Amid the low hum of the wind, Shisui woke to find himself slumped beside his bedroom door. Confused, he stood. Peeking around the room. The window above his bed was wide open. Sashes slowly swaying. In the blink of an eye, he turned to the right wall. Suddenly, something caught his eye. On the right wall, his clock flickered between 6:45 and 6:46. "I swear it was working yesterday…" he murmured under his breath. Each step toward the clock felt heavier than the last. He reached out, lifted it off the wall, and twisted it this way and that. Nothing changed. A simple LED digital clock. Cheap, ordinary, the kind found in any home. He began tapping the clock. Rotated it after each tap. Nothing changed. The taps grew harder. Frustration mounting, Shisui slammed the back of the clock more than twice and checked again. Nothing changed. Anger consumed him. With a sharp grip on its sides, he snapped the clock in two. Breathing heavily, he threw it to the ground. He staggered to the window and drew back the curtains. Outside stood a man. A train conductor. Waving his left hand and blowing a whistle.
"Hey! What the..." Shisui shouted. No response.
"All aboard!" the conductor yelled. "All aboard, please!" His voice cut through the morning air. Then, turning to face Shisui, he added, "One minute, sir! One minute until departure."
"Departure? What train? Where does it go?" Shisui asked, panic creeping into his voice.
"Hop in and find out!" the conductor said, his tone mocking. "This is the last one."
"What… I can't just leave," Shisui stammered, stepping back.
The conductor blew the whistle sharply. "It's not gonna wait for you, sir!"
Shisui reached for the door. It was locked, and the keys were gone. Glancing back, the conductor waved harder. There was no time to waste. Heart pounding, he rushed back to the window and began climbing out. Shisui sat on the window ledge. The ground looked close enough to touch. Without a second thought, he leapt. The world beneath him had vanished, and the fall never seemed to end. The conductor's voice echoed, "We don't stop twice!"
Shisui opened his eyes. He was slumped beside the door. His heart was pounding. The wind of winter hummed outside. The window above his head stood open, and its sashes swayed slowly. "Must've been a dream," he muttered. The fog outside blurred everything, making it impossible to tell the time. He glanced at the clock. Still pinned to the wall, flickering between 6:45 and 6:46. "What the hell?" He exclaimed, "I swear it was working yesterday…" He reached out and lifted it off the wall. "Just... leave it..." Shisui murmured to himself and set it back. Then came the hiss of a train outside. He walked to the window and drew the curtains. A crowd was boarding. Suddenly, the conductor from his dream leapt off the train, whistle in hand, blowing harder than before.
"All aboard!" the conductor shouted.
"What are you doing?" Shisui asked.
"My very simple job, sir," the conductor replied, voice calm, almost amused.
"Didn't you say you don't stop twice?" Shisui shot back.
"Well, you forced us, sir," the conductor replied.
"And how exactly did I do that?" Shisui pressed.
The conductor gave a gentle, almost mocking smile and curtsied. "Hop in and find out, sir."
Shisui sighed and turned to his drawers, shuffling through one after another for a watch. Suddenly, a hiss ripped through the room, sharp as a tornado. The wind howled, rattling the curtains, and the conductor's whistle screeched above it all. The window sashes rattled violently, slamming against the walls again and again. Shisui pressed his hands to his ears, but the voices tore through them anyway. "Stop!" he screamed, voice raw. He cried out once more. Then, with a final violent sway, the sashes slammed shut. Shisui opened his eyes, reclining in his chair. The window was shut, yet a chill ran through him. He glanced at the clock: Monday, February 7th, 2037. 7:26 a.m.
"What a nightmare," he muttered under his breath. He stood, glanced at his bed, and noticed the Hobonichi lying open on the first page. Picking it up, he read the words scribbled at the top: "The nightmare has just begun." He sighed and tossed it aside. "This guy clearly doesn't know about Mondays," he mumbled. He heard a whistle outside his window. Nervously, he opened it. Relief washed over him as he saw a teacher directing traffic so her students could cross safely. For Shisui, Mondays were a day of national mourning. He dressed all in black, like a man attending his own funeral. As usual, he rushed out without breakfast. He liked catching the early train, arriving before everyone else, made the morning slightly bearable. He arrived at the company thirty minutes early. The office was a sea of empty chairs. No one ever came in this soon except Mrs. Mei, his secretary. "Good morning!" she said.
Shisui raised his right hand in a silent wave. She smiled, knowing the usual Monday greeting. Shisui stepped into his office, took off his black coat, and sat down. From his pocket, he pulled out the Hobonichi and flipped it open to the first page. "Let's see what nightmare he's talking about…" Shisui muttered.
The text continued:
"The events recorded here date back to World War II. The information I'm about to share is classified, or at least, it used to be. There was a facility in occupied Harbin: Unit 731. Prisoners of war used as human subjects for experiments in disease and biochemical warfare. Crazies in lab coats, calling it science. But apparently, there was another unit. One that dealt in quantum research. They used humans to test time-travel prototypes. Records mention several Japanese physicians deported there… and among them were my grandparents. Unfortunately, they were killed before I could get anything real out of them. But this isn't about them. The experiments obviously failed. The operation collapsed, and they burned everything. Documents, equipment, evidence… all gone. A perfect cleanup."
"Such compassion," Shisui muttered. He flipped to the next page.
"Or at least, that's what the government wanted us to believe. Burn the past, start over. Clean slate. They didn't erase the crimes to repent. They did it to keep working in secret. And during the Cold War, everyone wanted the same toy: a time machine. The Americans, the Soviets… and yes, Japan too. So the government began recruiting again. Not new scientists, old ones. The crazy ghosts of Unit 731, or the ones who inherited their notes. My grandparents were already gone by then, so they took my father instead. Rumor has it, a few machines survived. Rusted, half-melted, but intact. The new team's mission was simple: see if those morons from Harbin had actually built something that worked."
Shisui leaned back, repeating the words with a smirk. "Rumors say…" He exhaled sharply. "Yeah, right. Enough of this unhinged history lecture." Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. "We've got a problem, Mr. Shisui!" Mrs. Mei's voice called from the other side.