The Mysterious Luminous Pixel

From a distance, I observed a feminine figure standing across a vast, unfamiliar lake, gradually drawing closer with each blink until she stood directly before me. Though her face remained obscured, her smile was unmistakable.

"Life—often misconceived by living beings as sacred. They revere it rather than truly cherish it," she spoke, her words resonating through the air.

Confusion clouded my mind as I struggled to comprehend her message. "What is she talking about?" I pondered silently, realizing I couldn't move or speak.

"Among those who hold such misconceptions are humans. With lifespans not exceeding a century, they feel compelled to make their time on Earth meaningful," she continued, her voice carrying a weight of observation.

"In the brevity of their existence, they resort to any means necessary to fulfill their desires. Yet, greed often drives their pursuits," she elaborated, her tone tinged with a hint of disdain.

"They fashion weapons to protect themselves from perceived threats, yet in their hypocrisy, they wield them against their own kind. The strong dominate the weak, and the wise exploit the ignorant," she concluded, painting a grim picture of humanity's shortcomings.

"Their excuse? Merely the 'circle of life.' How unsightly," the enigmatic figure continued, her tone dripping with disdain.

"They wage wars under the guise of 'the greater good of humanity.' How naive. How ruthless. How barbaric. How greedy humans are," she lamented, her words a damning indictment of mankind's actions.

As she turned her attention to me, her voice took on a questioning tone. "Don't you agree with me, Kiseki?" she inquired, her gaze piercing through the darkness.

Abruptly, my vision faded to black, and I jolted awake, drenched in sweat with the incessant beeping of my alarm clock echoing in my ears.

"What the hell was that? Where was I just now, and who is she?" I muttered to myself, pressing a hand to my forehead in an attempt to make sense of the dream.

I stood motionless on my bed for what felt like an eternity, grappling with the fading memories of the encounter. Each attempt to recall it only served to blur the details further, as if the dream were slipping from my grasp.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs outside my bedroom broke the silence, followed by a knock at my door.

"Kiseki, wake up. You'll be late for your job interview," came the voice from the other side of the door, accompanied by a gentle knock.

Turning my gaze to the other side of the room, I spotted a freshly ironed suit hanging by the window. "Oh right, the job interview today," I reminded myself.

As the bedroom door creaked open, a beautiful middle-aged woman leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed as she regarded me with a mix of concern and encouragement. "It's time to get ready, Kiseki. Ichijou is waiting for you outside," she reminded me gently.

Running a hand through my hair and stretching my limbs, I acknowledged her words. "Yes, mom," I replied politely, making my way out of the room as she stepped aside.

"Geez, look at you. All slouchy and sweaty. Hurry up and shower! Don't keep your friend waiting," she chided affectionately, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

Entering the bathroom, I caught my reflection in the mirror, prompting a moment of introspection. The woman I addressed as 'mom' wasn't actually my biological mother; she was my aunt, Misaki. Despite being in her late 40s, she seemed to defy the passage of time, her youthful appearance a testament to her vitality. It was something I often marveled at when sifting through old family photos.

Sadly, to this day, Misaki remains single, perhaps due to her dedication to caring for me, leaving little time for her own pursuits of love.

Over time, I came to regard Misaki as my mother, grateful for her unwavering support and love. However, my memories of my biological parents have faded, to the point where I've almost succeeded in pushing them from my mind entirely. It may sound callous, but when faced with the inability to recall even the faintest memories of them, forgetting seemed the only natural course of action.

Nonetheless, I am deeply thankful to Misaki for accepting me as her own and for treating me with the utmost care and affection.

"Kiseki! are you done or not?! Ichijou has been asking about you over and over!" Misaki's voice pierced through the sound of running water as I showered.

After a quick five minutes, I emerged from the bathroom, only to be startled by the sensation of someone else's presence in the room. Despite not recalling opening the window before my shower, a gentle breeze brushed against me from the other side of the room.

Turning abruptly, I was taken aback to find the mysterious figure from my dream standing before the window. However, the glare of the sun obscured her features, leaving her appearance shrouded in mystery once more.

I rubbed my eyes in disbelief, certain that this mysterious figure couldn't possibly be real. Yet, as I looked again, she remained, her presence seemingly solidifying before me. Was she smiling at me?

"So, Kiseki. Do you agree with me about what I said to you not long ago?" Her voice echoed in the room, filling me with a sense of unease.

In an instant, she was before me, her sudden appearance sending me stumbling backward until I collided with the door. The loud thud caught Misaki's attention, and she rushed to my side, concern etched on her face as she flung the door open.

"What just happened, Kiseki?! Are you alright?!" Misaki's voice rang out, her worry palpable as she surveyed the scene.

I tried to gather my thoughts, but when I looked back into the room, the mysterious girl had vanished, leaving me bewildered and shaken.

"What was that..." I muttered to myself, my gaze fixated on the closed window as if expecting answers to materialize from thin air.

"Don't scare me like that! I thought something terrible had happened to you," Misaki scolded, her voice a mix of relief and frustration as she urged me to get ready for my interview.

After about ten minutes, I emerged from my room and began to put on my shoes, feeling Misaki's watchful gaze on me from the corner of the hallway. As I stepped out the front door, I turned to her with a hopeful smile.

