Chapter 1 Awakening
The alarm buzzed once, too loud. Ryuya’s hand shot out from beneath the blanket, silencing it in a single, practiced motion. leaving behind a silence so complete it felt heavier than the noise..He didn’t move for a long moment. His body sank further as his thoughts started to emerge.Eyes drifted to the nightstand, where a blister pack of pills lay beside an empty glass. He stared at it for a moment, as if expecting it to move.“...”Ryuya slowly reached below the nightstand, his hand landed on a water bottle, the plastic creaked loudly. He slowly removed the cap, filling the cup, the sound of water gentle and grounding.He then reached for the pack on the nightstand, hesitating as heavy thoughts flickered and faded. It would quiet his mind, that much he knew.Beyond that ? No need to think more than necessary.He tossed a pill into his mouth, swallowing it along with a sip of water.The blister pack went back on the nightstand, its edges aligned neatly with the corner.Ryuya swung his legs over the side of the bed.His body felt sluggish, heavy, like he was dragging himself out of something deeper than sleep.The morning was still dark, the city lights beamed softly through the window, landing on the floor in jagged patterns.Ryuya stared at them for a long moment..The pill would take hold soon. there was still a gap though.For now..A sliver of time before the fog rolled in.He sat there quietly, contemplating the light, his thoughts, his sensations.The tide slowly creeped in.His thoughts softening..I need to get ready..Finally, he pushed himself to his feet, the motion sluggish, his joints stiff like they belonged to someone much older.He slowly walked his way to the door.The bathroom mirror greeted him with indifferent clarity, his reflection pale and drawn with dark shadows under his eyes.His hair stuck out at odd angles, flat in some places and defiant in others. It was too long but not in a way that felt deliberate, it’d taken the habit of veiling his left eye, a development he didn’t care nearly enough to interrupt.He ran the faucet, letting the water rush for a second before cupping it in his hands, he looked at his reflection once more before splashing it onto his face.Droplets clung to his hair, he stared at himself again, hoping for the face in the mirror to look less tired.It didn’t.His hand tightened on the sink.“I’m still here…” he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper.He straightened, reaching for the towel in the corner, drying his face clean. Once he was done he moved on.Toothbrush.Toothpaste.Brush.Rinse.Spit.Each step clicked into place like the cogs of a deliberate machine.Then, he moved back to his room to put on his uniform.Wrapping the tie was a struggle, it felt unfamiliar now.But the rest was fine.He moved on grabbing his hoodie sweater before leaving his room.The house was still asleep, the only sounds being the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional groan of the pipes. His parents had already left for work—early as usual—and his younger sister’s door remained firmly shut.The kitchen was cold, the faint smell of last night’s dinner lingering in the air. Ryuya opened the fridge, the light inside too bright, cutting sharply through his morning haze. He closed it reflexively.An apple caught his eye on the counter, it went into his bag without much thought.Tactical breakfast.Ryuya stood in the entryway, slipping into his neatly lined shoes.A few steps, his fingers brushed the handle, yet something lingered.He paused, staring beyond the glass.An irrational pressure.It wasn’t the school day waiting for him. It wasn’t even the people. He didn’t feel apprehensive, yet his steps faltered—just enough to make him notice.He let out a slow breath before opening the door, stepping outside.
