S-2878 • L1 Alonluna • D10 Unabe
"Alonluna stretches the path of the sky. Unabe ignites axis and choice. The tide sings in rising gold. The narrative moves forward, steady, in living light."
That day, the gray sky, the cold air, the somber atmosphere matched my mood.
One lunation had passed.
I still thought about that person.
About that moment.
A magnet, fused to a feeling I could not name.
The restlessness in my stomach was more than irritating.
My Sorceress sensed the absence. The hunger.
The news arrived:
The only train connecting Zenith to Centralia—destroyed.
The Emerald Line, obliterated.
According to UNITED, the company responsible for transport across the Americas, it would take a full solar cycle to restore the section.
Only one bus line remained.
Slow. Unstable.
The sole connection between the two worlds.
I received the decision on the petition that afternoon.
Granted.
Josivaldo burst through the door.
"You have nerve."
His voice tore through the room.
He spat the words:
"Is this your little game?"
A crooked smile almost surfaced.
I concealed my satisfaction.
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't play stupid."
He gestured wildly.
"You used your mother's position to manipulate the ruling."
He filled the room with indignation.
"The GMC saw that my method was correct and yours… unethical.
Medicine works with facts."
In truth, Hideaki's authority was sovereign.
My mother made certain everyone understood that clearly.
Josivaldo leaned forward, anger vibrating in his clenched jaw.
His lips trembled, words pressing against them like venom searching for release.
For a moment, he hesitated.
Silence.
Then he overflowed.
"You think you're superior?
We'll see about that."
Teeth clenched.
He turned sharply and stormed out, slamming the door.
I rubbed my throbbing temples.
The headaches that man caused.
At least that was settled.
I inhaled deeply.
Now, I could move forward with the research.
Throughout the day
I kept myself occupied analyzing the selunial results.
Night fell.
Voices near the door.
"Akiko?"
"Yes, come in."
I leaned back in my chair, trying to ease the tension.
Alice, Gina, and Beth entered.
ER physicians.
"We're going out for a happy hour.
Want to join us?"
Alice smiled.
I avoided happy hours.
But work had been suffocating.
Maybe going out was a good idea.
Relax.
Maybe not.
"Y-yes, sure."
"Great."
Alice smiled, almost relieved.
"We'll wait for you downstairs."
I gathered my things.
"Do you mind if we go to Centralia?"
Gina tossed her brown hair over her shoulders.
"The pubs here are so dull."
"No."
I got into the car.
They exchanged glances and quickly slipped into animated conversation.
Occasionally they asked me something.
I barely followed.
When the car crossed the borders of Zenith, everything shifted.
The sky seemed darker.
The city—more alive.
Neon reflected on dirty puddles, corroded metal, weathered faces.
Everything asymmetrical.
Everything unpredictable.
And that's when I felt it—
A frequency shifted in the unseen.
We arrived at Red Lion.
Lights flickered in chaotic frenzy.
Faces dissolved into blurred outlines.
A long line stretched outside.
Bass throbbed outward.
Sweat. Metallic alcohol. Dense e-cig vapor.
My senses sharp and hazy at once.
Alice went ahead and spoke to a bouncer.
She waved us in.
"Alice is the best.
Always gets us VIP access."
Beth nudged me gently.
Access codes were sent to our biochips.
We moved toward the bar.
"Order whatever you want!"
Alice shouted over the pounding funk beats.
Lost in light and sound, I ordered a gin and tonic.
I tried to stay close to them.
Soon acquaintances approached.
I should have felt happy.
Everyone around me resonated with joy.
Laughter. Bodies moving freely.
The drink sliding down my throat.
It should have made me feel something.
It felt like escape.
I sat at the counter.
Stared at the glass.
Considered leaving.
I should have declined coming.
"Hey. You alone?"
The scent of alcohol and spiced cologne reached me before the words.
Nausea.
A hand touched my back.
Finger implants.
Biometal prosthetics along his arms.
He leaned against the bar.
"No."
Perfect.
Exactly what I didn't need.
I should have left.
Should have brushed his hand away.
But a strange detachment distanced me from myself.
React?
Too far.
Another man appeared to my right.
Bearded.
Too colorful.
"Beautiful, want company?"
Something heavy beneath his tone.
"No, thank you."
My eyes searched the mirror behind the bar.
They exchanged looks.
"As you wish."
Their sharp smiles faded. They stepped away.
I finished the drink.
An ethereal rush took hold of me.
My heart accelerated.
Lights and sound intensified.
My interior vibrated.
I wanted to dance.
I didn't even like dancing—but I did.
I focused on the melody.
On pixelated colors falling like translucent dust.
The two men returned.
More charming this time.
This time, I let them.
They drew closer.
Bodies pressing against mine.
"And now—want company?"
His voice sounded distorted.
I nodded.
We danced.
Sweet delirium.
Logic dissolved into warm skin and hypnotic rhythm.
An unfamiliar instinct guided me.
Then fatigue.
I searched for somewhere to sit.
The taller one gently took my arm.
"Need help?
What about we step outside?
Somewhere private."
I liked the music.
The glowing haze.
Sensations tangled pleasantly in my mind.
Slow.
A sweetness flooded my mouth, like stardust settling on my lips.
Time blurred.
Space blurred.
I accepted the touch.
Said yes.
He smiled, guiding me toward the exit.
Halfway down the corridor—
Everything blurred.
Lights trembled.
Faces ghostlike.
My heart pounded.
Too fast.
My intuition screamed.
Warning.
"I think I changed my mind."
"What?"
He leaned closer.
I pulled at my arm.
"I changed my mind.
Let go."
"Relax, beautiful.
I'm taking care of you."
Sweet tone.
False.
His grip tightened.
"Let's go outside.
