"President Xi Jinping of China announced his plans to attend the reunification ceremony of North and South Korea on Thursday. Jinping, in an official press conference, was in a jovial mood as he announced he would be departing Beijing in the coming weeks for a private meeting with Chairman Kim Jong Un in Pyongyang before venturing to the ceremony venue, slated to be hosted at the JSA."
"The reunification talks, spearheaded by President's Donald Trump and Moon Jae-in, are being applauded as one of the greatest peacemaking moments of the 21st century. Trump took no hesitation in expressing his delight in the plans for reunification, tweeting this morning "A beautiful era of peace will soon be upon us. Two nations separated by 76 years of turmoil will finally be reunited. The world is looking at all of us, TheBlueHouseENG ChairmanKJU!"
"In advance of the ceremony, the heavily fortified border dividing the two Koreas is opening. Troops from the North Korean side were photographed smiling and exchanging candies with their South Korean counterparts last week, as..."
The TV droned on, but Kazuma Odaka paid it no mind. He sat on the edge of his bed lacing up his faded sneakers, his headphones plugged in.
It was about 10'oclock at night, with the drone of cicadas buzzing outside his small residence. This area of Hokkaido was about as remote as it gets; the closest you could get to civilization was the farmers town about a mile down the road, unless you took a train to one of the bigger cities. With a population of less than two hundred, the town of Unmei was the perfect place to get away from it all.
He was lean, about 5'6 with messy brown hair, combed away to show off his dark green eyes. Kazuma wasn't one to work out, but he wasn't a slouch. A firm build, with toned arms and an abundance of stamina. Despite spending about 80 percent of his day indoors at his workstation, he had somehow managed to stay in shape. Even so, he was beginning to find the walk to the market at the end of the week becoming more and more of a chore.
Kazuma Odaka was only 19 years old, a recent graduate of the Osaka Institute of Technology (with a background in coding and software development). He had spent his childhood in the Chiba Prefecture with his one-parent family before moving to Osaka for college. After graduation, his grandmother had offered him ownership of an unused house that was apart of her farming lands as a graduation gift. Kazuma happily accepted, and moved in right away.
It wasn't a bad life, despite living so far away from the hustle and bustle of Japan's gleaming cities like Tokyo. The townsfolk are always humble and mostly keep to themselves, more preoccupied with tending to their fields then butting into other people's business. The kind of people you could rely on if you needed a cup of sugar, and very traditional in the Japanese sense (a majority of them, mainly the elders, still used flip phones).
But still, being so far away from the rest of the connected world did have its drawbacks. You only saw another human being when you went into town to stock up on food and necessities, and even then it was only for a few moments. Living by yourself with no roommates or pets meant for a very reclusive lifestyle, what with only having to worry about yourself. This led to a very Internet-reliant lifestyle for Kazuma, spending his time on social media and various message-boards.
Kazuma stood up from his bed and inspected his wardrobe in the mirror. A simple green and black jumpsuit, with ordinary black sneakers to match. Not the fanciest look ever, but it wasn't like he had anybody to impress.
Sigh.
Nobody to impress.
Kazuma grabbed his backpack hanging off his desk chair and swung it on his back. He grabbed his keys sitting on the table and started to head out the door.
Glancing back, he took one last look at his bedroom. The soft glow of his screensaver (only a man of taste would have Nico Yazawa as his screensaver) reflecting on his keyboard. The hum of his mini-fridge. The smell of strawberry air freshener. The twin, ceiling-height bookshelves full of both common and rare anime figurines, manga collections and premium badges to conventions. His messy bedspread.
How could a home be so devoid of life?
He looked down at his watch. 10:31pm. The train to Sapporo would leave at 11.
Kazuma sighed. Better get going.
Quietly, he closed the door to his bedroom.
…
The bus creaked and bounced along the unpaved dirt path, the occasional backfire breaking the still air. Streams of sunlight shined down against Kazuma, who had two large plastic bags stuffed with merch at his feet. Kazuma squinted as he tried to cover his phone from the sunlight, blocking his view of an anime conventions homepage.
