A Day Unlike Any Other

Work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

Some people call that "living."

A loop. Not a cycle. A never-ending repetition, without progress.

There are those who are fine with it: couch, lukewarm beer, meaningless shows.

And then, there are others. People like me.

Every morning, I get up. I get dressed like a machine. I eat a tasteless breakfast. Then I leave.

I lock myself inside a box filled with other boxes. An office. A screen. Numbers scrolling endlessly.

I work just enough to survive. No more. No less.

Just enough to keep from sinking.

My boss earns five times my salary. He gives half of it to a manager who does nothing but watch us with empty eyes.

And us? We get the crumbs.

Some coworkers do unpaid overtime, praying for a bonus that will never come.

Others sell themselves—body, pride, and all—for a few bills.

Sometimes, I wonder how they don't break.

Maybe they already have.

Maybe they're just smiling out of habit now.

Every day is a copy-paste of the last.

Wake up. Go to work. Come back. Eat something lukewarm. Sleep. Repeat.

I've stopped believing there's a way out.

Even suicide feels too theatrical.

Today is no different.

I have to get up, take a shower, eat what some people call a "balanced breakfast," and head to work.

Nothing will change.

And yet... I'm still here.

I had barely turned the corner when a familiar voice pierced my bubble.

— "Hey, Akira!"

I recognized the voice instantly.

Yoruhime.

I could've ignored her. Like usual.

That's what I do most of the time—avoid unnecessary interactions.

But today... I don't know why, my legs slowed down.

And eventually, my lips moved.

— Good morning, Yoruhime.

Flat tone. Blank expression. No emotion in my voice.

She skipped over to me like we were still in high school.

— "You're probably wondering what I'm doing here, huh?"

— Why aren't you at work yet? I asked.

— "Easy! I wanted to go with you, Akira !"

She said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That's just how she is.

Always smiling. Always over the top.

Sometimes I wonder if she's really an adult.

She never seems tired. Never seems depressed.

Like she somehow escaped the loop that's drowning everyone else.

It's a little annoying.

And at the same time...

...a little cute.

She waited for me, just so we could walk together.

It's pointless. Irrational.

But thoughtful.

— All right. Let's go.

I hate being late.

We started walking, side by side.

The commute to work took about fifteen minutes.

Just long enough for a conversation.

Too long to stay silent.

Our destination: Amatsu-Tech, the biggest tech company in the country.

Glass walls, magnetic badges, perfectly timed breaks.

Not the kind of place you dream about as a kid.

But I don't complain. The pay's decent.

And I don't have to talk more than necessary.

— "Hey, Akira... got any plans after work?"

— Hm. I suppose... the usual.

Shower. Dinner. Sleep.

She rolled her eyes.

— "Are you seriously going to talk like that all day? You're boring me to death."

I looked at her.

— It's just how I talk. Can't help it.

She sighed like she was carrying the weight of the world.

— "You need an emotion patch, man."

— And you need a pause button.

The building towered above us.

Twenty floors of glass, steel, and silence disguised as efficiency.

We rode up to our floor.

When the elevator doors opened, Yoruhime gave me a little wave before skipping off.

— "See you later, Akira ~!"

I nodded back, nothing more.

My desk was waiting. Like it did every day.

I sat down, turned on the screen, and let my fingers start running across the keyboard.

Around me, a few coworkers were chatting quietly, but the clearest voice—as always—was our supervisor's.

— "Great work, everyone. Keep it up... and remember: time is money!"

That line. He says it at every meeting.

I've stopped paying attention.

But the newbies still tense up every time.

After an hour, I got up to get a glass of water.

And I bumped into her.

A girl—probably a new hire.

She fell backward, caught off guard.

I crouched down and offered her my hand.

— You okay?

She took it, a bit shyly.

— "Y-yeah, thank you..."

I gave her a polite smile, then kept walking toward the exit.

The day was over.

Time to go home.

Same as always.

After a long walk, I was almost home.

Just a few more steps, and I would've gotten through the day like all the others.

No incidents. No surprises. No unnecessary interactions.

But of course, I had to see her.

Yoruhime.

Cornered in a dimly lit alley, facing four men.

One of them held a knife.

The others stood in a loose semicircle around her.

Their posture showed no urgency, no hesitation.

It was a setup—well-practiced.

Her bag was already gone. But they were still there.

If they were only here to rob her, they'd be gone by now.

No. This wasn't just a robbery.

