Yakuya sat on his bed, phone in hand, lazily scrolling through social media.
Outside, snow blanketed the streets, turning the world into a white silence. The cold was sharp enough to bite through the walls, yet inside his room, a cup of warm cocoa between his hands made everything feel… distant, almost peaceful.
It had been days since the storm began—days that felt both endless and strangely still.
And yet, deep down, Yakuya couldn't shake the quiet feeling that something about those recent days had changed.
The sound of the door creaking open pulled him back to reality.
He looked up to find his father stepping into the room, his expression calm but unreadable.
Father: "Yakuya, do you have a moment?"
Yakuya (placing his phone aside): "Sure, Dad. What is it?"
His father sat down at the edge of the bed, his movements slow, deliberate—like he was choosing his words carefully.
Father: "There's something I'd like to talk to you about."
A small knot tightened in Yakuya's chest. The tone in his father's voice wasn't angry… just heavy.
Still, he nodded silently, waiting.
Father (gently, but firm): "I know things haven't been easy lately.
But I want you to remember—whatever it is you're going through, you don't have to carry it alone. If something's bothering you, you can always talk to me."
Yakuya's eyes flickered toward his father's face. The words caught him off guard.
His father was a man of few emotions, calm and distant most of the time.
To hear him speak like this… it felt unusual, almost unsettling.
Yakuya (hesitant): "I'm fine, really. It's just… a few things happened lately. Made me think, that's all."
His father nodded slowly, eyes steady and kind.
Father: "I see.
Just don't let your thoughts swallow you, Yakuya.
Sometimes, silence can grow too loud if you stay in it for too long."
The room fell quiet again.
Outside, snowflakes tapped softly against the windowpane—gentle, rhythmic, almost like a heartbeat.
Yakuya didn't answer. He only stared at the window, the reflection of his father beside him faintly visible in the glass.
And for a fleeting moment… he wondered if his father somehow knew more than he was letting on.
Yakuya took a slow breath and offered a small, reassuring smile.
Yakuya (smiling): "Thank you, Dad. I'll be fine."
Father (smiling back): "If you ever need to talk… don't hesitate."
His father stood, gave him a gentle nod, and quietly left the room.
The soft click of the door closing left Yakuya in a silence that felt heavier than before.
Relief lingered somewhere deep inside him—but beneath it, a quiet unease began to stir.
He sat there for a while, staring at the dim light filtering through the window blinds, lost in thought.
Then, as if trying to drown out his own mind, he picked up his phone again and started scrolling through social media.
Among the endless stream of posts and short clips, one video caught his attention.
A man appeared on screen, his face half-shrouded in shadow, speaking in a calm yet oddly captivating tone.
Man in the video:
"Hello, everyone. I'm a researcher of unexplained phenomena.
If you've ever experienced something strange—something you can't explain—then this message is for you.
There are things in this world that defy logic… things most people refuse to see.
But I'm here to help you understand."
Yakuya's thumb hovered over the screen.
Each word seemed to pull him in deeper.
Was this man just another conspiracy theorist chasing myths online… or could he actually have answers?
Yakuya (thinking):
"I switched bodies with her… and she switched with me.
That can't be real.
Was it all just a dream?
Or… is there something more to it?"
A chill crept up his spine.
He hesitated for a few seconds, then opened the man's contact link in the video description.
If there was even a small chance this person could explain what had happened, he had to try.
His fingers trembled slightly as he typed the message.
Yakuya:
"Hello. I went through something strange—I switched bodies with someone, and I still don't understand how it happened.
Can you help me figure it out?"
He stared at the message for a few moments before pressing send.
The message icon disappeared, and silence filled the room once more.
Only the faint hum of the heater and the soft fall of snow outside accompanied him—
and yet, deep down, he felt as though something—or someone—had just started listening.
He hit send, then sat back and stared at the screen, watching the small message bubble disappear.
For a long moment, he didn't move. His mind swirled with possibilities—some hopeful, others terrifying.
Maybe this man really did have answers. Maybe he could finally make sense of everything.
Then, a soft ping broke the silence.
A reply had arrived.
The Interpreter:
"Alright. Four days from now, come to the location I'll send you.
Tell me everything that happened.
I'll be waiting."
Yakuya stared at the message, uncertain how to feel.
His response was simple.
Yakuya:
"👍👍"
He set the phone aside, his thoughts a tangle of curiosity and unease.
Four days—just four days until he might uncover the truth behind what had happened.
Or perhaps, he thought grimly, it would only lead to darker questions.
In the days that followed, Yakuya couldn't stop replaying everything in his head—the strange sensations, the fleeting memories, the moments that didn't quite belong to him.
Maybe that body-swap had been nothing more than a hallucination.
Or maybe… something far deeper had been set in motion.
Four days later
The snow had melted, though the air was still sharp with cold, and rain traced soft lines down the windows.
Yakuya woke abruptly, his breath catching in his throat.
Something was wrong.
The air felt different. The bed sheets. The faint scent in the room.
He turned his head toward the window just as the first strands of dawn light slipped through the curtains.
A strange, heavy familiarity pressed on him—one he couldn't mistake.
He bolted upright, heart pounding, and stumbled toward the mirror.
The reflection that stared back at him… wasn't his.
It was hers.
Mitsuko.
Her face. Her body. Her voice when he gasped in shock.
It had happened again.
Inside his mind, panic clashed with confusion.
Why?
How?
Wasn't it over?
Hadn't it all been just a dream?
Before he could make sense of any of it, the door creaked open.
An old, gentle voice filled the quiet room.
Grandmother (softly):
"You're up early today, Mitsuko. That's unusual for you. Is everything alright?"
Yakuya froze.
The way she said it—so naturally, as if she had seen this all before—sent a chill through his spine.
He turned toward her, unable to find the right words.
The nightmare… had begun again.
Yakuya, trying to gather his thoughts, managed to reply with a shaky voice,
"Y-Yeah... everything's fine. I was just... thinking about something. Nothing important."
The grandmother didn't seem to notice anything strange.
But inside, confusion and panic twisted in his chest.
He had to meet the interpreter—but how could he do that like this?
Why was he back in Mitsuko's body again?
As he prepared to leave, something suddenly clicked in his mind.
Today… was the first day back at school.
Of course.
Because being trapped in someone else's body wasn't stressful enough—he now had to survive a full day as a high school girl.
At the doorway, the grandmother watched him with calm, knowing eyes.
Her voice carried that same firm tenderness as always.
Grandmother (firmly):
"Go on now, you'll be late for school!"
Yakuya's inner voice screamed.
School? Really? I'm a guy stuck in a girl's body, and that's the first thing you tell me?!
He forced a small smile.
Yakuya (awkwardly):
"...Right. School."
The grandmother approached, holding out a pink coat.
Grandmother:
"It's cold out. Wear this."
He stared at the fluffy pink thing as if it were a declaration of war.
Pink? Seriously? Do I have to walk outside like this?!
Reluctantly, he slipped his arms through the sleeves, muttering under his breath,
Yakuya:
"Sure... thanks."
Then she pointed toward the living room.
Grandmother:
"Don't forget your lunch box—I left it on the table."
He sighed.
At least food doesn't care what body I'm in.
He grabbed the box and turned to leave, trying not to trip over Mitsuko's shoes.
The grandmother chuckled softly, unaware of the storm raging inside him.
How am I supposed to survive an entire school day like this?
And more importantly... how am I going to meet that interpreter while I'm stuck in her body again?
The morning light poured through the window as he stepped outside—
and with it, the unsettling realization that this day was only going to get stranger.