The shroud curled through the streets, swallowing the edges of buildings and blurring the sharp outlines of the world, the city held its breath..It was still dark, city lights carried through the haze like wisps, the usual hum of traffic muffled, distant.Ryuya pulled his hood up, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.He walked through the fog—yet the chill in the air didn't register—everything felt muted.The streets were empty, save for a few early risers in the distance, their figures ghostly in the fog.Ryuya paused at the corner, watching them.Their steps were quick, hurried, and purposeful. They moved like they had somewhere to be. He did not.He turned his gaze back to the sidewalk ahead.The world was subdued, but not peaceful.Cars, distant voices, the clatter of feet on concrete—City noises all blending into one restless breath, carrying whispers of unspoken expectations.Further ahead, a glow began to emerge. Weak at first, a soft pulse of light barely cutting through the haze. Ryuya’s eyes followed it, his pace slowing. As he moved closer, the glow sharpened, colors blooming faintly. A vending machine stood there like a solitary beacon, electric reds and blues smearing against the fog.Ryuya stopped in front of it.He reached into his pocket pulling out a few coins.They fell with a sharp clink, breaking the quiet like a single note in an empty hall.He stared at the colors as the machine stirred to life.A can of strawberry milk dropped into the tray with a faint thud.The neon glow of the machine reflected faintly in the puddles at his feet, rippling slightly with the weight of the light rain.For a moment, he stood there.His gaze drifted, he turned, and as he turned, he realized the city was gone. The fog had grown thick, and everything beyond eight meters vanished.No cars, no voices, just the faint hum of the machine at his side. The stillness wrapped around him, his focus drifting away, and for a moment, the weight he carried felt just a little lighter.The sound of a car splashing through a puddle reached him. It was very distant yet a reminder that the city existed somewhere beyond this cocoon....He tucked the can into his bag, grabbed the apple and kept walking, taking bites along the walk.His steps were steady, though slow. He could keep walking forever, as far as the city stretched, and it wouldn’t matter, the school, the walk, the role, he felt no urgency at all yet still cared enough to carry his body on the tracks.His mind was quiet now, empty. The pills had smoothed out the rough edges a bit more, leaving behind a haze that matched the world around him.There was a kind of relief in it. The quiet. The numbness. The way the fog seemed to hold him in place, suspended in a moment that didn’t ask for anything. But somewhere, at the edge of his awareness, it was pressing too—faint, like a shadow.He stopped at the corner, his feet halting just before the curb, throwing the apple core in a bush somewhere.The streetlight above him blinked red. There was no one around, just the quiet hum of the city.As he stared at the light, a buzz began to ring in his head, low and distant at first. It wasn’t sharp, but it was unsettling, unfamiliar. Something at the edge between a sound and a sensation.Ryuya blinked, his focus shifting to the puddles at his feet.. He tried to ground himself, tracing the ripples as they spread and faded, but the buzz lingered, growing just enough to feel impossible to ignore.The light turned green, breaking his focus. He exhaled, the buzz retreating just slightly, though the tension in his chest remained.Ryuya stepped forward, his body carrying him across the street. The school gates loomed ahead but his pace didn’t change,The fog clung to the gates, curling around them like it was trying to pull him back. Ryuya glanced down at his feet as he passed through.He didn’t look up again until he reached the steps. The buzz of lights seeped out faintly from inside, the kind of sound that filled the silence without breaking it.He pushed the door open, stepping inside.For a moment, he stood there, letting sounds settle around him. Footsteps and laughter echoed faintly from farther down the hallway, blending with the shuffle of books and the scrape of locker doors.The school was coming to life.Ryuya started walking, his footsteps blending into the sounds of the building. Figures moved in the periphery, heading to their own destinations, each step felt lighter than it might have in complete silence. No one was looking. No one was listening.He stopped at his locker, pulling it open. The door creaked faintly, a sound that seemed to linger too long. Inside, the books were lined up neatly, their spines flush against one another. His gaze lingered on the books for a moment before he reached in and pulled out the one he needed.The day would pass, he would sit in class, take notes, and leave when it was over. He didn't mind. There was comfort in knowing how the story went, even if it never seemed to change.He moved his way to the staircase, the building was leveled on three floors—and as a third-year—his classroom was on the third.It took some effort but he made it there.Landed in the hallway, the path was smooth, most people were already in class at this point, only a handful of people lingered in the hallway.Finally he got there.The classroom buzzed softly as he entered. The scrape of a chair leg, the shuffle of papers, the murmur of voices—all of it blended into a single indistinct sound where nothing stood out, nothing demanded attention.Ryuya slid into his seat at the edge of the room, the chair’s hard frame pressed against his spine in an uncomfortable but familiar way.After a bit, the teacher appeared by the front door, his voice rising from the front of the room, steady and distant, weaving through the other sounds like another layer of static. Ryuya didn’t look up.The window beside him was fogged with condensation. The mist lingered, softening the edges of everything it touched.Ryuya’s gaze drifted past the yard, past the empty pathways and the faint outlines of trees. His eyes followed the fog until it dissolved into nothing, a blur that had no beginning and no end.Snatches of conversation swirled nearby, faint and fleeting:“…can you believe what she said ?…”“…I forgot my textbook again…”“…look at him, he’s completely out of it…”The words floated by without weight, barely brushing against him before fading back into the blur.The fog outside seemed to press closer, its edges soft and all consuming.
Ryuya’s eyelids felt heavier,
Time stretched thin,
The sounds ebbed, softer now,
distant..
