Akari stretches and looks at us with a grin. “Alright, boys. Time to get your final things sorted. Grab whatever you need—clothes, personal items. We’re leaving tonight.”

The weight of his words sinks in like a punch to the gut. This isn’t just packing for a holiday; it’s packing for a one-way trip to another world. There’s no coming back, no safety net. I glance around at the others, who are already moving toward their rooms, the mood suddenly shifting from excitement to something heavier.

As I start grabbing my stuff, the reality of what we’re doing hits me hard. I’ve always been a loser here, sure. No one’s going to remember Haru Tadashima in this world. But still… I’ll miss it. This dingy apartment, the city streets, even the way the cracked stairs squeaked under my feet every day. It’s home, even if it’s not glamorous.

I pause by my desk, my eyes landing on a small picture frame. Inside is the last reminder of my real family—the Tadashimas. The picture is old, a little faded. I was just ten when it was taken. Mom, Dad, and me. The Tadashima name used to mean something, at least to me. But that ended when a drunk driver took them both away during a road trip. Mom was Japanese, Dad was Nigerian, and the two of them always made our house feel like a blend of two worlds. I still remember how we’d cook together, mixing spices and cultures into something that felt like ours.

Now, that’s gone. My new family—my brothers—are all I’ve got. I pick up the photo, feeling the weight of it, and slip it into my rucksack. It’s the only piece of the old me I’m bringing with me.

In the next room, I hear Jiho, probably packing as frantically as I am. He’s typing on his phone, sending what sounds like his last messages to his ex. “I love you,” I hear him say, again and again, like the words will magically make things better.

“She’s probably with another guy by now,” I mutter, shaking my head. Jiho shrugs, not even arguing. “Yeah, probably. But I had to get it off my chest, Haru. You get it, right?”

I sigh. I don’t get it, not really, but I respect it. “Yeah. I guess.”

Isak is, unsurprisingly, taking forever. He’s in his room, saying tearful goodbyes to his video games, kissing his anime figurines like they’re long-lost lovers. “Goodbye, my sweet memories,” I hear him whisper dramatically. He’s the gamer of the family, and I get it. Leaving behind the escape of video games? Tough. Kind of like me giving up music. I can’t even imagine a world where I can’t drown out my thoughts with my favorite tracks.

Still, even with all the nerves, there’s that lingering excitement. This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and we all know it.

But the biggest surprise comes when Abel, of all people, is the one struggling the most to let go. He was the one who was most ready for this adventure—or so we thought. He’d done pretty much everything cool in this life: sports, popularity, all the attention he could want. Well, except for the whole virginity thing, which never made sense to me. With all the opportunities he had, how was he still waiting? But even with all his “success,” he’s the one hesitating the most.

We huddle around him, trying to motivate him to take the step. Jiho slaps him on the back, Isak gives him a quick pep talk about harems and glory, and I just look him in the eye. “You’ve got this. Let’s go.”

Eventually, Abel nods, taking a deep breath, and we make our way to the front door where Akari is waiting, his face a mix of excitement and impatience. He throws a fake collar around his neck and gestures for me to hold the leash. “Act like I’m some cosplay pet,” he says, grinning.

I give him a look, but at this point, it’s the least of my worries. I grab the leash, feeling weird, but more focused on what’s about to happen.

As we walk out, down the apartment steps, I glance back one last time. The apartment looks the same, like nothing has changed. But for me, everything has. I remember turning off the lights for the first time when we moved in, and now, for the last time, those same lights go dark.

It’s weird. Life can change just like that—normal one minute, completely flipped the next. But then again, what is a normal life, anyway?

I look out over the streets one more time, and I feel a tear welling up. Just one, but enough to make me pause. Before I can get lost in nostalgia, Abel slings his arm around my neck, pulling me away from the sight of our old home.

“Don’t look back, Haru,” he says quietly. “If you do, you’ll never be able to walk forward.”

And he’s right. So, I take a breath, turn my head, and keep walking forward.

It’s late, too late for us to be out taking public transport, especially considering where we’re heading. I pull out my phone, scrolling through the ride options. The thought of sitting on a bus or walking for hours in the middle of the night is less than ideal.

“I’ll get us an Uber,” I say, making the final decision. I pick a nice plush ride for our last trip, something more comfortable than we’re used to. If this is going to be our final car ride here, we might as well go out in style.

As I confirm the ride, Akari, standing beside us, puts on that rare serious face. We’ve heard this before, but he’s not going to let us leave without one last reminder.

“Alright, before you guys hop in, remember what we talked about,” he says, looking us each in the eye. “When the unfavourable people come—and they will, sometime in the next one to three days—do not engage with them. No violence, no smart remarks, none of that. Just tell them the full truth: you don’t know anything. They’ll probably leave when they realize you’re clueless. But if you offend them… well, it could be over for this world. And for you.”

We all nod. We know the risks. We’ve gone over it a hundred times, but hearing him say it again makes it feel that much more real. The unfavourable people could show up anytime, anywhere, and it could go south fast if we don’t play it right.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“They’ll come,” Akari continues, “it’s just a matter of when and where. You’ve got to stay sharp, but stay honest.”

I glance at my brothers. Jiho’s fidgeting with his phone, Isak’s nervously adjusting his bag, and Abel just nods, calm as always but clearly deep in thought. We get it. We’re walking into something bigger than any of us could’ve imagined.

