This morning, Tanaka felt something was off.
His skin felt hard and cold to the touch, slippery, like it was wrapped in a layer of cheap plastic film.
He forced open his sore eyes, looking at his reflection in the full-length mirror by the entrance. The mirror showed a swollen, sallow face, etched with the signs of a lingering hangover and a mid-life crisis.
He tugged at the corners of his mouth, trying to muster the kind of perfunctory vitality a salaryman should have, but he only managed to deepen the wrinkles under his lower eyelids.
"Tsk."
He irritably looked away, attributing the strange sensation and the heaviness in his body to the damned business dinner last night that lasted until the early hours.
"It's all for this family..." he mumbled, bending down to pick up his worn-out briefcase.
The train to Ikebukuro was, as always, the express to hell.
The moment the train doors opened, a wave of heat mixed with sweat, cheap perfume, and the smell of stale food hit Tanaka, almost knocking him over.
He was like an expired piece of meat forcibly crammed into a sardine can, involuntarily pushed and shoved by the crowd behind him. His bones groaned under the pressure, and his briefcase was pressed tightly against his front, becoming his last pitiful buffer.
The carriage became airtight due to the immense number of occupants. The murky air seemed to gain weight, pressing heavily on the heads and shoulders of every passenger.
Countless "irritations" silently fermented and steamed here, almost solidifying into a tangible grey mist. Tanaka, sandwiched between several equally ashen-faced salarymen, felt like he was suffocating.
"This morning's meal... was too perfunctory."
"Just a few slices of pickled radish, half a bowl of cold miso soup – who is that supposed to satisfy? My stomach is empty and rumbling..."
"Hungry... So hungry..."
"That woman, Ryoko, her attitude has been getting worse lately!"
"I run around like a dog doing sales every day, humbling myself, isn't it all for that damned bonus, for this family? What does she know! How dare she give me attitude!"
"Hungry..."
"Stop pushing! You bastard behind me! Your bag is digging into me!"
"And that brat over there! Crying! Why are you crying! You're so loud! There are more people who want to cry in this carriage than grains of rice you've eaten! Cry again and I'll throw you out!"
"Hungry! Starving!!!"
Countless fragmented and resentful thoughts wildly sprouted, intertwined, and expanded in Tanaka's mind.
The heavy pressure of life, the long-accumulated frustrations, the suffocating atmosphere in the carriage, and the increasingly sharp, undeniable burning sensation in his stomach—it was a pure, primal "hunger" that threatened to incinerate his sanity!
His breathing grew heavy, cold beads of sweat seeped from his temples, sliding over his cold, slick skin. The edges of his vision began to darken, and his heart pounded in his eardrums.
He felt like a string stretched to its breaking point, about to snap completely in the next second.
Just then—
Buzz... A strange, indescribable sensation, like cool water, instantly washed over his entire body.
All discomfort was gently brushed away by an invisible hand, vanishing without a trace in an instant.
An unprecedented feeling of lightness enveloped him.
It was as if a thousand-pound burden had been lifted, or as if he had been abruptly pulled from a murky swamp, breathing pure air for the first time.
A new, almost languid sense of comfort permeated from his very bones.
Tanaka instinctively opened his eyes.
The sight before him instantly froze him.
The crowded, filthy train carriage, reeking of despair... was gone.
In its place was an endlessly long, dazzling train!
The ceiling was a clear crystal dome, casting warm, soft light. The floor was covered with a thick, soft, gold-embroidered red carpet.
But what was most shocking was that the rapidly passing scenery outside the train window had vanished; the entire interior of the carriage, as far as the eye could see, was filled with food!
The walls were brownie cakes flowing with rich chocolate sauce, studded with glistening candied cherries; the seats were fluffy, golden giant cream puffs, with cream piping as exquisite as works of art; on the aisle carpet, self-propelled platters carried sizzling, top-grade Wagyu beef steaks, mountains of Hokkaido sea urchin sashimi, soufflés emitting an enticing caramel aroma...
The air was filled with the ultimate scents of hundreds of gourmet foods, stirring the most primal desires deep within his soul.
Even more miraculously, Tanaka found his mouth had become abnormally wide, feeling like he could easily fit a basketball inside. And those mouth-watering delicacies were now like the finest sushi conveyor belt at a revolving sushi restaurant, moving in neat rows, with tempting "sizzling" sounds and cute "popping" bubble noises, happily rushing towards his giant mouth.
A pancake drenched in thick maple syrup was the first to arrive, jumping in without hesitation.
It was followed by oysters topped with caviar, foie gras drizzled with black truffle sauce, golden and crispy tempura prawns... They lined up, singing, emitting joyful shrieks, vying to rush into his mouth, slide down his throat, and fill his empty stomach.
Warmth, satisfaction, and an unparalleled feeling of happiness engulfed him like a tide.
"Is this a dream...?"
Tanaka thought sluggishly, his tongue clumsily rolling the exploding, richly layered, exquisite flavors in his mouth.
"...If it's a dream... then that's fine too."
He completely gave up thinking, allowing himself to sink into this illusory yet supremely beautiful ocean. He stretched his strange yet incredibly useful large mouth as wide as possible, like the most devout believer, welcoming and devouring the endless stream of bliss rushing towards him.
"I'm hungry."
This thought became incredibly pure, leaving only enjoyment.
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