Day 15, September 1, 2015
Account Balance:¥2,573,000.
Morining
They sat together in a Kabukicho café, two simple breakfasts on the table. Aria barely touched hers, while Julian stuck to his usual black coffee.
Outside, Kabukicho's morning hadn't quite woken up yet. Office workers hurried past the window, but inside the café, it was as if nothing had happened the night before.
Julian stared into his coffee, stirring slowly. He glanced at Aria, a hint of a smile on his face, but said nothing.
Aria took a bite of toast, then suddenly asked, "Did you sleep at all last night?"
Julian shrugged. The room was too hot. I just gave up and stayed awake."
Aria tilted her head, looked at him for a second, then let it go. Her phone buzzed with a trading alert. She glanced at the screen, then teased,
"So you didn't sneak a look at the market while I was sleeping?"
Julian laughed. "I'm not that obsessive."
Aria poked at her plate with her fork. "If you'd stop drinking such bitter coffee, maybe you'd sleep better tomorrow."
Julian looked at her, his voice low: "Didn't you say last night that you'd get a good rest for once?"
Aria ignored him, but the corner of her mouth lifted.
There was only one cup of Americano left on the table. Aria stood up, slinging her jacket over her bag.
"I'm heading out. Take your time. Ping me anytime."
Julian nodded. "Don't push yourself too hard."
Aria gave a small smile, said nothing more, and left the café. At the elevator, she glanced back. Julian was still by the window, looking like he could sit there for hours.
She hadn't chosen to leave Kabukicho. Carrying her bag stuffed with all her gear, Aria walked into the lobby of a nearby business hotel.
The air at the front desk was clean, the carpet soft under her shoes.
She asked for a high floor, non-smoking, the quietest room they had. Booked three nights, paid up front.
When she picked her room, she made sure the window faced out over the Kabukicho skyline not because she liked the noise, but because it reminded her: "I'm still alive."
The room was quiet, and the light pouring in through the big window felt unreal. She unpacked all her equipment, lined up the charging cables, fired up her trading terminal, and spread out last night's charts across the desk.
Every step was methodical, nothing like the chaos of those earlier nights in the love hotel.
She opened the wardrobe and pulled a small sticky note from her bag—"15 days" was written on it.
She stuck it right in the center of the bookshelf, then scribbled a line underneath: "Died once. Can't die again."
Sitting back down, Aria took in the whole room and couldn't help but laugh.
"People always say you get a second chance, but in reality, all you get is 30 more days," she thought. "Might as well live every day like it's the last one."
She took a deep breath, opened her trading app, and got ready for another day at war.
The chaos of Kabukicho was far beyond the glass—inside, it was just her and the countdown to the next market open.
Back in her new hotel room, Aria locked the door, pulled open the heavy curtains.
Afternoon sunlight poured over the carpet. First thing, she fired up her laptop, plugged in every device, and lined them up on the desk.
Yesterday's trading records lay spread out beside a fresh printout of the US market after-hours data.
She tallied up her cash, wrote last night's profit again in her notebook, as if checking that the money was really there.
Her plan for today was brutally simple:
• Nikkei: watch for a high near 19,000, low near 18,000.
• US night session: keep an eye out for TQQQ dips, and snipe volatility when the options IV collapses.
• Risk floor: ¥150,000. No holding losers.
• Take profits early. Greed is suicide.
Finishing the list, she almost laughed.
This wasn't a plan, it was a sandbag wall that would always spring a leak.
The pressure and the headrush tangled inside her, tension and self-mockery mixing like a Tokyo August heatwave—totally real, but invisible to everyone else.
Kabukicho wasn't quiet in the daytime, either. Someone dragged garbage bins past her window, cleaners hosed down beer stains from last night, and a few hosts in shiny suits laughed too loudly as they cut across the street.
Aria stared at the numbers on her screen, but her ears were full of city noise.
She spent most of the morning like this tracking the market, scribbling notes, barely stopping to breathe. By afternoon, sunlight warmed the glass, and she felt suddenly tired, so she headed downstairs for coffee.
The convenience store was ice-cold, the familiar clerk restocking bento boxes. He looked up and grinned, "Working late again?"
Aria smiled. "The market's gone insane. No room to slack off."
On her way out, she grabbed an extra can of energy drink from the vending machine, just in case she'd need it for tonight.
Back in her room, her phone buzzed from Julian, messaging:
Julian: "Nikkei crashed hard after lunch. Closed at 18,935. You still in there?"
