"Tired."
The word escaped as a sigh while I let myself sink onto the wooden floor.
The stack of examination papers slid a little as I nudged them aside with the back of my hand, clearing enough space for my shoulders. They rustled softly before settling into a neat, slightly crooked pile.
I stared at the ceiling.
The apartment had become noticeably cleaner over the course of the day. The bucket still rested beside the kitchen wall, drying after its last use. The shelves had been wiped free of dust, the floor swept twice over, and the dishes stacked neatly where they belonged.
Cleaning had never been something I particularly enjoyed.
But today it had felt... manageable.
Perhaps because it demanded so little thought.
"Mathematics is all that's left."
I turned my head toward the remaining bundle of papers.
Every other subject had already been marked.
The mathematics scripts sat waiting with patient inevitability.
"They can wait."
Just saying it aloud made the decision feel official.
Tomorrow was still part of the weekend.
There was time.
My eyes drifted toward the small bottle resting against my chest.
Almost unconsciously, my fingers found the silver cord and lifted it.
The tiny glass vessel rose into the late afternoon light filtering through the window.
Inside, fragments of lapis lazuli drifted slowly through clear liquid.
Blue.
Gold.
As the bottle turned between my fingers, sunlight caught the stone and scattered delicate flecks of colour across the ceiling.
"Pretty."
The word came quietly.
Not analytical.
Simply true.
The warmth inside the bottle remained faint but unmistakable.
Not hot.
Not even particularly warm.
Just...
Present.
As though someone had been holding it moments earlier.
I watched the fragments settle again before letting the bottle fall gently back against my collarbone.
Outside, daylight had begun softening.
The room had shifted almost imperceptibly from afternoon into evening.
The shadows beneath the table stretched farther across the floorboards.
"It's getting dark."
I pushed myself upright with a small groan.
"I'll mark the rest of you later."
The papers, as expected, offered no objection.
My stomach answered instead.
"Dinner..."
───
The meal was simple.
Rice.
Pickled vegetables.
Tea.
Nothing demanded much preparation.
I cooked almost automatically, years of repetition allowing my hands to move while my thoughts wandered elsewhere.
To the Fair.
To the lanterns.
To the merchants who answered questions without truly answering them.
To the strange comfort of walking somewhere that expected nothing more from me than curiosity and politeness.
It had been...
Different.
Different in ways I still couldn't describe.
The apartment felt smaller afterward.
Not unpleasantly.
Merely...
More familiar than before.
When the dishes had been washed and returned to their place, fatigue settled across my shoulders with surprising weight.
Cleaning.
Cooking.
Marking papers.
Walking all night.
Perhaps I had been more tired than I'd realized.
I folded out my futon.
The familiar whisper of fabric against tatami filled the room.
There was comfort in routine.
Even after everything that had happened.
───
"...Ugh."
Morning light reached my face long before I wished to acknowledge it.
The silver-white glow slipping through the paper window gradually became impossible to ignore.
I opened one eye.
Then immediately closed it again.
My body felt strangely heavy.
Not painful.
Only reluctant.
With a quiet groan I sat up.
Life returned to my legs slowly, like cold water filling an empty basin.
I shuffled toward the bathroom.
"Tomorrow is school..."
The reminder accompanied the taste of toothpaste as I brushed my teeth.
The thought alone made my shoulders sag.
After washing, I filled the small bath.
Steam gradually gathered against the wooden ceiling.
Warm water loosened the stiffness lingering in my back.
I stayed there longer than necessary.
Long enough that the room itself became quiet.
Long enough that I almost forgot tomorrow existed.
───
Later, bundled against the cool air, I stepped outside.
The streets were calm.
Children chased one another further down the road while a bicycle rattled past, its rider balancing a basket full of vegetables.
The bakery near the corner had just finished another batch.
Warm bread drifted into the street.
I bought a sandwich.
Egg.
Simple.
Reliable.
Returning home, I spread the remaining mathematics papers across the table.
"All right."
I took the first bite.
"Let's do this."
The yolk was still slightly warm.
I swallowed before reaching for my red pen.
