An Anonymous Letter

I'm Stuck in My Bedroom Floor

Shihai Kurorio's POV

"Here, in case you get hit by a frisbee again."

I am fully convinced that some spirit took over my body when I was talking to Komori. The compliment just left my mouth without warning. I even nudged her. This sudden boldness I have acquired is unnatural, yet, I don't want to abandon it. For the first time, I've talked to a girl I like without saying something stupid or embarrassing.

I grab my phone, and my fingers type and send a message without thinking.

I think I've nailed the hair flip.

Komori and I message back and forth for a while, ending our conversation with her threatening to send that video to the class group chat. Eventually, I change into pajamas and drift off to sleep.

I'm at home, in my childhood room. The walls are plastered with posters of 4-year-old I's drawings, which are barely visible due to the lights being turned off. I'm about to go to bed, when I step right through my floor, being consumed by darkness. It's almost like being in the water, having the mobility to freely move wherever I want, but I still can't get any part of my lower body out.

This is how my quirk manifested, I subconsciously think.

I try to scream for help, but no sound comes out.

Trying to hoist myself up using my hands only pushes me down farther and farther, until all that is left is my right arm. Suddenly, a warm hand grabs mine and lifts me up. It's Kinoko, smiling softly. The scene shifts from my childhood room to the 1B classroom. She's still holding my hand, and we're surrounded by all of our classmates. Photocopies of the letter are scattered everywhere in sight, and Pony is standing on top of a desk, leading an orchestra that is our friends, everyone reciting the exact words I wrote in sync.

"You don't actually love me right?" Komori laughs.

My silence answers her question. She swats her hand away from mine with a disgusted and betrayed look on her face.

"I thought we were friends. Friends don't lie to each other!" Komori pushes me to the ground, and I wake up in a cold sweat. The alarm clock on my bedside table reads 5:14 am. I lie in bed, trying to calm myself down from that hellish nightmare, but it's no use. I get up and walk to my desk, where I sit down and pick up a metal puzzle to try and solve it. This is my go-to ritual whenever I feel anxious or stressed. Taking apart each piece helps calm me down. By the time I'm finished, I feel a little bit better.

I grab a match to light a lavender-scented candle and reach for a book I haven't started. In the dark morning, I read a book with the brightness of a single flame, and as the sun rises, so does my mood.