The streets buzzed quietly—muffled city ambience, distant car horns, the soft chatter of strangers Kaoru would never meet. It was a rare day off, the kind where the sky was cloudy but not dramatic, the air cool but not cold. Just a nothing kind of day.
Perfect.
Kaoru pulled his hoodie over his head and adjusted his mask. Not that anyone would recognize him. Erebus Kyrielight lived online and in ink, not in grocery stores buying soy sauce and instant noodles.
Still, better safe than a selfie attack.
His legs moved on autopilot, carrying him through narrow side streets and past shuttered shops. A cat stared at him from a sunlit patch of concrete. He stared back. It blinked first. Victory.
His first stop was the market. The old woman who ran the place gave him a side glance but didn't ask questions. He bought tofu, a bag of rice, and way too many energy drinks. As he left, he realized he had forgotten eggs. Again. The third time this week. He cursed under his breath and turned back—
Only to trip on a loose tile outside the store.
"Ah, goddammit—!"
His grocery bag flew forward like a white flag of surrender. The tofu hit the pavement and bounced like a shameful sponge.
"...Of course," Kaoru muttered, dragging himself up. "Of course this happens on my day off. Maybe the universe is bored."
A vending machine stood just a few meters away, humming gently as if mocking him. He shuffled toward it, pulled out some coins, and pressed the button for iced coffee. The can thunked down with all the grace of a guillotine.
He cracked it open, took a sip, and sighed.
"You ever just feel like theworld's laughing at you?" he asked the machine.
It didn't answer. Probably too smug.
By the time he got back to his apartment, it was almost noon. The clouds had thickened. Rain was teasing the idea of falling but hadn't committed. Typical.
Kaoru slumped onto his couch, grocery bag now containing one broken tofu pack and regret. He pulled out his phone and checked messages.
Naoki:
'Y-Yo! You alive? Or did a fan kidnap you after the con?'
Takeshi:
'You better rest today or Aya will body slam you.'
Kaede:
'I made pancakes. You don't get any. Just letting you know hehe. 💅'
Aya:
'No work today. I mean it. Don't even sketch. I will know.'
Kaoru stared at her message.
He looked at the notepad by his desk.
He looked back at her message.
Then slowly, very deliberately, tossed the notepad across the room. It hit the wall and flopped onto the floor like a dead fish.
"Fine," he mumbled. "No drawing. Just suffering."
He microwaved the rice and stared at it like it had wronged him. The tofu had cracked completely. He spooned it in anyway. Lunch of champions.
As he ate, he put on a random anime rerun. The protagonist was screaming about friendship while his rival bled dramatically in the background. Classic.
Kaoru narrowed his eyes. "This scene again? Didn't I parody this like… four times?"
The rival coughed blood. Cue the string music.
He chuckled under his breath. "He's not dead, though. He's just contractually obligated to look like he is."
The voice actor wailed, "You were my only friend!"
Kaoru raised his can of coffee. "To overused tropes."
Then something shifted.
It wasn't a physical thing, not exactly. More like… a mental weight. That creeping realization that, despite the laughter and fan noise, despite the stories and deadlines, he was alone. Again. No panels. No chaos. No Aya dragging him into arguments. No Kaede lecturing him over burnt toast. No Takeshi yelling about his stupid video game builds.
Just a quiet room and tofu that tasted like silence.
He sighed.
Maybe he needed people more than he liked to admit.
A knock came at the door. Sharp. Rapid. Too familiar.
He opened it to find Kaede standing there with a bag of actual groceries.
"You forgot the eggs again, didn't you?" she said.
"…I fell," he replied flatly.
"I can tell," she said, pointing at his elbow. "Your hoodie's got dirt on it."
"I fought the earth and lost."
She pushed past him. "Well, lucky for you, I brought ingredients. Let's make something edible. You don't get a say."
"Wait—how did you even know I'd need—"
"I always know," she said ominously.
Kaoru blinked. "That's terrifying."
She grinned.
As Kaede diced vegetables and stirred something aggressively on the stove, Kaoru slumped back onto the couch.
Then his phone buzzed again.
Aya:
'Are you resting?'
He paused. Then replied.
Kaoru:
'Yes. Kaede showed up and forced me to live like a human.'
She responded instantly.
Aya:
'Good. She's the only reason I didn't break your door down.'
Kaoru:
'You'd do that?'
Aya:
'I'd enjoy it.'
He smiled faintly. Then typed:
Kaoru:
'…Hey. When you're free, I wanna talk about manga #7. I've got some fragments.'
