Archive of Our Own

It's a morning rush. You throw the covers off of you and haul yourself to the bathroom to wash-up. There's no time to think about anything else other than the minutes and the seconds ticking by. Every moment fleeting past another...the train will depart soon, you have to catch it so you won't be late for work. There's no time for food this morning, yet again—no aesthetic brunch like the ones from those lifestyle vlogs online.

But then, it's all incredibly bizarre when you look at your phone for the second time in the morning. You are confused. The date and time on the phone is completely frozen in place. You don't have the energy to deal with your phone's technical malfunction (what you deduce), but you soon realize, the moment you step out the front door, just how quiet it is outside. No beeps or honks, not a car in sight. Not a pedestrian to be seen.

A walk around the neighborhood finally confirms your suspicions that maybe for you and you alone, time has stopped. But not everything is unmoving. The sun's warmth still shines down on you, the breeze still tickles your neck. It's more accurate to say that time is still moving for you, just not for other people. It's a special day just as you hoped for. An eighth day.

"In that case...it's time to sleep again!" you exclaim happily, going back to your room. Kicking your shoes off and changing back to loungewear, you dive back into the comforts of your bed, cuddling yourself into blankets, happy and content. "Finally, I can sleep without an alarm bothering me..."

But you can't fall asleep. Maybe it's your body's natural cycle, trained over and over again by the alarm clock. After tossing and turning, creating three different hot spots on the bed, you are convinced you're unable to fall asleep. Your stomach is growling, crying out for the food you usually don't have time to prepare. Usually, but today isn't usual.

The hum of the fridge fills the silence in the kitchen. The glass clinks when you set it down on the counter. The hissing sound of water running through the faucet pours into the empty glass. There's the whistle and quick snaps of the gas stove when you first turn it on, followed by the sizzle of hot oil cooking food. Every interaction between each surface strikes a sound unlike anything else. The symphony of these sounds are all so familiar in those vlogs you watch late at night, but hearing them in real life for the first time is both strange and heartwarming.

They echo of the walls interact with the space which you are in, enveloping your senses. The smell of nourishment comes through to tell you food is ready. And perhaps for the first time in a long, long while, you sit down quietly at the table for a meal, looking at the careful plating slowly becoming messy bite after bite. Gradually, everything disappears until a dirty, empty plate sits in front of you. But your belly is full. And your heart is happy. 

Now that you're fed...now what?

You ponder this question over and over again. You have all this time—this eighth day. What can you work on? There's no one beckoning you over to help them. No one else who you have to care for today. Everything is stagnant. So how should you be productive, you lament.

It's frightening how fast time goes by just staring at clouds. Sometimes they are like a silk gauze flying through. Other times the puffy, majestic shapes are like a castle in the sky, slowly traveling where the wind takes them. As the clouds move, your eyelids are finally lulled shut as you bask under the shade of trees. Fragmented sun dance across your skin between the crevices of branches and leaves.

When you wake, it's because the cicadas have grown so impossibly loud. The sky is no longer blue, but a blend of red and orange. But no. No! How can it be?! Just a moment ago you were still here...you had closed your eyes for just a moment yet where has all the time gone?

Gone.

You get up to your feet and smooth out your clothes, brushing off a twig and a leaf caught on the fabric. You could've used this time to clean the room, could've slept more, could've studied more, caught ahead of others more. But all you did today was nothing.

"Why couldn't I have done more?" you berate yourself as your feet take you into a direction aimlessly. That's what it usually feels like day to day. Endless and aimless. The sun finally sets beyond the horizon line, taking away the last shreds of light away with it.

A moonless night, there's only darkness in sight. Your eyes can barely make out the shapes in the dark shadows. You look behind you and see the night staring back. All around you, it seems to try and seduce you. But the way it wraps and envelops you is different from the blankets on your bed or the smell of brunch in the kitchen...or the warm breeze under daylight. This one feels cold and lonely. Is it the night or you?

What can possibly be good?

You don't know where you're going, but regardless of the doubts, your feet keep shuffling—one foot in front another. Small, tiny, hesitant steps walk into the night. After a long journey till the soles of your feet begin to ache, you make out the shapes of an empty field. A vast expanse of rice paddies with new sprouts freshly planted, still barely visible to the eye. Somehow you can make them out in the water. There's no wind. The water is still and crystal like the surface of a mirror. And oh, it is certainly a mirror.

"It's a pretty sight isn't it."

The man's voice spikes your heartbeat in an alarmed frenzy; not because the voice sounds aggressive, but rather you did not expect another person to also be moving in the same time as you. You check your phone, wondering if time is moving now.

"There's still a few more hours left," he explains, realizing what you are wondering. "You can sit on the banks over there, it's much prettier up close."

