Usagi returns to her home. The plan is ready, and she needs to make quick preparations. She lays her hands on the dresser. A mirror is in front of her. She takes a long glance into her eyes, gaining her composure. Usagi is fearless, but even the fearless have their moments. She taps on the wood and reaches for the handle. Inside, she delves for a new set of clothing before changing out of her school uniform.


    The air is heavy with noodles and a warm steam of tea brewing in the kitchen. She lingers, taking in her appearance. In eighteen years of life, she never saw herself getting in this much trouble or dragging along others with her.


    “Mom?” she says timidly. Around her mother, she is the same little girl.


    “Yes, love? Is everything all right?” she asks tenderly.


    She goes up to her, wrapping her arms around her waist; a leaning head is pressed into her back. From her back, she reveals an envelope, laying it down on the counter.


    “I’ve gotten more money from my job. It’ll help buy groceries for the next couple of months, Mom,” she says.


    “Your job pays you a lot. I do hope you aren’t getting into trouble again,” she says sternly.


    “N-no…”


    The faint sound of chopping on the cutting board fades, and her mother crosses her arms, peering down at the girl.


    “You remember what I taught you about lying?”


    “I- I’m sorry, Mom, I just hate disappointing you…” she says, saddened.


    “Disappointing me is something I’d prefer over you lying,” she responds.


    Her mother has always had a touch of otherworldliness. A bell of a voice that can be gentle or harsh as needed. She drapes her cheek against her fingers.


    “I wish you’d understand that you’re more important to me than money. I don’t want to see you hurt.”


    “I won’t get hurt. I’m smarter than I used to be.”


    “Smarts doesn’t equate to sense all the time dear. You’re human, and all humans make mistakes.” Now, she is bending down in front of her. Usagi is reminded of her childhood. When she fell and wounded her leg, she tended to it. Whenever a girl or boy was mean to her in school, she held her, and whenever she needed someone when nobody else wasn’t available, her mother stood there beside her.


    “Be careful. I know you’re an adult now, but you’ll always be my baby girl.”


    “Yes, Mother, I promise you I’ll be careful from now on.”


    They embrace. Usagi feels the lie between her teeth, knowing what will happen later tonight. The image of her breaking her mother’s heart is unbearable.


    “Now get ready for dinner, I made udon tonight.”


    #


    The group is on a six-way call. They’re making their final preparations and are waiting for their parents to head off to bed.


    “Damn, man, I can’t say I ain’t nervous,” Okazaki breaks the silence.


    “Why are you nervous, Okazaki? Out of everyone here, I thought you would have the most fun with that rebellious spirit of yours,” Ishimoto says, doing his homework on call.


    “Yeah, man, but like, we actually could get killed tonight, and I don’t know about you all, but I ain’t a fan of being buried six feet under at eighteen years. Barely started to live.” Okazaki kicks the side of his bed softly.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    “Yeah, I don’t want to either. I still have so much life to live, foods to try, games to play like we can’t die, so we have to make sure everything is perfect.” Keiko blares.


    “I think it’ll be all right. Usagi knows what she’s doing. I trust her,” Takei reassures.


    “Eh, well, I’ll admit, guys, that I do know more than most about them. I can’t guarantee that I’ll be right in every regard. I’ve heard through tales of cultists more than the Remnants themselves,” she states.


    “We better hope you’re right! Like, hell, if one of us dies tonight, I ain’t gonna ever get over that for real, so you all better stay alive!” Okazaki says.


    There is silence; they hold to the belief that it’ll be fine, but none of them are escaping the reality of risk.


    “That’s the intention. We just have to be sneaky, like when we used to play hide-and-seek at the park. If we do that, it’ll be an easy victory for us.” Takei tries to calm everyone. It seems to work.


    “Yeah, yeah! Also, also! My parents are off to bed. What about you all?” Keiko shoots from her bed, starting her sneaking out process.


    “Passed out an hour ago, I’m already near the city hall with Ishimoto,” Okazaki says.


    “Yes indeed. We are scouting from the bus stop.”


    “Mother is in bed, I’m heading out,” Usagi says.


    “What about you, Takei?” Keiko asks last.


    “My father. He’s out at the bar, I believe. He won’t check my room. I’m just getting some stuff really quick.”


    “All right! In that case, I’m heading to city hall right now. See you guys there!” Keiko hangs up, followed by everyone else, until Takei is alone.


    Takei bows her head into the pillow. The memories of Shoji play in her head. None of them can go on without him, his smile so joyous, his down-to-earth lazy personality. It makes her chuckle, and she rises from her bed, grabs her backpack, and heads down the stairs.


    To her surprise, the television is on. It is a romantic TV show where one boy confesses his love to the one who always wanted him. The TV flickers off the lampshade and her eyes draw on it. An odd shadow scurries across it as she lets out a gasp.


    Her feet move on their own as they take her to the living room, the black light dropping over the fence-like wall. It appears to her in reality, but reality feels lost, and the weight of the world a million times lifted. And a voice.


    “Destiny comes for all.”


    “Who said that?” she says, jolting her head around the room. She stares up at the ceiling, a hand basking over the brown-hued roofing. It lowers down, and she swears it grabs her before it stops. The hand hovers, a figured shadow of an invitation.


    “Destiny. Can not be avoided.”


    The hand gives off a glow. She can taste the icy air. A black void beneath her, she’s dragged down into the depths. There is nothing here. Darkness.


    “Please end this nightmare…”


    The void vanishes. Takei awakens on the sofa, and the show is going on, the same as her dream. Was I just dreaming?


    She gets a text on her phone, and when she reads it, it’s Keiko. “Hey, slowpoke, come on down, we’re all waiting for you!”


    The time on her phone reads thirty-three minutes later. She wonders if she has been so tired that she plopped herself on the couch, waiting for the right time to join everyone. Her bag and things remained beside her. She messages back. “On my way now.”


    Getting up, she grabs her things and makes her way out the door. She pauses, staring at the living room. Everything is normal, nothing out of place, nothing unusual. What have these dreams been? Her eyes dart away, and she runs out the door.


    The distant sound of crickets and low hums of electrical wires buzz. Tapping her feet down onto the pavement, she gets closer to the bus stop. City hall being a ways away, she decides to take late-night transit. It has become more common for buses to run later since the insurgency of government jobs. It is an effort to dissuade the rising concerns of Mr. Nuke Happy and his gang of thugs. Bases pop up around Japan, and the local city has a wealth of them. The bus stop owners figured why not capitalize on it— civilian and government workers alike with a twenty-four-hour cycle. A shady business practice that has only become more common in the world.


    Waiting at the bus stop, she props her bag behind her back, acting as a pillow. The wind chill is cutting during the night. She holds her shoulders, running her hands up and down, seeking the warmth of her body heat. Soup would be wonderful right now. I hope Shoji isn’t too cold.


    The bus arrives, and it’s full of people. A sight that never would have been seen five years ago. They have all these people working and traveling and dead of night. It is sad knowing there are empty beds at home to Takei.


    Paying her toll, she goes to take an open seat. Nobody is sharing it with her, which calms her mind, pressing her bag to the open seat. None of these people are going to city hall. That part of town is dead at this time, even with all these changes. Only those bases off the shoreline where her father works have any activity at this time.


    Leaning against the glass, she stared at the town lights like fireflies in the after dark. She remembers her birthday. It’s tonight.


    To think the first hours of her adult life were going to be spent trying to save her friend’s life. She giggles lightly at the thought. She wouldn’t have it any other way, as the bus takes off down the street heading for downtown.