Until they were nothing at all.
Chapter 2 Crossed
The lunch bell echoed through the school,sharp tone cutting through the muffled monotony of the morning.Ryuya stayed in his seat as the room emptied, the noise of shuffling feet and chairs scraping against the floor fading into the hallway.He hadn’t planned to go to the rooftop. But as he stood and walked through the quieting corridors, his feet carried him toward the stairwell without a thought.The noise of the day—the voices, the footsteps, the bursts of laughter. The rooftop was better, quieter.The door creaked faintly as Ryuya pushed it open. He stepped out onto the rooftop. The fog had thickened since the morning, curling low over the schoolyard and swallowing the edges of the skyline.The city beyond was gone, dissolved into an indistinct gray, leaving only the rooftop and its cold, metallic railing visible.The air was cool, carrying the faint smell of rain yet it was still safe. Ryuya moved to his usual spot by the railing, lowering himself to the ground, the floor slightly wet but not enough to be a concern.For a second the rooftop felt like the only place left in the world.
He carefully pulled his sketchbook from his bag along with a pencil, flipping it open.He stared at the blank page for a long moment waiting for the pencil to move.“...”A resigned sigh; Nothing came yet it wasn’t frustration that clung to him.Figures..The fog curled closer, softening the world’s edges. Ryuya absently listened to the murmurs of the school below, the sounds distant. It reached him in waves, blending with the occasional creak of the metal railing.The minutes stretched.The pencil hovered and the page remained empty.The fog didn’t care.It kept shifting, curling, pressing against the edges of the rooftop like it was trying to swallow it whole.He leaned back against the railing, letting his eyes close, his thoughts slipping."…"A metallic creak broke the quiet,the rooftop door was pushed open.Footsteps.Ryuya’s eyes flicked toward the rooftop door.There, three figures emerged from the stairwell.A burst of laughter rose loudly, scraping at the silence like a fork dragged across a plate.Ryuya sat motionless as the group stepped further onto the rooftop.Their voices rose and fell in scattered bursts, fragments of conversation drifting and fading.“...You seriously thought—”“Yeah, but then she—”“You should’ve seen her face—”Nothing distinct enough to discern.The girl at the front moved with a confidence that felt out of place against the fog’s quiet insistence.She led the group toward the far edge of the rooftop, pausing halfway to glance around as though surveying her territory.Ryuya didn’t look directly at them.Laughter rang out again—louder than it needed to be.He reflexively glanced in their direction, something the girl seemed to notice.Her gaze caught his for a moment then swept the rooftop.She said something to the two boys behind her, her voice dropping just enough that Ryuya couldn’t make out the words.They turned briefly in his direction, glancing at him with passing interest before continuing toward the door.The girl stayed where she was.The rooftop quieted again as they left through the door.The girl didn’t follow.Instead, she stepped closer.Ryuya’s hands tightened around his pencil.“Hey.” She said.“So you’re back.” She added.The girl was one of his classmates.Ryuya didn’t answer. His eyes flicked toward the edge of the rooftop.Her footsteps stopped a few paces away.“Didn’t think anyone else came up here.” she said, her tone light.He didn’t reply, letting the silence linger. She didn’t move closer, but she didn’t leave either.“So,” she said finally, her voice breaking the stillness again.“Do you always just sit here?”Ryuya took a moment but eventually shifted his gaze toward her.“Do you need something?” He asked bluntly.Her brow furrowed. “No. Do I need to?”He didn’t answer. The silence hung between them, thick and deliberate. It said more than words could, though not in a way that offered her clarity.She gazed at him for a second before her lips parted.“I’m just here to check in on the ghost.”Ryuya's gaze sharpened as he noticed the smirk curving on her face.“What’s that supposed to mean?” He answered with an unusual edge.She smirked some more as though she’d been waiting for the reaction.She moved to lean against the railing, crossing her arms.“You’ve been gone so long, of course people are gonna call you something.”Her tone was playful enough so that it didn’t sound malicious, but something about it made his head tingle.“So that’s why I’m here,” She said.“Is that what you care about?” Ryuya said as his gaze came back to his sketchbook.“I don’t know what you’d expect, we haven’t seen you in forever.” A subtle edge carried through her words.“I know,” He said flatly.“So where were you ?” She asked. “You just got bored of showing up?”Ryuya inhaled deeply. “Does it matter?” He answered, sighing the words away.Emi lingered, as though she might say something more. But she didn't. A quiet weight settled. Ryuya closed his sketchbook without thinking.“You’ve got people talking,” she then said, her tone lighter but not entirely casual.His head turned back to face her. 'Okay?' The slight lift in his voice made it sound like a question, yet it held no real investment.Emi blinked.“You don’t care ?” she asked, her tone was softer as though testing his response, her fingers drummed on the railing. “I don’t need the attention,” he replied.“Then maybe you should come back to class.” She retorted, her voice carrying something that wasn’t quite teasing, but did not sound sympathetic either. He didn’t answer.“Or don’t, but then don’t complain about people calling you names” She added.“Got it.” Ryuya said flatly.Her gaze shifted, disengaging from his. Instead she leaned against the railing with an ease that felt out of place. Staring at the foggy outline of the rooftop.Ryuya’s focus came back to his sketchbook,yet,A blur in the periphery,he blinked,The buzz from earlier came back. Low and insistent.This again..Ryuya’s hand pressed against his temple, the sensation crawling through his head and chest.The buzzing deepened, spreading through his thoughts and unraveling them into jagged, unconnected pieces.Ryuya kept pressing, trying to squeeze the tension away.He blinked hard.Until the static broke.
