Fragments Of Us

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the city as Toshi and Aiko walked home from college. The hum of traffic below mixed with the occasional chirp of birds, creating a peaceful backdrop to their quiet stroll. As they approached the bridge, Aiko suddenly stopped, leaning against the cold metal railing.

The wind played with her dark black hair, tossing it gently across her face as she stared at the water below. Toshi paused a few steps ahead, turning back with a curious look. "What's up?"

Aiko didn't answer immediately. Instead, she let the silence linger, her gaze fixed on the rippling water. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but steady. "Hey, Toshi… how's your preparation for the graduation exams coming along?"

Toshi joined her at the railing, resting his arms against it. "Not bad. But it feels strange, doesn't it? College life is almost over."

Aiko nodded, her eyes distant. "Yeah… just a few months left."

"So, what's your plan after college?" Toshi asked, glancing at her.

Aiko exhaled a slow breath. "I guess I'll have to find a job. What about you?"

"I'll be doing the same," Toshi replied. "Probably aiming for Horizon Biotech. They're the leaders in their field, after all."

Aiko turned to him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I was thinking the same. Horizon Biotech sounds like a good choice."

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of their future hanging between them. The sun dipped further below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and crimson.

After a small pause, Aiko pushed herself off the railing and started walking again. Toshi followed silently, their footsteps echoing softly against the pavement.

When they reached their apartment building, Toshi unlocked his door, pausing to glance back at Aiko. "Well… see you later, Aiko."

"See you," she replied, unlocking her own door.

Inside his apartment, Toshi let out a sigh and dropped his bag unceremoniously onto the floor. He headed to the kitchen, tossing a ready-to-eat ramen bowl into the microwave. A few minutes later, he sank onto the sofa, bowl in hand, and turned on the TV.

The channel flickered to life, revealing a news reporter with a grave expression. The sharp tone of the reporter's voice filled the room.

"Breaking news: Magnus Wren, the director of Horizon Inc., has tragically died in a car accident. His vehicle was discovered near the outskirts of the city, and reports suggest his body was almost unrecognizable due to the severity of the crash. Investigators are looking into the cause, though initial evidence points to a catastrophic mechanical failure."

Toshi frowned, his chopsticks hovering mid-air. Magnus Wren… dead?

The scene shifted to a press conference where Victor Alaric, Horizon's assistant director, stood at a podium, his expression composed but solemn.

When a reporter asked, "Mr. Alaric, with Director Wren's passing, who will take over the position of director?" Victor's reply was measured but firm.

"According to company protocol, the assistant director is next in line. It seems I must now shoulder this responsibility."

The reporter offered a congratulatory remark, to which Victor responded with a thin smile. The segment ended with the news anchor speculating on what this shift in leadership might mean for Horizon Inc.

Toshi switched channels, but the news was everywhere. Horizon's influence stretched too far for any media outlet to ignore the story. Frustrated, he turned off the TV, the room plunging into a heavy silence.

His ramen was already gone, though he couldn't remember finishing it. Tossing the bowl aside, he collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

The thought of college ending and the looming uncertainty of finding a job began to spiral in his mind. Images of interview panels, bustling corporate offices, and deadlines blended with flashes of Victor's face on the screen.

The soft whir of the ceiling fan above did little to drown out the storm of thoughts raging in his head. The weight of the future pressed down on him like never before.

As his eyes drifted shut, a lingering unease settled in his chest—one he couldn't quite name but couldn't ignore either.