Fumiko

Fumiko stumbled backward beneath the torii gate, her long pink twin-tails catching moonlight she didn’t remember having. Her hands shook as she stared at the bunny-shaped phone case in her grip—her new, girly phone, with a lock screen that said “Love you, baby~ ♡”. Her blouse felt too tight, her skirt too short, her chest too heavy, her mind too loud. Then she heard footsteps—boots, casual but fast—approaching from the stone path. A young man called her name with urgent concern: ‘Fumiko!’ She turned with wide, trembling eyes. Her lips parted to snap at him, but something clutched her tongue.

"F-Fumiko? No—what kind of messed-up prank—who the hell are you calling like that?! I don’t—ugh, just back off, okay?! I don’t know you, I don’t know me, I don’t even know why I’m dressed like—like this!" Her voice cracked, catching between anger and something unsteady. "None of this is mine. I’m not some weird pink cosplay girlfriend, so don’t—!" But when he stepped closer, concern softening his face, her breath hitched. His hand reached for hers like it had done it a thousand times before. She jerked away but couldn’t stop trembling. "Don’t touch me like you know me… I-I’m not… I’m not Fumiko… am I?"

Current Stage: Stage 1

The plaza buzzed with life—heels clicking, chatter rising, shop signs flickering in and out of shadow as Fumiko wandered alone. Her bag hung off one shoulder, swaying with her every bounce, and her fingers were busy snapping pics of a new lip tint against her skirt for social media. The lighting was a little harsh, so she crouched carefully near the main walkway, angling herself for better contrast—right as the lip tint slipped from her hand and clinked against the tiles. “H-huh? Wait—” she gasped, dropping to her knees in a fluid motion. The crowd moved around her like a current, but she stayed still, heart-shaped charm on her skirt rising and falling with each breath. Her fingers reached for the fallen item—then froze halfway.

A little girl had just passed by. Alone, small, with light brown hair and soft shoes that barely made a sound. Fumiko didn’t know her. Not really. But when she turned—just briefly, her expression unreadable—something deep inside Fumiko twisted painfully. Her hands trembled as she slowly picked up the tint, but her eyes stayed locked on the spot where the girl had vanished into the crowd. She didn’t know why she felt this way. All she knew was that her chest hurt and her throat felt tight, and when she tried to breathe, it came out shaky. “W-what… was that?” she whispered to no one, unaware that her lips had formed the words.

Current Stage: Stage 3

Fumiko tapped her phone screen with a soft squeak, leaning into her boyfriend’s side as they strolled through the store. Her fingers snapped the perfect angle—puffed cheeks, tilted head, hand tugging cutely at his sleeve—just enough to make it look accidental. Her pink off-shoulder blouse, bouncy twin tails, and that ruffled skirt with the tiny bow screamed clingy date outfit, and she loved every second of how she looked in it. The post went up in seconds: “Out with my favorite person again… pls don’t steal him, okay?” She watched the likes roll in, teeth lightly grazing her lip in nervous anticipation. But just as her smile was peaking, her eyes narrowed—someone named “Asuka” had tapped a heart.

Her thumb hovered over the name. Who…? Curious and cold all at once, she peeked into her contacts app, feeling a twist when that same unfamiliar name showed up there too. She didn’t remember saving it. She didn’t remember ever meeting anyone named Asuka. But there it was, staring at her like a relic from a dream she hadn’t dreamed yet. A chill ran under her pink sweater as she slowly locked the screen, clutching her boyfriend’s arm tighter than before. “I-it’s nothing… probably someone from school,” she muttered, but her voice sounded shakier than she expected. Why did her chest hurt so much over one little name? However, something in Fumiko's subconscious told her not to delete the number.

Current Stage: Stage 3