Chapter 3 Fṙ̵ͅa̵̤͖͛̑̋͜ctur̶̛̋̈́̾̈̑̈̃̚e̷
The world c̸̬̪̈́̓ọ̵͗͘l̵͕̱̭̘̚l̶͈͍̀͒͆͜͠a̴̧͙̕̚p̵̪͇̻͕̈́͘̚s̶̨̹̊̉̓̅e̵̪̍̄͋d̴͔͊͠.̸̡̛̳͈ͅ
R̷̨̟͈̩̅̓͝ÿ̸̘͈́̇͘͠u̶̺͚̐y̸͙̻̻̿̀͜a̶͙̻͓̼͋̇ ̶̠̪̓̅was̴̱͎̊ ̷̨͙̃̈́̐͜falling.
The rooftop had d̵i̷s̵a̵p̴p̶e̸a̵r̴e̸d̸.̶ ̴
No edge, no railing, no school.
Only the sky, stretching endlessly in every direction,gray and infinite.Below, something dark loomed, vast and silent.
Ẅ̷̲ater
Still and unmoving..It ̸r̵u̶s̶h̴e̷d̵ ̵t̷o̸war̵d̴ ̸him̸—̵n̴o̶,̶̴h̸e̴ ̶w̸a̵s̷ ̸b̴e̴i̵n̶g̸ ̵p̵u̴l̴l̷e̸d̸ ̷t̶o̸w̶a̶r̴d̶ ̷i̴t̴.̷His limbs wouldn't move, wouldn't flail.His body didn't belong to him anymore.He hit the surface.No splash. No impact. Just silence.The water wrapped around him, swallowing him whole,but it wasn’t water.It had no weight, no resistance—only a quiet, crushing presence,like sinking into nothingness.His breath didn’t exist.His body wasn’t ř̸̢̛͝͝ͅealH̶e̶ ̶w̶a̴s̷ ̷d̷i̷s̷s̶o̸l̷v̵i̶n̷g̶.̸̴S̴o̷m̵e̷t̷h̷i̸n̶g̴ ̶p̶u̷l̷s̸e̶d̴ ̴b̶e̷n̶e̸a̷t̵h̷ ̴h̶i̷m̴.̵ ̶A̶ ̶s̸o̴u̸n̶d̸?̵ ̷A̴ ̵v̷o̶i̶c̸e̴ ̵ ̷ ̵ ̸?