One paper.
Then another.
Outside, afternoon slowly advanced.
Occasionally I paused to sip tea.
Occasionally I stretched my fingers.
Numbers blurred together before separating again into orderly solutions.
"...Money might be tight for the rest of the month."
The observation arrived while adding figures together in the margin of one student's work.
I took another bite of the sandwich.
"I'll have to be careful."
It wasn't worrying.
Merely practical.
The sort of calculation every adult quietly performed.
───
The room grew steadily darker.
Without noticing exactly when, the last examination paper found its way onto the completed pile.
I blinked.
"...Finished."
I looked toward the window.
The sky beyond had already begun staining itself crimson.
"Just in time."
With another long exhale I lowered myself onto the floor once more.
Every muscle welcomed it.
Silence settled comfortably around the apartment.
Again my fingers found the bottle.
I lifted it toward the fading sunlight.
The blue fragments glowed far more vividly against the evening sky than they had during the afternoon.
"You really are pretty."
I laughed quietly at myself.
Talking to jewellery.
Perhaps I truly was tired.
───
"I don't want to go to school tomorrow."
The words disappeared into the empty apartment.
No one answered.
No one needed to.
Even I understood they carried very little authority.
Monday would arrive regardless of my opinion.
Reluctantly I stood.
The bath had already been prepared.
Warm water embraced me almost immediately.
I closed my eyes.
"Sleeping has its comforts."
Water streamed across my shoulders.
"And so does a bath."
Soap slipped through my fingers before disappearing into the water.
The day's tension slowly dissolved with it.
───
Fresh clothes.
A neatly folded futon.
The tiny bottle once more resting against my collarbone.
I lay down facing the window.
Outside, the crimson moon watched quietly above the rooftops.
"...But a beggar's wishes rarely come true."
I smiled faintly at the ceiling.
Random thoughts drifted through my mind without direction.
Tomorrow's lessons.
The Fair.
The bottle.
Whether the dried herbs still needed identifying.
The students who would undoubtedly forget half of what I had spent hours marking.
One thought faded into another.
The room grew softer.
The moon blurred.
At some point, without noticing exactly when—
Sleep claimed me.
───
Then—
Pain.
Not discomfort.
Not surprise.
Pain.
A violent, crushing agony ripped through my abdomen with such force that consciousness returned all at once.
"Ahhh—!"
My eyes flew open.
I couldn't breathe.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
"My—"
The words broke apart into another scream.
"My God!"
My stomach—
It—
It was—
Round.
Swollen.
Enormous.
Impossible.
I stared down in absolute disbelief.
The shape beneath the soaked yukata rose and fell with frantic breaths.
"What..."
My voice fractured.
"What is happening?!"
A violent pressure slammed downward through my hips.
My back arched involuntarily.
Another contraction seized every muscle in my body.
"Ahhh!"
Tears burst from my eyes before I even realized I was crying.
My legs had already spread apart on instinct.
No—
Not instinct.
Something deeper.
Something older than thought.
Liquid ran warmly beneath me.
My heartbeat pounded so violently my vision blurred.
"I can't—"
Air refused to stay in my lungs.
Another contraction.
Stronger.
My body bore down without asking permission.
"What is happening?!"
Panic dissolved beneath raw instinct.
Every muscle knew something my mind utterly rejected.
Push.
I didn't decide to.
My body did.
Another scream tore itself from my throat.
"Ahhhhh!"
Something moved.
Something was leaving me.
The sensation was so impossible that my thoughts simply stopped trying to understand it.
Only pain remained.
Only pressure.
Only the overwhelming certainty that something was being born.
And then—
The world disappeared into white.
Silence.
Not complete silence.
Breathing.
Mine.
Someone else's.
The slow drip of liquid falling onto wood.
The faint rustle of fabric.
A bird calling somewhere beyond the paper window.
"...What..."
The word barely escaped my lips.
My entire body ached.
Not the dull ache after a long day's work.
Not the stiffness of sleeping awkwardly.
Everything hurt.
My hips.
My back.
My thighs.
Even drawing breath felt strangely unfamiliar.
