In his dream, Haruto felt a sharp pain in his head, as if someone had struck him several times with an iron rod.
A flood of memories surged up, some belonging to him, others clearly not. They tangled together and began to merge, and for a brief moment, he felt as though he was about to turn into someone else entirely. In the end, however, Haruto's own will remained dominant.
The memories that did not belong to him gradually transformed into something like fragmented video clips, sinking deep into his mind.
They became vague and distant, like an adult's recollection of early childhood. Even if you tried hard to remember, you might not be able to clearly recall them.
Everyone has experienced dreaming about the past at least once. Haruto was now in that very state. In his dream, he was someone else. And that someone seemed to be a girl.
She lay in her bedroom at home, eating potato chips and sipping cola, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on the computer sitting on her desk.
On the screen played scenes from an anime.
Blue Spring Ride.
Haruto had never watched this series before, yet the moment he slipped into the girl's perspective, the title surfaced in his mind without hesitation.
And so, in this strange dreamlike state, he calmly watched the romance anime through the eyes of the girl.
After all, in Japan, light novels, anime, manga, and games formed a massive cultural industry. Otaku culture was deeply ingrained in society, especially among middle and high school students, and its influence extended worldwide.
Haruto was no exception.
Although the situation was bizarre, he found himself enjoying it. His sense of immersion came almost entirely from the girl herself.
In the dream, the girl watched Blue Spring Ride episode by episode. She was genuinely happy. She did not have to work. She did not have to go to school. There was no meaningless socializing. Her parents had passed away early, leaving behind an enormous inheritance placed in a trust fund. The portion she could freely use amounted to several million yen in annual returns.
There was virtually no chance of her ever becoming poor.
All she needed to do was enjoy her hobbies. She lived as a carefree shut-in, occasionally meeting friends to attend conventions as a cosplayer, collecting figures, indulging in whatever she liked.
Every year's trust income was spent entirely on her passions.
Because of that, Haruto, who was experiencing everything through her perspective, felt just as relaxed and content as he followed along with her binge-watching.
So this was the inner world of a true ultimate otaku.
She really was happy.
Halfway through the anime, the girl ordered delivery. It was sweet glutinous rice dumplings with a spicy sesame filling, dipped in chili oil and houttuynia leaves.
The flavor was indescribable for Haruto, whose immersion was far too strong, yet she ate with obvious delight.
Sweet dumpling fans, savory dumpling fans, they were all heretics in her eyes. Sweet, salty, and spicy combined was the only true answer.
Unfortunately, there was no coriander at home today, so this order could only score a ninety out of a hundred.
Haruto did his best to forget the bizarre taste that lingered in his senses.
He refocused his attention on the anime playing on the computer screen in front of him. The artwork was beautiful, and the story overflowed with youthful emotion.
The heroine, Futaba, reunited in high school with Kou, the boy she had liked back in middle school but lost contact with due to family circumstances.
Thus began a tender, bittersweet coming-of-age romance. It was a shoujo anime, but even as a perfectly normal teenage boy, Haruto found his own soft-hearted side stirred from time to time.
In his daily life, he had watched and read plenty of romance stories, and as the episodes went on, his consciousness became fully absorbed.
The story really was good.
Two people who once shared mutual feelings met again three years later.
Misunderstandings, longing, and growth intertwined beautifully. Without realizing it, the anime had reached episode six.
Futaba fell into confusion when she discovered that both she and her close friend had feelings for Kou.
Should she protect their friendship and sacrifice her own emotions, supporting her friend as she confessed to the boy Futaba had secretly liked for years?
Or should she face her feelings honestly, tell her friend the truth, and compete fairly for Kou, even if it meant risking their friendship?
Unable to make a choice, Futaba decided to leave the answer to Kou himself.
On their way home together, just as the subway train was about to depart, she suddenly claimed she had forgotten something at school.
She stepped back a few paces and exited the train at the last moment.
The doors began to close.
The boy and girl stood barely a meter apart, staring at each other through the glass.
Would he get off the train and go back with her to retrieve what she had forgotten?
Or would he find it troublesome, go home alone, and let Futaba return to school by herself?
If Kou did not get off the train with me, I will stop liking him.
If he does get off, then I will keep loving him.
Futaba's inner monologue echoed as the background music swelled.
The subway doors slowly slid shut. Kou had no idea that her sudden decision to step off the train carried such meaning. His choice in the next second would decide whether Futaba continued to hold onto her unrequited love.
"Ah, I cannot watch this," the girl muttered. "If Kou finds it annoying and does not get off the train, I will be miserable all night and never fall asleep. To be safe, I will sleep now and finish it tomorrow. Better to eliminate any chance of losing sleep over this."
With a snap, she shut off the computer.
Haruto's consciousness, still immersed in her perspective, was left in utter chaos.
'No, wait. Do not stop here. Watch one more episode.'