I still had rent to pay, a job I hated, and now, apparently, an immortal voice in my head. I dressed anyway because the universe didn't care whether I was falling apart or not. Bills still existed, which meant so did I.
"Going somewhere?" Dakavoth's voice was calm, detached, the kind that made it impossible to tell if he was curious or mocking.
"Work," I said, buttoning my uniform. "Because capitalism doesn't pause for existential crises."
He didn't respond. For a moment, I wondered if he'd vanished, or if I was just talking to myself again.
"You're quiet," I muttered, reaching for my jacket.
"I'm listening."
"To what?"
"You," he said. "Trying to pretend any of this still matters."
I stopped for a moment, staring at the floor. "Yeah, well. Somebody has to."
I stepped outside, and the world greeted me with sirens, holo-ads, and the faint smell of fried noodles. Minagawa City was typically loud, soaked in cheap light and cheaper hope. Every corner sold something that promised safety: suppressants, Halo Division enlistment, or religion repackaged as pharmaceuticals. Because naturally, survival had become a business model.
The rain had stopped, but the sky still looked bruised. I shoved my hands in my pockets as I walked. "Alright," I said, half to myself. "You mind explaining how the hell you're in my head?"
There was silence at first. Only the buzz of a broken street sign and the shuffle of pedestrians trying not to look at anyone.
Then he finally said, "Because you didn't die."
"That's not much of an answer."
"It's the only one that matters. You should have ceased to exist, but you didn't. That makes you... unusual."
"Unusual's one way to put it," I said. "I'd call it inconvenient."
"It's not inconvenience. It's defiance."
I raised a brow. "So, what, we're just sharing a lease now?"
"If you need to think of it that way."
"Perfect," I muttered. "A cosmic squatter."
There was silence again. Not the peaceful kind, but the heavy, watchful kind that made the air feel aware of itself.
"You carry apathy like armor," Dakavoth said finally. "You mistake it for strength. However, apathy is still surrender, only slower."
I didn't answer. Because he wasn't wrong, and admitting that would've felt like agreeing with a monster who decided to live rent-free in my skull.
By the time I got to MegaMart, I'd already tuned out the world. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead like a dying insect as I clocked in. Kelly Ramsey, my manager, was already on her daily power trip, a short woman with too much eyeliner and the temper of a grenade.
Kelly stood by the register, tapping her pen against a clipboard like she wanted to stab it through someone's neck. My name was probably written there in bold.
"Nakamura," she said, her tone cutting through the noise. "You were on shift last night, right?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said. "Why?"
"The system logged a miscount in stock. Two missing boxes of ration packs."
I frowned slightly. "I understand, ma'am. But I was assigned to aisle maintenance last night, not storage. Maybe there's been a mix-up."
She stared at me like she was trying to decide whether I was lying or just too tired to care. Then she raised a small handbook and hit the side of my head with it. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to remind me who had power.
"Do I look like I'm running a debate club here?" she said.
"No, ma'am," I replied quietly. "Just trying to clear up the misunderstanding."
Her eyes narrowed. "Toilet duty. For the rest of the week."
I paused, then nodded once. "Understood."
She didn't even acknowledge me again. Just turned her back like I was a background noise she'd finally silenced and walked away. I picked up the mop bucket and turned too, jaw tight but expression blank. There was no point in arguing.
Inside my head, Dakavoth's voice rumbled, deep and disappointed.
"You accept this treatment? From a creature that can barely stand upright?"
I kept my voice low. "Because rent doesn't pay itself."
"Pathetic logic," he said. "You could rip her apart and no one would stop you."
"Probably," I muttered, pushing the mop toward the restroom. "But then I'd have to fill out paperwork. That's worse."
Dakavoth said nothing after that.
"I let them because murder's bad for business," I whispered under my breath.
A coworker stacking shelves nearby snorted. "Who the hell you talking to, freak?"
"My therapist," I said flatly. "He lives rent-free in my head."
The guy blinked, muttered something about me being insane, and walked away.
Hours crawled by. Cleaning, stacking, pretending. When you live a meaningless life long enough, you start to notice the details, the flicker of a lightbulb, the smell of cheap coffee, the fact that hope has the same color as spoiled milk.
By closing time, I was running on fumes. My hands smelled like bleach, my back ached, and my brain felt hollow. Another day survived. Barely.
The streets were half-empty, washed in flickering neon and the buzz of dying billboards. I kept my head down, walking past the closed stalls and holo-ads that still promised a better life to anyone desperate enough to believe them.
Then it hit, sharp, sudden, like someone had fired a railgun through my skull.
My knees almost gave out. I grabbed a lamppost for balance as white noise filled my head. The air around me seemed to warp, every sound bending in and out of focus.
"what the fuck—"
"Ah," Dakavoth said between laughter that wasn't quite human, "your body's remembering it isn't entirely yours alone anymore."
My vision blurred. The pain burned down my spine like fire. I fumbled in my pocket, pulled out the suppressants, and swallowed two.
The throbbing faded after a minute, replaced by silence and a mild sense of impending doom.
I looked down at the canister. Twelve pills left.
"Six days," I muttered. "The system really wants me dead."
I kept walking though. Neon lights bled into puddles along the street until something caught my eye, an alley that looked like every other alley, except this one had movement.
I took a few steps back.
A woman had a man pinned against the wall, her hand pressed to his chest. The victim's body trembled, light seeping from his eyes and mouth before fading altogether. He slumped lifelessly to the ground.
Another woman nearby shook in silence, eyes wide, paralyzed by fear.
I stared for a moment, and before I realized it, the word slipped out. "Gross."
That one word snapped the creature's head toward me. Her eyes glowed faintly red, veins dark and pulsing beneath her skin.
When the woman turned her head slightly, I realized I knew her.
"Kelly?" I said. "Huh. That explains the attitude."
Her lips peeled back in something between a smile and a snarl. "You shouldn't be here, Nakamura."
I didn't reply. There wasn't much to say. The street was quiet enough that the sound of her breathing filled the space between us.
Her body twitched, and before I could even process it, she blurred out of sight. A rush of air followed, and then, she was right in front of me. Her fist came flying toward my face, cutting through the air with a sound.
Two things surprised me.
First, that Kelly could move that fast.
Second, that I could see it, every muscle twitch, every motion, slowed to a crawl.
My hand came up before I even thought about it, catching her punch mid-air. The impact landed with a dull, heavy sound against my palm, and for a second, both of us just froze there—her eyes wide, mine steady.
I stared at our locked hands, then at her face. "That's new."
She didn't have time to answer. My other hand moved before my brain caught up, driving a single punch straight into her chest. The hit sent her crashing into the wall with a sound that cracked the concrete wall.
The woman behind her let out a choked breath and scrambled to her feet, stumbling until she ended up behind me. I could feel her trembling there, like I was some kind of shield.
I wasn't.
I felt something stir deep inside me, something that wasn't human, that wasn't kind. My vision tinted red, and my shadow stretched across the alley, warping into flame-like shapes that licked the walls.
The woman hiding behind me gasped.
"Now tell me," Dakavoth whispered, his voice spreading through my skull, "does it still feel wrong?"
I didn't answer. I just watched the crimson reflection in the puddle beneath my feet, the glow in my eyes, the trembling flame of my shadow.
Maybe it did feel wrong. Maybe it always would. But for the first time, it didn't matter.
Kelly stumbled back, growling as her arms twisted. Her bones cracking into grotesque new shapes, as her hands grew bigger. In seconds, they were four times their normal size. "You're going to regret that."
I smiled faintly.
"Doubt it."