I was thirty-three years old, and I was already tired of life.
No, scratch that. I was exhausted.
Every single day felt like a copy of the last. Wake up. Stare at the cracked ceiling. Drag myself to work. Punch keys into a keyboard for hours, doing the same data entry job that paid me just enough to stay poor. Smile when I didn't feel like smiling. Nod when my boss barked orders. Pretend like I didn't care when no one even remembered my name.
And when I walked home, I always wondered what the hell I was doing with my life.
I didn't have a girlfriend. Didn't have friends. Didn't even have dreams anymore. Just silence. Just regret.
So that day, when I got back to my apartment and saw a piece of paper stuck to my door, something inside me already knew what it was.
I stared at it.
Eviction Notice.
I didn't even read the full thing at first. My eyes just locked on those two words. The rest didn't matter. I could barely move. I just stood there like a statue, holding my bag, my hands trembling. I read it again, slower this time. Three months of unpaid rent. Final warning. I had until the end of the week to get out.
I laughed.
It wasn't a happy laugh. It was the kind that sounds like it hurts coming out of your throat. Dry. Bitter. Empty.
"Perfect," I said under my breath. "Just perfect."
It was over. Everything was falling apart. I had already lost so much in life, and now I was losing the last piece I had left. My home. My tiny, broken home.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch something. But instead, I just turned around and started walking. My feet moved before I could even think. I couldn't stay there. I couldn't go inside. I felt like the walls were closing in on me.
The sun was going down, and the sky turned a deep orange, almost red. I walked without looking back. I didn't know where I was going. I just wanted to escape. From the apartment. From the city. From myself.
Somehow, I ended up in Hakodate.
The sea breeze hit my face, cold and sharp. I breathed it in, and for the first time that day, I felt a little alive. Just a little. The harbor lights shimmered across the water, like little stars dancing over black waves. It looked peaceful. Nothing like the storm raging inside my chest.
I found a small bar near the docks. It looked old, but warm. Like a place for people with broken hearts. I stepped inside, took a seat at the far end, and ordered the cheapest beer on the menu.
The first sip was bitter. But it numbed the edge of everything inside me.
I looked out the window, watching the world pass by. Couples holding hands. Friends laughing. People with lives, with purpose. And then there was me.
Alone.
I swallowed hard and whispered to myself, "How did it come to this?"
I used to dream big. I wanted to work in game design. I used to sketch characters, write stories, imagine worlds. But life? Life doesn't always care about your dreams. Sometimes, it spits on them.
I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against the glass. The beer was making me warm, a little dizzy. I could feel the tears burning behind my eyelids, but I refused to cry. Not here. Not in front of anyone.
"Just one miracle," I whispered. "Please. Just one. I don't care what it takes."
I didn't know who I was talking to. God? Fate? The universe? Maybe no one.
But I was desperate.
"I just… want another chance. A new life. One where I'm not a loser. One where I can be someone. Get the girl. Do something I love. I'll do anything. Just… don't let this be how it ends."
I opened my eyes and stared down at the beer in my hand. My reflection stared back. Tired eyes. Hollow face. A man who looked older than thirty-three.
I finished the drink and got up. The bartender gave me a nod as I left. I nodded back without saying a word.
The cold outside slapped me awake a little. The streets were quiet, and the wind howled like it had something to say.
I started walking home.
Well, not home. Just back to that apartment I didn't even own anymore.
And then it happened.
One second, I was walking across the street, the light was red, and I wasn't paying attention. The next, there was this blinding light.
A truck.
It came out of nowhere.
The sound was deafening. Metal screeching. Horns blaring.
Time slowed down. I turned my head just in time to see the headlights. My heart froze. I couldn't move. My legs locked. My mouth opened, but no sound came out.
And then, everything went black.
But this… this wasn't the end.
I should have died. I felt the pain. I remember my body flying. I remember hitting the ground. I remember the blood. But then, there was something else.
A warmth. A strange light.
And silence. Peaceful, deep silence.
I thought, So this is what death feels like.
But then something strange happened.
I heard something. A voice. Gentle. Distant.
It wasn't in Japanese. I didn't even understand the words. But it felt… soft. Like a lullaby. Like someone was calling me.
My eyes fluttered open.
I wasn't in a hospital. I wasn't on the street.
I was lying on something soft, like a bed, but not like anything I had ever felt. There was a strange ceiling above me. The colors were bright. Everything was blurry.
I tried to move.
But my arms were tiny.
No. Not just tiny. Baby arms.
My heart stopped.
I looked down.
This wasn't my body. I was… small. Round. I couldn't even lift my head properly.
My eyes widened.
I wanted to scream, but the only sound that came out was a soft cry.
I was crying. Like an infant.
Because I was one.
I was a baby.
My chest rose and fell fast. My brain couldn't catch up.
What was happening?
What kind of sick joke was this?
Then I felt warm hands lift me gently. A soft voice whispered something in that same strange language. I couldn't understand it, but it was soothing.
And somehow… I knew.
This wasn't Japan.
This wasn't my world.
I had been given a second chance.
A new life.
In a world I didn't understand.
I looked up at the woman holding me. Her hair was silver. Her eyes glowed faintly like magic. Her face looked kind and full of love.
In that moment, everything hit me all at once.
The pain. The accident. The prayer. The dream of a new life.
Somehow… it had come true.
Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I cried not from fear, but from something else.
Hope.
This wasn't the end.
This was just the beginning.
And this time, I was going to make it count.