felt like they were made of mist. The last thing I remembered was the frantic sound of my own breathing, the stinging cold of the rain against my face, and the heavy, rhythmic thud of boots behind me.
I had been running for what felt like hours, my lungs burning, desperately trying to lose the shadow that had been following me for weeks. The terror of that chase was still etched into my nerves—the feeling of being hunted, the absolute certainty that if I slowed down for even a second, I would be caught.
"You've done well, my dear."
The voice didn't come from any specific direction. It vibrated through the very fabric of the space I was floating in, warm and resonant, like the low hum of a massive bell. It carried a strange, comforting weight that momentarily silenced the panic rising in my chest.
"Who... might you be?" I managed to ask. My voice sounded small and fragile against that vast resonance. I tried to sound composed, to keep the tremor out of my tone, but the sheer confusion of the situation was overwhelming. I was supposed to be in a dark alley, or perhaps dead on the ground, but instead, I was here, suspended in a golden silence.
"Be not afraid, my child," the voice replied, sounding even more gentle now, like a parent comforting a restless infant.
"For I am the one who oversees the transition of those who wander. I am the guardian who manages the essence of the traveler as they pass from one state of being to the next."
"I... Am...."
The words caught in my throat. I wanted to ask if I was dead. I wanted to ask what happened. I tried to pull myself together to demand answers with the logic of a living person, but my mind felt like it was unravelling. Every time I tried to form a coherent sentence, the image of that stalker's silhouette flashed in my mind, and I began to stutter, my thoughts spinning in useless circles.
"My child," the entity continued, its presence expanding until it felt like it was cradling my entire existence. "Because of your unfortunate end and the fear you endured in your final moments, I shall grant you another chance. You shall not simply disappear into the nothingness. I am giving you a second beginning—a new life in a different place."
"..."
I couldn't speak. The silence stretched out, thick and heavy. My mind went completely blank, the way a computer screen flickers to white when it crashes. A second chance? A new life? The concept was too big to grasp while I was still mourning the one I had just lost.
"You desire a life of purpose," the voice mused, as if reading the hidden layers of my heart.
"You wish to be in a world where you have the power to defend yourself, a world full of intensity. In that place, people have learned to tap into the hidden rivers of energy that flow within their own bodies. They use this internal fire to perform feats that would seem like magic to your kind. Since you seek the strength to never be a victim again, you shall become one of those warriors who walk between the shadows. You shall be reborn into their ranks."
The void began to glow, the darkness peeling away to reveal a blinding, golden light that promised both a terrifying future and a final escape from the shadows of my past.