The sun hung low over Niigata City, casting long shadows across the narrow streets. I kept my head down, hands shoved deep into my pockets, feeling the weight of yet another rejection letter crumpled in my fist. It was a familiar sting, but it didn’t hurt any less—the same cycle of hope and failure repeating itself like some cruel joke. The salty sea breeze swept past, but it did little to soothe the ache gnawing at my chest.As I neared our modest apartment complex, I slowed my pace, eyes flickering upward. The evening sky was streaked with shades of crimson, and for a split second, the sight of it made my heart tighten— like that first time I saw blood on the pavement, the day everything changed. I shook the memory off. I had more immediate problems, like how I’d explain to my mom that, once again, I’d come up short.The wooden steps creaked beneath my feet as I climbed to our thirdfloor apartment, each step feeling heavier than the last. I wasn’t ready to face her, but there wasn’t anywhere else to go. When I reached thedoor, there she was—Mom, waiting for me, her sharp eyes softening when she saw my face. Even though she tried to hide it, I could see the concern in her eyes.“Yuki,” she greeted me, voice a blend of warmth and the kind of weariness that I was starting to feel myself. “How did it go?”I didn’t even bother with pretence. Pulling out the letter, I handed it to her with a forced smile. “Same as always.”Mom glanced at it for just a moment before crumpling it in her hand, her sigh echoing in the small space between us. “You’re being too hard on yourself, Yuki. These things take time.”Time. I felt a bitter laugh threaten to escape but swallowed it down.“I’ve been trying for years, Mom. Maybe… it’s time to accept it’s not going to happen.” My voice came out quieter than I intended.She stepped closer, her hand resting on my shoulder. “Don’t say that. You’re talented, Yuki. You just need to find the right story to tell.”I looked away, unable to meet her gaze. Her belief in me only made it worse. “I don’t even know if I can do that anymore.”She was quiet for a moment before trying to lift my spirits. “Why don’t you come inside? I made okonomiyaki… your favourite.”I shook my head, already feeling the familiar tightness in my chest.“I’ve got to get to work. Ayame’s probably waiting for me.”Mom frowned, her worry deepening, but she didn’t press further.“Just… promise me you’ll eat something later, okay?”“Yeah,” I mumbled, already halfway down the stairs.Disappointment settled over me like a heavy coat. It wasn’t just the rejection letter. It was the realization that I was stuck in a life I didn’t want, with no escape in sight. My dream of being a novelist—of making something meaningful out of all these stories in my head—felt like it was slipping further and further out of reach. What was left? A dead-end job, unfulfilled promises, and this suffocating sense of failure.The walk to my office, where I worked as a news photographer, wasn’t long, but today it felt like miles. The streets buzzed with the sounds of summer—children laughing, the hum of traffic, people living their lives—but it all felt distant, like I was walking in some muted, colourless world. I couldn’t stop thinking about that letter, about how every rejection chipped away at whatever was left of my hope. How long could I keep going like this?When I arrived at the small office, I was greeted by the whirlwind of energy that was Ayame Saito, my co-worker—and, honestly, my only real friend these days. Her long black hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her eyes sparkled with the kind of enthusiasm that made you think life still had endless possibilities. It was a sharp contrast to how I felt.“Yuki-kun! There you are!” Ayame called out, waving me over with that bright smile of hers. “We’ve got a new assignment!”I forced a faint smile as I dragged myself toward her desk. “What is it this time?” My voice was quieter than I intended, almost drowned out by the noise in my head.Ayame, always so full of energy, grinned and waved a slip of paper in front of me. “Break-ins. There’s been a string of them around the area, and we’re supposed to cover the story. But first, I need to stop by the clinic to grab something. Come with me?”