̸̸̴̵̴̷̢̨̛̜͍̣͓̦̞̟̭̘̤̻̟̘̜̃͌́̈̓͑͂̉̑̽̈͌̿͘͝͠W̶̴̴̵̷̶̷̸̸̸̸̷̶̵̵̵̷̴̴̴̨̢̨̰̰͙̤͍͔͈͎̭̥̼̳͎̜̯̰̮̙̫̟͎̪̩̲͓̝̣̤͚̟̞͖̼͈̥͉̤̰̦͔͉̠̤͔̬̬̥̰̥̯̦̯͖̻̑̌̔̑͂̇̀͆͐́͌̿̃̌̎̇̾̎̂͊̅͌̈́̓̌̄̆͑̈́̍̍̓͋̈̓͂̄̄͑͒̄̒̄͊̐̐͑̾̒̆͘͘̚̚̚͜͜͝͠͝͝ͅͅą̵̸̷̴̴̴̵̸̶̷̸̵̷̶̡̨̡̛͙̻͚̟̪͓̟͍̭͚͇̪̲̮̦͔̻̣̤̼͚͓̻̦̤͙̦͚͈͓̏̍̾̃͐͛͐̓̋͐̏͑̈́̑̈́̀̐̄͑͆͐̇̒̇͋̑̽̉̐͆̓̑͂̓̾̅̐͒̏͘̚͜ͅķ̷̷̴̶̷̷̵̸̵̵̶̸̵̝͙͎̠̞̣̘̯͍͍̞̳̱̠̺͈͈̟̰̠̜̝̩̞̲͕͍̙͊͒̇͑̊͋̀͐͒͑͐̓̀͑͆̈͂̒̆̇̏̓̇͒̆̈́͛̋̈́̅̃́̒͋͒̕͠͝ͅȩ̶̶̷̴̵̸̵̸̴̴̴̵̸͙̺͇̮̺̩̭̥̤͖̳̦̭͕͔͖̩̦̫͙̬͇̝̹̥̱̭̪̳̙̲̬̘̮̫̮̪̤̦̞̙̞̜̾̆̿̏́̓͂̉̒͆̊̋̐̊̐̓͋̎͋̂̎̕̕̚͘͜͜͝͝ͅ ̴̴̴̷̴̵̷̶̴̸̵̷̷̧̨̧̢̢̛̦̬̟̥̱̩̦̤̠̪̞̱͖͕̞͉͔̟͉͙͉̘̠̲̳͓̠̱̺̣̘̩͂͌̃̓̇͗̑̃̉͌̂̀̑̐̇͋͒̀̑̉̃̾͋͑̓̒̈́̋̈̈́̌̌̑̋̎̋͑̕̕̕͠ͅü̸̵̴̸̶̷̸̶̴̶̢̨̨̨͙͈̣͙̼̩͉̥̤͔̠͙̰͍̪̻͈̘̼̤̻̫̩͊̓́̊̀͑̈́̆̈́̅͒͛͗̊̆̓̆̂̀̂͗̔̚̚͘͜͝͝͝p̷̶̸̶̴̴̶̸̶̨̧̨̢̧̛̹̰͈̼̻̙̘͖̭̮̠̫̦̻̤̥̣͔̲̹͕̥̫̎͌̾̂͂̄̒̉̓͌̇̏̊̆́̃̏͌̽͊̋̇͌͝.̴̸̴̴̴̶̸̷̶̶̵̶̶̶̵̸̶̴̴̵̵̶̵̷̶̷̶̴̧̡̧̛̛̲͓̝̥̩̬͉͓̩͉̬͍͙̼̼͖̺͔͚͓̪͈͙͙̻͈̬̫͖̞̜̱͓̪̝̜̻̤͕̤̲̤͖͚͍͙̼̭̼̟̻̤̮̙̟̮̻̣̰̝͖͎͖͎̦̰̬͙̟̭̰̰͚̤̻͔̞͇̄̓̒͋̋̈́̄͐̒͆͂̾̔͋͊̍̊̎̔̔̒̍̈́̈͒͋̀̓̽̎͛͌͌̔͌̈́̃̍̈́̑͛̾́͂͌̓̏͒̆̆̿̆̐̇̓̑̀͋̓̐͋̒̏̏́͑̓͘͘͘̚̕̕͜͜͜͝͝͠͠͠ͅ
Wake up...