He begins to walk over towards the paddy fields, leaving you still standing in the same spot. He turns around and smiles. "I'm Kita Shinsuke."

Kita is enigmatic. His footsteps are so quiet and there's almost an otherworldly sense to him. You sit down next to him and follow where his fingers are pointing, look at the paddy fields again. The mirror lake contains thousands of shimmering dots, sparkling and twinkling. They seem so close, as though if you stretch your hand into the water, you can scoop them up.

For the first time tonight, you look up towards the sky and see the stars. It's the first time you have seen them so clearly. No moon to distract you. No city lights to blind you. Just the blackness of the night and the diamonds found within its fabric. The night doesn't seem so desolate after all.

"Wow..."

Your eyes travel from one star to the next, trying to connect them and the stories behind them. How far away they seem in the sky, in comparison. They must be further than you can comprehend. They say that the stars you see are ones from the past.

"I wonder...what the people were doing then when the star actually looked like this..."

A laugh erupts from Kita, the sound rumbling through his chest and spilling out like chimes. "I wonder the same. I also wonder what the stars really look like right now. And what the world will be like when that star can be seen on Earth."

"We won't be around at that point."

"Probably not. But even if the people in the past didn't know about light-years, I bet they marveled all the same.

Two people. Of different times, different locations, even different lives can maybe share a bond through the sun, moon, and stars."

You don't respond to Kita's dramatic observation of the cosmos and instead stare at the reflection of the stars again. A dragonfly lands on the water for a brief moment before fluttering away, leaving behind three small ripples that quickly disappear into stillness once again.

"In a few more hours, it'll be Monday," Kita laments.

"Can you read my mind or something?" you inquire, both frustrated and alarmed.

"No, but seeing the ripples fade reminds me of this truth. Isn't it also for you?"

"...It does."

Kita leans back completely, folding his hand behind his head. "An eighth day. A special time for yourself. No responsibilities, no identities, nothing but you and yourself. Isn't it nice to be reminded of what will endure beyond anything else?"

After living for all these years, it's the first time you have seen stars like this. Come to think of it, it's the first time you have walked through the natural cloak of night. The first time in a long, long time, you have stopped and waited. Stopped and examined your place in the world as a guest in the universe's existence. Finally took a break. Breathed.

You also lean back onto the grass and join Kita in gazing at the stars. How wonderful would it be for this view to live on forever?

"It's nice!"

Rrringgg!!

Your hand shoots out from the cover to tackle your phone. You swipe the alarm off and sit up in bed. Monday. Work day. You get up for your morning routine. The same one you have been repeating for years now. It feels monotonous, but perhaps the water you splash onto your face today wakes you up a bit more than usual. You smile at yourself in the mirror before you step out of your home into the loud and bustling world outside. 

The honks and beeps are back. People rush about trying to get to where they need to be. While you rush to catch your train, you feel a breeze pressing on your back nudging you forward. Nothing changed, you think. It is all just a really long, really nice dream.

When you leave work for the day, the sky is once again the same red and orange. As you stand in the crowded train, you observe the other commuters heading home after work. Some have tired, exhausted expressions. Some are nodding their way into slumber, nearly falling out of their seats. The students are huddled over their phones and handheld games. A parent is on the phone with their kid reminding them to cook rice in advance. And there's you, a silent observer watching the diverse group of people going about their daily lives, a commuter who in the midst of observations, misses their station.

The scenery suddenly becomes unfamiliar. You normally don't go past your stop at all, not in this direction. When you arrive at the last station, it occurs to you that it isn't a completely new place. You have most definitely been here yesterday. Either it's yesterday, or in a dream. That dream is too vivid and detailed, taking you to a place where you're sure you haven't been to before.

As your feet take you step by step down the road, it feels as though you really have been here. Your feet seem to know where they are going. And before the final lights of the sun are gone, you see the paddy fields. A few farmers are driving their tractors around, a couple wrapping up the day to go home. You spot him.

Kita Shinsuke. He's wiping some sweat off of his brow with the towel around his neck. A few farmers are chatting with him about something you're too far to make out. Right when you're about to call his name, he catches sight of you.

You want to shout at him, demanding answers or at least an explanation of sorts. Did the eighth day really happen? All you see is Kita's eyes, full of mirth, waning into crescents as he puts a finger to his lips. Seeing as there are other people around Kita, you decide to follow Kita's direction and swallow the questions you have. After pacing about the area for a while, the other farmers finally leave.

Kita walks over to you, each step reminding you of the person you counted stars with. He stops in front of you giving you a warm smile and holds his hand out.

"So, you're back."

You wrap your hand around his in a firm hand-shake.

"I guess I'm back."