Trauma Harem

Kazu's breath was shaky, uneven.

His chest still ached; his limbs felt cold, foreign, distant.

The air around him was thick, pressing against his skin like the atmosphere itself was heavier than it should be.

Everything about this place was wrong.

The sky was too vast yet suffocating. The ground was solid yet uncertain beneath him. The colors around him were muted and washed out, as if he had stepped into a world where reality itself wasn't fully developed.

But the worst part wasn't the environment.

It was them.

Anxiety, still gripping his shirt with white-knuckled fists, her face pale and stricken with worry.

ADHD, bouncing on her toes, eyes wide, drinking in the surroundings like a child at an amusement park.

Depression, standing tall and calm, watching him with quiet knowing, as if none of this was surprising.

They were here.

They weren't voices in his head.

They were real.

Kazu exhaled sharply, jerking back from Anxiety's grip.

"No. No, no, no, no."

His voice came out hoarse, like he had been holding his breath for hours. He scrambled back, his hands digging into the dirt—too textured, too real.

This wasn't a dream.

It wasn't a hallucination.

His head throbbed, his thoughts clashing violently.

"This isn't real."

Anxiety flinched.

"Kazu—"

"No. No, this is—" He laughed, short, bitter, almost a wheeze. "I'm unconscious. I had a panic attack. I passed out. I'm still on the sidewalk back home."

"Hmmm." Depression tilted her head, thoughtful. "And yet, here you are."

Kazu's breath hitched.

ADHD grinned.

"Sooooo what now? Do we freak out? Or do we just roll with it?"

"Oh, we are NOT rolling with it!" Anxiety snapped. "We are going to rationalize this, we are going to find out what's actually happening, and we are NOT—"

She cut herself off, her breath hitching.

She lifted her hands.

Stared at them.

Her own fingers shook, her wide eyes reflecting the sheer impossibility of the situation.

She looked at Kazu.

Then at herself.

Then at ADHD, who was still spinning in place, testing the feel of the air, the ground, the sheer existence of everything.

Then at Depression, who remained eerily composed, arms crossed, watching the rest of them spiral.

"Oh my god," Anxiety whispered. "We're real."

Her breathing turned erratic, sharp, panicked.

"Oh my god, we're real—"

"No. No, you're not," Kazu muttered, pressing his palms against his forehead. "This is my brain breaking, that's all. It finally snapped. That's fine. I can deal with that."

ADHD giggled.

"Woooow, so you're just gonna gaslight yourself? That's wild."

"Shut up," he hissed.

"No, no, let's hear him out!" Depression smirked, kneeling in front of him. "How do you explain this one, Kazu? Let's say you passed out. Why are you still here? Why do you feel everything?"

He clenched his teeth.

"My brain is making it up."

"That dirt under your nails is made up?"

"Yes."

"The cold air on your skin?"

"Yes."

"The way you can hear ADHD's obnoxious breathing?"

"HEY!" ADHD pouted.

"YES!"

Kazu's voice cracked.

Silence.

Anxiety trembled.

ADHD rocked back and forth, unfazed.

Depression sighed.

"You're in denial."

"OF COURSE I'M IN DENIAL!" Kazu shouted, his breathing turning ragged. "BECAUSE NONE OF THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE REAL!"

His voice echoed, stretching into the vastness of the open space around them.

…

Kazu started walking.

There was nothing else to do.

The streets stretched out before them, twisting paths of uneven cobblestone and dusted brick, buildings stacked at odd angles like someone had haphazardly thrown them together. There were no people, yet he felt watched.

"So what do we do?" ADHD skipped ahead, arms swinging.

"We figure out where we are," Kazu muttered, rubbing his temple.

"Oh, thank god," Anxiety exhaled. "For a second I thought we were just going to aimlessly wander."

"We ARE aimlessly wandering," Depression pointed out.

"Better than sitting in one place," Kazu grumbled.

The more he walked, the more the realization gnawed at him.

