**Warning: Dark contents ahead**
Hajime left the convenience store around ten o'clock in the evening, the familiar chime of the door echoing behind him. He offered Riku a quiet goodnight and stepped out into the night. Tonight, the wind was stronger than last night, a biting chill that seemed to cut directly into his bones. He pulled the hood of his thin jacket tighter over his head and walked out onto the empty street. At the crosswalk, he hesitated, standing for a long moment, weighing his decision—should he go to the station to meet June? He had built sturdy, safe walls around himself since Kenji had left him, since the shattering realization that Kenji, his first and last love, was truly gone. He had promised himself he would never love anyone again, convinced that true love was a fallacy, a painful illusion. He still remembered the way his classmates had stared at him after Keiji's public outing, the whispers and averted gazes. And after breaking up with Kenji and moving to another school, his mother had learned from his teachers that he was gay, deepening an already toxic, suffocating relationship between them.
Hajime had experienced heartache and humiliation for as long as he could remember, perhaps even before he learned to speak. He was determined to live alone for the rest of his life, a solitary existence. He knew that even if his life became lonely and boring, at least no one could hurt him anymore. As he was almost home, he saw his mother, Aimi, standing in front of their apartment building, flanked by two police officers. He heard her shrill screams even from a distance, her voice raw with drunken fury, as the two officers tried to calm her down.
"Hajime! You bastard!" Aimi shrieked wildly, her words slurred, her eyes blazing with irrational rage. "Hajime, get your ass out here right now! You are hiding with your bastard father in there, aren't you?! You want to live with him so he will no longer send me money! Get your ass out here!"
Hajime, a profound weariness settling over him, knew he couldn't face her, couldn't endure another public spectacle. He turned on his heel and ran towards the subway station, towards June.
An officer, a younger man, tried patiently to calm Aimi. "Please be respectful, ma'am."
"What are you going to do if I don't?!" Aimi roared angrily in her drunken stupor, pushing the officer away with surprising force. "I know my rights!"
The second officer, older and more experienced, exchanged a glance with his partner. "She's drunk."
"Let's take her to the hospital," the first officer sighed, already moving towards her.
Hajime thought it had been two hours since June had told him he would wait, so it was impossible that June was still there. But as he got closer, his heart gave a small, surprised leap. There, leaning against a cold pillar, bathed in the dim station light, was June, talking on his phone. Hajime started walking towards him, a reluctant hope flickering in his chest.
When June saw Hajime walking towards him, his eyes lit up, and a triumphant smile spread across his face. "Hey, I have to hang up now," he said into the phone, his voice too loud, too cheerful. "Our fish is swimming towards my bait."
On the conference call, his three friends' laughter echoed from the tiny speaker.
"Alright, okay," Akako's voice cut through the background noise. "Your stage is ready. I want to teach that fag a lesson tonight."
"I have to hang up," June said quickly, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He swiftly ended the call and shoved his phone into his pocket. He walked up to Hajime, his expression one of feigned surprise. "I didn't expect you to show up."
"I didn't intend to come," Hajime admitted, his voice low, "but something happened. I'd rather come here than stay at home."
"Well, now that you're here," June said, slinging an arm around Hajime's shoulders with casual ease, "I'll take you to have fun, and maybe you'll decide to stay with us."
June led Hajime to a lively, upscale bar, the kind Hajime would never step into on his own. Inside, Hajime saw that three of June's friends—Shi, Kota, and Akako—were already sitting at a secluded table, waiting. Hajime tried to avoid eye contact with Akako, a fresh wave of nausea rising at the memory of the storage room. June pulled Hajime down beside him, his arm still draped possessively around Hajime's shoulders. He looked directly at Akako, a smirk playing on his lips. "Akako, he is mine…"
Akako frowned, a pout on her perfectly made-up face. "Aw… does this mean I can't chase him anymore, right?"
June smiled, a thin, triumphant curve. "That's right."
Shi laughed, a coarse, mocking sound. "If you like him, our friend has no objection." He smiled suggestively at June. "How about giving your prince a kiss."
June's face darkened, his fake smile faltering. "What?"
Shi laughed harder. "Unless you're not serious about Hinode-kun."
June knew his friends were making fun of him, baiting him, but he couldn't lose face. He picked up a glass of some brightly colored liquor, a "kigai," and quickly drank it down, the liquid burning his throat. He then grabbed Hajime by the back of the neck, his grip surprisingly firm, and kissed Hajime forcibly. Hajime was stunned by the sudden, rough kiss, his mind going blank, the scent of alcohol filling his senses. Then, a sudden click of a camera pierced through the haze, and Hajime instinctively pushed June away, repulsion overriding his shock.
Hajime looked at June, who was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a look of frustrated embarrassment on his face.
