THE DAY THE WORLD HELD ITS BREATH
Darkness.
Not the kind that comes when the lights go out, nor the gentle dark of sleep.
This darkness had weight. It pressed against thought itself.
No sound.
No warmth.
No sense of time.
"Huh…?"
The voice echoed without echoing, as though the darkness swallowed even sound.
"Why is everything… dark?"
There were no hands to raise, no eyes to blink. He could not feel his body, yet his thoughts were sharp—painfully so.
"I can't see… I can't feel… hello?"
Nothing answered.
Strange, he thought. Even fear felt distant. As if fear itself had not yet arrived.
How did this happen?
12 Hours Earlier
"Emiya!!!"
The shout ripped through the office like thunder.
Emiya flinched, his head lifting abruptly from the cold surface of his desk. A thin line of drool marked the sleeve of his worn-out shirt. The hum of old computers and flickering fluorescent lights returned to him in pieces.
"…huh?"
"There you are."
His boss stood at the entrance of the cramped office room, arms crossed, irritation carved deep into his face. The man's presence alone sucked the air out of the room.
"I've been calling your name. Are you deaf now?"
"I—I'm sorry," Emiya said quickly, pushing himself upright. His body felt heavy, like he hadn't truly rested in years.
"Where are the delivery orders?" the boss snapped. "Those products were supposed to be ready hours ago."
"Well… Hinata was meant to take care of it, but—"
"But what?" The man's eyes narrowed.
"…she isn't here today."
The boss scoffed. "Of course she isn't."
He leaned closer, his shadow falling over Emiya's desk.
"Get it done before I get back. If I don't see results, don't bother showing up tomorrow. Suspension is the least of your worries."
With that, he turned and left.
The door slammed shut.
Silence followed—heavy, familiar silence.
Emiya exhaled slowly.
"…Yeah. I get it."
He stared at the screen in front of him, its light reflecting faintly in his tired eyes.
"I'm the odd one out."
That had always been the case.
My name is Emiya.
I'm 21 years old.
And my life… has been nothing but noise.
Noise from debts I never asked for.
Noise from expectations I could never meet.
Noise from a world that never once slowed down to ask if I was okay.
My parents died when I was young—an accident, they said. Just like that, the foundation of my life vanished. No dramatic last words. No grand farewell.
Just absence.
Relatives? None who wanted me.
Friends? Acquaintances at best.
Siblings? I was alone.
A lone wolf, people called it.
But loneliness isn't strength.
It's just survival with extra steps.
I worked. Paid debts that felt endless. Smiled when required. Stayed quiet when ignored.
Life never said "yes."
It only said, endure.
Thirty minutes passed in a blur of paperwork and forced focus.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly.
11:30 PM.
Emiya stretched his aching shoulders and shut down the computer.
"…Finally."
He grabbed his bag and headed out into the cool night air.
"Well, delivery's done," he muttered. "Time to go home."
Then his eyes widened.
"…Ah—crap."
He checked the time again.
"I'm late."
A rare spark of urgency lit up his face.
"I have to get home fast. Tonight's the episode."
A small, genuine smile appeared.
"Luffy's Gear Five… it's insane."
Anime had always been his escape. A world where effort mattered. Where bonds had weight. Where power came not from luck, but from will.
He stepped onto the street, lights reflecting off wet asphalt.
That's when it happened.
A strange pressure filled the air—like the world itself inhaled.
"Huh…?"
Emiya stopped walking.
The sound of traffic faded. The city lights flickered unnaturally.
An overwhelming sensation crawled up his spine.
"Well," he whispered, oddly calm.
"So this is it."
He didn't know why—but he knew.
"The tragic event that was meant to occur… has come."
There was no panic. No scream.
Just acceptance.
"The time for my death…"
The world shattered into light.
"…has come."