Chapter Text
The air was still as the sunlight peeked in from the gap between the curtains. Dust particles could be seen floating around quietly; the stillness of it all allows it to drift by serenely.
A soft groan then broke the serenity, the sound penetrating the quietness of the room. Slowly, long pale lashes flutter open, almost lazily, revealing hazy blue-green.
The first thing he felt was the softness beneath his body and head, then the smooth texture and flowery laundry scent of the silk sheets, and finally the heaviness of his body. It felt… odd, as if his body were chained down by gravity while his mind floated above, rebooting itself.
Shakily, he presses the palms of his hands down on the expensive plush mattress that he rests on, pushing his body up into a sitting position. His now shoulder-length snow-white locks fell over his rosy, porcelain-like cheeks as his head hung, one hand pressing against his throbbing skull.
‘Where the heck am I?’ Adohira Chiyoko gripped his head as he winced, blue-green eyes squinting at the jolts of pain running through his skull.
The last thing he remembered was getting run over by a truck while crossing the street. Mind you, the light was green, which meant it was the dumb driver’s fault for not keeping his eyes on the road and speeding through the neighbourhood as if he was in Fast and Furious 3.
A groan left Chiyoko’s lips as he gripped his head with two hands, both from the migraine and the fact that he had died by the hands of the notorious ‘Truck-kun’. Ruffling his hair, he finally looks up at the room he had found himself in. His blue-green eyes scan the modern and luxurious exterior around.
‘Man, at least I know I can sustain myself for now. Selling one of the golden-looking coat hangers is probably enough to feed me for a few months.’
His feet dug into the soft carpet that spread out beneath his king-size bed, hands shooting out clumsily to hold onto the bed frame’s canopy when he felt another pound in his head as the canopy curtains swished at his movements.
Blinking blearily, his eyes found the mahogany study table in his supposed room; immediately zeroing in on the flip phone that rested unassumingly atop the wooden surface. His movements weren’t rushed, nor were they apprehensive as slender fingers flipped the device open. The date ‘8 of November 2002’ flashed before him on the display screen.
‘Eh-?’ Chiyoko’s face scrunches as he brings the flip phone closer, eyes narrowing at the date before he throws his head back, a hand smacking his forehead as he drags it down his face.
‘What the hell? What kind of stupid isekai is this?’ His brows furrowed as he mourned all the modern technology, media and most importantly, memes of 2026. ‘Great. Just great. I can’t listen to Bad Bunny, Enhypen or Sabrina Carpenter anymore. Fantastic.’ Chiyoko sniffled in his heart.
Placing the flip phone back onto the sleek table, he steps towards the large curtains that created the dark atmosphere in the room. Walking across the room that could easily be the size of his old apartment, his fingers gripped the fabric of the curtain that felt impossibly smooth beneath his touch as he finally yanked it back.
As the warm sunlight burst forth, no longer blocked by the thick and heavy fabric, Chiyoko’s eyes widened. The sight that greeted him was not what he had expected. Instead, the bustling and vibrant city of Shibuya, Tokyo, is reflected in his irises. From where he was, he could see the infamous large yellow building of Tower Records, the classic Kinokuniya bookstore and most importantly, the indelible Shibuya Crossing as people moved back and forth like busy ants.
It would seem that he was not only extremely fortunate in this life to be living in Shibuya, but is also loaded enough to have a penthouse in an expensive city like Tokyo.
A whistle leaves his lips at the extravagance of everything around him as he strolls towards the door of his bedroom, wanting to explore more of the place before his feet halt at the gold-framed full-body mirror that he hadn’t noticed before.
‘Ain no way….’ The 12-year-old midget version of him stared back, clad in a suspiciously plain-looking but extremely soft-to-the-touch black hoodie and sweats.
His facial structure and frame were the same as they were previously, androgynous and almost feminine in a sense, with his rosy cheeks, thick lashes and supple lips giving him a softer look than most males. He steps forward, soft pads of his fingers lightly touching the bottom of his eyes.
‘My eyes, my hair, they are different…’ He ran his fingers through his now shoulder-length snow-white locks as he observed the eyes that stared back at him. They were ethereal, a sparkling mix of blue-green, almost as if he was staring at the clearest water of a tropical ocean paradise in Southeast Asia.
Tearing his gaze from his reflection, he finally strode out of his bedroom. Eyes gazing upon the two-story luxurious penthouse that lay before him. Crystal chandeliers, a spiralling marble staircase, panels upon panels of glass windows that sat above the clouds, showcasing the beautiful view of Tokyo city centre.
His palms glided on the cool marble railing as he descended the spiral staircase, the soles of his feet creating soft thuds as they met the matching marble texture of the stairs. As much as it felt thrilling to be surrounded by such grandeur, there was a heavy sense of silence and emptiness that settled in the sunlit penthouse.
‘Where are this kid’s— I mean, my parents?’ Chiyoko wonders as his feet bring him around, eyes feasting on the new environment.
From the large leather couches, the bulky LCD and plasma flat-screen TVs of the early 2000s, and more fluffy rugs that decorated the rather quiet penthouse, he was starting to think he had no parents when his eyes landed on a piece of paper stuck on the sleek metal-framed fridge that towered over him.
My dear Yoko,
Yoko, Papa and Mama have to fly overseas again. There is an emergency at one of our overseas branches, and it might take us a while to resolve it. In the meantime, Papa left you one of his black cards to use to your heart's content.
