His legs were sore. He was weary and tired from walking for so long. He didn’t know where he was.

Lost in a crowd, he had not gone off far from the Tokyo Metro when he heard a car park behind him.

He turned around, and saw his mother in the driver’s seat, looking right back at him.

Get in, Satou.” She said. A deep-pit opened up in his stomach when he saw her.

What were the chances she would find him on her way back home from work? He wanted to run away, but that moment had long passed when she saw him in the crowd. Resigned to his fate, he obeyed, and got in the back-seat.

No one spoke throughout the ride back home.

Streaks of light flashed across his eyes as they drove down a long tunnel. Soon it was night outside.

He was looking out at the city passing by him, when he heard, “Why did you run away?” His heart sink.

He looked up, growing afraid, and in the rear-view mirror saw his mother’s eyes, staring right back into his.

With a sudden sense of falling, Satou opened his eyes, and found himself lying on his side, in the dark.

He tasted strands of hair, his own, in his mouth as he pushed himself upright, not with a start, but with worry and a beating heart, almost afraid to see what he would find, and saw—no desk, no chair, no computer. His heart began to beat faster.

He got out of bed, and the coldness of the floor on his bare feet heightened his five senses.

He walked over to the dimness he saw beyond the dark, and made a slit through the window-blinds.

A mild-blue hue bled onto his face as he peered outside.

In the first grey of dawn, he saw a bicycle trinkle down unfamiliar streets. Soon it was gone.

He stepped back, unseen from outside, and began to make his way to the bathroom.

Standing on the threshold, he hesitated. In front of him, was the cabinet-mirror, reflecting a vague silhouette.

The moment of truth…

He pulled the string that turned on the bulb. The harsh light that came blinded him, yet he forced his eyes to stay open.

“…Haahahh~”

Statuesque, with a tomboyish mien, and tousled jet-black hair cut-bob—he saw was her reflection; her own reflection.

A smile bloomed on her face; a beautiful charming smile on her handsome face.

“It’s real! It’s—ah—I-I have no words!”

Morning had not yet dawned. Outside, it was still dark. Mindful not to raise her voice, she leapt all over her room—around her bed, on top of it. It was an accident waiting to happen, and soon she had slammed her foot hard on the edge of the bed. “Akh–” She crumbled in pain, groaning; but soon she was laughing, laughing at herself while being out of breath.

“Hahahaahh~”

With tears in her eyes from both happiness and from pain, so began her first day; her first proper day in another world.

Once her foot had numbed enough, she limped to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. She cupped her hands under the stream of water and splashed it against her neck and her face. The coldness of it sent blood coursing through her veins. Freshened, awake, she switched the lights on as she came outside, dabbing her face with a towel.

On the table, she saw food. Yesterday’s dinner, she remembered. She had completely forgotten about it.

She carried her pile of clothes from the chair over to her bed. Then she sat down and ate.

The coffee had gone cold, and the food grown stale. She ate without much of an appetite.

Suddenly, she remembered the hip-flask. It helped.

Her throat stung from the alcohol, but the added flavor helped wash it all down.

Is it even okay to drink caffeine and alcohol together? She would find that out soon enough.

Her eyes were focused nowhere as she sat in silence and in solitude, listlessly trying to finish her meal. It didn’t take long before she out of the blue remembered the dream she had had, or nightmare, and it brought back some painful memories.

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The day she caught me… The day I ran away…

Ruined lipstick and mascara ran down his face that still throbbed from the pain.

He looked up in the mirror, and saw his pathetic sight. He remembered thinking, that he looked like sad clown.

Whatever happens, nothing matters anymore. That’s what I thought…

Suddenly, something came over him then, and he felt as though nothing mattered anymore.

Then and there, he decided that he would run away from home.

He boarded a train and rode it all afternoon, with no money in his pocket and no destination in his mind. A stupid thing to do, in hindsight: If he wanted to run away, he should’ve planned it out first; but he wasn’t conscious, of anything at all. All he saw were the few images of his life playing itself over and over again. Nothing else. There was no escape.

Much of the day passed by him like a dream, but he vividly remembered two incidents while he was on the train.

A group of high-schoolers entered the train and remarked as they passed by him that he looked drugged. One of them laughed. That brought him out. He was not disconcerted by their callous remarks, but he was provoked. Later on, a young couple entered the train, and seeing them act so lovey-dovey caused him such suffocating sadness that he had to get away. He got out on the next station.