“Sure,” I replied, even though my mind was a thousand miles away. The weight of that rejection letter still clung to me, pressing down on everything else.We rode through the city on Ayame’s scooter, the engine’s hum blending into the background as she chattered away about the assignment. I nodded when I thought it was expected, but I barely heard her. My mind kept circling back to something else, something I couldn’t shake—“Hey, Yuki-kun, you’re awfully quiet today. Something on your mind?” Ayame glanced at me with concern.I shook my head quickly. “No, just… a lot on my plate. But I’m fine.” A lie, of course. I wasn’t fine. When was the last time I’d actually felt fine?She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but to her credit, she didn’t push me. “Okay, if you say so. We’ll be at the clinic soon.”When we arrived, Ayame parked the scooter and hopped off with her usual enthusiasm. “I’ll be quick!” she called as she headed inside.I stayed outside for a moment, my gaze landing on a bicycle leaning against the wall nearby. The tires were worn, and there was rust creeping up the chain—a bike that had seen better days. I didn’t know why, but I felt drawn to it. It tipped slightly, and instinctively, I reached out to steady it, my hand brushing against the brake lever. Without thinking, I adjusted it. Just a small, meaningless action.Or at least, it should’ve been.I followed Ayame into the clinic, my eyes scanning the quiet waiting room. A young boy sat in the corner, swinging his legs idly as he waited. He seemed out of place in the sterile, quiet room, like he didn’t belong there. That nagging feeling from earlier returned, stronger now.Something about him…“I need to pick up some sleeping pills,” I muttered to the pharmacist at the counter. She gave me a quick, concerned glance but handed over the small packet without comment. Maybe she could sense the exhaustion etched into my face. It wasn’t just physical. It was deeper than that— like I was drowning, and no amount of sleep could pull me to the surface.As I turned to leave, I noticed the boy getting up. He pushed his bicycle toward the door, giving me a quick nod before he stepped outside. I watched him struggle with the bike for a moment before he disappeared around the corner.Ayame was already outside, waiting by the scooter, her eyes fixed on her phone. “Ready to go?” she asked, not looking up.“Yeah,” I mumbled, slipping the pills into my pocket.We rode through the city as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch out forever. Ayame was still talking, still filling the air with words, but I wasn’t really listening. My thoughts kept drifting back to the boy and his bicycle, and something gnawed at the back of my mind. What was it about that kid?Why couldn’t I shake the feeling that something was wrong?We rounded a corner, and suddenly Ayame slowed down, her attention snapping to something ahead of us. “Yuki, look!” she exclaimed, pointing toward a gathering crowd near an intersection. The sound of sirens cut through the thick summer air.She pulled the scooter over, and I followed her toward the commotion. As we got closer, the scene came into focus—a crumpled bicycle lay in the middle of the road, surrounded by onlookers. My heart skipped a beat. It was the same bike. The same one I’d seen leaning against the clinic wall.“No…” My voice trembled, barely a whisper. I pushed through the crowd, my eyes scanning the scene, a growing sense of dread filling my chest.And then I saw it—the small, lifeless body lying on the asphalt. The boy from the clinic.It was like being hit by a freight train. Memories I’d buried deep down came flooding back—the sight of my childhood friends, their bodies limp and lifeless; the image of my father’s car sinking into the cold, unforgiving water. My chest tightened, and panic surged through me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.Had I missed something? Was there something I could’ve done? My mind raced back to the moment at the clinic—the bike, the brake. I had touched it. I had… I had adjusted it. Was it my fault?Before I could even process what was happening, I found myself back at the clinic. The same sequence of events played out before me, as if time itself had rewound. The pharmacist handed me the pills, and I turned, heart racing, panic rising in my throat. But the boy was already gone. I darted outside, frantically searching for the bicycle, for the boy.No. No. No. I couldn’t let this happen again.“Get off the scooter, now!” I shouted at Ayame, my voice urgent, frantic. I didn’t wait for her to respond—I bolted, jumping onto the scooter, adrenaline pumping through my veins. “We have to catch him!”Ayame was confused, her eyes wide with alarm. “Yuki, what’s going on?”“I’ll explain later!With urgency coursing through me, I sped through the streets, fixated on the boy ahead. As I neared the intersection, I spotted him pedaling, blissfully unaware of the impending danger. My heart raced as I grabbed the back of his bike and slammed on the scooter’s brakes. The bike wobbled violently, and then everything faded to black as we crashed into a tree.
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