Sara’s shoulder hit the stairs first, the metal strip ripping through her sleeve and the skin underneath. She hit the floor in a sprawling mess.

“Oh, God, what was that?” someone cried. It was a voice she recognized, though from a lifetime ago.

“Where is Akari?!”

Through blurry vision, Sara saw two pairs of stockinged legs wavering in front of her. She pushed herself up, tracing the legs as they disappeared into skirts, a sailor uniform, and finally, the faces of the two girls who used to bully her.

“What…?”

She hurt all over, but the worse pain was coming from Sara’s head. The fluorescent lights were too bright and the sun coming through the hallway windows too orange. There was too much noise, and it was getting worse by the second as more people gathered around her, and her bullies.

Everyone was wearing school uniforms.

Including her.

“What is going on here?” a tall brunette woman demanded as she pushed through the crowd. She was wearing a suit and high heels, making her taller.

Tachibana Sensei… The name plopped into Sara’s mind like a bubble, innocent in all but its meaning.

“Akari is gone!” one of the bullies screamed. “Where did she go?”

As Sara took in the startled and confused faces around her, a boy came over and reached for her shoulder.

“You’re hurt,” he said but the moment he got too close Sara lashed out, throwing a punch at his gut.

The boy made an “Oof,” sound, then flew into the students behind him.

Everyone began to scream.

Sara’s nerves shot up to eleven. She whipped around, grabbed one of the bullies and yelled, “Where am I?”

The bully’s eyes grew round, then she shut them. “I d-don’t know!” she wailed. “P-please don’t hurt me!”

“Someone get the nurse!”

Sara dropped the bully. The tall teacher was kneeling beside the boy, who was now gasping for breath. All the commotion drew in more people, and the faces piled up.

Sara knew them, but she also didn’t know them. She saw them walking down the hallways before, but it shouldn’t be possible. She pushed her way out of the crowd, throwing everyone to the ground, and sprinted down the hallway. She moved so fast that colors blurred. In the back of her mind, she knew where she was headed, even if she couldn’t come to terms with her reality yet.

I’m supposed to be dead. Or… did it not work?

The stairs came into view. It was packed but that didn’t stop her. Sara vaulted over people’s heads, hopping from handrail to handrail. She was out of school and still sprinting, building up even more speed on the open road.

Cars flew by. Horns blared. Sara tore down the roads she took by train, leaping from vehicles to buildings to bridges.

She couldn’t be here. Even as her town emerged over the hills and the smells and sounds of modern Japan revealed themselves once again, she could not believe it.

Was Arcadia gone? Was this an illusion?

Sara spotted her house. She darted along the rooftops like a dragonfly, feet barely touching the tiles before exploding off them. The sun hung low in the sky, orange flames glazing against the shiny skyscrapers along the horizon.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

With one last jump, Sara descended onto her street, her shoes bursting into ribbons upon impact. She slowed to a jog as she got closer, then walked through her garden gate, and by the time she was at the front door, she had stopped.

It was closed, the electronic lock dark. Reaching out, she tapped the numbers.

The lock beeped, and turned green.

The house was awash in setting sunlight, blood-red orange soaking the carpet and walls. Sara waited one second, then two, then three.

Claws scrabbled against the floorboards. From the corner, a corgi charged out with its tongue hanging from its mouth. It charged into her ankles with the force of a tiny train, then feel backwards onto its fluffy butt.

“Ned,” Sara gasped, reaching down to pick the dog up. “Is that really you?”

Ned waggled his tail and slurped her cheek.

It was so familiar that she started to cry, but it wasn’t over yet.

“Mom?” Sara called to the house. “Dad?” She waited, then added, “Yuzuru?”

No one answered. Sara’s chest tightened. She stepped into the living room and called louder. “Mom?”

“Here, sweetie.”

It was like her soul was teetered to a balloon, and hearing her mother’s words cut the string. Sara felt all her anxiety, fear, and hurt disappear. She ran into the kitchen, where her mother was ladling hot soup from a stainless steel pot.

“Your dad is at work late,” she said, and gave a little gasp when Sara smushed into her. “Careful. This is hot.”

Sara forced herself to step back. Ned was squirming now, no doubt angered by being crushed. She let him go and he scampered off under the dining table.

Sara’s mother leaned over and lightly kissed the top of Sara’s head. “What’s gotten into you today?” she asked, then her face darkened. “What happened to your arm?”

Sara looked and saw the damage falling down the stairs did to her uniform and herself. Her uniform was torn, the skin underneath broken. “It’s nothing,” she lied quickly. “I got it from kendo.”

Her mother went back to filling the second bowl of soup. “I’ll talk to the coach later. We shouldn’t get you to do that sport anymore. It’s too unsafe.”

Sara sniffled. “Sounds good to me.” She gestured to the soup. “Need any help?”

“You can set the table.”

Going to the cutlery drawer, Sara took out a set for herself and her mother. She paused, then grabbed one more. “Do you mind if I ask Yuzuru to join us?”

Her mother capped the lid over the pot and brought two bowls over to the dining table. She placed them on coasters, wiped her hands on her apron and asked, “Who is that?”

The clash of falling spoons echoed through the house. Ned poked his head from under the seats, his ears perked on his head. Sara stared down at the cutlery, spoons and chopsticks scattered by her dirty feet.

“Sara,” said Martha, coming around the counter. “Do you have a boyfriend?” She scooped everything up and dropped them onto the sink. Coming back, the humor that was in her eyes disappeared when she took in Sara’s expression. Without a word, she reached out and placed a hand against Sara’s forehead.

Sara shook her mother’s hand away. “That was a joke, right?” she asked, barking out a mirthless laugh. “You’re just upset he never comes out of his room, right?”

Her mother’s frown deepened, cutting creases below her eyes. “Who are you talking about, Sara?”

Sara took a step back, her hip banging on the dinner table. She didn’t know what was worse, the truth, or her own disbelief. Without another word, she ran from the kitchen, almost kicking Ned on her way up the stairs.

She got to the second story in three steps. Yuzuru’s door was on her left as it always was, just a dozen feet away from the light switch. Sara slapped the switch so hard the plastic covering went flying.

“Sara?” her mother called downstairs. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on with you?”

“Not as much as you’re scaring me,” Sara said, her voice breaking out into a sob at the last word. She stopped in front of Yuzuru’s door, the wood white in the artificial light. All the sounds in the world disappeared, from her mother’s calling to Ned’s frantic barking. Sara heard none of it, saw nothing else but the doorknob, worn golden from use. She reached out, fingers curled around the cold metal, and twisted it.

The lock turned. The door swung open.

It was dark. Reaching along the walls, Sara found the light and flipped it on.

The room was clean. An empty desk stood in one corner, next to a bed with only a mattress. The walls were bare with no traces of strings or newspaper cutouts anywhere.

Sara heard her mother’s footsteps on the stairs, followed by the pitter-patter of Ned’s paws.

She closed the door. Then opened it, then closed it again. Each time, hoping for a different outcome, but each time the empty room stared back at her, unchanging.

On the third time, Sara’s mother reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Are you on something?” she demanded. “Sara, this isn’t funny.”

Sara turned. Colors were blending into one and it was impossible to get the next words out of her tightening throat.

“Mom,” she whispered. “Do I have a brother?”

Framed by the setting sunlight through the hallway window, Sara watched as her mother shook her head.

“No, sweetie,” she said. “You are an only child.”