“Ugh… where am I…?”
When Yusuke opened his eyes, he saw an unfamiliar ceiling. It was a sophisticated dark brown ceiling with orange and cream lines, adorned with an elegant chandelier. As he tried to turn his head to look around, a sharp pain shot through it. Touching his head, he felt a bandage wrapped around it, covered by a net.
“Ow… what the hell happened to me…?” Lying on his back, Yusuke lifted his head slightly. He was in a bed—fine. But why was it so wide, almost like a double bed? Scanning the room, he took in his surroundings. The room was excessively spacious for one person, easily over 20 tatami mats in size. The floor was covered with warm-toned, long-pile carpet—likely pleasant to walk on barefoot. High-end furniture, unified in dark brown with gold trim, was placed throughout. To the right of the bed was a table with three chairs. At the foot, a black leather sofa and a low table. Luxurious curtains hung over the left window, letting in faint daylight, confirming it was daytime. On a chest near the window, a costly-looking vase held colorful roses. Though he’d never stayed in one, the room reminded Yusuke of a hotel suite.
Suddenly, fragmented images flashed in his mind: A frozen, steep downhill slope. Slipping and tumbling down. The shocked expression of a woman driving a red sports car. The sharp outline of the car rushing toward him.
“That’s right… I got hit by a car…” Yusuke finally recalled what happened. He was lucky to regain consciousness without dying. Perhaps the driver or a passerby called an ambulance. But something didn’t add up—why wasn’t he in a hospital room?
The half-sitting position was uncomfortable, so he lay back down. His body felt strange, almost foreign. The bed was soft and comfortable.
He pondered his situation. “Maybe that woman driving the red sports car was filthy rich… or the daughter of a wealthy family?” Though she didn’t seem young in the brief glimpse he got, it made sense that her affluent parents arranged this, perhaps after she pleaded with them. Or maybe her family was in a position where an accident couldn’t be publicized. This might not be a hotel but a VIP room in a hospital. He recalled TV dramas showing politicians or celebrities receiving special treatment in such rooms.
As Yusuke mulled this over, a door to the right opened, and a nurse in a white coat appeared. Her short black hair was topped with a nurse’s cap. Her strikingly beautiful face gave a slightly cold impression, but her poised demeanor was undeniably attractive—a capable-looking nurse. Likely in her mid-20s, tall and slender, she carried herself elegantly. Noticing Yusuke awake, she smiled brightly and said:
“You’re awake! Thank goodness… How are you feeling, Mr. Hirose?” Her smile was captivating, her voice clear despite its softness—straight out of a drama. A VIP room indeed.
“Uh… my head still hurts a bit…?” Yusuke was startled by how high-pitched his voice sounded. Was my voice always like this? Maybe it was waking up or nerves from facing a beautiful nurse.
“I’ll fetch the doctor right away. Please wait a moment.” She bowed deeply and exited through the door. Her overly polite treatment left Yusuke feeling awkward. Where’s the driver? I need to get answers. The car hit him, so the fault was hers. Surely they wouldn’t demand he pay hospital fees… Lost in thought, staring at the ceiling, the door burst open with a bang, and a woman’s frantic voice rang out:
“Yuu! Yuu-chan!”
At a glance, she was a stunning Latina woman, perhaps just over 30. Her long, wavy hair was a natural brunette. Her chiseled features, sharp eyes, and fierce brows gave her a commanding presence. Seeing Yusuke awake, her light brown eyes widened as she rushed toward the bed.
(Who is she?) The only women Yusuke could imagine rushing to his side were his mother or sister. Since joining his current job, he hadn’t visited bars or clubs, and he had no close relationships with young foreign women—let alone someone who looked like a Hollywood star or a Miss Universe contestant. Slightly taller than him, her most striking feature was her ample chest, bouncing dramatically as she ran, despite her black pantsuit and thin red top. (Wow…) Yusuke couldn’t help but stare.
“I’m so glad… If you hadn’t woken up, Yuu-chan, Mama would’ve…” Tears welled in her eyes. (Mama? Like a bar hostess?) Before he could process, she hugged him tightly. A subtle citrus perfume tickled his nose as her arms wrapped around his back and neck, carefully avoiding his injuries. “Oof!” His face was pressed into her chest, squeezed between her “melons.” (Soft… but the pressure… I can’t breathe…)
Being smothered by a beautiful woman’s chest would normally be a dream, but unprepared and struggling to breathe, Yusuke’s mind teetered on panic. “Mother, your son seems to be struggling!” The nurse’s voice came from behind, cautiously intervening. (Son? She’s calling me her son?) As his breath faltered, Yusuke vaguely wondered why she spoke as if he were her child.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” She pulled back, tears streaming as she apologized. “That must’ve been awful, Yuu-chan! I was just so worried…” Sobbing, she looked distraught. Yusuke stared blankly, thinking, She’ll ruin her makeup. The surreal events overwhelmed him.
“Ho ho ho. It’s only natural to worry about your precious son,” came a voice. An elderly doctor with white hair slicked back, wearing a white coat, approached slowly from behind the nurse. “Let’s see how our patient’s doing now that he’s awake.” Taking out a stethoscope, she was clearly a doctor, with the nurse preparing to take notes.
