If you had told me a year ago that I'd write a book, I would have laughed. I barely read them. But life has a peculiar way of distorting reality. I had always believed that such tales— journeys—were nothing more than fiction,
mere fantasies that could never manifest in reality.
Two weeks ago, I took a brief vacation to Japan. I landed at Narita International Airport in Tokyo around noon, and after clearing customs, I went straight to my hotel. Over
the next two weeks, I did my best to explore as much of Japan as I could. I was amazed by the cultural richness, the architectural beauty, and the seamless blend of modernity
and tradition.
On the eleventh day, I traveled to Hokkaido, planning to
spend the remainder of my trip there before flying home
from New Chitose Airport. I had already booked a hotel in
advance, ensuring that everything was arranged. That day, I
visited the renowned beach where the sea meets both sand
and snow—a captivating sight. On my way home I
brought some sushi and Suddenly had the craving to eat
outside,so…I started walking to find a place to sit and
enjoy my meal. As the sun was going down gradually and
light shone from the horizon and evening fell, I came
across a small, vacant park.The swings creaked gently in the wind, the streetlights
casting long, eerie shadows across the pavement. It was
silent, the kind of silence that wasn't lonely but rather
calm… grounding. I took a seat on one of the swings and
began unpacking my sushi. I had dined in high-class
restaurants before, places where the food was exceptional,
the service impeccable—yet something always sensed
off. . . It was here, in this quiet little park, that I realized
what was missing.
Peace. Silence.
I was down to my last five pieces of sushi when I noticed
an old man entering the park. He strode slowly, his
movements unhurried, as if time had no hold over him.
Without a word, he sat on the swing beside me and greeted
me with a nod. I hesitated before greeting him back. For a
moment, we just sat there, two strangers in the evening. I
sensed strangely uncomfortable eating beside him. It
wasn't bad—more like an unexplainable unease. Yet, at the
same time, there was nothing outwardly threatening about
him.
He seemed kind. Average and dressed like a typical elder,
there was nothing unusual about his appearance—except
for his eyes. They were exactly as mine,so alike that
without a full view,those eyes could be easily be mistaken
for my own ones. I out of courtesy offered him the rest of
my meal.
"Would you like some ,Sir""Oh. . What a kind youngster you are,well then I'll happily
accept"
I couldn't help but notice that the way the old man ate
were similar to me—first, he carefully placed the food on
his teeth instead of biting directly, and second… he
chewed for a little longer. As I absentmindedly observed
him, my gaze drifted toward his clothes. He wore a black
jacket, coffee-colored pants, and black slippers—simple,
nothing out of the ordinary. Yet, something about him still
felt… different. It's as if he knew me,he came here
knowing he would find me,but that's not possible now is it.
After finishing , he turned toward me, his eyes, studying
me with quiet curiosity. Then, he spoke.
"Young man… do you read(books)?"
I hesitated before answering. "Not much, sir… I only
know a few. "
His lips curled into a slight smile. "Why not? Do you not
like stories?"
"No, sir," I replied.
His expression remained unchanged. "Why? Would you
mind telling me the reason?"
I sighed, glancing down at the half-empty sushi box in my
lap. "Because they're just stories… fiction. Something that
will never happen in real life. "At that, the old man's smile deepened, as if he had been
expecting that answer. Slowly, he reached inside the inner
pocket of his jacket and pulled out an old, worn-out book.
"Then you should read this," he said, extending it toward
me.
I frowned. "What is it?"
"A gift," he answered. "I got it from someone I knew
when I was as young as you"
I took the book hesitantly, running my fingers over its
rough, aged cover. It gazed unimportant, something that
had seen many years pass. For a brief moment, I pondered
of returning it, but something about the way he spoke
made me keep it. I thanked the man, and without another
word, he stood up and disappeared into the night. I didn't
open the book right away. On my way back to the hotel, I
considered throwing it away, but something about it made
me stop. In the end, I stuffed it into my bag and forgot
about it. I went back to my hotel and crashed on the bed,I
was simply exhausted after a long day. The next morning, I
was woken up by the sound of knocking at my door.
Groggily, I got up and opened it.
A maid stood there, holding a tray. "Your breakfast, sir,"
she whispered politely.
I nodded and took the tray,"Thank you"said I, before closing the door. The meal was
simple—omelet rice, fried fish, miso soup, and a bottle of
water. Yawning, I strode over to the window and pulled
back the curtains. The sky was covered in dark, heavy
clouds. It gazed like it was about to rain. I sighed. Guess
I'm staying in today. I sat by the window and started eating.
And just as I suspected—The rain began to fall. With
nothing else to do, I found myself stuck inside. For a
moment, I considered stepping out into the rain, but as
time passed, the light drizzle turned into a heavy
downpour. The streets blurred behind a curtain of water,
and the idea of venturing outside became less appealing.
Not wanting to stay locked in my room all day, I decided
to head down to the hotel lounge to pass the time. I
greeted the staff and exchanged polite nods with a few
other guests before wandering aimlessly, sipping on a cup
of freshly brewed coffee. The warmth of the drink was
comforting against the cold, damp air seeping in from
outside.
As I strode past a bookshelf, something caught my eye—a
shelf full of manga. Curious, I pulled one out, flipping
through the pages. But to my disappointment, it was
entirely in Japanese, and I couldn't read a word of it.
Sighing, I placed it back and checked my watch. Thirty
minutes had passed. Deciding I had spent enough time, I
returned to my room. I switched off the lights, leaving only
the faint glow of the city filtering in through the open
window. The scent of rain-soaked earth drifted into room, mingling with the rhythmic sound of raindrops
tapping against the glass.
It was peaceful. Lying down on the bed, I closed my eyes,
letting the tranquility settle over me. Then—I remembered
the book. . The old man's words echoed in my mind . I sat
up, reaching for the worn-out book resting on the desk.
Running my fingers over the aged cover, I hesitated for a
brief moment before finally flipping it open. And that was
the moment—the moment my life changed forever.
The book was actually empty. Blank pages all of them I
couldn't understand why that man gave me such a thing
but then the world slipped sideways.
The hotel room faded—its silence drowned by a distant
storm I couldn't hear. I didn't fall asleep. I didn't dream. I
simply… wasn't there anymore.
Instead, I was watching.