[ @Twinkle_PapaStar donated ¥500 ]
"So cute as always, Bore-chan! Next album HYPE!"
[ @J-Pj45 donated ¥500 ]
"Dwarf-Stardust was the best music on the album. Thank you, Bore-chan!"
[ @HelixIsGo.d donated ¥500 ]
"When is the live concert gonna be? Or a meet-and-greet?"
I keep swiping up through all the donations in my STARbubble, the streaming app I use.
They aren't a lot, but enough to get by—if I don't spend too much.
I get up from my light purple gamer chair, which is faintly stained yellow from the noodles I dropped on it last week. And like a hungry ant, I go searching for food in my mini-fridge:
Leftover rice and noodles
A bunch of apples that went bad
A few reused bottles of water
And a single slice of bread.
Mocking my loneliness.
"At least I don't have to deal with customers today... yay..."
I grab the apples and throw them out like the dreams I had as a kid. A very sad reality indeed.
As I walk to the bathroom to shower and prepare for another day of work, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
My brass-colored hair is a mess. Makeup is smudged and running down my face. My dark-oak eyes are red from poor sleep—just like my boss's. My tan skin is slightly bruised from me rolling around in my sleep.
The water hits my skin. It's cold... too cold, actually.
Did the apartment run out of hot water again?
It doesn't matter. I have work today. I'm the closer.
I hate late-night shifts, people linger, some flirt. It's part of the job at a tomboy café but it still sucks.
Miyamoto-san becomes a pain after midnight, and I always get home late. But I need the money, soooo...
I hop out of the shower, towel wrapped around me, and march to my room/living room.
It's messy. Lonely.
I think to myself:
"How did things turn out so wrong? I did the right things… I went to school, found a job, loved my—"
But my thoughts are cut short.
I looked at the empty room, the sounds vanish in the air.
But I can still hear the sound of water...
Tears start to roll down my face, uninvited.
Remembering that day.
The day I lost everything of value.
***
September 18, 2007 – The Yamamoto Lake Incident
A black Honda Civic was found submerged in a lake. The bodies of Katsuo (32) and Sayuri (30) Yamamoto were recovered, along with their children Aurora (12) and Koda (8). The two children were rushed to the Fukuchiyama City Hospital.
Only one survived.
***
I collapsed on the floor, sobbing.
I remember waking up in the hospital with a breathing tube down my throat. The room was painfully bright, bone-chillingly cold, and silent. I still remember the taste of dirt water in my mouth.
The memories flooded me, as if that same disgusting water was filling the car again—filling my lungs again. The tears wouldn't stop, no matter how hard I tried. The room spun. My breath hitched.
I couldn't shake the feeling of drowning all over again.
Losing them all over again.
My mind wouldn't let me rest.
"They're gone... You couldn't do anything... You were weak. Just like now..."
And then—
"You're not the brightest in the sky, but stars like us refuse to die. Fierce, strong and f*** the line!"
It was my phone, more specifically, my song
I jumped. Panic snapped me out of it. I was five minutes late for work.
It was Miyamoto-san.
He was calling.
I picked up the phone, already bracing for a scream. Maybe he expected an excuse, like always...
But this time, he heard me sobbing.
I was ready to be fired—ready for the yelling of a furious boss.
Instead, his voice was soft.
"Yamamoto-chan? Are... you okay?"
I couldn't answer.
Too much. Too heavy. Too many memories.
All I could whisper was:
"N-no... I'm sorry..."
I don't remember much of what happened after that.
I only know that, somehow he convinced me to come to work, I was standing behind the counter of the café a few minutes later. My makeup was a disaster. My heart still heavier than my eyes.
I looked like that slice of bread in my fridge: cold, alone, and slightly expired.
Even though I was supposed to stay in the back alone sorting out inventory, Miyamoto-san said that interacting with costumers would take my mind off, I should be the "Shy tomboy" at the café, I looked more like the emo kid who sits at the back of the class, with how tired and depressed I looked.
The regulars gave me awkward glances but didn't say anything. They wouldn't even ask for my services.
Tuhen they walked in.
Two men.
One had slicked-back black hair, apricot-colored eyes, and wore the clean-cut outfit of a CEO—like he stepped out of a corporate magazine. Behind him stood a punk-looking guy with sunglasses, a flashy shirt, the same slick hair, and a shiny gold chain that screamed "wannabe Yakuza."
And weirdly... they sat at the same table.
Friends?
A businessman and a punk-wannabe guy laughing like they were best friends?
At first, I didn't pay much attention. But then Nagima-san elbowed me.
"He's looking at you. The guy in the suit."
I turned.
He was.
And something about him felt... familiar.
Then it hit me.
Tanaka Hiro and Hashimoto Seiji.
They were classmates. My classmates.
I froze.
The panic kicked in fast. My hands shook. My breath caught. I felt cornered, like any second now, someone would shout my name.
Not "Aurora."
Not "Yamamoto-chan."
Not "Miss."
Not even "Hey, you."
But BoreAlias.
And all this would be over.
Somehow, I finished my shift. The last hour felt slower than usual. Each minute crawled like it was mocking me.
My hands were trembling as I took the train home. My makeup was ruined, my head a mess.
"This is all too much..." I muttered.
"I can't keep this up... I c-can't—"
My phone buzzed.
A notification from STARbubble.
A donation message.
[ Anonymous donated ¥1,000 ]
"Thank you as always Bore-chan, thank you for giving us joy."
I stared at the message.
Then I laughed.
Just a little.
And cried again.
I was someone that a lot of people looked up to.
They could watch me everyday, but none would see me...
Life a firefly trapped in a jar.