As the Latina woman stepped aside, the doctor approached the bed. The nurse adjusted something, and the upper part of the bed tilted, easing Yusuke’s position. The doctor unbuttoned his pajamas, revealing a white T-shirt. Unbeknownst to Yusuke, both women subtly cast heated glances at his body. He was too shocked by what he saw: (Why am I so thin?!) His once-protruding belly was flat, his bandaged right arm and waist slender—like he was back in his teens, or even slimmer.
“Can you tell me your name?” Yusuke, staring at his body, hurriedly looked up. “Yusuke Hirose.” “Date of birth?” “June 30, 1975.” “Family composition?” “My father passed away when I was young. I have my mother and older sister.”
The questions likely checked for memory issues from his head injury. Relieved to answer smoothly, Yusuke relaxed. “Hmm. You seem aware of yourself, which is reassuring for now,” the doctor said, turning to the woman. “Yuu-chan… you remember Mama, right?” “Huh?” “Huh?” They locked eyes. The doctor interjected, “What, have you forgotten your mother’s face?” “Mother? Her? No way, my mom isn’t this young and beautiful!” Yusuke recalled an anime movie from middle school. This isn’t some red comet scenario—a younger woman as my mom? What kind of joke is this? The woman looked hurt and confused but briefly smiled at being called young and beautiful before her expression turned complex.
“Hmm. You’ve been in a coma for three days since arriving here. Do you remember what happened?” Yusuke tried to answer. He’d recalled it upon waking, but now his memories felt muddled, with unfamiliar images creeping in. “I was sliding down a slope… was someone chasing me? No, that can’t be right. A pedestrian bridge… no, an intersection. A woman… right, I was hit by a car… wait, someone was clinging to me from behind?” A chill ran through him, followed by overwhelming terror. “No! No! They’re coming at me—too many! Help! Stop, stop!” “Yuu-chan!” “Sedative.” As Yusuke clutched his head, the woman moved toward him, but the doctor calmly instructed the nurse.
Watching the now-calm Yusuke after the sedative, the doctor and woman spoke. “It seems the head injury is causing memory confusion.” “Doctor, is Yuu-chan okay?!” “Calm down. His injuries need time to heal. With rest, his memories should stabilize, but that’s all I can say for now.” “Y-Yes… Those women who did this to Yuu-chan—I’ll never forgive them!” Yusuke, unaware of why she was so angry, stared blankly, raising his hands and thinking, Something’s off.
“Excuse me, can I see a mirror?” “A mirror?!” “Yes.” The woman panicked. “Your face is fine! Not a scratch!” “No, that’s not what I mean.”
The doctor nodded, deeming it harmless. The nurse retrieved a hand mirror from the chest and handed it to Yusuke. Seeing his reflection was the biggest shock of the day. “What?!”
“Yuu-chan?!” “Another trauma?” Yusuke gestured to calm the alarmed woman, doctor, and nurse. “No, it’s… not that. This face…” “There’s nothing wrong with it, is there?” “Like I said, no scars on your face—miraculous, considering you hit your head. Just a sprained ankle and some scrapes on your elbow and knee, which will heal quickly!” “Y-Yeah… hmm…”
The reflection wasn’t his familiar 40-year-old face but that of a strikingly handsome mid-teen boy. A “sauce face”—deep, Western-like features suggesting mixed heritage. Looking at the woman, then back at the mirror, he saw inherited traits in his eyes and nose. It wasn’t strange to believe they were mother and son. He’d guessed she was 30 or 31, but perhaps she was older, with her skin closer to an average Japanese tone. Without knowing his father, it was clear he’d inherited the best from both parents—a flawless, enviable face. Yusuke recalled a movie about a Roman bathhouse engineer time-traveling to modern Japan through water, resembling the young, striking actor who played the Roman. (Seriously, what happened to me? How did this happen?) Rubbing his eyes and pinching his cheeks, the boy in the mirror mimicked him, wincing in pain.
If he’d simply rejuvenated, it might’ve made sense, however far-fetched. But this was an entirely unfamiliar face. Confusion overwhelmed him. “…!” The mirror triggered a flood of unfamiliar images, too much for his mind to process, pushing him toward panic. The doctor patted his shoulder. “You’ve only just regained consciousness. No need to rush. Rest for now. We’ll talk when you’re calmer.” “Y-Yes.” “I know you have much to discuss, but let him be for now,” the doctor told the woman. “But…” The woman hesitated but nodded. The three prepared to leave. “If you need anything, press the nurse call button by your pillow. I’ll come right away,” the nurse said with a gentle smile. To this body’s owner, she was about 10 years older, but to Yusuke’s 40-year-old consciousness, she seemed much younger—an angelic smile.
“Oh, my shoelaces…” The woman claiming to be his mother bent to tie her undone laces. Despite her suit, she wore black sneakers with red lines. Bending over revealed a bold cleavage, flushing Yusuke’s cheeks as he quickly looked away.
Then he noticed a calendar he hadn’t seen earlier, obscured when she was standing. The top half showed a Mediterranean port town—white walls, orange roofs, facing an emerald sea. Something felt off about the dates. The vernal equinox’s day of the week was wrong, and the month’s end wasn’t a Saturday but a weekday. Recently, his vision had worsened from 0.7 to 0.5, making him consider glasses. At this distance, he shouldn’t have seen clearly, yet now his vision was sharp—likely 1.0 or better. Above the March dates, it read:
1990 (Seika 13)
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