Yuzu sat cross-legged on the floor, her ptop open in front of her, the glow of the screen casting harsh light against the darkened room. She had surrounded herself with empty snack wrappers, half-drunk cups of coffee, and hastily scribbled notes as if she were preparing for an exam that determined the fate of the universe. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against the keyboard, refreshing the news page over and over.

  Each article told her the same thing: Orpheus was real. Orpheus was coming. Orpheus would end everything.

  Yuzu groaned, slumping further into her pile of bnkets and half-eaten snacks. "Orpheus this, Orpheus that. How about you Orpheus that lewd dense cabbage inside your mouth?" she muttered, aggressively shoving another handful of chips into her own. The internet was obsessed, but she was past obsession. She was in the trenches, lost in an endless cycle of doom scrolling, conspiracy theories, and caffeine-fueled despair.

  But as she scrolled through social media, a different narrative pyed out. A bizarre, infuriating spectacle of denial and absurdity. The endless stream of posts blurred together, a chaotic mix of all-caps rants, poorly photoshopped "proofs" debunking the asteroid's existence, and smug influencers cashing in on the hysteria with merch that read "Orpheus Who?" Yuzu’s fingers twitched as she scrolled past a video of a self-procimed "truth seeker" waving a whiteboard filled with red string and nonsense equations. Somewhere, deep within her sleep-deprived brain, she felt something snap.

  FAKE NEWS!

  This is just another government fear tactic.

  The world was supposed to end in 2012, and guess what? We’re still here.

  Where’s the proof? Why should we trust a bunch of scientists who get paid to make us panic?

  Yuzu’s eyes twitched. She grabbed the nearest stress ball, an old souvenir from a finance internship fair and squeezed it until her fingers ached. "You absolute walnuts," she muttered under her breath. But she couldn’t stop. Her fingers moved on autopilot, scrolling, clicking, refreshing. Her coffee had long gone cold, but she barely noticed as she dove headfirst into another thread. It was a chaotic blend of doomsday preppers, denialists, and self-procimed "experts" with conspiracy theories ranging from "Orpheus is a hoax to distract us from inftion" to "aliens sent it as punishment for NFTs."

  She clicked on a particurly absurd cim: "Orpheus isn't real. The government is just covering up the real threat: lizard people." Her eyes twitched harder. She rubbed her temples, then immediately opened another tab, pulling up the test scientific reports. The contrast between hard data and internet nonsense was enough to make her brain short-circuit. Yet, she couldn’t stop. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. Horrifying, but impossible to look away.

  Her phone buzzed beside her. She gnced at the screen: Ryo calling…

  She let it ring twice before picking up, already bracing herself. Her long, straight bck hair, which had started out neatly tied in a loose ponytail, was now a mess of escaped strands framing her tired face. Her dark brown eyes, usually sharp with curiosity, were dull from exhaustion and screen gre. She pulled the oversized sleeves of her sweater over her hands, gripping the phone like a lifeline as she slumped further into the nest of bnkets and snack wrappers around her.

  "Hey, did you sleep at all?" Ryo’s voice was far too rexed for the situation.

  Yuzu scoffed, waving a dismissive hand even though Ryo couldn’t see her. "Oh yeah, I got a solid thirty minutes in between a totally normal, not-panicked research session and dealing with absolute morons online. Honestly, I don’t even know why people are freaking out. This whole Orpheus thing? Probably just a big misunderstanding. Or bad math. Yeah, bad math. Scientists mess up all the time. Or wait, is it? Probably. I mean, if they were really sure, wouldn’t they be more panicked? Or are they just good at hiding it? No, no, it’s fine. It has to be fine." She nodded to herself, as if saying it aloud made it true. "So, how about you? Sleep like a baby?"

  Ryo sighed. "Yuzu, you need to calm down."

  "Calm down? Ryo, the pnet is on a doomsday timer! An actual countdown to oblivion! And people are acting like it’s some eborate prank, like the universe itself is running a social experiment to see how long we can pretend nothing’s happening! I’ve got conspiracy theorists saying it’s a marketing stunt, influencers making apocalypse-themed dance challenges, and news anchors smiling like they’re announcing the weather! And I’m just supposed to sit here and rex? At this point, I don’t know what to believe!"

  "You’re supposed to take a break before you combust." His tone was patient, the way one might speak to a child convinced there was a monster under the bed. "Look, I get that this is scary, but you obsessing over it won’t change anything."

  Yuzu rubbed her temples, frustration bubbling beneath her skin. "I am not obsessing, I am researching. There’s still a chance, right? We have a year! Scientists are working on solutions, governments are meeting, and—"

  "And if they figure something out, you refreshing news feeds every five seconds isn’t going to speed up the process."

  Yuzu opened her mouth, then closed it. He wasn’t wrong. That was the worst part. But sitting still and doing nothing felt impossible. She gnced at her ptop, where a live broadcast of a government press conference was pying. The screen was split: on one side, a panel of exhausted officials spoke in measured tones. On the other, a scrolling live chat filled with chaos.

  LIES!

  Wake up, sheeple!

  I bet this is a ploy to sell more toilet paper!

  Yuzu threw her hands up. "We are literally watching the apocalypse happen in real time, and people are acting like it’s a reality TV stunt! Or maybe it is a reality TV stunt." Her eyes darted toward the screen, suspicion creeping in.

  Ryo exhaled through the phone. "Yeah, people suck. But not all of them. Look, I know this is hard, but you can’t carry the weight of the world by yourself. Take a deep breath. Go outside. Touch some grass."

  Yuzu scowled. "I live in Tokyo, Ryo. There is no grass. The closest thing I have is the sad little potted pnt outside my neighbor’s door, and even that looks like it’s given up on life."

