The ground was wet. Not the clean kind of wet, like morning dew or a puddle after rain.
It was sticky. Slimy. Smelled like rotting meat.
Yuuji Amano opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. A thick, green haze hovered in the air above him, filtering the strange light that leaked through a ceiling of twisted branches and vines. The smell hit him first—a pungent, suffocating mix of mold, blood, and something metallic.
He blinked.
Then blinked again.
This isn't my room.
His breath caught in his throat.
He wasn't in his bed. He wasn't at the convenience store. He wasn't in Tokyo. His fingers pressed into soft, squelching ground, and something shifted beneath the surface—a crackling crunch like breaking twigs. No, not twigs. Bones.
Panic bloomed like a virus in his chest.
He sat up too quickly. Dizziness slammed into him like a truck. His vision swam, and for a moment he thought he might vomit. He forced himself to breathe. In. Out.
But it didn't help.
This wasn't a dream.
The colors were wrong. The air was wrong. The sounds were wrong—chirps, screeches, low hissing from somewhere unseen. The trees above were too tall, too crooked, and their bark pulsed faintly like living things.
His phone. He needed his phone.
With shaking hands, he dug into his blazer and yanked it out. It was cracked. The screen flickered when he tapped it, barely responsive. The signal bar blinked: No Service.
GPS spun in a loop, failing to find anything.
He opened his messages anyway.
His last text stared back at him, mockingly bright against the dark screen.
> 「Heading home. Want anything?」
Sent: 4:51 PM.
Now the time read something impossible.
00:00 – ???
He didn't know how much time had passed.
His heart thundered.
Yuuji pushed himself to his feet. His legs were shaky. His knees buckled briefly, but he caught himself against a gnarled tree root that jutted from the earth like a rib.
Everything around him was wrong.
Alien trees with leaves shaped like knives. Strange birds with translucent wings spiraling in the green sky. The distant cry of something huge and unseen. His skin crawled with every step forward.
"Hello?" he called out.
His voice sounded small. Too small for a place like this.
He tried again, louder. "Hello?! Anyone there?!"
No answer. Not even an echo.
Just… silence.
Then something moved.
A low growl rolled through the trees behind him.
He turned. Slowly.
Two yellow eyes blinked at him from the darkness. No, four. Then six. Then too many.
The thing stepped into the light. It had the body of a wolf but stood taller than a man. Its skin was ash gray, stretched over bone. Spines jutted from its back. Its mouth hung open—not a snarl, not a growl. It just stared.
Yuuji couldn't move.
His legs were frozen. His mind screamed run, but his muscles refused.
The creature's head twitched—like it had noticed something.
Then it lunged.
Yuuji turned and ran.
He didn't think. Didn't look. Branches tore at his arms and face. Roots snagged his feet. He stumbled, caught himself, kept moving. His lungs burned. His chest felt like it would explode.
Behind him, the thing crashed through the underbrush, howling now—high-pitched and wet, like a dying animal made of metal.
He tripped.
A sharp pain stabbed through his ankle as he hit the ground, face-first into dirt and leaves. He cried out but rolled immediately, scrambling away on all fours, half-crawling, half-running. Blood filled his mouth. He spat, gagging.
Eventually, the howls faded.
But he didn't stop.
He didn't stop until his body gave out and he collapsed near a patch of fungus glowing faintly blue beneath a fallen tree.
---
Time passed in fragments.
He wasn't sure how long he lay there. Hours? Minutes?
His throat was dry. His face was hot. His ankle throbbed with every movement. When he finally sat up, he did it slowly, bracing himself against the dirt. His stomach clenched, tight with hunger and fear.
No water. No food. No tools. No clue what was happening.
No one was coming to help.
This wasn't a game. This wasn't an isekai novel. No helpful system had popped up. No menu. No quest log. No goddess saying "Welcome, Hero."
He was alone.
Truly, terrifyingly alone.
He dragged himself to the hollow of a fallen tree and curled up inside. His breath came in shallow, trembling gasps. His teeth chattered—not from cold, but from panic.
His mind raced:
Where was he?
Why was he here?
Was there a way back?
Would he die here?
He didn't want to cry. He tried not to.
But the tears came anyway.
Silently. Desperately. Until sleep took him in the dirt and dark.
---
That night, the forest didn't sleep.
The chirps became screeches. The trees creaked. Wings flapped too loudly. Something brushed past his hiding spot—heavy, wet footsteps.
He pressed his hand over his mouth and didn't move.
His stomach growled.
His ankle ached.
He felt like a speck of dust in the belly of some enormous, ancient thing that didn't care if he lived or died.
He shivered and whispered into the crook of his arm.
"I want to go home."
But no one answered.
Not the stars above, not the trees, not the gods.
Just the wind.