The world was too loud.

  Even from my bed, I could hear it — the sound of tires on asphalt, the vending machine blinking just outside the window, the sound of every can and bottle falling form the machine, the middle school kids arguing three floors down. Tokyo never stopped; it was always busy. It didn’t let you pause long enough to feel anything too deeply. But tonight, I felt it all more than ever.

  My roommate was gone for the weekend. I told her I had exams. I didn’t. I just couldn’t stomach the idea of small talk. Not today. She wasn’t a bad person. We just never grew to care for each other.

  I lay on my stomach, a book open in front of me, face half-buried in the pillow, rereading the same paragraph over and over.

  “If you don't know how to live on anymore, then live for me.”

  The words glowed from the page. Heaven Official’s Blessing. Re-reading it made me understand everything better. But tonight, it felt heavier. Closer. Like I was reading something I wasn’t supposed to understand.

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  It had been a few years since she died.

  My “aunt.” Not legally, not by blood, but she raised me. I remember her kind smile, how she smelled like jasmine tea. She called me Jia, not because it was my name, but because she said it meant home. Of course, later I’d find out it wasn’t at all what it meant.

  I didn’t tell anyone at school she died. Grief in Tokyo is too quiet. It doesn’t stop the trains or the pace of the city.

  That’s when I saw it — in the subway window on my way home from school. Just for a moment.

  My reflection was wrong. Not twisted, not monstrous. Just… not too much older, but still ancient. Different. In an instant, the image was gone. All I could see were the reflections of the other passengers, with emotionless faces. I told myself it was nothing. Just fatigue. Grief.

  Ah… I really hate this place.

  Now, hours later, lying on my bed, something shifted.

  The floor was gone. My stomach dropped. Not in a metaphorical way. In a literal, gravity-forgetting kind of way. I tried to scream. No sound was coming out.

  Light. Then nothing.

  The next thing I knew… I felt warmth around me. A woman’s voice soft and warm.

  “You’re safe, Yue Lan. I have you now.”