Anxiety was tugging at her sleeves, muttering to herself. ADHD was humming some out-of-tune melody. Depression just kept pace beside him, silent.

He wasn't imagining them.

They weren't glitches in his mind, random impulses.

They were responding. Acting. Moving.

He could hear their footsteps. See their shadows stretch alongside his own.

"You're really here," he muttered.

Anxiety blinked up at him, confused.

"Obviously?"

"No, I mean…" He exhaled. "You're not just in my head anymore."

Depression smirked.

"Good. You're finally catching up."

Kazu didn't respond.

He just kept walking.

The streets weren't completely empty.

Faint traces of existence lingered—a half-eaten loaf of bread left on the corner of a barrel, candles flickering inside windows, the occasional scrap of paper drifting across the ground.

Someone had been here. Recently.

But the air felt off. Not quite abandoned, but… paused. Like the whole place was waiting for something.

"I don't like this," Anxiety whispered. "Where is everyone?"

"Maybe they're hiding." ADHD crouched to inspect a stray coin on the ground, turning it over between her fingers. It was too smooth, no markings or numbers.

"Hiding from what?" Kazu muttered.

Anxiety visibly tensed.

"Maybe we shouldn't find out."

They rounded a corner, stepping into what looked like a market district.

Stalls lined the streets, empty wooden stands with faded cloth awnings. Some were completely abandoned, others still had products laid out—pottery, dried herbs, random trinkets. A few crates sat open, their contents half-spilled, like whoever was tending them had simply… left.

"Doesn't feel like a normal city," Kazu murmured. "There's no… structure. No order. It's like someone just threw buildings together and called it a town."

"Maybe it wasn't built for people," Depression said.

Kazu glanced at her.

"Then what was it built for?"

She didn't answer.

"Hey, check this out!" ADHD was already darting ahead, peeking into a nearby shop.

Kazu sighed but followed.

Inside, shelves were lined with glass jars, odd trinkets, stacks of paper, and ink bottles. A few books sat in a pile on a counter, their spines worn and colorless, like all the words had been drained from them.

ADHD picked one up, flipping through the pages.

"Wow. Every single page is blank."

Kazu frowned.

"A printing mistake?"

Depression picked up another book and casually opened it.

"No. Look."

She turned the book toward him.

The pages were blank—until he looked at them.

Words began to appear, scrawling themselves onto the parchment in some ancient, looping script.

Kazu instinctively took a step back.

"Okay. That's not normal."

"Maybe it's magic!" ADHD grinned, shaking the book. "Maybe if we shake it, it'll—"

The words vanished.

ADHD pouted.

"Aw. Lame."

Kazu exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

He was too tired for this.

Too tired for whatever the hell this place was.

"We should keep moving," he muttered, setting the book back down.

"Yeah," Anxiety whispered, looking over her shoulder. "I still feel like someone's watching us."

Kazu did too.

Before he could process things further—

"Ah! A traveler! You must be lost!"

Kazu turned.

A shopkeeper.

A man dressed in modest, travel-worn merchant's garb. He stood beside a wooden stall, filled with small trinkets, maps, and what looked like handcrafted potions in glass bottles.

His smile was kind. Warm. Almost comforting.

"Perhaps I can offer some assistance? A map of the area, maybe? Or a traveler's guide?"

Kazu hesitated.

"I… I don't have money."

The shopkeeper laughed, easy and friendly.

"Oh, no worries, young man! First-time travelers get their first item for free! You'll need it in this sector, believe me!"

"Sector?"

"Ah, yes! The boss's Sector! He watches over this market. Keeps things running!"

Kazu frowned, but Anxiety perked up.

"Oh! Maybe we should take something. We don't know where we are—this is actually helpful!"

"Yeah!" ADHD nodded rapidly. "Free stuff is awesome!"

Kazu hesitated, then reached for a small rolled-up map.

The moment his fingers brushed the parchment—

"Ah! Excellent choice!"

The shopkeeper's voice remained warm, friendly, but there was a shift in his posture. Subtle. A slight lean forward. A glint in his eye that wasn't quite excitement, but something close.

