Every day, I would pass by the Ushimitsudoki Aquarium. I would pass by and see people entering and exiting with pleased and awed faces. I would pass by and hear their animated chatter about the dolphin performances and the variety of fishes exhibited. And I would pass by and always get a glimpse of him.

On top of the aquarium was built a cubical room with an elongated glass window facing north. Every day, he would stand before the window, gazing at the sun. Every day, I would see him.

When I first saw him, the aquarium was in minor construction. I was taken back when my eyes happened to land on him, nevertheless. To think that a grown man would wear something outrageous like a diver's helmet and a leathery blue coat with a very high collar over his business suit was peculiar. What was he doing? Cosplaying? I resolved on that conclusion and made my way back home. The next day, I looked up and saw him again, donning the same outfit.

As days, weeks passed, the man began gaining more and more visitors to his aquarium. I eventually saw the new addition to his appearance: half of his helmet was gone. I remembered my eyes widening at the sight of seeing a young man with dark hair and a hooded eye. Before, I had imagined him to be looking out at the world with a manic gaze behind that helmet, mad eyes seeing the world under his dominance or something. Instead, however, his eye gave away a melancholy sense…

It became a habit of mine to tilt my head upwards and direct a five second stare at him. Although I've been doing this routinely, he never glanced down at me. I figured that it'd be that way, anyway; he seemed to be some pretentious money-bag administrator who wouldn't bother looking at the face of a common girl. I thought that fact would sway my routine, but his solemn face was something that my eyes couldn't stray from.

And then one day, the Ushimitsudoki Aquarium came into ruins.

Those who had gone to the aquarium the night prior mentioned about someone destroying the place from the inside out. The cube room was demolished, and it was never there again after the reconstruction. Along with it, I never saw that man again.

It wasn't every day where I would see that mysterious person, now I can say. My routine ended on that day. The more I pass by the aquarium, looking up and finding no one there to stare at the sun, the more curious I became. I eventually conjured the courage to ask the new director of where the original one had gone.

"He…left."

"But where did he go?" I questioned.

The man wearing a tall hat that was pulled over his face gave me a moment's pause before shrugging. "I don't know."

So it was left at that.

Still, it didn't satisfy me hearing that answer. I did whatever I could to find where he was. Upon my heavy research on the computer, I discovered that his name was Isana, and I also learned that he was the son of a deceased millionaire. Isana had established the aquarium years ago—that just made me realize how long it had been since I began my habit.

After awhile, I gave up. There was no point trying to find the man who had seemingly vanished from thin air; and even if I managed to successfully locate him, what then? Strike up a conversation as if things couldn't get possibly awkward? Ask him out on a date? Probe him with relentless questions? Yeah, that'll be swell.

For me, that was what every day turned out to be. Find new web pages about Isana, the Ushimitsudoki Aquarium, anything… And that final day was when I closed my laptop and sighed.

So that was what the end of my search became. I forgot about Isana soon enough and later graduated from college. I took up a career as an elementary teacher, got married, and had two kids. I moved on with my life like how any person should.

And yet, for some reason, I would have these odd dreams.

Every day, I dream of a dying whale.