Then Hajime's gaze flickered to June's three friends, who were openly laughing at June, their eyes fixed on the photo Shi had just taken on his mobile phone. A cold rage, rare and potent, surged through Hajime. He snatched Shi's mobile phone, his fingers surprisingly quick, tore out the SIM card with a frantic, desperate energy, and threw Shi's mobile phone on the ground, shattering it with a satisfying crunch. He then rushed out the door, desperate to escape, colliding violently with a man entering the bar.
"I'm sorry," Hajime mumbled, stumbling back.
"Hajime-kun."
Hajime looked up, his eyes widening in disbelief, and saw him. His first love. "Kenji-san…"
A beautiful woman stood beside Kenji, her hand resting gently on his arm. She smiled politely, her expression curious. "Kenji, do you know him?"
Kenji's face flushed slightly, an uncomfortable shift in his gaze. "Yes… he is Keiji's friend."
Hajime knew instantly. The woman standing beside Kenji, her quiet confidence, her gentle smile, she must be his fiancée, his wife. The revelation was a fresh, brutal stab to his already wounded heart. Hajime pushed past Kenji, not caring, desperate to escape this renewed humiliation, and rushed out onto the bustling street, running aimlessly into the night.
Hajime ran, the tears stinging his eyes, blurring the lights of the city. He didn't care where he was going, just that he had to get away. He veered into a dark, narrow alleyway, the stench of garbage suddenly filling his nostrils. Just as he entered, Shi materialized from the shadows, pushing Hajime to the ground so forcefully that his back slammed into one of the overflowing trashcans, the metal clanging painfully. Then Hajime saw another trashcan flying towards him. He instinctively blocked it with his arms, the plastic scraping his skin. Akako, her face lit by the glow of her cell phone screen, began to record the incident, her eyes glinting with malicious pleasure, while the three men—Shi, June, and Kota—began to circle him.
"You fag," Shi snarled, his face contorted with fury, "how dare you break my phone?!"
Hajime slowly pushed himself up from the ground, his body aching, his voice hoarse. "If you hadn't taken a picture, I wouldn't have done that."
Shi, enraged by Hajime's defiance, angrily picked up another trashcan and hurled it. The heavy trashcan hit Hajime squarely on the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Shi smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes. "Even though I don't like fag, I wouldn't mind fucking one tonight."
June, who had been standing back, watching with a disturbing amusement, laughed, a cold, calculating sound. "Hey, if you can fuck him here, Akako's money is yours and I'll double it."
Akako, still recording, her voice devoid of emotion, chipped in, "Besides, we can make more money by posting this online." She laughed, a chilling, predatory sound. "Pay to watch fresh homemade porn."
Shi stretched his hand forward, intending to grab Hajime, but Hajime, fueled by a surge of desperate adrenaline, hit his hand away. Shi shook his arm, giggled, a strange, high-pitched sound. "Ha… the prince still has strength."
Kota laughed, his voice thick with malicious intent. "Yes, it will be very difficult for your brother to get in if he doesn't cooperate."
Shi raised his fist and punched Hajime hard in the stomach. Hajime gasped, a ragged snort of pain escaping his lips. Shi then pushed Hajime violently to the ground, and the back of Hajime's head hit one of the trashcans with a sickening thud as he fell. Dazed, Hajime saw another trashcan flying towards him. He managed to block it with his arms again, the impact jarring his already aching body. June, Shi, and Kota descended upon him, a blur of fists and kicks, while Akako continued to record, her phone held steady, documenting every brutal blow.
Shi jumped on top of Hajime, straddling his knees, and roughly pulled down Hajime's pants, while June and Kota held Hajime's struggling hands, pinning him. Shi fumbled with the zipper of his own pants, kneeling between Hajime's legs, his face contorted in frustration. He snorted, "Fuck, I still can't get hard." Kota and June burst into mocking laughter. Shi got up, buttoned his pants, and then, in a fit of rage, kicked Hajime hard.
June, now fully enraged, kicked Hajime hard in the left abdomen. He shouted angrily, "Fag… Do you really think I really asked you out?!"
Shi giggled, a deranged sound. "June… You are too handsome, that this fag wants to date you. If you fuck him, I will pay you three times as much." He then delivered a brutal kick to Hajime's left ribcage.
Akako, her voice clear and authoritative, instructed, "Shi, move aside! I can't get a good recording of this fag's face!"
June laughed, pointing a derisive finger at Hajime, who lay crumpled on the ground. "Me fucking him? No way!" June was about to deliver another vicious kick when he saw it—blood gushing from Hajime's head, pooling on the grimy concrete. His eyes widened in sudden panic. "Damn it…"
Hajime could barely see from his left eye, which was now blinded by the sticky warmth of blood. He heard two more sets of footsteps, two more voices joining June, Shi, and Akako. And before he knew it, the five of them began attacking him again. After being beaten by five people for what felt like an eternity—ten minutes of agonizing, relentless blows—Hajime could no longer feel his body. In the dark, fetid alley, he fell onto the cold ground, lying motionless in a growing pool of his own blood. He could only manage shallow, grunting sounds, each breath a painful struggle.
