There’s no stars tonight. Tokyo’s vast sea of neon city lights overshine any possibility of a speck of a star twinkling in the dark night sky.

Nakamura Daichi lets out a weary exhale as he steps out the office building. It’s 10pm, and Daichi’s third overtime shift this week. Really, he should grow a spine and refuse his coworkers and superiors for once. But it’s difficult to break out the cycle of being a pushover, when it’s now what everyone expects of him. Just the thought of it causes a migraine to come on, and Daichi itches to soothe it.

But he ran out of cigarettes today at the office. He’ll have to stop by the convenience store on his way home— to his tiny apartment, tucked away in the shadier parts of Tokyo.

Weaving through crowded streets and through the more unsavoury parts of the bustling city, Daichi moves through the currents as only one of many, many office workers.

Tonight though, Daichi’s pulled out from the cogs of the everturning machine of his drab life by a hand on his shoulder. He looks back.