Kazu barely had time to process before another voice chimed in.

"But why settle for a basic map, dear traveler, when you could have a magic map?"

Another shopkeeper stood beside the first now, hands neatly clasped behind his back. He looked almost identical to the first—same modest merchant's attire, same welcoming grin.

Kazu glanced between them.

"Magic?"

The second shopkeeper pulled out a nearly identical scroll, but this one was wrapped in a thin, silver thread.

"This one updates in real time!"

"That… does sound better."

"Only five Time tokens!"

Kazu blinked.

"My what?"

"Ah, Time! Very valuable here. Surely you can spare just a bit?"

Kazu hesitated.

"I don't know if I—"

"A map won't help if you're defenseless."

A third shopkeeper stepped in from the side, adjusting the vials on his stall.

"Perhaps a protective charm instead? This one shields against bad luck."

Kazu turned toward the new voice, only for another shopkeeper to speak behind him.

"Or perhaps an introductory discount? Your second item for half the stress!"

Something about the air shifted.

ADHD hopped forward, grinning.

"Oooo, what else you got?!"

"Oh, plenty!" One of the shopkeepers gestured toward his stall of small trinkets. "Perhaps a timepiece? It tells time in multiple realities!"

Anxiety grabbed Kazu's sleeve.

"We shouldn't be talking to them."

"Oh come on, this is the first time someone's actually helpful!" ADHD grinned.

"Something feels off," Anxiety muttered, pulling Kazu back a step. "They're too… eager."

Kazu didn't answer, but he could feel it too.

The way the shopkeepers never blinked.

The way each new one appeared just before the last could finish their pitch.

The way they never truly gave him time to respond.

"No, no, no!" A new shopkeeper suddenly interjected. "You don't need maps or charms—you need supplies!"

He gestured to his small display of potions.

"Healing elixirs! Restores energy instantly!"

"And what does it cost?" Kazu asked before he could stop himself.

The shopkeeper's grin didn't waver.

"Nothing right away."

The words settled awkwardly in the air.

Kazu narrowed his eyes.

"Then when?"

The shopkeeper only tilted his head.

ADHD frowned.

"Huh. That's weirdly vague."

"Yeah," Kazu muttered, stepping back. "I think we're done here."

"Ah, but surely you—"

"No thanks."

The shopkeeper's smile didn't drop.

But the air felt thicker.

More shopkeepers had gathered now. Not saying anything. Just watching.

Kazu held onto the map like it was a lifeline.

Anxiety was practically shaking.

ADHD was still curious, but noticeably less bouncy.

Depression just watched, arms crossed.

"I think it's time to go," she murmured.

For once, Kazu didn't argue.

He turned—

And froze.

The market had changed.

Stalls that had seemed spread out were now packed closer together. The pathways between them had narrowed. The shopkeepers stood at perfectly even intervals, too synchronized, too still.

There was no exit.

Kazu's breath hitched.

Anxiety's grip on his sleeve tightened.

"We're trapped," she whispered.

A New Presence

The moment the words left her lips—

"What an annoying bunch."

The shopkeepers all stopped.

They turned in unison, gazes flicking toward the center of the market.

Kazu followed their eyes.

A man sat at a desk in the middle of the street.

There was no sign, no shop. Just a simple wooden desk, covered in stacks of paper, a small inkpot, and a worn quill.

He was calm. Relaxed. Writing something in a notebook.

He didn't look up.

Didn't acknowledge the shopkeepers.

Didn't acknowledge Kazu.

But Kazu knew, somehow—this was different.

The man flipped a page in his book, sighed, then finally looked up.

His eyes locked onto Kazu's.

"You're new."

The words felt weightier than they should.

Kazu swallowed.

"Who are you?"

The man didn't answer immediately. He just sighed again, stretching his arms like he had just woken up from a nap.

Then, lazily, he tapped the quill against his desk.

The shopkeepers took a single step back.

"Ah," the first one said, smiling like nothing had happened. "That would be the Boss."