Hajime stared at the snowflakes, impossibly delicate, dancing through the blackness of the alley. He knew he was dying, which is why he was seeing hallucinations of snowflakes in the middle of tonight mid-summer. He had thought the person who had taken him out tonight, June, was someone he could trust, someone who might offer a genuine connection. But he had been terribly, tragically wrong. Sometimes, he had wished for an end, wished someone would just finish his miserable life for him. So, his wish was finally coming true. The light in his eyes began to dim, the night sky overhead also seemed to darken, his vision slowly disappeared, becoming blurred, then there was nothing but an encroaching, suffocating darkness. He wondered how his life had come to this.
He knew now that what people said was true: when you are dying, your life literally flashes before your eyes. He closed his eyes, and his life flashed before him like a series of black and white photos from a broken projector. Hajime wanted to see the beautiful photos of his father, the warmth of his memory, but all the projected images shown to him were those of pain, suffering, and humiliation, an endless reel of torment.
In the distance, Hajime heard frantic footsteps pounding towards him. He heard Kenji's voice, raised in a desperate cry, calling his name. "Hajime-kun… Hajime-kun…"
With a last, desperate surge of strength, Hajime reached out, grabbing a handful of Kenji's shirt. He whispered, his voice barely audible, "Kenji-san… I can't see you." He tried desperately to open his eyes, to take one last look at the only person who had ever truly shown him kindness, but he couldn't. "Kenji-san…" Hajime began to cough violently, a rattling, wet sound, and then he was suddenly out of breath, his lungs burning, his body failing.
Kenji's voice rose in panic. "Hajime-kun… hold on! I'll take you to the hospital! Hajime!"
Hajime felt a warm, strong hand hold his left hand, a final anchor in the encroaching void. Then, darkness consumed him. Everything went black.
"Hajime… wake up." Hajime heard a woman's voice calling his name. The voice was impossibly soft, almost angelic, shimmering with an ethereal quality. The woman called again, her voice gentle but firm: "Hajime."
Hajime slowly opened his eyes, but his surroundings were pitch black, an absolute, infinite void. "Who is there?" he asked, his voice sounding distant, disembodied.
Then, a single, pure white light floated towards him, a beacon in the darkness. He realized, with a shock, that he was no longer lying down, and there was no pain. His battered body felt whole, light. A bright, tiny orb of light appeared directly in front of Hajime. The orb floated gracefully in the darkness, circling gently around him, its radiant glow the only thing that had color in the otherwise monochromatic void, like a diamond shining in the deepest dirt.
Hajime knew, with a strange certainty, that he must be dead. He asked, his voice a whisper, "Am I in hell?"
The voice of the woman, emanating from the orb, resonated with gentle power. "I am the Goddess of Mercy, and you were meant to die in five seconds. I used my power to extend those five seconds."
"What do you want?" Hajime asked, his tone still tinged with a lifetime of distrust.
The Goddess of Mercy replied, "If you stay in this universe, your life will be over in five seconds. If you are willing to put your soul into another person's body and help me complete a task, you will have one wish."
"Any wish?" Hajime asked, a spark of something—cynicism? Hope?—flickering within him.
"Yes," the goddess confirmed.
Hajime thought of all the bad things others had done to him, the endless cycle of pain and humiliation. A cold anger, long suppressed, began to rise within him. He thought deeply about the task, about the wish. If he completed the task, he could wish for anything. He imagined a life of ultimate power, free from the suffering of poverty and dependence. He wished to become a millionaire with an unlimited checkbook balance. He voiced his desire, testing the limits. "If I want to be a millionaire and have an infinite balance in my bank account, is that okay?"
The Goddess of Mercy's voice remained serene. "If you complete the task given to you, I can grant you any wish, except unlimited wishes. Four."
Hajime hesitated, a painful realization dawning on him. Even if he completed the task and asked for infinite money, that would mean he would still die, abandoning his past life, his identity. If he had chosen to remain himself, to live out his remaining seconds, he would still be that same old Hajime, the one everyone hated, the one who suffered endlessly.
"Three," the Goddess's voice counted, the seconds ticking away.
Hajime thought of his mother, Aimi, and her insatiable love for money. He knew that if he died, all the money—his father's inheritance, the credit card—would go to her. Then, finally, one of them could get their wish.
"Two," the Goddess said, the finality chilling him.
Hajime sighed, a desperate, final breath in the void. He looked at the shining orb, its light the only anchor in the endless darkness. "I agree."