"Oi, Edward, come on. You've been rotting in here like some kind of literary corpse. It's time to live a little."
Edward leaned back in his chair, joints cracking from disuse. "Taki, I have a major exam. If I fail, my family's going to kill me. You know what it costs to send an international student to Tokyo University?"
Taki Mishimora—best friend, professional nuisance—kicked the door shut with his heel and grinned. "Sure, but you'll kill yourself first at this rate. This place smells like wet dog and despair. When was the last time you even showered?"
Edward swiveled slightly to squint at him. "When was the last time you bought pants that fit?"
Taki wore sagging cargo shorts and a "Hot Mama" T-shirt that clung to him like desperation. He rubbed his bare chin like a cartoon villain. "I may not have hygiene, but I've got charisma."
"Delusion," Edward corrected. "You've got delusion."
Taki laughed, stepping over a battlefield of ramen cups and wrinkled shirts. "How long have you been in this cave? You used to be a person. Now you're some kind of... academic cryptid."
Edward exhaled. "My grandfather didn't drop ten grand for me to party through chemical engineering."
"Sure, but he didn't say to become a ghost either."
Edward's gaze drifted. His desk, his notes, his life—crammed into a shoebox dorm. His eyes slid past the clutter to a window smeared with months of grime. Beyond it: Tokyo's skeletal skyline. Alien. Unyielding.
Then further, into the past—snow-covered pine, a rusted pickup, the click of a cassette player in his dad's truck. A time when life breathed slower.
Taki waved a hand. "Oi. Rocket man. Earth to Edward."
He blinked. "Sorry. Zoned out."
"Again. You've been like this since—well, you know." Taki's voice lost its usual sharpness for a beat. "Look, tonight's low stakes. Hitori and Kai are in. Come out with us."
Edward groaned. "The two dumbest people in this building."
Right on cue, two shadows appeared in the doorway. Kai and Hitori stepped in, arms crossed.
"We are not dumb," Hitori said flatly. "We just refuse to waste brain cells on plebeians."
Edward smirked. "Is that why you keep using my Netflix account?"
Kai grinned. "We're offering you charity. We're going out, we're going to drink irresponsibly, and we might—might—let you join."
Edward rose, stretching like someone waking from cryosleep. His shirt clung to him like regret. "Fine. Let me shower. You idiots owe me."
Taki clapped his back. "Ten minutes. Don't bail."
As they turned to leave, Taki lingered. "You've been hiding since the funeral. I know it hurts. But you can't keep bleeding in the dark."
He stepped out. The door clicked shut.
Edward stared into the silence. Then he heard it.
"Relax your shoulders, Ed. You'll burn out before you even start."
He froze.
That voice. That cadence.
"...Dad?"
He spun. Empty room. Just fluorescent flicker and the dull hum of a computer fan.
Memories surged like bile—his sister's voice, brittle with grief: "It was the highway. A truck drifted—there was nothing they could do."
He didn't realize he was shaking until his fingers clenched. The air in the room seemed to press against his skin.
"Shut the f*** up," he whispered, not sure if it was to the voice or himself. He slammed a fist into the wall and stumbled to the shower.
Ten minutes later, the trio waited in the dorm lobby. Hitori stared too long at a group of passing girls.
Kai smacked his shoulder. "Tone it down, freak."
One girl whispered something. The group picked up pace.
Then Edward descended, clean, sharp, composed. Jeans, crisp white button-down, hair slicked back. The transformation was surgical.
"There he is," Taki said. "Back from the dead."
Edward smirked. "Had to stop looking like a roach peeled off a couch."
Laughter. Momentum. They pushed out into Tokyo's night.
They cut through the streets like a gang of misfit archetypes. The city pulsed—vending machines glowing like eyes, power lines buzzing like whispers. A drunk businessman stumbled past, muttering a song that hadn't been popular in twenty years.
Then Edward froze. At the edge of his vision, a figure stood still.
Black suit. White porcelain mask.
Motionless. Watching.
He blinked. Gone.
"I'm losing it," he muttered.
High above, the masked man stood on the rooftop, a crimson scarf fluttering like a dying flame. He raised a radio to his lips.
"I have found him."
Kabukicho welcomed them with fluorescence and filth. Tokyo's red-light district was an open wound, dressed in neon. Desire, shame, fantasy—all for sale.
Taki lifted his arms. "Gentlemen! We have arrived!"
He pulled out a highlighter-scarred map. "Tonight, we conquer the district."
Edward laughed. "You planned a route?"
"Fun takes logistics."
They began their crawl. Shots, karaoke, clubs with overpriced cover charges and underdressed hostesses. Hours bled into each other. By 2:50 a.m., the world blurred.
Hitori got kicked out of a hostess bar for dancing on a table. Kai bought three lemon sours for the same girl—she vanished five minutes later. Taki tried to flirt in Spanish.
Edward drifted. Present, but not. Laughing, but always with a delay.
At one point, he looked up and saw her.
A girl with silver hair. Just a glimpse—long coat, empty eyes. Watching. She turned a corner and was gone.
Edward didn't mention it.
They stumbled into a quiet alley. Lights flickered. Trash rustled. Edward tripped on uneven concrete and hit the ground.
"What a night," he groaned.
Taki hiccuped. "I feel like a balloon cut loose from gravity!"
A cop across the street narrowed his eyes. Taki instantly deflated.
Kai cackled. "Look at this guy—folds like paper."
Edward chuckled. Then stopped.
Again—the mask. Just for a second. Still. Watching.
"Did you guys see that?"
Hitori scoffed. "The roach sees ghosts now."
Edward didn't answer.
Then Kai bumped into someone.
"Sorry!" he said, bowing.
The man smiled. Too white teeth. Impeccably tailored black suit. Eyes like antique glass.
"You boys seem to be enjoying yourselves."
"Host?" Kai asked.
The man laughed. "No. I own a bar nearby. Kitsunebi."
Edward stiffened. That name. He didn't know it, but something deep in his spine did.
"Kitsunebi?" he echoed.
The man smiled wider. "We serve drinks... that help you remember what you've forgotten."
His gaze fixed on Edward. The street behind them seemed to hush.
Edward whispered, "We need to leave."
Taki grinned. "You're always suspicious. Trust people sometimes."
Then, louder: "Sure, buddy. Lead the way."
The man bowed. "A wise choice."
They walked in silence. Edward counted the steps. Twenty. Thirty. Forty-five. His stomach churned with something he couldn't name.
Then they stopped.
Unmarked building. Dark wood. Hanging paper lanterns. A noren curtain over the door, inked with a single word: Kitsunebi.
The scent of incense floated through the air—like dried leaves and forgotten shrines.
The man slid the door open.
"Welcome. I hope your stay is... unforgettable."
Taki entered first, humming tunelessly. Kai and Hitori followed, shoulders brushing the curtain.
Edward stood outside a moment longer. The alley behind him was silent.
One deep breath.
He stepped through.
And the door slid shut behind them.
Collect it if you want more.