"Wish me luck, mom," I said softly, gratitude and affection evident in my voice.

She returned my smile warmly, her words carrying a mother's affection as she wished me luck.

Outside, parked in front of our house, sat an old-school Ford Mustang, undoubtedly belonging to Ichijou. I made my way to the car and settled into the backseat, greeted by Ichijou's usual banter as soon as I sat down.

"You know, my girlfriend gets herself ready much quicker than you. Plus, she's a damn girl," he quipped, his tone teasing yet edged with impatience.

"...Who the hell do you think you are, you ass! Get your butt at the front! I'm not your freaking driver!" He starts yelling at me furiously.

"Relax, man. It's 8 in the morning right now. You don't have to yell at me this early." With a sigh, I begrudgingly moved to the front passenger seat as Ichijou continued to chide me for my tardiness.

"Big day for you today, man. Take this thing seriously. You've been jobless for god knows how long." he nagged, the weight of his words sinking in as he maneuvered the car onto the streets.

"Easy for you to say, Boss. You're set to inherit one of the largest mafia syndicates in Japan," I shot back, closing my eyes and leaning back in the seat, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling over me.

Ichijou, known as the son of the infamous Mafia leader White Tiger, was not someone to be trifled with. He had been groomed as the rightful heir to his father's empire, despite being the youngest in the family.

Rumors about Ichijou spread like wildfire, painting him as a force to be reckoned with. Allegedly, he single-handedly dismantled rival gangs of his family, showcasing his prowess in every martial art known to man. In essence, he was untouchable, with no one capable of standing in his way.

Yet, to me, he was simply a reckless troublemaker, always flirting with danger and somehow emerging unscathed. Despite the constant threats to his life, Ichijou maintained an air of cheerfulness that baffled me. How could he remain so jovial with a target on his back at all times?

Regardless, he was the one person I admired and trusted, aside from Misaki. He was more than a friend; he was a brother to me.

"Oi! Don't sleep while I'm driving you, ungrateful bastard!" Ichijou's sharp voice snapped me out of my reverie,

"Fine-" I sat straight and just leaned my hand onto the window while looking out to the distance.

Soon, we entered a tunnel that led directly into the heart of Tokyo City. Emerging on the other side, we were greeted by the vibrant, futuristic skyline of the bustling metropolis.

It struck me how drastically the world had changed in just twenty years, when I was born, Misaki always told me how chaotic the world was. Global warming, earthquakes, war and destruction, as well as pandemic. Now, Tokyo stood as a testament to resilience and progress, thriving more than ever before.

After a thirty-minute ride through the city, we arrived at the company where I had my interview scheduled.

"Hey, Kiseki. Look over here," Ichijou called out to me as I prepared to exit the car.

"Huh?" I turned towards him, only to have him adjust my tie and straighten my collar. "Come on, man. Show some confidence. How do you expect to land the job looking like that?" he chided, his actions a mix of encouragement and exasperation.

I remained silent as he helped me, his gaze eventually settling on my face. "What's that on your cheek?" he asked, his tone shifting to one of concern.

"What? Is there something on it?" I started touching all over my face. From left to right, I searched over with my hands for any abnormalities on my cheeks. Suddenly, I felt as if my right cheek was sinking into my face.

Glancing into the side mirror, I was met with a shocking sight: my face appeared pixelated, glowing a bright blue hue.

"What the hell is this?" I muttered in disbelief, prodding at the peculiar phenomenon. As I touched it, the pixelation expanded, resembling glass that shattered upon contact.

"Dude, stop touching it!" Ichijou exclaimed, rummaging through the glovebox. "Cover it with this plaster. We'll deal with it after your interview. You don't have time to worry about it now." With that, he handed me a plaster and urged me to proceed with the interview.

I nodded, quickly covering the pixelation on my cheek with the plaster before hurrying out of the car.

During the interview, I focused on presenting myself professionally, pushing aside the bizarre occurrence on my face.

Once the interview concluded, I wasted no time in contacting Ichijou for a ride. "Dude, I'm done with the interview. Can you pick me up now?" I asked, expecting a routine response.

Ichijou suddenly cut through my words, and from his voice, he seems to be panicking about something.

But Ichijou's panicked voice cut through the line, his urgency palpable. "Kiseki! I'm at a parking lot a few blocks to the right of the company. You have to come quick!" His words sent a chill down my spine, and I knew something was seriously wrong.

Racing to the designated parking spot, I found Ichijou waiting in his car, his expression etched with terror, sweat glistening on his brow.

"Ichijou! What's going on?!" I demanded as I approached the car, my heart pounding in my chest.

With trembling hands, he removed his shirt, revealing the same pixelation that had appeared on my cheek, only larger and more pronounced. "Dude... I- have the same thing like you, man!"

But wait- by the looks on his face, that wasn't the case anymore. I closed the door and looked into my reflection on his car window.

But as I stared at him, I realized the situation had worsened. Turning to the car window, I caught sight of my reflection, horror flooding through me as I saw nearly half of my head consumed by the pixelation, even my right eye obscured by the strange phenomenon.

"Get in the car, Kiseki! We need to get to the hospital, NOW!" Ichijou's voice rang out, filled with urgency and fear, as he rolled down the window, urging me to hurry.