There was a delay. Then:
Aya:
'Okay. I'm in.'
As the smell of cooking filled the room, Kaoru let himself relax. Just for now. The rain finally started outside, tapping gently against the windows like a lazy drummer.
He sipped the last of his coffee and muttered to himself:
"Erebus Kyrielight takes a day off… but realitydoesn't."
Kaede peeked from the kitchen. "You talking to yourself again?"
"No," he lied.
The storm didn't last long. Just a quiet curtain of drizzle that passed as Kaede finished cooking. They ate in silence, more out of habit than awkwardness. The food was warm, the lights were soft, and Kaoru could almost pretend it was a normal day.
But normal was a temporary costume life wore before the next surprise.
Kaede, now comfortably splayed across his couch with her phone in hand, looked up with an exaggerated sigh. "Hey, I forgot something."
Kaoru narrowed his eyes. "No."
"You didn't even let me finish.."
"I know that tone. It means you're about to boss me around again."
"Juice," she said flatly, pointing at the empty fridge. "The good kind. Grape."
He groaned. "You just made me your kitchen slave."
"You were gonna mope anyway. Might as well mope outside."
"…Fine. But if I die out there, I'm haunting you."
Kaede smirked. "You're already haunting this apartment with your depressing aura."
Kaoru flicked her forehead gently on the way out.
The city at night was a different creature. It didn't yell—it hummed. Soft neon buzzed over quiet alleys. Rain-slicked streets reflected vending machine lights and the occasional headlight. Kaoru walked slowly, hands in pockets, hoodie up again.
The juice was easy to find. The vending machine blinked at him like it knew his routine. He grabbed the grape can, then paused.
Something tugged at him—not physically, but deep in the gut. He could go home. Let Kaede bully him into watching a movie and pretend tomorrow wouldn't come. But instead, his feet turned.
He headed toward the park.
The midnight park was never empty. Not really.
It was quieter, sure, but not lifeless. He saw a girl jogging with earbuds in. A guy smoking on a bridge, staring down at the still water. A pair of high schoolers laughing too loudly on the swings, probably skipping cram school.
And then—he saw them.
A old couple.
They always sat at the same bench, like background NPCs in a slice-of-life anime. The old man wore a neat gray coat, cane beside him. The woman leaned close to him, murmuring something that made him smile.
Kaoru took the bench across from them, just far enough to observe.
The stars were faint but visible now. Scattered pinholes in the dark ceiling of the sky. He cracked open the juice and took a sip. Artificial sweetness filled his mouth—too sweet. But somehow, just right for the moment.
The couple laughed softly together. Kaoru's eyes drifted.
Two dogs ran past, tugging their leashes as their owner jogged behind, laughing breathlessly.
A group of university students passed with drinks in hand, probably celebrating something stupid and temporary.
Everything was moving forward.
Even the people doing nothing at all were being.
He just wasn't.
Kaoru leaned back and let his head rest on the bench. The cool metal pressed against his back, grounding him.
He stared up at the sky.
"I wonder if they'd still like my stories if they knew who I was," he murmured. "If Erebus Kyrielight wasn't this mystery, but just... me."
He glanced at the couple again.
The man now had his wife's hand in his. No words passed between them. Just quiet, steady warmth.
Something in Kaoru's chest cracked—silent and soft, like ice melting.
He took another sip of the juice. Then placed the can down beside him, unopened again. He hadn't even realized.
The wind picked up slightly, brushing his bangs aside.
Thoughts crashed like waves.
The deadlines.
The fans.
The noise of being known, but never seen.
Aya helping him through breakdowns, then pulling away when she got too close.
Kaede, always smirking like she knew things he didn't dare voice.
His friends trying to keep him anchored while he quietly floated away.
Everything was just… piling.
He curled his fingers into fists.
"I've made six mangas," he whispered. "Six worlds I bled for."
He looked at his palm like he could see the ink stains still there.
"I've told stories that made people cry. Laugh. Escape."
A long pause.
Then he laughed once—bitter, breathy, hollow.
"And I still feel like I'm not enough."
The stars twinkled above.
The wind whistled through the trees.
The couple stood up slowly, helping each other walk back the way they came.
Kaoru watched them fade into the distance.
Then, in the softest voice—one he wouldn't admit aloud, one he wouldn't even put in a manga panel—he said:
"…To be honest…"
His throat tightened. His fingers trembled slightly against the bench.
"…I'm tired of it all."