“Fuck, babe,” Tyler mumbled, trying to find a comfortable position on the old couch that looked like it still remembered Reagan, only for it to sink even harder under his weight with a pathetic creak that made Jenna’s shoulder twitch nervously beside him. “How the hell does your grandma even sit on this thing? It’s about to fucking eat me.”
“Because she weighs half as much as you do, meathead,” Jenna snorted, though she still pressed herself closer against him so more of her body rested on him instead of the couch. “Let’s just sit here and watch TV, she’ll fall asleep soon.”
As she said it, she shifted again and, almost like confirmation of both her own words and Tyler’s expectations, kissed him on the neck, making the big guy grunt happily as he wrapped an arm tighter around her waist.
On the screen, scenes from some old 90s TV show flickered by with that disgustingly bright yellow filter that for some reason used to be insanely popular back then, and which looked especially excessive in a place that was already sunny enough even without it, like the one currently on screen. On top of that was a single male dub voice, which together with the ancient television gave the whole thing a weird kind of aesthetic.
Tyler, however, clearly hated it.
“What the fuck is this, some Japanese crap?” Tyler continued, squinting at the screen like maybe that would somehow make what was happening less weird. “And it’s got single voice dubbing too?!”
Jenna immediately punched him irritably right in the chest, though for a guy his size it looked about as effective as trying to stop a bear with a pillow.
“Quit yelling, dumbass! She’ll hear you!” she hissed, then added quieter, slightly offended, “Actually this was my favorite show when I was a kid, I told you about it.”
Tyler rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, only grunted under his breath. Jenna took that as a positive sign and, encouraged, snuggled even closer against him.
“So basically,” Jenna lowered her voice almost to a whisper and pointed at the screen where some Japanese girl in a turquoise sweater stood in the middle of a noisy street staring at her own hair in confusion, “the main heroine, Misaki I think, or maybe Miyuki... shit, I don’t remember anymore. Some maniac catches her, well, rapes and kills her, and then—”
“Jesus Christ, you had cozy childhood shows,” Tyler interrupted immediately with a laugh, shaking his head and staring back at the screen. “What, your parents ban cartoons or something?”
“Oh shut up,” Jenna grumbled, elbowing him in the side, though she was already struggling not to smile herself. “That’s not why it was interesting. She comes back afterward, like a ghost. Well not exactly a ghost, anyway she becomes all badass, wearing armor and stuff, with a katana, and starts hunting men.”
“In armor hunting men?” Tyler finally burst out laughing and even covered his face with one hand. “Holy shit, that sounds exactly like some fourteen year old nerd wrote it at three in the morning while chugging energy drinks.”
“Oh fuck you,” Jenna rolled her eyes, though now she was laughing too, even if she tried to hide it. “You just don’t understand the vibe of old Japanese dramas. Everything was weird back then. Creepy too. And stupid at the same time.”
“Definitely stupid. And the whole thing falls apart if your Mayaka Mina or whatever would’ve just been a little smarter and smashed that maniac in the face from the start.”
“Misaki!” Jenna hissed indignantly, elbowing him again. “And she was just a normal college student, not some ninja assassin. Seriously Tyler, what the hell?”
“What?”
“I mean shut up. You would’ve died even faster than she did.”
“Oh fuck off,” Tyler snorted, though he still smirked as his fingers tightened slightly around her waist. “I would’ve splattered the guy against a wall.”
“God, you can be so stupid sometimes. I said in HER place.”
“Oooh,” Tyler nodded theatrically like he had only just understood, immediately grinning. “Then even more reason. I just wouldn’t go wandering alone into some alley at night where there’s a psycho in a trench coat.”
Jenna laughed and buried her face against his chest.
“No seriously, babe. You really think I’d screw it up?” Tyler said with mock offense, looking at Jenna like she had personally insulted every man on earth, while flexing his arm around her waist just enough to casually show off his bicep.
Jenna looked up at him and mouthed something before burying her face back into Tyler’s chest and turning toward the screen again.
