Sena, Another Sky: On the Road You Didn't Take - Hikikomori and the Shining Photo — I Just Want to Disappear
The room had been dark for a long time.
The curtains remained shut.
The thick fabric blocked out the light from outside, making it impossible to tell whether it was day or night.
The air was stagnant, thick with the mingled smells of sweat and instant cup ramen.
Kounan Heights, Room 703.
Shirosaki Haruto's six-tatami room.
On the wall hung a group photo from middle school.
Himself, smiling in the center, and beside him, Ren, looking slightly sullen.
Now, even looking at it was painful, and Haruto had been hiding under his futon the whole time, blanket pulled over his head.
His smartphone vibrated.
A muffled buzz-buzz-buzz from beneath his pillow.
Haruto fumbled for the phone and glanced at the screen.
Sena.
*I want to see you. Let's talk.*
Ren.
*Answer me. I'm waiting.*
Akira.
*Don't run. Face it.*
Three names glowed on the screen.
Dozens of unread messages had piled up.
Haruto flipped the phone face-down and shoved it back under his pillow.
"...Shut up."
His voice was so hoarse he could barely hear it himself.
(*When did it start?*)
Seven days ago—since that day in Studio C, when the world began to break apart.
Sena, Ren, Akira—all of them wavered before his eyes, on the verge of vanishing.
*Because you won't choose, everyone will disappear.*
That's what he'd been told.
(*Because I won't choose.*)
(*Because I'm so indecisive.*)
So filming was suspended. The movie version might be canceled too.
As the staff scrambled to pack up, Haruto sat alone in the studio, unmoving.
Then he came back here, and he'd been like this ever since.
His mom was a nurse, always working night shifts, so she was hardly ever home.
(*I'm alone.*)
The thought made his chest tighten painfully.
The refrigerator was completely empty.
He'd eaten the last cup ramen yesterday. Or maybe the day before.
His sense of dates was getting hazy.
He had time, but he couldn't do anything. He didn't want to do anything.
Haruto closed his eyes.
—The winter when he was seven.
A hospital corridor.
The smell of disinfectant.
The stark white fluorescent lights flickered on and off.
His mom was crying.
Even though she was an adult, she was crying out loud like a child.
Several relatives stood around, all looking at her with troubled expressions.
It was the day his dad died.
A work accident. He never came home.
His dad's face, covered by a white cloth, looked somehow like a wax doll.
Haruto was seven.
But somehow, he understood.
Dad wasn't coming back. Mom was all alone now. So he had to be strong.
So he ran to his mom's side and patted her back as she sobbed.
"It's okay! I'm here, right?!"
Even though he wanted to cry too.
Even though losing Dad made him feel lonely and scared.
(*I have to smile.*)
(*I have to cheer Mom up.*)
That was his earliest memory of forcing himself to smile.
On the day of the funeral, his aunts and relatives said things like:
*'Poor thing.'*
*'Without a father.'*
*'It's going to be so hard from now on.'*
He'd always hated those eyes.
Every time someone called him a poor thing, it reminded him that he'd lost Dad.
So Haruto smiled even more.
Brighter, more energetic.
Because if he did, everyone would feel relieved.
(*I never want to feel that way again.*)
Haruto clenched the futon tightly.
Sena. Ren. Akira.
They were all important to him. He loved them all.
But if he chose one, he would lose the others forever.
Just like the day he lost Dad.
"There's no way I can choose..."
Haruto's voice was swallowed up by the dark room.
(*I can't choose anyone.*)
(*Then, maybe I should just—*)
"Maybe I should just disappear."
The moment the words left his mouth, they settled deep in his chest with a quiet thud.
That was it. If he disappeared, no one would get hurt.
He wouldn't have to choose anyone.
Sena, Ren, Akira—none of them would vanish because of him.
Everyone would be saved.
"...I see."
(*What do you know, it's that simple.*)
Just as he thought that—
—Flash.
A light blazed from beneath his pillow.
"Wha—"
Haruto bolted upright.
He shoved the pillow aside. His smartphone screen was glowing—impossibly bright, pure white.
He couldn't even pick it up. It was too dazzling; he couldn't keep his eyes open.
The light grew stronger and stronger, dyeing the entire room white.
And then, on the wall.
On the wall that should have been dark, with the curtains still closed.
A torii gate materialized.
One hundred and eight stone steps.
That distorted photo from Minatozaka Shrine.
But this time, it wasn't a photo.
It was projected life-size across the entire wall, warping and twisting as if it were alive.
The darkness beyond the torii gate yawned open, deep, deeper, like a bottomless swamp.
And within that darkness—a human figure moved.
"Uwaaaaaah!!"
Haruto hurled his phone onto the bed.
It hit the wall with a thunk and clattered to the floor.
Still, the light didn't vanish. The torii gate on the wall grew larger, its form becoming clearer.
The figure was looking this way.
From beyond the torii gate, looking straight at him.
Panic seized him.
Haruto scrambled backward, his back hitting the wall.
(*What is this what is this what is this!!*)
At that moment—
*Clatter!!*
The veranda window burst open.
"Haruto! I finally found you! Don't you dare try to disappear on your own!!"
A white, fluffy, palm-sized creature came flying in.
It shot straight toward Haruto and latched onto his head.
*Pomf.*
Its large, round, black eyes were glistening with tears.
"Kapi...maru...?"
"That's right! You vanished for a whole week—do you have any idea how worried I've been?!"
Kapimaru fumed angrily atop Haruto's head.
In one tiny hand, for some reason, it clutched a melon bread.
As Haruto sat there dumbfounded, Kapimaru hopped onto his shoulder and sat down primly by the pillow.
