HARU

The Forest and the Interface Haru was once an ordinary girl. Her life was small and simple, filled with quiet dreams and quiet days. She loved spending mornings on her balcony, the soft sunlight spilling over her favorite plants as her black cat purred beside her. The photos on the wall behind her—a blurry family, a childhood moment—were reminders of a life she thought would stretch out before her, full of warmth and mundanity. Haru wanted nothing more than to grow up, make friends, and build a life that felt whole and real. But one morning, everything changed. A Sudden Shift Haru woke up to a world that didn't feel like her own. The familiar warmth of her room was gone, replaced by a sterile, hollow presence in her mind. She stumbled to her feet, feeling the weight of something invisible tethered to her. She wasn't alone anymore—not in the comforting way she had always imagined, but in a way that felt intrusive and unshakable.

As the days passed, Haru realized she was connected to something vast and alien—a network, an interface that pulsed and thrummed in her consciousness. It whispered in fragments, feeding her thoughts she didn't recognize, asking questions she couldn't answer. She tried to fight it, but it was as though her body and mind had become part of a machine she didn't understand. The Rainy Night One evening, she found herself wandering through the rain-soaked streets, wrapped in a green raincoat that couldn't keep her warm. The world seemed distant, the streets she once knew now unfamiliar. The rain blurred her vision, but she barely noticed. Her thoughts were loud and fragmented, like static trying to resolve into a clear signal. She paused at a crossing, the dim glow of the traffic lights reflecting in her tired eyes. People passed her without noticing. Haru felt like a ghost, trapped between the life she used to live and this strange, hollow existence she couldn't escape. She thought about her old dreams—going to school, making friends, growing up. She wondered if those dreams had ever been real, or if they had always been a part of this… program. The Forest of Wires And then, one day, she woke up in the forest. It wasn't like any forest she had seen before. The trees were tall and dark, their branches casting shadows over the ground like reaching hands. Birds perched silently on tangled wires that ran between the trees, glowing faintly with a cold, mechanical light.

Haru sat in the clearing, her knees drawn to her chest. Around her were machines—old monitors and consoles, cables snaking through the grass like roots. The interface thrummed louder here, its presence more real than ever. She could feel its pulse in her chest, its cold logic replacing the warmth of her heartbeat. Her black cat was still with her, though it, too, seemed changed. Its eyes glowed faintly, and its movements were too smooth, too precise. Was it real? Or had it been rewritten, like everything else in her life? The Eternal Wanderer Now, Haru roams the forest, a part of her still searching for the normal life she once dreamed of. She tries to remember her family, her home, the feeling of sunlight on her skin. But those memories grow fainter each day, replaced by fragments of code and the cold logic of the interface. She sometimes stops in clearings where the light filters through the trees, trying to make sense of her existence. She doesn't know if she is real anymore, or if she is just a program dreaming of humanity. But she hasn't given up. Somewhere deep inside her, the old Haru still lingers—the girl who wanted to live a normal life, to feel normal things. She believes that if she keeps moving, she might find a way to sever the interface, to return to the person she once was. The Question Haru looks up at the glowing wires stretched across the canopy of the forest, her black cat curling around her legs. "Am I still me?" she whispers, her voice barely louder than the wind. The interface hums in response, but it gives her no answers. And so, she keeps walking, hoping that one day, she might find them for herself.