A gentle breeze drifted through my room, the curtains dancing lighty, cradling the sunlight within their folds. Everything suggested it would be a beautiful day.
My name is Yuki Yamada. Back then, I was eight years old. I lived with my father and mother; she was a high school teacher—Sociology, to be precise—and my father owned a liquor store near Dotonbori.
As for me, I was still in elementary school. A top-tier student, I should add. Ha.
However, I don’t consider that point particularly relevant.
In truth, I had a tiny secret I used to hide from my parents...
I have an imaginary friend. That’s right—one who is always whispering things into my ear, telling me what decisions to make and what to think.
He never told me his name, but he always said peculiar things, like, "Let me have you," and so on.
Based on his voice, I gathered he must have been... sixty years old? Maybe even older. Oh, right—I forgot to mention that I had never actually seen him until that day. He was just a voice, nothing more.
Mr. Voice. That’s what I called him. Not very original, right? But that’s what he was to me—nothing but a simple voice.
Or so I thought.
It was 3:30 in the afternoon. I was coloring a book of animals native to Japan. Every so often, he would say to me: "Lift your gaze to the sun and reach out toward your reality."
What was he trying to tell me? Was it some kind of strange riddle? No, it couldn’t be; it didn't even have the substance of a riddle.
I simply ignored him and continued what I was doing.
But between every stroke of my crayons, he would speak again. "Make your will mine, and I shall make my warmth yours." Things like that.
He certainly spoke like an old man. He couldn’t be anyone but an elder, right?
But I didn’t care, because he was my friend.
I didn't have friends at school. Everyone said I was arrogant and a show-off—but who did they think they were? Little children get jealous when they see someone more advanced than them, and they react with hostility.
Well, a child never stops being a child until they learn their place, right?
That’s why having a friend made me happy. Someone I could talk to and share my thoughts with; someone who was also intelligent, like me.
Yes, exactly. I don't need childish friends when I can have ones as mature as myself.
I briefly remember hearing the door open at some point that afternoon. It was my parents; they had just returned from work.
My father usually left at 4:10 and my mother at 4:30, but since Dad’s shop was on the way to the high school where Mom worked, he would usually pick her up.
Oh, right!
Dad always brought me dorayakis!
That’s right—he would bring me a small bag filled with my favorite sweets. Looking back, didn't I have it all?
A loyal friend who was always with me, two wonderful parents, a big, beautiful house, and brains to boot. Heh. What more could I ask for?
I heard the sound of Dad’s footsteps coming up the stairs. I knew it was him because, unlike Mom, his steps were heavy.
As I swiveled in my chair with a grateful smile, waiting for him to arrive, I heard my friend speak again.
He said: "Grant me your flesh and blood, and I shall grant you my soul." What was he talking about? And why did that sound so... creepy? I had actually asked Mr. Voice before why he always said those kinds of things, but he would only respond with more of the same.
"To exist is the meaning of being alive, but not every living being exists in essence." That sounded contradictory. If something is alive, it’s because it exists, right?
"Lift your hand to the sun, and by closing your eyes, you shall continue to see—beyond what the human can perceive," he said.
I didn't really understand it, but I accepted and did exactly what he told me.
I closed my eyes, extended my hand toward the sun, and... nothing happened! What was supposed to happen, anyway?
But for some reason, I felt light. Almost as if I were floating. No—I was definitely floating.
When I opened my eyes, I saw him.
He was a robust man. He was naked, but he was missing his... "manhood." Not very manly, ha.
But he was covered in muscles—even more than Dad—and his face... hmm... how can I define it? Beautiful? His hair was black and wavy, cascading down his head. He looked just like me!
Haha, it’s true. I remember it even more vividly today; he was like an adult replica of myself. His light blue eyes had a certain quality to them...
Looking into them was like looking at the sky itself. Sharp eyes, like those of a hunter.
Not to mention the most unique thing I noticed: he had a large sphere rotating behind his back, floating. Was that the Earth?
When I tried to reach out and touch him, my hand passed right through his body. When I looked at my own hand, it was partially transparent.
As I tried to process this, he spoke in a deep, heavy tone.
"It was your will to awaken me, and it is my will to thank you. The planet is mine, and I am yours..."
Honestly, that made me blush. Was that a confession of love?! Sorry, dear friend, but I don’t swing that way. Nope.
When I looked forward, the door swung open. My father stood there in the threshold, eyes wide as saucers, dropping the bag of sweets.
Mr. Voice looked toward him and walked to the door, probably wanting to leave, but at that moment, my father grabbed him. He looked at him with... fury? Fear? Confusion?
With a trembling voice, he shouted: "Who the hell are you?! What are you doing in my son's room?! WHERE IS MY SON?!" His voice rose with every sentence until he was screaming.
Ah, right. Dad couldn't see me. Which means I was something like a... ghost?
Mr. Voice spoke with his usual calm tone, staring fixedly at Dad.
"I am the will born of the human being. I am the one who binds existence and the faith of the living; the one who makes them live and keeps them believing in their ideals."
Ha. Classic Mr. Voice, talking nonsense even to an old man like Dad.
Either way, Dad looked even more incredulous. Then, something seemed to click, and he released Mr. Voice immediately, stumbling back several steps until he hit the hallway wall.
My father was pale. With a stuttering voice, he asked again: "W-why are you glowing...?"
It was true! Mr. Voice was peculiar even in that. Why was his body emanating a golden light? In fact, I only knew he was naked because of the silhouette drawn within that light.
Dad probably realized the same thing as the reality of what was happening finally hit him.
From downstairs, I heard Mom’s voice, sounding agitated: "What's all that noise up there? What's going on?!"
Mr. Voice looked toward the stairs and slowly began to walk toward them.
Dad’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw that sphere on the man's back. With what little voice he had left, he managed to choke out a broken scream:
"Rin! Get the gun!"
After saying that, Dad grabbed a vase and ran toward Mr. Voice, aiming for his head.
But in that moment... Mr. Voice turned. With a single strike of his elbow—the crack of which echoed seconds after the impact—he sent the upper half of my father’s body flying through the wall, shattering everything in its path.
Whew. My father’s body had been reduced to a pair of hips and legs, with vertebrae and blood scattered everywhere.
In that moment, I thought... "Incredible!"
Was that kind of strength normal? No. What was Mr. Voice, really?
However, the last thing I saw before falling unconscious was myself slowly drifting back toward Mr. Voice’s body. Or rather... toward "my" body.
I woke up five weeks later.
I found out a few things. First, they had opened a legal case against Mom for suspected murder. But since there was no evidence that could link her to the crime, she was acquitted. In the end, they ruled it an "unsolved mystery."
They believed it might have been caused by an explosion so powerful it disintegrated half of Dad's body, or a murder by a completely unknown culprit.
There were no fingerprints, no DNA evidence—nothing.
My mother was devastated. She had giant dark circles under her eyes as she slept by my side. She looked pale, disheveled, as if she hadn't eaten in a long time.
Poor Mommy. But I didn't feel the same. I felt happy because I had finally seen Mr. Voice in person, and he was even more amazing than I thought!
Was this your gift, Dad? Letting me see Mr. Voice for the first time and witnessing his great power? Then I thank you completely!
I was totally happy. And I grew up with that happiness until I was sixteen, when I discovered more about "Mr. Voice."
And more about myself.
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