“Huh? What? What’d you say?” Tyler started, but at that exact moment the world suddenly filled with static, like the interference of an old VHS tape, and the sound of his own voice instantly became distant, like somebody had suddenly cranked the volume down, leaving only the hum of the TV, the crackle of the speakers, and that same nasal male dub voice that a second ago had only sounded stupid.
One moment Tyler still felt Jenna’s warm body against him, the sagging couch, and the smell of his grandma’s pancakes mixed with the dust of the old house, and the next humid city air slammed into his face, thick with gasoline, hot asphalt, and cigarette smoke.
“Nannan da yo?! (What the fuck?!)” burst out of him in Japanese, slightly muffled, while over it, almost from somewhere far away, the male dub voice layered itself on top.
“What’s happening?”
Tyler jerked suddenly, nearly losing his balance as he realized he wasn’t sitting on the couch anymore.
He was standing.
And not just standing, he was in the middle of a noisy Japanese street where cars roared past beside him, faded signs covered in kanji flickered overhead, and the scorching air itself seemed to ripple from the sun and city smog.
“Doko da?! Eh?! Nanda kore…?! (Where?! Huh?! What the...?!)” he blurted again in a language he himself didn’t understand. The voice came out way too soft and muffled, even though he knew it should’ve sounded louder. But worst of all, it was definitely higher pitched.
Before he could really process that, the male dub voice returned after a brief delay.
“God, I think I got lost.”
That disgusting calm voice said something completely different from what he had actually meant, saying it like it was the line of some confused heroine in a cheap melodrama instead of his own words.
Tyler opened his mouth to protest, but a sudden realization hit him directly in the skull.
Hair.
Long dark hair brushed against his face, falling past it and resting over his shoulders. He instantly grabbed one of the strands with trembling fingers, staring at the thin lock like it might disappear if he blinked.
“Ee… kami…? (Uhh... hair...?)”
“God, what happened to my hairstyle...” the narrator immediately said, but Tyler didn’t even bother objecting that he meant something else. His gaze instinctively dropped downward and he almost stumbled from shock.
On his body sat two firm, tightly compressed, unmistakably female tits restrained beneath a turquoise top, rising heavily with every breath and sending unfamiliar weight deep through his chest.
“A, konna tokoro ni ita no ka. Sagashitan da zo. (Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.)” came another muffled female voice beside Tyler, and the narrator almost instantly layered over it.
“Misaki, I lost you.”
Tyler snapped his head sideways and immediately regretted it because the long hair whipped across his cheek while the tits under the tight top bounced unpleasantly after the motion. Beside him stood a short Japanese girl in a light denim jacket looking at him with irritated concern, the exact expression somebody gave a friend who was acting like an idiot again.
“Omae… nani itteru ka wakaranai…! (I don’t understand a fucking word you’re saying!)” Tyler blurted, pointing at her.
“I wasn’t lost at all... I was right here,” the narrator calmly translated over his words, making everything inside Tyler twist violently.
“Iie! Iie kuso! Ore ga itta no wa sou janai!! (No! No, fuck, that’s not what I said!)”
“God, Yuki, did you see what happened to my hair?!”
The girl answered something, but Tyler was too furious to hear it, and almost in response quiet Japanese music began to play while the same male voice spoke over it:
“‘Hoshikawa Visual’ in collaboration with ‘Kansai Dream Media’ presents...”
Grainy white text slowly appeared over the street with a faint flicker, like it had been burned directly onto film, while that typical old Japanese drama music started playing in the background, cheap, dramatic, and somehow unsettling at the same time. Synthesizers, quiet female vocalizations, and muted drumbeats. Huge white kanji continued drifting across the sky, trembling in characteristic VHS blur, and then a red title appeared:
死んだ女
Shinda Onna
“Dead Woman”
Tyler screamed while staring up at the title, but his voice drowned beneath the music as it swelled louder and transitioned into the opening sequence, after which the same male voice grandly announced:
“Episode One.”