For Kazuma, it was a successful trip; having friends who work at the biggest collectible store in the city has its perks. After waiting all night, he had managed to get his hands on the latest dealer-exclusive fan pack of Parfait Girls: Kappukēki to Furosutingu no Sekai. This particular fan-pack came with a copy of all two seasons signed by the creator, some exclusive artscrolls and goodies, and (get this) a figureset of the main four girls! This fanpack was anticipated for months now, and biddings on the first pre-orders were skyrocketing in value.
And Kazuma now had it in his possession!
The bus took a curve. Kazuma pulled the bell as the bus started to slow down at his stop. It took a moment for Kazuma's eyes to adjust to the harsh light. Puffy white clouds swirled up in the sky above, but did nothing to conceal the sun. The air was hot and almost sticky to the skin, with the swampy marshlands of the farmer's fields just close by. If Kazuma squinted, he could see the rusted old Honda trucks snaking up the hillside, carrying today's bounty of crops.
Up ahead on the path, a girl was walking towards him. Well, not towards him, but in his general direction (you get the picture). She was looking down at her phone, a pair of white headphones snaking up to her ears. Short, with dark brown hair leading into two short ponytails on her shoulders. Wearing a casual T-shirt and faded blue-jean shorts behind a muddied white apron, a pair of gardening tools in the front pocket.
Kazuma couldn't help but cast his eyes behind him as she walked past. She was definitely pretty, no makeup or anything like that. Nice figure. He had never seen a girl like her before. Maybe one of the local farmer's daughters? Kazuma wouldn't know, he had only interacted with the elders in market, and he had barely seen anyone of his own age in town before.
In the back of his head, his mother's jaunt teasing of him before he had first packed his belongings to move to Osaka repeated in his head. "You better not just stay in your dorm and study all day, Kazu! I want grandkids one day, you know!", she would shout at the door of his bedroom while he folded his clothes.
Sigh.
Back behind him, Kazuma could hear the greasy, pained backfire of a truck, the squealing of tires against gravel.
Kazuma turned.
The girl was crossing the path. The delivery truck was barreling down at her, with no sign of stopping.
"Hey!"
Kazuma started to sprint forward, dropping his bags.
"Hey, lady! Watch out!"
The girl couldn't hear her.
Kazuma could feel his heart pounding, his breaths getting harder.
"Lady, watch out! Hey! Slow it down! Stop!" He started to shout with an almost desperation in his voice.
Kazuma could smell the oil and feel the heat of the rubber now. In the blinding light of the sun, Kazuma could hear the roar of the bus speeding closer, see the metal grille and plastic headlamps.
He dived forward.
For a brief moment, Kazuma felt the odd sensation of his body flying through the air. It was almost like he was a feather, floating daintlessly in the wind.
Then blackness.
…
Could it have been hours? Days? Weeks, even? Kazuma isn't sure, but he awoke with a start, gasping for air. It had felt like his entire body had been compressed into a cube, only to be stretched out and returned to form. He was lying face down on the ground, and groggily got up on his knees.
Kazuma glanced around his surroundings (if you could call them surroundings). All around him was nothing but pitch black emptiness, as black as an abyss. There was a soft ringing in his ears, from the lack of sound. A faint white light shined down on Kazuma, but he couldn't identify where it was coming from.
Kazuma looked down; he was still in his green-black jumpsuit.
Where the hell am I?
"Hello?" he called to nobody.
There was no response. There was no echo. There was nothing.
"Hello? Anybody? Somebody!" Kazuma called out, a trace of desperation in his voice.
He stood up. The ground was...bouncy. Kazuma wobbled for a bit, trying to gain his footing. It was so weird, he thought. It was like the kind of rubber flooring you'd find at a children's playpark, like walking on a trampoline.
"Kazuma Odaka."
The boy turned back.
Before him was perhaps one of the prettiest girls Kazuma had ever seen before. She had flowing brown hair, tied up with a dazzling white bow. Her silky hair bounced around in sheets by her waist. Sparkling emerald green eyes matched a fresh, pure face. The girl was wearing what looked (to Kazuma) like a medieval costume, with a blue-white vest, detached sleeves and thigh-high boots.
She's so pretty, Kazuma thought to himself.
In her hand was a very thick-covered, maroon book, the pages opened up to what looked like the end of the book. Torn ribbons dripped down from the binding.
The beautiful girl spoke again.
"My name is Monika. Welcome to the afterlife."
