"...An unfamiliar ceiling. Holy crap, I actually said it!"
Gazing up—not at the sky, but at a ceiling—those words slipped out, sparking an inexplicable thrill. I'd always wanted to say that line, the kind you hear in stories. Sure, it didn't change anything, but I couldn't help grinning at the small victory. Yet, as the moment faded, confusion crashed in. I sat up, scanning my surroundings: a pristine white room, a vase of vibrant flowers by the window, and a basket of fruit, the kind you'd bring to a hospital visit. I was lying in a bed, apparently.
"What the hell is going on?"
I couldn't make sense of it. Forgetting what I was thinking seconds ago? That's normal enough. But having no grasp of the entire day? That's unheard of. As I tilted my head, puzzling over it, the door swung open. A nurse stepped in, her figure unmistakable even under her white uniform. I opened my mouth to react—then froze. Because on her head were... horse ears? And a tail, swishing as if alive.
(Wait, what? Is this some kind of themed place? A hospital, sure, but like... a cosplay ward?)
"Oh! Ohhh! You're awake!" the nurse gasped, her voice a mix of relief and panic.
"Uh, yeah, just now," I stammered, caught off guard.
My honest reaction only deepened the chaos. Her ears twitched—twitched—and her tail swayed, moving like they were part of her, not some mechanical prop. This was no costume.
"Please, stay calm!" she urged, her voice rising. "I'll get the doctor!"
"Y-Yeah, okay!"
"Stay calm, stay calm!" she repeated, practically shouting as she bolted out, her voice echoing "Doctor!" down the hall. You'd think a hospital would value quiet, but...
"What the hell?"
That didn't matter. What mattered was... that nurse. She looked like an Uma Musume—a horse girl. Those ears, that tail, the white streaks woven into her chestnut hair. Was I in a hospital where Uma Musume were nurses? Was that what was happening?
"No, this makes no sense!"
Even if that were true, it didn't explain this. I reached to scratch my head, but my fingers caught on something—soft, fur-like, and oddly pleasant to touch. The moment I brushed it, it twitched.
"...What?"
I touched it again. Soft, fur-wrapped, and... I could feel it. A sensation, like it was part of me. My blood ran cold. I knew what that phrase meant now. Heart pounding, I forced my hand toward my lower back, willing myself to stay calm. It's fine, I'm fine, I told myself, but my hand found it—a tail.
"Ha... hahaha..."
Laughter was all I could manage, my mind buckling under the weight of it. I turned to the window, catching my reflection. Sun-kissed skin, healthy yet gaunt cheeks, a sturdy frame—an Uma Musume stared back, her expression twisted, as if her sanity was unraveling.
"Your doctor—" a voice began.
"AAAAAAAAHHHH!" My scream tore through the hospital, a high-pitched wail as my sense of normalcy crumbled. I understood it, yet I couldn't process it. The doctor and nurse rushed to calm me, their voices a blur.
"Calm down! Please, calm down!" they pleaded.
"What is this?! What do I do?! What's happening, why is this happening?!" I shouted, laughter mixing with panic. "Aha, ahaha, AHAHAHA!"
"Doctor, should we administer a sedative?!"
The struggle lasted nearly ten minutes. Their desperate efforts—part medical, part psychological—finally brought me back from the edge. Gasping, I slumped forward, fighting to steady my breathing.
"Are you calm now?" the doctor asked gently.
"For now... I don't think I'll freak out again," I muttered, exhausted. "Sorry for the trouble. Really."
My head was clearer, at least. I wouldn't lose it again... even as I glanced at my chest, undeniably there. Was this a dream? God, I hoped so. But the dull ache in my arm, where the nurse had grabbed me, felt too real. I pinched my cheek—pain, sharp and undeniable. This was no dream.
"Let's try again," the doctor said, his stern face and gravelly voice exuding authority. "I'm your attending physician. Pleased to meet you."
"Yeah, likewise," I replied faintly.
A man like him, tied to the prestigious Mejiro family, meant this was that hospital. Before I could dwell on it, he spoke again.
"Do you understand why you're here?"
"Not at all."
"Do you recall anything from the past few days?"
"Of course I—" I started, then faltered. "I mean, obviously... wait, what?"
I wanted to say it was obvious, but the words died. I couldn't remember. No, I could—but it was jumbled. One memory: sitting at a computer, riding a train, bathing, sleeping. Another: running alongside Uma Musume, friends maybe, their laughter vivid. But those memories shouldn't exist. They clashed, contradicting each other, yet both felt real. I fumbled for words, but the doctor's tone softened.
"It's alright. You don't need to answer now. Let's move on. Can you tell me your name?"
"My name...?"
Simple. Easy. But it wasn't. Names swirled in my head—familiar yet foreign, known yet unknown. A paradox. I opened my mouth to speak, but the door burst open. Someone rushed in, wrapping me in a fierce embrace.
"You're okay!" she sobbed. "I was so worried! We didn't know when you'd wake up... but you're safe, thank god..."
Her warmth, her soft touch, the faint scent of her—it was too real to be a dream. And her name, it came to me.
"Ryan...?"
"Yes, yes, that's me!" she cried.
Mejiro Ryan, the noble daughter of the Mejiro family, clung to me, tears streaming as she rejoiced in my recovery. Gratitude and guilt surged within me, but so did a deeper confusion. Who was I, really?