The app pings. “Uber’s here,” I announce.

A sleek, plush car pulls up in front of us, the kind you don’t normally see picking up four guys like us. I open the door, glancing back one more time at our building, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on my shoulders. Memories flash through my mind, but I push them aside. Now’s not the time to get sentimental.

Akari slips on his fake collar with a wink and hops into the front seat. “Remember,” he says, “I’m just your cosplay pet. Play it cool.”

I hand him the leash and sigh as I slide into the back seat with the others. The door shuts behind us, and as the car pulls away, I take one last look at our old life fading into the background.

We’re really doing this.

The car is silent. Not a word from any of us as we settle into our seats. The Uber glides smoothly through the streets, but inside, it feels heavy. I chose the furthest station I could find, one that takes us right through the heart of the city. It was a choice I made without even thinking about it—one last chance to see it all.

I reach into my pocket, pulling out my earbuds, slipping them on. There’s one song I always play when I travel. One last time. I press play and let the familiar beat fill my ears.

The city rolls past, a blur of neon lights and late-night shadows. I lean against the window, watching the streets I’ve walked a thousand times. There’s a beauty to it that I never noticed before.

The storefronts, the apartments, the graffiti-splattered walls—all of it feels more alive in this moment, like the city itself is breathing along with the beat of the song. The way the lights flicker just above the alleyways, the way the old buildings stand like guardians of memories I’ve long since forgotten.

We pass the old coffee shop I used to stop by before school, the park where we used to mess around after classes, and even the corner where I had my first rejection — I may be a loser, but it's still something I’ll never forget. Every detail is sharper now, like the city’s showing me all its secrets for the first and last time.

The song keeps playing, the verses syncing with the city’s pulse, each beat tying me back to the streets, the life I’ve known for so long. I watch as the familiar places drift by, one by one, slipping into the past. Every building, every alley, every streetlamp feels like it’s pulling at me, reminding me of the life I’m leaving behind.

It’s hard not to think about everything I’ve been through here. The memories, both good and bad, swirl together as the car moves deeper into the heart of the city. I know I’m leaving it all behind, but for now, it’s still mine.

The song fades into its final verse as we approach the city centre. The tall buildings and crowded streets, the heartbeat of everything I’ve ever known, surround me one last time. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment. This is it—the last time I’ll ever see this place.

I let the final note play, the city’s lights still flickering outside. And for the first time, I’m not sure if I want to leave. But it’s too late now.

The Uber pulls into the train station parking lot, the soft hum of the engine coming to a stop as we all sit there for a second longer than we need to. No one speaks, not even Isak, who’s usually full of nervous chatter. It’s as if we’re all silently agreeing that once we step out of this car, there’s no turning back.

I take a deep breath and open the door, stepping out into the cold night air. The train station is eerily empty at this hour, just the faint hum of distant trains and the occasional buzz of flickering lights. We make our way to the entrance, and one by one, we scan our cards, the gate beeping as it lets us through.

Inside the station, the place feels deserted, almost like we’ve stepped into another world already. The faint glow of vending machines and the soft clattering of train announcements are the only signs of life.

As we walk, Akari leans in close to me, his voice low. “I’m going to stay behind and handle something. Don’t worry about what I do. Just walk into the next train with your brothers. Trust me on this.”

I stop mid-step, turning to face him. “What? You’re not coming with us?”

Akari shakes his head, his expression more serious than I’ve ever seen it. “No. If I go with you, I’ll only put you all in danger. This is the last time we’ll meet—at least for the foreseeable future.”

His words hit me like a punch. I always knew Akari was a bit of a wildcard, but I figured he’d stick with us, at least for a while. The thought of facing this whole new world without him suddenly feels a lot more daunting. “You’re really just going to leave us to figure this out on our own?”

He nods. “I’m afraid so. You guys have each other. You’ll be fine.”

I bite back the frustration bubbling inside me. I would’ve liked some help navigating this whole new reality, but there’s no time to argue. I know, deep down, he’s probably right.

Akari gives me a small, genuine smile, one I’ve never seen on him before. “Take care of them, Haru. You’re the leader now.”

I nod, feeling a lump form in my throat. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I’d grown attached to the little guy. This feels wrong, like a part of our journey is already being left behind.

The sound of a train approaching pulls us out of the moment. The faint rumble grows louder as it comes to a stop in front of us, the doors sliding open with a soft hiss.

The four of us stand there, looking at Akari one last time. The station is so empty, it feels like we’re the only people left in the world. For a second, none of us move, the weight of the moment sinking in. My eyes sting as I fight back a tear, and I know the others are feeling it too.

“Goodbye, Akari,” I manage to say, my voice tight.

Jiho, Isak, and Abel all nod, their eyes a little misty as they say their own quiet goodbyes. Even Isak, always the joker, is uncharacteristically silent.

Akari gives us one last wave, his smile fading as the train doors open wide in front of us.

“Go on,” he says softly. “It’s time.”

We all glance at each other, the unspoken understanding passing between us. No more goodbyes. No more hesitation. I take the first step forward, my brothers following behind me.

As we walk onto the train, I can feel the tear finally slip from my eye, but I don’t wipe it away. I don’t look back. None of us do.

The doors close with a soft click, and as the train pulls away, I know, without a doubt, that our old life is gone. What comes next is something we’ll face together, but this... this is the end of everything we’ve known.

And the beginning of something entirely new.