Aria leaned against the door, popped open her coffee, typed back with one hand:
Aria: "Sold on the morning rally. Didn't chase the drop—too risky. Just reviewing trades now. Might look at TQQQ tonight."
Julian replied with a simple "OK," plus a sleepy emoji.
She put down her phone and, for a second, felt a faint sense of safety.
Kabukicho was still loud outside, but the convenience store clerk and Julian's message made her feel just barely connected to the world.
But under that fleeting warmth, her goal still pressed in on her, like a hand tight around her neck.
Night fell. Shinjuku's neon lights flickered to life one by one, her room lit only by a soft lamp. She sat by the window, watching people move through the streets below.
Outside, Kabukicho was always loud. Inside, it was just her and a glowing laptop screen.
She took a sip of cold coffee, repeating in her mind:
"Fifteen days left. If I fail, I'll disappear here, and that's fine. Being able to control just one day, maybe that's already more than most people ever get."
The market's opening bell chimed in the quiet.
Aria put on her earphones, drew a long breath, and maxed out her positions, as if pushing all her hopes into that one moment.
Aria maxed out her positions, every stop-loss and risk control set with meticulous precision.
Tonight's volatility was off the charts. She kept refreshing the options chain, double-checking her trades, fingers locked around the mouse, palms slick with sweat.
The candlesticks on her screen were green at first, then suddenly plunged red. The stop-loss alarms fired in quick succession; she barely had time to react before her account balance had dropped by a huge chunk.
This time wasn't just a test; it was all-in. All her profits, core capital, even the ¥480,000 she'd made the night before, everything was on the line.
She stared at the screen, heart pounding in sync with every tick on the chart.
The first half hour actually looked good. Green candles rising, her account floating in profit for a while.
But just as fast, a single massive red bar slammed down—stop-losses all triggered in an instant.
System alerts flooded the screen, her account balance nosediving. Before she could even process it, all the gains just vanished, slipping through her fingers like water.
Aria stared blankly at the monitor, her own pale face reflected in the glass.
Outside, the most expensive neon in Shinjuku blazed bright; on her screen, it was nothing but ugly red numbers.
She watched as her account dropped from ¥3,093,000 last night, straight down to ¥2,573,000.
Down ¥520,000 in one night, giving back every yen of yesterday's ¥480,000 win, plus another forty grand for good measure.
She sat there frozen for half a minute, lips twitching:
"The market didn't just take it all back; it charged me interest."
The room was still the same high-end suite: crisp white sheets, plush carpet, the glow of red numbers burning her eyes.
No matter how bright Kabukicho's night lights were, she just felt a chill run through her chest.
"Feels like fate just handed me an invoice worked for nothing yesterday, and now I have to pay the balance."
She gave a tired laugh, knocked back her cold coffee, and scribbled in her notebook:
"Day 15, ¥2,573,000. All that profit is gone, plus a little extra for the hotel.
At least if I lose money here, I can do it in style."
Suddenly her strength left her. She let go of the chair and just collapsed onto the thick hotel carpet.
Staring up at the ceiling, she muttered in her head:
"Doesn't matter how nice the room is, I'm still just another doomed retail trader."
Thinking about how cocky she'd been just minutes before, Aria actually wanted to laugh.
"Maybe Kabukicho's got bad feng shui? Should've stuck with the crappy love hotel—I might have kept winning…"
Her thoughts drifted to the bathroom—the fancy 'high-pressure shower' and 'smart toilet' the front desk had bragged about.
She couldn't help but add:
"Maybe the five-star water pressure washed all my luck away."
She closed her eyes, let out a long sigh.
A single bitter thought floated by:
"The market really has no respect for people who try to live right."
She sat there on the carpet, finished her cold coffee, and didn't move for a long time before finally pulling herself back up.
She sat in silence, a hollow laugh escaping, then just… nothing.
"Doesn't matter how nice the room is, you can still get liquidated. Kabukicho feng shui is a lie."
She downed the last of her coffee, grabbed a napkin to wipe her mouth.
Staring at the harsh red on her screen, Aria wrote one more line in her notebook:
"You can lose to the market, but you can't lose your life."
She shut off her laptop, turned out the lights, and sat alone in the dark, the white noise of the city humming outside.
The countdown kept ticking. Kabukicho's lights were still burning.
There was only a single lamp left on in her room, shining over her notebook. Aria closed her laptop, tapped her fingers on the desk almost as if trying to imprint every last scrap of composure onto her memory.
Outside, Kabukicho buzzed with noise.
Inside, it was just her, the numbers, the clock, and whatever battles tomorrow might bring.