I opened my eyes.
The room drifted slowly into focus.
Morning.
Grey light seeped through the paper screens, washing the apartment in pale winter colour.
"My..."
I tried to sit up.
Pain answered immediately.
I sucked in a sharp breath and froze halfway through the movement.
Then—
"Oh."
A voice.
My voice.
"...You're awake."
I turned.
Someone sat opposite me.
For one impossible heartbeat, my mind refused to understand what my eyes were seeing.
The woman sitting against the opposite wall had my face.
My hair.
My eyes.
She was naked.
Her skin glistened with sweat and streaks of blood.
Dark strands of hair clung to her cheeks.
Her breathing was uneven.
She looked exhausted.
Terrified.
Alive.
"...Who are you?"
The question emerged before I knew I intended to ask it.
She looked back at me.
The movement alone was enough to confirm she wasn't a reflection.
She existed.
Completely.
Independently.
Her eyes met mine.
Red.
Not from sleeplessness.
From crying.
"Were you..."
I swallowed.
"Were you crying?"
She gave the smallest nod.
"I think we both were."
Her voice trembled despite how carefully she spoke.
Only then did my eyes drift lower.
To her stomach.
To—
A cord.
It emerged from her navel.
Pink.
Wet.
Still pulsing faintly.
My gaze followed it automatically.
Across the soaked futon.
Across the floor.
Until—
It disappeared between my own legs.
My stomach lurched.
Both hands flew over my mouth.
The room tilted.
"No..."
I whispered.
"No..."
A wave of nausea rolled through me.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Calm down."
Her voice arrived quickly.
Gentle.
Not because she wasn't frightened.
Because she was.
"Just..."
I heard her inhale shakily.
"...Look away from that."
I obeyed.
Not because I wanted to.
Because I couldn't bear another second.
I stared instead at the wall behind her.
The familiar stain near the ceiling.
The kettle.
The folded blankets.
Ordinary things.
Things that still made sense.
Behind them I heard her shifting carefully.
A quiet hiss escaped her teeth.
She was in pain.
The realization settled strangely.
She hurt.
Just as I did.
I opened my eyes again.
Very carefully.
She was flexing her fingers.
Opening and closing them as though testing whether they still belonged to her.
"...Were you..."
The question caught in my throat.
She looked up.
"You..."
I couldn't finish.
"I know."
She answered before I found the words.
Neither of us looked toward the cord again.
Neither of us needed to.
The knowledge already sat between us.
Heavy.
Impossible.
Real.
───
She took one slow breath.
Then another.
Finally she spoke.
"I'm going to pull out the placenta."
I stared.
"What?"
The word escaped almost automatically.
She looked down briefly.
"So am I."
Only then did I notice her hands.
They were shaking.
Not violently.
Just enough.
Enough that she kept curling them into fists before opening them again.
She was frightened.
Every bit as frightened as I was.
Perhaps more.
Because whatever she intended to do...
She had only been alive for—
How long?
Minutes?
An hour?
She shouldn't know any of this.
Yet somehow...
She did.
The same way I somehow knew not to resist while giving birth.
Knowledge without memory.
Instinct without experience.
I looked away.
"...Okay."
She nodded once.
Slowly.
Then placed both hands behind herself and pushed.
Standing seemed almost impossible.
Her entire body trembled with the effort.
She paused halfway upright.
Closed her eyes.
Breathed.
Then tried again.
Eventually she found her feet.
Barely.
Each careful step left a faint smear across the wooden floor.
She moved toward the kitchen.
The cord dragged softly behind her.
Neither of us acknowledged it.
I couldn't.
My mind refused.
The apartment remained painfully quiet.
The only sounds were her uneven footsteps and my own breathing.
She disappeared around the corner.
For several long moments I heard nothing.
Then—
Water.
The scrape of a drawer.
Metal against wood.
She returned.
A kitchen knife rested carefully in one hand.
Steam curled faintly from its blade.
She must have heated it.
She knelt awkwardly beside me.
Her face was wet again.
Fresh tears had carved clean paths through dried blood across her cheeks.
"It's hot."
