Spirits

One year ago, a month after the awakening.

Tokyo, Japan.

Late night.

Matsuo's eyelids fluttered open.

He wanted very much to go back to sleep, but his bladder could not be put on hold much longer. He sat up begrudgingly, then swung his legs to the floor.

As he got to his feet, he heard muffled, rapid footsteps from outside the room.

His eyes snapped wide open in alarm. He reached for the baseball bat that he kept by his bedside.

The bat was a staple in his room. Matsuo worked in a casino, so he had his share of unfortunate encounters with vengeful gamblers.

It served as a precaution for times like this.

He lived alone in the apartment, so the footsteps were a dead giveaway that there was an intruder. He was not sure if it was a gambler or a burglar, but he had to deal with it either way.