I Want to Live

A snowflake gently landed on my cold face—the last of its kind, for it seemed the endless snowfall was finally letting up.

I stood along the cobbled streets beside a streetlamp with my sketchbook clutched in hand.

The house in front of me was three stories high; much taller than it was wide. Its design was primarily made out of stone bricks, with the occasional wooden beam for support and glass panes for the windows. Icicles hung from the roof and white snow filled in every exposed nook and cranny. The lights were off, signaling that its residents were sound asleep.

I looked down at the design of a Gothic cityscape I had drawn in my sketchbook, comparing its buildings with the one in front of me.

The houses in this city are a lot more pointed, I noted.

I had been wandering around aimlessly for hours now, comparing my drawings with the designs of the city around me. Back in my world, getting a reference as good as this was impossible without moving to another country, and even then, those old medieval cities lacked a bit of fantastical wonder that structures in this world had.

Suddenly, a chilly breeze blows past me, stinging my unprotected face, and reminding me that I didn’t really have a place to go to.

I wonder if we’ll ever get our own homes, I thought, jealous that the citizens got a warm place to stay for the night.

During the time I’ve been wandering, I came to realize that the realm wasn’t very friendly towards new Dreamweavers. We were told effectively nothing about how the world worked. How to make money. Where to stay for the night. Things you would think to be important.

Or maybe it was just because I had Izan for a Conductor. If I had someone else, I probably would’ve known more of these basic things.

But what if all Conductors are just as pretentious as he is?

I shook my head and I couldn’t tell if I felt dizzy because of the thought of that, or because of the sleeping pills.

Speaking of which, that was another thing that I noticed was weird. My head constantly felt tired, and it would probably stay that way for as long as I lived in this realm, but at the same time, I didn’t feel the urge to sleep. It was more of a ‘long day after work’ kind of tired than an ‘it’s two in the morning’ kind of tired.

I surveyed the area around me, wondering where I should head next. It didn’t matter too much, because I came to realize that the city was quite endless. No matter where I went or which corner I turned there would be another street. Another set of homes. Another obscurely placed intricately designed arch that served no purpose other than being an arch.

Sometimes I wondered if I was just going around in circles, but that couldn’t be the case because the further I traveled, the less Dreamweavers I began to see. At this point I had traveled so far away from the train station that there was no one else here besides me.

Maybe I should head back, I thought, I could probably benefit from asking other Dreamweavers what they know about this place. I might even end up finding a few teammates.

I push the collar of my trench coat up to my face to give it a quick breath to warm my cheeks before turning around to head back to the station, when suddenly, a loud terrified scream comes from the house I was just staring at.

“AHHHHHHHHHH SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!” someone screamed, before the sound of frantic footsteps gets closer to the door and a mouseman in his pajamas bursts outside.

He pauses for a second upon seeing me, a semi-relieved expression falling on his face.

“You there! You’re a Dreamweaver right?! Come stop my crazy wife!”

Wife?

As soon as that question crossed my mind, a shadowy mist-like creature appeared from behind him.

A Nightmare, I realized, noticing that it took the shape of another mouseman, a female one perhaps, based on what the man had just shouted.

The mouseman quickly scampered away as the Nightmare turned to look at me, seemingly having decided that I was a better target. Gripping my sketchbook in hand, I made a quick decision.

It’s just a mouse, I thought, ironically, I might actually be able to beat it to death with my sketchbook.

I rush at the creature, sketchbook above my head as I prepare to swing at it, but upon getting close enough, it gives a vicious hiss before swiping its large whip-like tail at me. The attack hits me with an unexpected force and at a speed I wasn’t prepared for, and I get flung back against a lamppost.

The back of my head slams against the cold metal, causing it to spin in pain.

Shit. Why is it so fast?

I looked at the creature, my vision beginning to blur, and I began to panic, realizing how much damage that simple attack managed to inflict.

Ow… don’t tell me that attack was actually fatal. Am I really going to die just from a simple hit???

Memories rushed through my mind as I noticed that the creature was slowly crawling towards me as if toying with its prey.

Why did I starve myself in my past life? Why didn’t I work out or try to get healthier? Why did I have to keep making excuses for why my dreams failed? Now I’m going to die because of a stupid mouse…

“It’s because you’re useless. A waste of society’s resources. Instead of contributing something meaningful to the world, you want to pursue art.”

No… not right now… why are those words coming back now?

Suddenly, I began to notice a shadowy figure appear from the ground beside me. Through my blurry vision, I managed to notice that this one looked like something I knew. No, someone I knew. A person I knew all too well. My very own Nightmare.

“Nobody will read that,” my mom spoke, “no matter how much you try, if the people don’t end up liking it, what will you do then? How will you make money then?! Is drawing all you care about?! We can’t take care of you forever you know!”

A dark fear began growing inside my heart.

I’m going to die again, I realized, I’m going to die again without getting to show people my stories... I don’t care what you think mom. You’ll never understand how much it means to me. Do you know what I find sadder than not making money? Having my stories lost and forgotten. If I die here, my last chance goes away.

Tears began streaming down my eyes.

I don’t want to die. I want to live. I want to show people my stories. My characters I created. Somebody… please help me… please—

“HELP!” I shouted with my remaining strength calling out for something, anything to save me.

Suddenly, just as those words escape my mouth, a golden aura envelopes me from the book. Before I know it, a loud growl comes from below, and a giant fox the size of a house bursts from the ground, mouth first—its jaws swallowing and consuming the Nightmare of my mother beside me whole.

My eyes widened upon seeing it. Its pelt consisted of a white underbelly and curling streaks of blue flame all around its upper half, but most notably, it looked as if it was painted from watercolor.

That’s… Aoki? Kuzo the Summoner’s fox? I realized, looking around the place, but Kuzo isn’t here. Then… who summoned her?

Without missing a beat, the fox then quickly lunges at the mouse and tears it apart in an instant, its body dissipating into a black mist, before casually walking back to me and sitting down obediently.

Did… I summon her? I wondered, but a sharp stinging pain comes from the back of my head, reminding me of the predicament I was in. I was beginning to feel delirious from the loss of blood.

Oh what does it matter anyway? I’m still going to die here aren’t I? I’m losing way too much blood but… I’m glad.

I was glad I got to see my very own creation come to life, even if it was just one of them. It wasn’t my full dream, but it was a dream come true nonetheless. Perhaps dying next to it wouldn’t be so bad. It was the kind of ending I would accept.

However, just as I was about to pass out, the sudden voice of a girl caught my attention.

“Oya oya? What do we have here? Another test subject?”