Her voice broke slightly.
"Please..."
She looked down at the cord.
"...Help me cut this."
For one brief moment every instinct screamed at me to refuse.
This couldn't be happening.
This shouldn't exist.
Someone else—
A doctor—
An ambulance—
Anything—
But there was no one.
Only us.
Only this room.
Only the impossible reality already sitting between us.
I reached out.
My fingers closed around the handle.
It felt warm.
Steady.
Far steadier than my hands.
She shifted carefully, exposing more of the cord.
"Close to my stomach."
She swallowed.
"As close as you can."
I nodded.
Unable to trust my voice.
One deep breath.
The blade pressed gently against the cord.
Another breath.
Then—
One swift cut.
It separated cleanly.
She gasped.
The remaining tension seemed to vanish from her body all at once.
The knife slipped from my fingers onto the futon.
She leaned sideways before lowering herself carefully to the floor.
Neither of us spoke.
Neither of us moved much.
We simply lay there.
Listening.
Waiting.
For what...
Neither of us knew.
The room smelled of iron.
Warm water.
Soap.
Morning air drifting through the slightly opened window.
Outside, someone swept a nearby doorstep.
Life continued.
Absurdly.
As though nothing extraordinary had happened.
───
After what felt like a very long time—
Perhaps only minutes—
I turned my head.
She was staring at the ceiling.
Eyes open.
Expression distant.
"You're..."
I began.
"Yes."
She answered immediately.
In my voice.
It unsettled me far more than looking at her had.
Hearing myself speak from somewhere else.
The silence returned.
Eventually I asked,
"...Does it hurt?"
She considered.
Not physically.
Honestly.
"Yes."
Several heartbeats passed.
Then she asked,
"Does it hurt for you?"
"Yes."
Nothing more needed saying.
The answers contained everything.
Outside, the first rays of sunlight climbed over the neighbouring rooftops.
Golden light crept slowly across the floorboards until it reached the edge of the ruined futon.
She turned toward the window.
"So morning is beginning."
I followed her gaze.
The ordinary sunrise felt strangely reassuring.
The world, at least, had decided to continue.
Even if ours no longer made any sense.
Morning continued whether either of us understood it or not.
The pale winter light gradually replaced the silver-grey that had filled the room only moments before. Dust floated lazily through the narrow beams reaching across the floorboards. Somewhere outside, a bicycle rattled over uneven stone. A neighbour slid open a window. Someone greeted another person on the street.
Ordinary sounds.
Painfully ordinary.
Inside the apartment, nothing felt ordinary anymore.
Neither of us spoke for several minutes.
I wasn't certain what there was to say.
The futon beneath us was ruined.
Blood had soaked through the bedding, spreading into dark patches that would never come clean. My yukata clung uncomfortably to my skin, damp and cold now that the immediate heat of everything had passed.
Across from me, the other woman—myself, and yet not myself—sat with one arm wrapped around her stomach.
Her breathing had steadied.
Only slightly.
She looked no less exhausted than I felt.
She caught me looking.
Neither of us looked away.
Then, almost unexpectedly, she broke the silence.
"I'll go."
My brows drew together.
"...Go?"
"To school."
The words were spoken matter-of-factly.
As though she were announcing that she intended to buy vegetables on the way home.
I stared.
"You don't have to."
"I know."
She lowered her eyes briefly.
Then looked back up.
"But someone does."
The simplicity of the answer left no room for argument.
The students.
The staff meeting tomorrow.
The stack of marked examination papers.
The lessons already planned.
All of those things still existed.
The world hadn't stopped simply because ours had.
She shifted, wincing.
"I have your memories."
A pause.
"At least... I think I do."
She flexed one hand slowly.
"I know where the school is."
"I know your classroom."
"I know your timetable."
She frowned faintly.
"And I know I don't remember learning any of it."
The statement lingered between us.
It was true.
Disturbingly true.
She knew things she had never experienced.
Because I had.
"I..."
I searched for words that refused to arrive.
"I don't understand."
"Neither do I."
Her answer came almost immediately.
There wasn't frustration in it.
