Dull thuds.Distant screams.Everything was noise.
A piercing buzz mixed with the echoes. My head throbbed as if it were about to burst. In the middle of the confusion, I barely made out a blond-haired boy running down the stairs. Each step thundered… until his ankle twisted the wrong way.
He fell.Closed his eyes.
When I opened mine again, it was with difficulty. A white, aggressive light burned my vision. The air smelled of metal and disinfectant. At my side, a table full of tools gleamed under a peculiar lamp. A man in gloves and a medical coat stared at me in silence.
He didn't ask anything. He didn't explain.He just smiled.
And slowly brought a scalpel closer to my eye.
I wanted to scream, but no voice came out.I wanted to move, but my body didn't respond.
—Live.
His voice was dry. Empty.And the world… went black.
A scream ripped me from the darkness. I felt the thud of my body hitting the floor. A groan escaped my throat as I tried to get up. My pajamas were tangled around my legs. The bed was a mess. Books and picture frames lay scattered across the room.
I yawned loudly, scratching my head before dragging myself to the door. The hallway was short; just a few meters to the bathroom. I turned on the faucet and leaned over the mirror.
My reflection stared back… with a neutral expression.Until I noticed a solitary tear sliding down my left eye.
A tear I didn't remember shedding.
I wiped it away quickly, splashed water on my face, and returned to my room, towel hanging from my waist. On the way back, I stubbed my pinky toe against the corner of the desk, knocking several objects to the ground. Among them, the alarm clock.
Beep. Beep. Beep.6:50 a.m.
—Shit!
I jumped as if a fire alarm had gone off in my face. Dressed in seconds, stuffed whatever food I found into my mouth, brushed my teeth while cramming things into my backpack, and shot out of the apartment.
In the parking lot, I hopped on my bike and greeted the guard with a forced smile.
—Late again, Aomine, —the man said with a mocking tone.
—Well… better late than never, —I replied, trying to sound relaxed.
Inside, my head was chaos.
(Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.)
I pedaled hard, cold sweat running down my back. Every turn of the pedals felt like a desperate attempt to escape something invisible.
At the city center, a Stop sign forced me to brake. An old lady was crossing the street with slow steps. A police officer stood nearby, watching. If I moved before it was time, the fine would be inevitable.
And there, with time frozen in front of me, my mind began to wander.
(What if I'm late? What will they say at work?)
I chewed on my lip, mentally drafting my own will.
At that moment, the giant screens hanging from the buildings began to change. The flashy ads dissolved, replaced by a news broadcast with bright colors and a sharp-suited anchor.
The feminine voice of a reporter filled the air, projected from invisible speakers that seemed to be everywhere.
—"And in other news, the beta of the long-awaited Sword Art Online, or SAO as players call it, which launched last year, continues to stir up the gaming community. After months of testing and adjustments, the official release is expected for November 6 of this year. The company Argus has declared that sales may reach record numbers, marking what many call the new era of virtual reality gaming."
Around me, several pedestrians slowed their pace, drawn by the images. The broadcast showed players wearing the NerveGear, laughing and gesturing as if inside another world. Clips of battles against giant boars and medieval cities alternated with quick interviews of smiling testers.
But Aomine… stopped listening halfway through.His eyes stayed fixed on the screen, but his mind was elsewhere, trapped in thoughts unrelated to the news.
The city's noise gradually dissolved into a distant murmur.
(Sure, it's big news… I guess the guys will be excited. But with everything going on at school right now… things aren't going great for me. Work takes up more time than it seems. They told me I should log in today to learn some mechanics so I won't look like a total newbie next to them, since they've been playing for months. But honestly, I don't even have the money for the official game, so I figured I'd wait for the price drop. At least I've got friends who'll wait for me to climb the floors together… they'll farm first. Yeah, I'm looking forward to that.)
Lost in thought, the murmur of the street faded, as if everything had been paused.
A blaring car horn snapped him back to reality. He looked up to see traffic moving again. He could advance… but the sensation of having lost precious seconds clung to him like a bad omen.
The minutes slipped away until he arrived at a familiar place: Good Cooking Just for You.It wasn't fancy, but hot meals and the constant smell of fresh bread kept regular customers loyal.
He parked his bike beside a row of old motorbikes and walked down the narrow alley leading to the employees' entrance. The air smelled of reheated oil and spices.
He knocked.
The sound of a lock turning was all he heard before the wooden door creaked open.
A man stood in the doorway.
His face was stained with blood. In his right hand, a kitchen knife dripped red.
Both froze, staring in silence. The weight of the moment pressed in until the man finally spoke with a gravelly voice:
—Aomine, you're here. Thought you'd quit with how late you were, —Marc said with his usual mocking tone, wiping blood from his hands onto his shirt sleeve. The metallic stench made me wrinkle my nose.
—Don't remind me… where's the boss? —I asked, shoulders sagging in exhaustion.
Marc stared at me for a couple seconds, then burst into a laugh that shook the narrow hall.
—Wow… for you to bow your head to me, you must really be beat. —Then added—: Don't worry, the boss isn't back yet.
I looked up, surprised.—He didn't arrive?
—He got here before me, but left right after. They called him from his son's school. Some problem. So for now, we're on our own. Clock in and get to work.
The invisible weight I'd been carrying since the street lightened a bit. I exhaled and stepped inside the restaurant.
Everything was alive: rushing footsteps, clipped voices, dishes clattering. The smell of fresh coffee and toasted bread filled the air. I headed toward the punch clock, but the feeling of being watched made me glance sideways.
In a corner, a long-haired woman with violet hair stared at me with a cold expression. I couldn't tell if it was curiosity or disdain, and I didn't care to find out. I kept walking, straight to the staff bathroom.
Inside, water trickled from the faucet. I hung my jacket, left my backpack on a hook, and carefully pulled out my uniform. The white shirt slid over my arms and fit snugly. Button by button, up to my chest. The black apron with the restaurant's name embroidered in gold tied tightly at my back. The dark gray vest, the neatly pressed black trousers… everything in its place.
I moved to the fogged-up mirror, smoothing the folds with my hands.(Next time I'll bring it in a bag so it won't wrinkle so much.)
I fixed my bangs, checked my cuffs, and fastened a loose button. Then I froze, staring into my own eyes. Tension, nerves, and… routine.
—(All right… time to start) —I muttered, faking enthusiasm I didn't feel.