Rebirth From Ordinary Person To The Strongest

When I became a university student, I decided I would move to Tokyo.

Seeing Tokyo on Instagram, I felt like it had everything I could ever want.

I grew up in a typical rural town where everyone went to the same middle school and high school, giving the place a stifling sense of conformity.

I had long grown tired of that atmosphere, and at some point, my smartphone became my only source of comfort. The small screen seemed like a window, opening a hole in the suffocating air of the countryside, letting in a fresh breeze from the city.

At the very least, I didn't want to waste the four years of university in the town I was born and raised in, unable to become anyone or anything. I wanted to start fresh in Tokyo, to be reborn as a new version of myself.

So, I threw myself into studying for entrance exams.

I wasn't smart enough to aim for a national university, so I set my sights on a private one, which required only three subjects.

In February, I traveled to Tokyo for the exams. The endless lines of people, all oblivious to my presence, and the long trains, the likes of which were unimaginable in my rural hometown, overwhelmed me. But it only strengthened my resolve—I had to make it to Tokyo.

Whether it was thanks to that determination, I don't know, but I ended up passing the entrance exam. My parents, who had initially opposed my moving to Tokyo for university, smiled when they saw my acceptance letter.

"You worked hard. We're proud of you," they said. And just like that, I became a university student.

It was my first time in Tokyo, my first time living alone.

One thing I discovered was how incredibly quiet a room could be when it was just for me. And, to my surprise, Tokyo had a lot more cherry blossom trees than I had expected.

Even though we weren't particularly well off, my father had rented me an 80,000-yen apartment with an auto-lock system for safety. I couldn't help but do the math—how many hours would I have to work at a part-time job to cover that rent? The thought nearly made me dizzy.

I had gone through a rebellious phase where I resented my father, but now I felt embarrassed about it.

In my own quiet apartment, I tried cooking for the first time. It was a disaster.

Maybe it was because of the layout of the place, or maybe that's just how Tokyo apartments were, but my kitchen only had a single-burner stove. I fumbled the timing, and before I knew it, I had burnt the eggs I was trying to scramble. I felt a bit disheartened that I couldn't even manage such a simple dish.

I realized that from now on, I would have to cook for myself every day. It hit me how incredible my mom was. Back in high school, I had often complained about the meals she made, but I knew I wouldn't be able to do that anymore.

I had been eagerly waiting for the dream of living alone, but now that I was doing it, I felt so lonely that I started calling my friends more often just to chat.

A week before the university entrance ceremony, I received a LINE message from my mom: "Have you submitted your moving-in notice yet?"

The moving-in notice was what I needed to submit in order to officially transfer my residency and get my scholarship. I realized I still hadn't done it, so I quickly replied, "I'll do it tomorrow."

Mom immediately shot back with, "You're always so slow with these things!" and proceeded to send a series of scolding messages. I turned off my phone and tossed it onto the bed. I appreciated that she always made me meals, but this kind of nagging was annoying.

Still, I knew that if I didn't submit the paperwork and couldn't get the scholarship, I'd be late on tuition payments. The thought of my dream of living in Tokyo being ruined spurred me to head to the ward office early the next day, right when it opened.

It was my first time handling official procedures on my own.

I didn't know what documents I needed, so I packed a bag with my personal seal and My Number card, then made my way to the ward office. Even though it was a weekday morning, the place was already packed with people.

As I navigated through the crowd, a beautiful woman who worked at the ward office approached me.

"How can I help you today?"

"Um… I need to submit a moving-in notice…"

"Okay, a moving-in notice. Please fill out this form. Just write in the black-framed sections, and if you have any questions, feel free to ask."

Even though I had only managed to say moving-in notice, she had already handed me the paperwork and circled the sections I needed to fill out with her finger. As I filled out the form titled Notice of Resident Change, I thought to myself, There are kind people in Tokyo after all, feeling a bit like a clueless country bumpkin.

Realizing that I'd have to handle these kinds of things by myself from now on made me feel a little more grown-up, and I was quietly pleased with myself.

Once I had written down my address and other details, I handed the form to the woman. She gave me a numbered ticket in return. It wasn't long before my number was called, and I handed the necessary documents to the person at the counter. In exchange, he gave me a pamphlet titled Ward Residents' Newsletter.

When I opened it, it listed the days for garbage collection. I figured I should make sure to read this carefully later.

As I was putting the pamphlet in my bag, the ward office staff had already processed my paperwork. Just like that, I had officially become a Tokyo resident. The fact that my high school dream had come true felt both gratifying and anticlimactic at the same time, swirling around inside me.

I hadn't even needed my personal seal or My Number card in the end, and just like that, I had finished my business at the ward office.

It was still too early for lunch, so I wasn't sure whether to head home or find somewhere to eat. As I was thinking it over, I found myself stopping in front of the bulletin board near the ward office entrance.

Something about the large lettering on the 8 Notices to Ward Residents section caught my attention. Figuring I was now a part of this community, I decided to take a closer look.

8 Notices to Ward Residents

To all ward residents,

This is everyone's city.

Please be considerate of others.

You must follow the garbage collection schedule.

You must greet the people in your community.

If you see a suspicious person, you must not approach them.
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If a suspicious person speaks to you, you must not respond.

Do not remove any posters stuck to telephone poles.

Do not answer any calls from numbers starting with '003.'

Any announcements from the ward office are lies.

Do not read this message.

The moment I read the last line, a shiver ran down my spine, and I knew something was terribly wrong. I wanted to run, but my legs froze in place.

"You're supposed to read the announcements, aren't you?"

A creepy voice echoed from the bulletin board, and an arm and mouth suddenly emerged, grabbing my arm with a crushing grip. The pain made me want to scream, but all that came out was a raspy whisper.

I was terrified and confused, trying to call out for help, but—

"Why...why isn't anyone…"

People were walking by me as if nothing was happening.

No one noticed me.

No one saw me.

The creature started pulling me closer. I tried to resist, planting my feet, but it was useless. Its enormous mouth opened wide, about to swallow me whole—

And then, in the blink of an eye, the arms holding me fell to the ground with a dull thud.

The creature's mouth turned to face the ward office entrance, and I followed its gaze.

There stood a young boy, no older than elementary school age.

Strangely enough, he was looking right at me. He was the only one who saw me.

The creature's mouth moved, mumbling something incomprehensible.

"You're not supposed to hurt people… That's what the notices say…"

"And the notices also say not to stick up posters without permission," the boy said calmly.

The mouth mumbled once more before it was suddenly split in two. The remains turned into black smoke and disappeared.

The poster that had been stuck to the bulletin board, 8 Notices to Ward Residents, peeled off on its own and disintegrated in front of my eyes. It was like watching a magic trick, and I stood there, stunned.

I figured the boy had saved me, but I didn't know how to thank him. I just stared at the bulletin board, unsure of what to say, until a woman who seemed to be the boy's mother, along with a younger girl who looked like his sister, came over to him.

"Itsuki, what are you doing here?" the woman asked.

"Oh, nothing," the boy replied.

"Let's go home, then. We've finished our errands."

The boy's mother took his hand and began to lead him away, and without thinking, I called out to him.

"W-wait!"

The boy glanced back at me, but said nothing.

"Thank you… for saving me."

The boy smiled softly and mouthed the words, You're welcome, before being led away by his mother.

The spring breeze rustled the cherry blossoms.

In that moment, for some reason, I felt truly glad that I had come to Tokyo.