You can do whatever you want."
His beard brushed my neck.
A shiver.
My body reacted automatically.
Euphoria tangled with dread.
"Let go!"
I pulled again.
"Let go!"
He squeezed harder.
"Easy…"
"Let me go!"
No one heard.
The music devoured my voice before it formed.
Bass pounding. Bodies dancing.
The world moved without me.
The bubble around me tightened.
We were near the exit.
A terrible premonition seized me.
Crossing the door—
A sharp blow to my head.
Flash.
Stars burst behind my eyes.
The ground vanished.
My body collapsed.
The world went dark with me.
Muffled sounds.
A cold touch on my arm.
My last memories.
The music came first. Distant.
Like an echo from another life.
Then the smell of cigarette smoke.
Heavy.
Pain throbbed in my head.
What the hell happened…?
The world still felt like a bad dream.
Euphoria lingered, intoxicating.
I looked around the dim surroundings.
Coughed as the smoke hit my lungs.
"Hey, hey, easy.
You okay?
One of them hit your head."
A calm voice.
"You're fine.
Why is there blood on your hand?"
I rubbed my forehead.
She wiped her hand against her black pants.
"This? Irrelevant."
Around us, people smoked, drank, talked casually.
A light drizzle fell.
I focused again on the figure before me.
My mind slowly clearing.
Multicolored aerolights illuminated her.
My heart pounded.
Warmth spread to my stomach.
My voice vanished as I absorbed her appearance.
She was unique.
White and bronze—ice and fire in the same essence.
An impossible combination.
Hypnotic.
Bronzed skin.
Hair, brows, lashes—white.
So white they seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
Piebaldism.
Extremely rare.
I had studied it in medical school.
But hers… was different.
And yet there she stood.
I bit my lower lip, fighting the lingering euphoria.
"Y-you're very beautiful."
I covered my mouth immediately.
She lowered her hood further, hiding her shoulder-length choppy hair.
Stepped back slightly.
In the silence, I studied her.
What did that almost-confused expression mean?
"I'm Akiko."
"Akiko…"
Her hoarse voice wrapped around my name.
A wave of exhilaration bloomed in my chest, ran through my muscles, trembled in my stomach.
I wanted to know what she was thinking.
Her eyes pierced me—frozen in an unreadable emotion.
Those eyes.
I shook my head, trying to clear the haze.
How had I missed it?
Those unmistakable amber eyes.
"Wait… you're—"
"I think we should leave. Can you walk?"
She stood.
"Are you alone?"
I blinked.
Her words took a second to land.
"I came with some colleagues.
I don't know where they are."
"Let's go."
I froze.
She extended her hand.
"Come on. You can hold it.
I don't bite."
I reached out.
Her palm—rough and cold—closed around mine.
I let her guide me.
A quiet fear. Excitement. Joy.
New sensations unfolding inside me.
Centralia on a Friday night vibrated.
Polychrome holograms and adware lit the buildings.
Clubs and pubs.
Musicians, poets, illustrators, artists crowded the sidewalks.
Cars and buses blasted music.
People leaned out of windows, shouting to those below.
Those on bridges shouted back, laughing, carefree.
Clothing and implants merged with the city's colors.
Everything felt possible.
I squeezed her hand tighter.
We entered a red-lit establishment—Club of Fantastical Dreams.
Two semi-nude holoreceptionists greeted us.
A strange euphoria flickered through me as realization settled:
A brothel.
Dancers on poles.
People at tables throwing money.
A woman brushed her hand over my shoulder, winking.
The white-haired woman led me toward the back.
Naked bodies without shame filled the corridor.
Bluish light hung overhead.
The smell of alcohol and tobacco thickened the air.
We stepped into an elevator.
A woman attending the floors wore only underwear.
"Miss Maia."
She raised her brows, surprised.
"The usual?"
Maia nodded.
Indifferent.
Maia?
Was that her name?
We walked down a corridor.
Violet walls trimmed in gold.
Pixelated paintings distracted me.
Maia pulled me into a room.
Soft orange light dulled the edges of the space.
A woody fragrance filled the air.
"Stay here until the drug wears off."
She sat in an armchair beside the bed.
I let out a small laugh.
"Am I that bad?"
"You need to be more careful.
Those bastards drugged you.
Where the hell were your colleagues?"
I lay down.
"They were coworkers.
Just trying to be nice."
Maia pressed her fingers to her forehead.
Exhaled.
"Sleep."
I ignored her.
"Why were you on that train?
How did you know it would explode?
Is your name really Maia?"
"Yes. My name is Maia."
She leaned forward.
"Enough questions.
Sleep."
I fought it.
Lost.
The next morning
I woke in an empty room.
I stumbled off the bed.
Cursed the throbbing in my temples.
Maia had left a note on the armchair:
Akiko, if you want, meet me on 13th Street, in the Middle, at 10 p.m.
I slipped the note into my pocket.
Entered the elevator.
The same woman from the night before—now fully dressed.
"Miss Akiyama."
She smiled, offering a subtle bow.
I couldn't recall telling her my name.
At that point, I only wanted to forget everything.
Shame consumed me.
I forced a smile in return.
"See you."
She nodded.
The place had transformed.
Tables filled the main hall.
Customers drank coffee.
The dancers from the night before now served tables, worked as receptionists, cooked behind counters.
The façade read:
Centralia Café
Was it all my imagination?
"Table for one?"
A young woman greeted me at the entrance.
"Oh—no. Thank you. I'm leaving."
My cheeks burned.
I stepped outside quickly.
Returned to my apartment.
I needed to get ready.
To meet Maia.
I waited.
And waited.
Minutes stretched like threads of endless time.
Hours collapsed over one another.
Yet that night—
The silence of her absence kept me company.