Only honesty.
───
She planted both hands against the floor and slowly pushed herself upright.
Standing remained awkward.
Every movement carried the stiffness of muscles that had endured far more than they should have.
She waited until the dizziness passed.
Then made her way toward the bathroom.
The apartment fell quiet again.
A few moments later I heard water running.
Cupboard doors opening.
The rustle of folded clothing.
I remained where I was.
Not because I wanted to.
Because every attempt to move reminded me exactly what my body had endured.
Eventually I managed to lower one leg from the futon.
Then the other.
The movement alone drew a sharp breath through clenched teeth.
"...Everything hurts."
It was almost impressive.
There wasn't a single part of me that didn't ache.
Even my hands felt strangely weak.
I rested both feet carefully on the floor.
The wood felt cool.
Solid.
Real.
I appreciated that.
Across the room lay the severed remains of the cord.
The sight immediately pulled my eyes away again.
No.
Not yet.
I wasn't ready.
───
The bathroom door slid open.
She stepped back into the room wearing one of my school uniforms.
It fit perfectly.
Of course it did.
Seeing someone else dressed in my clothes should have looked absurd.
Instead...
It looked like watching myself prepare for work from across the room.
She paused before the mirror hanging beside the entrance.
Not to admire herself.
To study.
She straightened the collar.
Smoothed the front of the blouse.
Adjusted the sleeves.
Then—
Almost unconsciously—
Her shoulders settled.
Her spine lengthened slightly.
Her expression changed.
Not dramatically.
Only enough.
The familiar professional composure quietly assembled itself.
The one I wore every weekday.
The one that greeted students.
Attended meetings.
Smiled politely.
Accepted interruptions.
The transformation happened automatically.
She noticed it too.
"...Interesting."
She touched her own cheek lightly.
"I didn't decide to do that."
I managed a tired smile.
"It usually happens without thinking."
She gave a thoughtful nod.
"I see."
She picked up my satchel.
Opened it.
Checked its contents.
Closed it again.
Everything about the sequence felt practiced.
Natural.
Inherited.
She reached the doorway.
Then stopped.
Without turning around she said quietly,
"I'll come back."
There was no promise hidden inside those words.
Only intention.
"I know."
The door slid open.
Cold morning air drifted briefly into the room.
Then—
She was gone.
The apartment became very still.
───
"...She left."
The words sounded strangely empty spoken aloud.
I stared at the closed door for a long moment.
Half of me expected it to slide open again.
It didn't.
Eventually I looked toward the kitchen.
Before leaving, she had arranged what little food she could find into a bowl.
Rice.
Pickled vegetables.
A cup of water beside it.
Simple.
Practical.
Thoughtful.
I wasn't hungry.
Not really.
But I understood why she had done it.
Very slowly I shifted again.
Standing remained beyond me.
Even sitting upright demanded more effort than I wished to spend.
Instead I leaned back against the wall and let my legs stretch out in front of me.
They refused to close comfortably.
My body objected immediately.
I grimaced.
"...Right."
That made sense.
It would probably be stranger if it didn't hurt.
The thought wasn't comforting.
Only logical.
I closed my eyes.
Questions crowded together without answers.
Who was she?
Who was I now?
Had I somehow...
Become two people?
Or had there always been two waiting somewhere impossible?
The necklace.
The bottle.
The Fair.
Had any of those things caused this?
Or merely allowed it?
The thoughts circled endlessly without reaching a conclusion.
Eventually I opened my eyes again.
The apartment looked unchanged.
The kettle.
The shelves.
The stack of marked papers.
The mathematics examinations waiting neatly on top.
Everything exactly where it had been yesterday.
Everything except—
Us.
A faint laugh escaped me.
Dry.
Disbelieving.
"I don't even know how to explain this to myself."
Outside, somewhere beyond the window, children laughed on their way through the street.
Life continued.
School bells would ring soon.
Students would gather in classrooms.
Teachers would begin their lessons.
And wearing my face...
Someone who had not existed until this morning would walk through the school gates as though she had done it for years.
I could only hope the world wouldn't notice.
---