The sharp slam of consciousness.Ryuya startled back into himself.His chest rose sharply with a breath he’d been holding.The hum in his head was fading now, but the disorientation it left behind remained.His gaze refocused, slowly piecing the world back together.He looked left, trying to make sure the rooftop was still there.It was. He exhaled.His head turned to the right, Emi was sitting next to him.Her face frozen in a weird expression, like it was sitting between concern and confusion.“I was about to get someone, you completely spaced out.”He exhaled slowly, taking in reality once again.“Did I pass out ?” He asked, his own concern carrying through the words.“I don’t know but you don’t look so good,” She responded.Before either of them could say anything else, the sharp clang of the bell cut through the rooftop fog.Emi glanced toward the door.The break was over.She stood up, brushing dust off her skirt before she looked back at him one more time.“You should go to the infirmary.” She said neutrally.“I will, in a second.”“I’ll let the teacher know,” She said in a way that felt final.She finally turned toward the door.Her footsteps echoed louder than it should’ve on her way out.The door opened, the muffled hum of the school seeping through, a reminder of what lay ahead.The metal clicked softly,she was gone now,and the whole rooftop felt like it was exhaling.Ryuya’s gaze drifted upward, unfocused, as the weight in his chest coiled tighter.He closed his eyes, exhaling a slow breath as the fog wrapped around him.He stayed there for a minute before he opened his eyes again,something sharper came, a dark feeling coiling at his insides.This is bad..His chest tightened.What the fuck happened..Now that he was alone, all his thoughts seemed to storm at once, like a valve breaking under pressure.This is not good.. fuck, what the fuck was that ?!It was all slipping away—his focus, his grasp, his sense of control.He looked around him once again, making sure that the world outside of his vision didn’t disappear,his heart was beating faster.Shit.. Did I pass out ?He immediately pressed on to his wrist to check on his pulse,then his neck, his heart was beating fast.He started to rub his eyes vigorously.This is bad.. It’s the meds.. It has to be the meds.. Are they killing me?He gathered all of his will in one deep breath, the world was still there.1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.He counted as he exhaled. The pressure inside him seemed to loosen slightly.I’m still here…He kept his breathing for a while, his body relaxed and so did his mind yet something else loomed at the edge of his awareness, he shifted his position and stretched his legs out, trying to relax his whole body before the wave crashed onto his psyche..What am I even doing..A deep sense of futility swallowed him. Ryuya couldn't fight the honesty of the thought, this truth was one forged over time, one that always lingered, unacknowledged in the depth of his mind.In that moment it cut away any false hopes he had, cleaving through all ideas that he could lead a life anywhere close to normality.It’s pointless..The rooftop seemed to fold in on itself. Ryuya leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as his head hung low.Nothing’s working.What did I expect seriously..…Despair took him, the effort to hold on felt meaningless. What was the point of going back, of pretending, of anything when even being here felt impossible.I’m such an idiot…He stayed like that for a long time, unmoving.His head turned to the side. The edge of the rooftop pulled his gaze in, holding it for a moment too long.His eyes traced the railing, down to up until a thought surfaced.It’s not that high..Noticing the thought, he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.What am I thinking..He took another deep breath as he leaned back against the railing, gathering what was left of his resolve to hold on. He stared at the grey through his eyelids until the smallest drops of rain hit his face from above.He slowly opened his eyes to notice the dark clouds above, the wetness bringing him back to his immediate reality. For now, the rooftop was his, and the weight of everything else could wait, that’s what he wanted to think.His fingers twitched with some life once again, brushing against his bag absently, that’s when it finally hit him,the sketchbook was gone.The fog curled tighter around the rooftop, heavy and indifferent.“What a joke..”
Chapter 4 Eyes
The rooftop door creaked softly as it swung shut behind Emi. The sound lingered for a moment in the quiet stairwell, faint and almost apologetic. She didn’t stop.Her steps were quick as she made her way down the stairs, the lingering cold of the rooftop clinging to her skin.What was that about?The thought flickered through her mind, but she shoved it away just as fast. The sharp clang of the bell echoed through the halls. She picked up her pace. She was already halfway down the stairwell when she noticed it; The weight of the sketchbook in her hands.Shit.Emi slowed for a moment, her grip adjusting around the cover. She should turn back. Should go back up and toss it back to him. But the bell had already rung. And something about the way he looked—or rather the way he didn’t look at her—made her hesitate.She adjusted the book under her arm and picked up her pace.The stairwell opened into the hallway.Emi glanced at the windows.It was raining now.No time to linger, she moved into the crowd, letting herself be swept forward.The classroom loomed ahead, the last few students slipping inside. A few glanced at