Eventually, hunger came, and time reared its ugly head. What would he do once night fell over him?

Nowhere to go.

He fantasized about meeting a stranger, whose life would be just as miserable as his, who would bring him back to their home, give him something to eat, that they would fall in love, start a new life together. But he knew his chances. He had run away from home, yes, but he realized that this could only end in two ways: either he could go back, or suicide.

This was the first time he had contemplated such a thing. Suicide.

I sincerely considered doing it. I might’ve done it.

Dying under the weight of a train seemed instantaneous, but he lacked the courage to throw himself over the rails. Would someone give him something to eat if he pleaded for it? With that thought in mind he walked out of the metro. He had not gone far, when he came across his mother, just as surprised to see him there.

“Get in, Satou.” She said, once they were in the parking lot. And, once he got in,

“Don’t you have something to tell me? Or will you have to make me say it?”

Not a hint of guilt or agency in those eyes.

When he realized she had no idea he had even run away from home, he was devastated.

Even till the end, you were oblivious that I wanted to kill myself that day, because of you…

The cold and stale food was growing staler. He continued to stare into the wall; beyond it. Things happened a little differently in his dream, but they were similar enough to bring back the old scars. The knowledge that he would no longer have to see his mother again brought him relief; but the relief for some reason was hollow, not one of victory. He felt as though a part of him was missing, no longer there; but why? His own sentiment caught him off-guard. Did he not hate her as much as he had thought? Had he not always longed to leave from her behind, start a new life, free from his past?

“It’s getting ridiculous.”

A train rumbled above them. They were driving under an overpass.

“I know you snuck out last night. Where do you go to, really? Tell me. I’m curious.”

Far off in the distance, he could see home. He longed to get back there: back to his room; back to Elyse.

“It’s doesn’t matter. It’s high time you finally faced reality.”

She slid him his report card. They sat facing each other. He was still wearing his school uniform.

“Last trimester your grades were barely passable. Now they’re in the red. What do you plan I do with you?”

Hearing her voice again renewed the old fear and animosity he had once felt under her presence. No, he still hated her. The resentment was still there, in him. It had not died. And he would never forgive her for how miserable and worthless she had made him feel, all his life. Suddenly, he began to regret not writing ‘your fault’ on a piece of paper.

Even till the end, I couldn’t disobey you—lash out at you, tell you what I truly felt.

I killed myself. Think about that. Just think about how much you could’ve done differently…

His inexplicable sense of hollowness, then, must’ve stemmed from the fact that he had grown so dependent upon her, for everything, that to not have her by his side for once in his life was making him feel, somehow, deprived. That must be it.

She was all I had… after all…

No friends, no long-distant lovers—nothing.

Maybe he had a father when he grew up, but if so, he had no recollection of him. As if to deny the past, his mother kept no photos; only one. And growing up, he didn’t have grandparents either, or even relatives. His mother did not like talking about her past, but from what little he had gathered, he knew that she had cut ties with her own family, a long time ago.

“Misaki…” Satou murmured.

That was his mother’s name. Misaki Hasegawa.

“Misaki… Misaki… Misaki…”

How unnatural was it to say her name out loud, as though he were invoking the name of a stranger, and not his mother. Was this the first time he was saying her name out loud? He had never thought of her that way, by her own name… But the realization was true in more ways than one. She’s not my mother. Not anymore…

The cold exterior of the hip-flask touched her lips. Nothing touched her tongue.

“I’ve never been so truthful to myself before.”

She shook the hip-flask in her hand idly. She could hear some sloshing still inside.

How liberating was it to put her repressed feelings into words.

“Did the alcohol make me somehow bolder?”

Out of nowhere, she heard a voice.

‘Why did you run away?’

Again, those same words.

She looked up at the rear-view mirror, and this time did not see his mother’s eyes, but someone else’s. Something clicked. Did her debacle with the officer somehow bother him enough to give him a nightmare? By all means, that seems to have been the case. The metro, the weariness of travelling on foot, getting found on the side of the road, and the awkward ride back home—what a way to start your day.

“Let’s just hope dreams aren’t prophetic.”

She craned her neck at the clock. The time was 5:30 AM.

A hairline-crack on its glass shone like a twig of light. Sun had crested.