Yuta was just playing on his computer like always.
But then, his vision blurred.
"?"
He was in some dark place.
'Did I fall asleep?' He thought.
He tried to stand himself up. 'Huh? for some reason I cant feel my arms'.
He tried to move his arms again.
Nothing.
But something did move—his entire body shifted instead, pressing outward.
The space around him creaked.
The thin shell that he was in tore, and light poured in.
It burned.
Yuta flinched—if that's what it even was—his body recoiling instinctively. The light was too bright, too sharp, stabbing into senses he didn't understand.
Air rushed in next.
Cold.
It hit him all at once, and he felt it—actually felt it—against his entire body. Not skin. Something else.
He pushed again.
The crack widened.
With a brittle snap, the shell gave way completely, and he tumbled out onto a rough surface.
Everything felt wrong.
Too open. Too cold. Too… big.
It felt as if he didnt belong here.
He tried to breathe, but it came out as a strange, uneven motion. His body moved, but not in the way he expected.
"What… is this…?"
His vision blurred, struggling to adjust. Shapes slowly formed—colors, shadows, something towering above him. The world was massive.
And he was small.
Very small.
Very small.
Something shifted nearby.
Yuta froze.
A faint sound—wet, uneven breathing—cut through the silence.
His body reacted before his mind could.
It moved.
Not forward. Not with steps.
It dragged itself.
Each motion was clumsy, unnatural, yet driven by something deeper than thought. The ground scraped against him as he closed the distance.
There.
A shape lay slumped against the ground.
Twisted. Broken.
Dark fluid pooled beneath it.
Alive.
The word didn't form in his mind.
But he knew.
Something inside him tightened—pulled—demanded.
Closer.
Closer.
He reached it.
The moment he made contact—
Heat.
Pulsing. Fading, but still there.
Without hesitation, his body surged forward.
He pressed into the wound.
The world vanished.
—
Pain.
It hit all at once.
Not sharp. Not dull.
Everywhere.
Yuta—no, something—jerked.
The world snapped back into place, but it wasn't the same.
It tilted.
Shifted.
Too wide.
Too… low.
He tried to move.
A few limbs twitched.
Not the way he expected.
Too long.
Too light.
It scraped against the ground with a dry, uneven sound.
His breathing came in jagged bursts—each one dragging through something thick, something damaged.
Wrong.
Everything was wrong.
His vision stuttered, then steadied.
The world was clearer now.
Sharper.
He could see the ground beneath him—dark, uneven, stained.
His body moved again.
This time, it lifted—barely.
Unstable.
Like it didn't belong to him.
Or like he didn't belong to it.
A pulse ran through him.
Not his.
But it was weakening.
Fading.
Dying.
Something in him reacted.
Not thought.
Not fear.
Just—
Hold.
His body tensed.
The movement stopped.
Then slowly—
very slowly—
it steadied.