One of them stepped closer.

Too close.

"Come on now, sweetheart... relax. We just wanna have a little fun," he said in a mock-gentle tone.

She was crying.

Calling for help. Her voice cracked in the void.

No one answered.

Not surprising.

Fear is a powerful social anesthetic.

People close their eyes, bow their heads, and tell themselves it's not their problem.

That someone else will step in.

One of the men started pulling down her pants.

...

I didn't move.

Not yet.

I wanted to see how far they would go.

Not out of cruelty.

Just... to understand.

To see how far human indifference can stretch—

and at what point mine should end.

Then I blinked.

That was enough.

Alright. I've seen enough.

I started running.

Not out of some heroic instinct.

Just because the equation had changed.

One of them had crossed the line.

I shoved the nearest man hard.

He didn't see it coming.

He stumbled from the impact, eyes wide with shock.

"Does it thrill you to go after someone defenseless?"

My voice was calm. Too calm.

That's what unsettled them.

I stared at each of them, one by one.

No fear. No obvious anger.

But inside... I was furious.

A cold, controlled rage. Ready to be unleashed.

"Akira..." Yoruhime whispered.

Her voice... broken. Shaking.

She clung to my sleeve like she needed to make sure I was real.

She wasn't a fighter. Just a normal office worker, after a normal day...

Dragged into a nightmare.

"What the hell do you want, loser?!" one of them shouted.

"Oh, I get it. You wanna play the hero?" another added, fists clenched in frustration.

I didn't answer.

Instead, I gently pulled Yoruhime toward me, placing her behind my back.

Out of reach.

Let them try to touch her again.

I'll break their fingers.

"If you wanna be a hero...

Then die like one!"

shouted the one with the knife.

He charged.

Too fast. Too loud.

Not a professional. Just a thug with a weapon.

I didn't move. Not yet.

I waited for the exact moment his arm lifted—

Then I stepped to the side, grabbed his wrist, and used his own momentum against him.

He hit the ground with a dull thud.

The knife almost slid into my hand naturally.

"What the—?! You bastard—!"

The second one lunged at me. Faster.

But I was already ready.

I drove the blade into his left leg.

Not too deep. Just enough to stop him.

He screamed. Collapsed.

The other two froze.

Their faces turned pale.

They grabbed their fallen friends—

and ran without another word.

Silence.

Yoruhime couldn't speak.

I held out the bag they'd taken from her.

Then, quietly, I turned away.

"You should go home."

I didn't look back.

Didn't need to.

I already knew she was crying.

"I'll get you a taxi. Be right back."

She didn't answer. Just nodded—

still in shock.

Her eyes avoided mine, like she was ashamed.

Ashamed of needing help.

I left her there for a moment, at the edge of the curb, and found a taxi nearby.

I waved the driver down, gave a quick explanation, then came back to her.

"Here. Get in."

I helped her into the back seat.

Her hands were trembling. She didn't speak for a few seconds.

Then—

"Akira..."

"Hm?"

I looked at her.

My voice was soft.

Not out of kindness—

but because what she needed right now was quiet.

The world was already loud enough.

"...Thank you. So much."

I said nothing.

Just a small, quiet smile.

The kind of smile that isn't meant to comfort—

but is sincere in its simplicity.

The taxi started moving, slipping into the city.

I stood there for a moment, watching the headlights fade into the night.

Then I turned on my heel.

And continued walking, lost in thought.

It's not really those guys' fault.

Everyone's struggling to survive.

I get it.

But... to crush someone innocent?

No. Sorry.

That, I cannot accept.

The rest of the walk was almost oppressively silent.

No soul in sight. No sound, no cars.

Just my footsteps.

Finally, I arrived at my building.

I went up.

I took out my keys.

I put them in the lock.

I turned.

The door opened.

And I stopped dead.

This wasn't my apartment.

Not my living room.

Not my white walls.

Not my slippers.

Not my world.

In front of me... a forest.

Dense. Immense. Foreign.

Gigantic trees. Leaves trembling in an unfamiliar breeze.

An unreal light, almost misty.

An air too pure. Too quiet.

I took a step back.

I closed the door.

I opened it again.

Still the forest.

Not a visual hallucination. No change.

Just... the impossible.

Either I'm dreaming.

Or I'm insane.

Or...

The world has literally lost its mind.

I stood there, frozen, my hand still on the handle.

And for the first time tonight...

I didn't know what to do.