  "Fine, then touch some concrete. Just step away from the screen for five minutes."

  She stared at the broadcast, her dark brown eyes unfocused, the screen’s harsh blue light reflecting in them like a ghostly glow. One of the scientists. Dr. Nakamura, a leading astrophysicist was saying something about trajectory analysis and impact models, his voice measured but weary. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but she couldn’t bring herself to take notes.

  She should be listening. She should be documenting everything. But her mind was a tangled mess of numbers, conspiracy theories, and caffeine-fueled paranoia. The oversized sleeves of her sweater slipped past her wrists as she massaged her temples, attempting to will herself into focus.

  Then Ryo’s voice cut through the noise, breaking the spell of static and frantic thoughts. She blinked, suddenly aware of the deep ache settling into her shoulders, the stiffness in her legs from sitting too long. Her cramped fingers, still curled over the keyboard, trembled slightly as she flexed them. The exhaustion hit her all at once, like a crashing wave, pulling her under before she could fight it. The room around her felt smaller, suffocating, the walls closing in under the dim glow of her ptop screen. Even the half-empty coffee cups and crumpled snack wrappers seemed to mock her, relics of a battle against uncertainty that she was quickly losing.

  "Fine," she mumbled, standing up. "Five minutes."

  "Good. And Yuzu?"

  "Yeah?"

  "If the world doesn’t end, I’m making you buy me dinner for putting up with your doomsday ranting."

  A weak smile tugged at her lips. "If the world doesn’t end, I’ll buy you two dinners."

  She hung up, grabbed her jacket, and stepped outside into the city night. The streets were the same as they always were. Neon lights, the hum of distant traffic, couples chatting over te-night ramen. The world was still turning, for now. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t over yet. Yep, everything’s normal.

  The street lights flickered, casting long shadows on the pavement, while a stray cat yawned zily atop a vending machine, utterly unbothered by the impending doom. Yuzu squinted at it. "Well, at least you're chill about this whole thing."

  Without thinking much about it, she reached up and scooped the cat into her arms. It let out a small, surprised meow but, after a second, settled comfortably against her sweater, as if accepting its fate as an impromptu travel companion. "Alright, buddy, let's go for a walk."

  She strolled down the sidewalk, cat in arms, as if taking a perfectly normal evening stroll rather than escaping her own spiraling thoughts. A drunk saryman stumbled out of a convenience store, obliviously humming a pop song from five years ago. He blinked at Yuzu and her newfound feline companion but said nothing, just gave a slow nod of approval before shuffling away. The ramen shop on the corner was still open, steam curling from its tiny kitchen as if the world wasn’t teetering on the edge of destruction. The cat purred, seemingly content, while Yuzu sighed. The city moved on, indifferent. And Yuzu, pacing the streets with a stolen cat, wasn’t sure if she should find that comforting or completely insane.

  "Buddy, can you believe it? The world will be gone by next year, and people actually believe it! Like, come on, hasn’t anyone ever heard of clickbait? Maybe it’s all just an eborate marketing scheme for a new disaster movie. Or maybe it’s a prank, and the whole pnet is getting punk’d. I mean, wouldn’t that be something? Imagine aliens watching us freak out like it’s the season finale of some intergactic reality show! Meanwhile, I’m here, carrying a cat like some kind of post-apocalyptic anime protagonist, trying to make sense of all this nonsense."

  The neon signs flickered above her, casting an eerie glow over the narrow streets lined with te-night food stalls and tiny convenience stores. The smell of grilled skewers mixed with the faint scent of car exhaust, and somewhere in the distance, the muffled thump of bass-heavy music seeped out from a hidden bar. The asphalt beneath her sneakers still radiated warmth from the day’s sun, and the occasional burst of ughter from passing students reminded her that, despite everything, life was still going on.

  Yuzu adjusted her grip on the cat, which had now fully sprawled across her oversized sweater like it owned the pce. She gnced around, noting the ramen shop owner zily fanning himself, an old radio pying tinny enka music beside him. A group of students argued over the best way to sneak beer into their dorms, while an elderly woman shuffled past with a cart full of discounted produce.

  A saryman on a bicycle weaved unsteadily past her, humming to himself, nearly colliding with a vending machine before regaining bance. The machine let out a robotic jingle before spitting out a can of hot coffee for a waiting customer, who barely acknowledged it. Yuzu sighed, shifting the cat in her arms as it stretched and yawned.

  "Five minutes are up," Yuzu muttered, adjusting the cat in her arms as it let out a sleepy yawn. The street lights flickered, casting long shadows against the pavement, and the faint sound of a distant train rumbled through the city. A nearby izakaya bustled with chatter and ughter, completely indifferent to the looming catastrophe. The neon glow of a convenience store sign buzzed faintly, moths flitting around it in zy spirals. Somewhere, a microwave dinged, signaling a te-night meal, while a pair of students argued over which convenience store fried chicken was superior. A lone bicycle, missing its front wheel, y abandoned by a vending machine, and a distant siren wailed before fading into the background of the restless city.

  Yuzu gnced down at her phone. 2:57 AM. Way ter than she intended. "Alright, time to face reality. Or, you know, avoid it some more." With a sigh, she gently lowered the cat back onto the pavement. It blinked up at her, stretched dramatically, then sauntered off as if the whole walk had been its idea all along. Yuzu watched it disappear around the corner, then turned on her heel, shoving her hands into the oversized sleeves of her sweater. The city still buzzed around her, indifferent to her crisis, as she trudged back toward her apartment, the weight of existential dread settling in where the cat had once been.