Please continue to maintain your academic performance, and make sure to eat every day.Love, Papa and Mama
P.S. A cleaner will come every Sunday to keep the house tidy. Make sure to put the extra keycard under the flower pot outside the elevator so that she can come in if you aren’t home.
‘Ah….so they are those types of parents.’ Chiyoko muses as he reads through the note.
‘The type who puts their work before their own kids and expects their child to be fine if they throw money at them.’ He ponders, eyes staring at nothing, before he shrugs carelessly.
‘Not that I care. I'm not some love-starved kid. I was an independent 20-year-old with loving parents. Anyways-’ Chiyoko smirks as his eyes land on the black card, making his smile widen even further. ‘-it's free real estate in Tokyo, baby~❤︎’
He is so going out to explore.
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A soft, delighted hum rumbles in his chest with every light step of his sneakers. At this moment, he looked exactly like his current age instead of the remnants of his 20-year-old self. But could you blame him?
The now 12-year-old smiled in awe as his eyes landed on the neon LED light of MEGA Don Quijote, its entrance calling to him like a block of cheese on a mousetrap, but he stopped himself. For he knew, if he were to enter, he would be lost in that maze of a building for ages.
There is still the whole of Tokyo to explore after all.
Walking through the streets, his ears are met with a cacophony of sounds, and strangely enough, they soothed his beating heart like a lullaby.
It felt like a warm and fuzzy blanket had been draped over his being.
A sense of belonging settles quietly in his chest.
His eyes became half-lidded as he lowered them to his own chest, fingers clutching the fabric that lay atop the organ that pumps blood around his body and keeps him alive, the slow rhythm beating beneath his fingertips as they synced with the surrounding sounds.
What is this feeling? The heavy yet warm feeling that filled his core?
He could make out the footsteps of people rushing off from work.
The gossip and chatter of boys and girls hanging out after school.
The chirping of the pedestrian lights and the grumble of the many cars that rolled by slowly due to the evening rush hour.
Unbeknownst to Chiyoko, his own eyes had watered as he looked up. He stood there for a moment, a quiet observer, watching the scene that stood before him as if he were observing a painting in a museum.
He watches as schoolboys shove each other playfully, teen girls huddling and giggling at each other while pointing at cute shops, and suited adults walking by with their suitcases in hand, phones pressed against their ears as business deals linger on their lips.
A family walks by, both parents holding onto their energetic toddler, who is joyfully babbling away. His chest felt a sharp tug.
Had his previous death finally caught up to him on an emotional level?
Had his brain finally digested the fact that he had died?
Was his heart mourning the life he had lost? The liveliness he could have had if he were still alive back in his previous life?
He does not know.
Nor does he know what is happening, nor the confusing bunch of emotions swirling in his chest.
He stares a little longer, until the edges of his vision blurred.
The neon lights of the shops, the glow of the traffic lights and blinking car signals all merged into blobs of luminosity as tears streamed down his cheeks.
‘Huh-?’ Reaching up, he touches the wetness on his cheeks, watery eyes glancing at the wet sheen on his fingertips with a blank expression.
‘Why am I crying?’ Using an arm, he hid and covered his face, tilting his head down, eyes gazing at the grainy pavement that blurred with every drop of tears.
He was doing fine, feeling fine, relishing and taking in the city, before these pesky emotions crawled out from nowhere, taking him by surprise.
Flashes of memory, almost like an edit put together erratically, flicker in his mind.
He remembers his parents, who called him every week.
His friends with whom he could constantly talk nonsense with.
The medical degree he was working towards.
They all seem like a distant memory now, so close yet so far.
Always a hair away from his reach, even if he were to desperately tuck them back into his chest to keep them close.
He smacks his face, leaving small red marks on his youthful, smooth cheeks.
Using the sleeve of the hoodie, he scrambles to wipe the tears away haphazardly as he shakes his head and tilts his head upwards.
‘It doesn’t matter what I'm feeling. What I do know is that I have been given a second chance at life, and I sure as heck am not going to waste it.’
Chiyoko wasn’t quite sure if it was healthy to push down whatever mental breakdown he had just had in the middle of a sidewalk. He had yet to understand the swarm of mixed feelings regarding his death, nor did he want to dissect them, let alone acknowledge or comprehend the flurry of emotions.
He simply brushed them beneath a crevice, shutting and locking them in the back of his mind, hopefully never to be brought forth ever again.
A strange numbness washed over him as he let his feet lead him, wherever it may be. His mind lingered aimlessly as the lively city blurred by.
He does not remember the metal flyover he crossed, the group of people in matching uniforms streaking by in customised motorcycles or the quiet neighbourhood he had wandered into.
He roamed like the ghost he was supposed to be, drifting arbitrarily before a scent made his nose twitch.
Gradually, the world around him unmuffled itself. His senses seemingly coming back in slow waves, as if his body was finally settling into the present reality he had been thrust into.
The first thing he smelled was the pungent scent of burning wood.
Then entered the screams for help, tearing through the evening noise and causing his head to snap towards the direction in which the sounds were coming from.
His gaze then found the smoke, the fire's orange glow engulfing a house two blocks down the neighbourhood he had stumbled into, its embers drifting in the air like deadly fireflies.
Before his mind could process what he was doing, his feet were already pounding against the pavement. Heavy pants left his lips in effort as he pushed forward, eyes never leaving the silhouettes that lay beyond the grey fumes.
Chiyoko sprinted straight for the angry flames, ignoring the yells of protest or the hands that tried to hold him back.