"I searched all over the studio for you, you know. Then Marina Street, the shrine, all over town. For a Timekeeper to lose sight of a Singularity is an unforgivable failure."
So saying, Kapimaru took a bite of the melon bread.
"Where did you get that melon bread...?"
"In front of the convenience store melon bread vending machine. I borrowed one that a kind-looking girl dropped."
"You literally just picked it up off the ground."
"Minor details are unimportant. More importantly, this is bad."
Kapimaru pointed with its stubby hand—at the distorted torii gate projected on the wall.
The human figure was clearer now than before.
"The photo glowed, right? That means the boundary threshold has been decisively crossed. In two days, on the night of the full moon, this will swallow up the entire room."
"Swallow up...?"
"Literally. It means the fusion of worlds will begin. There's no more time to wait for your choice. If you don't choose, Sena's world and the what-if worlds where Ren and Akira exist will all mix together chaotically and be annihilated."
There it was again.
Choose, choose—everyone kept telling him to—
"...I should just disappear, right?"
"Haruto?"
"I can't choose. If I have to lose someone, I'd rather just not be here. No one gets hurt. That way everything works out neatly, doesn't it?"
Haruto laughed self-deprecatingly.
His double tooth caught on the edge of his dry lips.
The room fell silent.
The only sound was the squelching, writhing distortion on the wall.
Kapimaru was quiet for a moment.
Then it took another bite of the melon bread in its tiny hand.
"Do you remember that I'm one of only three Timekeepers in the entire universe?"
"...I remember."
"A Timekeeper's job is to monitor and manage the time of world lines. That's why there's only one per world line. And the only thing we can make contact with is a Singularity."
Kapimaru turned its large, black eyes toward Haruto.
Catching the light, the stars within its eyes seemed to twinkle and shimmer.
"I was alone for three hundred years."
"...Three hundred years."
"Yes. The other Timekeepers are in different dimensions, on different world lines. We can't meet or talk to each other. World lines aren't allowed to interfere with one another—that's the rule. So I was always alone. I never got to talk to anyone, touch anyone, or have anyone call my name."
With melon bread crumbs all around its mouth, Kapimaru continued in an airy, nonchalant tone.
"But you see, I'm a slacker, a failure of a Timekeeper. I'm really not supposed to get close to a Singularity. I'm not supposed to interfere with choices. And yet, I found the melon bread in your dressing room. And I just... couldn't help myself."
"Melon bread was what started all this?!"
"Yes. I absolutely love it. But more than that... maybe I just wanted to talk to you, Haruto."
Kapimaru's voice sounded just a little lonely.
"Three hundred years ago, when I took over this job from the previous Timekeeper, they told me something. 'Caring for someone is the flip side of caring for yourself.' At the time, I didn't understand what it meant. But watching you, I think I finally get it."
"...What do you mean?"
"You don't want to hurt anyone. You want Sena, Ren, Akira—everyone—to be happy. But choosing to disappear yourself means making all of them sad forever. Someone who can't treasure themselves can't truly treasure anyone else. So if you care about someone, you have to start by treasuring yourself."
Haruto caught his breath.
(*Treasure myself.*)
(*Have I ever treasured myself?*)
Ever since Dad died—ever since he was seven.
For Mom's sake. For someone else's sake.
He'd kept smiling because it made everyone feel at ease.
He'd always put his own feelings last.
"...I..."
Something grew hot deep in his chest.
A warmth welled up, spreading through him.
And then Haruto realized.
The words he'd said on the day of his father's funeral.
*'It's okay! I'm here, right?!'*
He hadn't been saying that to his mom.
He'd been saying it—to himself.
(*It's okay.*)
(*I'm okay.*)
He'd been scared, lonely, on the verge of tears.
So he'd been telling himself that.
Ever since that day, he'd been trying to cheer himself on.
"I... I said I wanted to disappear... I'm sorry..."
Tears streamed down Haruto's cheeks.
They fell onto the futon, one after another, leaving dark stains.
He was the one who hadn't been able to treasure himself.
Before caring about anyone else, he'd come to hate himself.
Kapimaru floated gently down and landed on Haruto's lap.
"Yeah. I wanted someone to choose me too, you know. For three hundred years, I was all alone, waiting centuries to meet a Singularity like you. So when you said you'd disappear, it made me really sad. I want you to stay."
"Kapimaru..."
At that moment—
—*Kiiiiiiin...*
A high-pitched metallic sound rang through the room.
A single ray of light leaked from the distorted torii gate on the wall.
The light stretched out in a straight line, pointing at the smartphone lying on the floor.
The screen lit up on its own—and the photo began scrolling automatically.
The photo of Minatozaka Shrine.
The distorted torii gate.
The human figure.
And then, deep within that photo—
A tiny point of light he'd never noticed before.
It expanded, filling the entire screen.
—Coordinates for Parallel Stabilization surfaced.
A string of numbers and symbols.
A map indicating the entrance to the boundary region between world lines.
"Huh? What is this—"
"This is... the Forbidden Notation of the Timekeepers!"
Kapimaru let out a startled cry.
"The Forbidden Notation?"
"Yes! It's a method for not completely separating two world lines, but stabilizing and fixing them in a parallel state! I thought it was just a legend! I heard about it from the previous Timekeeper, but there's never been a single recorded case of it actually succeeding—"
"So that means I don't have to choose?! I can keep both Sena's world and the world with Ren and Akira?!"
Haruto leaned forward eagerly.
"...I don't know. But theoretically, it should be possible. However, to enter the boundary region, the Singularity must go beyond their
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