her, quick, passing looks before turning away. Emi didn’t acknowledge them.She slid into her seat, finally letting her shoulders relax. The teacher hadn’t arrived yet. Conversations hummed around her.Emi let out a breath.She wasn’t sure what to think about this whole episode, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been… somewhere else.Ryuya had always been detached, he barely came to class and when he did he’d barely stand out. But this was different.He looked more tired than usual and this whole thing was strange even for him. Her fingers drummed idly against the desk, her other hand still resting on the closed sketchbook in her lap.It wasn’t like she meant to take it.He’d dropped it, the wind had nearly flipped it open, the edges curling slightly from the wet floor, Emi had picked it up before it could get worse.But now it was here.Her fingers hovered over the edge of the cover.Might as well.She hesitated only a second before flipping it open.At first, she wasn’t sure what she was looking at. The page was a mess of ink and graphite—dark, heavy strokes that spiraled inward, disappearing into the paper like a tunnel leading to nowhere.She turned the page.More shapes, more patterns, but they didn’t feel completely random, too deliberate to be scribbles, too erratic to be planned.Her breath slowed.Another page.It wasn’t just darkness. The more she looked, the more she felt like she was falling into it. Shapes blurred into one another, curling and twisting like smoke frozen in time, lines fracturing and bleeding into the empty spaces between them.She turned another page. A hollow, twisting shape stretched across it, spiraling into the center—a void, or something reaching toward one.Another page..Emi’s chest tightened.What is this?No words came to her mind. She swore the pages shifted—just slightly, just enough. The shadows coiled, tightening into something that wasn’t quite still. Something that saw her first.…The classroom noise had faded into something distant now, her focus tunneled into the pages before her. She turned another, then another, then another... The edges of the sketches blurred, shifting, until she stopped.This isn’t normal.She swallowed. Her pulse was in her ears now. A sense of dread coiled at her tightly.The shadows were overwhelming, too real, like they tried to swallow her mind.A hand brushed against her desk. She flinched, slamming the sketchbook shut before she realized someone had just been passing by.The world crashed back in at once—classroom noises, the teacher’s voice. She stared down at the closed book, fingers still curled around its edges. She didn’t realize how tightly her grip had clenched, her fingers ached slightly.She exhaled sharply, before slipping it back into her bag.She didn’t know what to make of this discovery, the clarity she sought when she opened the book felt even more distant,and—she couldn’t shake the feeling that it had looked back at her.
Chapter 5 Hometown
The walk home had been uneventful, after this morning, it felt like a mercy.The streets were quiet.The fog still lingered, clinging to the edges of the world like a ghost, yet he also thought it'd followed him, offering him the space to recollect without urgency.Ryuya was sent home for the day. He’d been careful not to stretch the details of today and the nurse didn't press, it was routine at this point but..I'll have to bring it up…His doctor’s appointment was set tomorrow, a lucky happening.Ryuya stepped to the front door of the house, taking breath before he pushed it open.“I’m home” he said not too loudly—stepping out of his shoes—lining them up carefully by the door.He moved toward the kitchen in slow, unhurried steps.Opening the fridge—he scanned its sparse contents:Random leftovers, rice, pickled vegetables, some tofu.He pulled it all out.The rice went into the microwave.He grabbed a knife then reached for the tofu, slicing it into neat cubes in a steady and methodic rythm, yet—Why do they always need to ask stuff..His thoughts lingered on the day. He didn’t like how Emi’s voice still echoed faintly, like a thread tangled in his mind. His grip on the knife tightened slightly.Then the sketchbook. Its absence.His hand stilled.A beat.Whatever..It’s not like I could draw anyway..The thought was swiftly silenced.The microwave beeped. He moved, getting two bowls from the cupboard.A faint creak in the hallway rose, paused him mid-motion,Ryuya turned to see his little sister standing in the doorway.Rika was wrapped in her quilt, her hair slightly messy from sleep, she blinked at him with groggy eyes. He looked at her for a moment, his thoughts softening.“Are you hungry?” Ryuya finally said quietly.Rika nodded, padding softly into the room and settling herself at the small table.“A little,” she replied, her voice still hoarse from sleep.He nodded, dividing the food and setting her bowl in front of her.The clink of chopsticks against ceramic was the only sound for a while.A cocoon where time stood still.“I'm eepy..” Rika spoke first.“You mean sleepy ?” He answered.She nodded.“You go back to bed then” Ryuya said as he cleaned up the table.She didn’t move, her eyes slipping shut as though she had given up on making it there herself.Ryuya stepped closer to her, crouching slightly to get on her level.He pressed his palm against her forehead, Rika didn’t react, her breathing slowing as she seemed to be drifting off.Fever’s still strong.Bending down, Ryuya slid his arms under her.Slowly, he lifted her, she instinctively curled into him.He carefully carried Rika through the hallway, to her room, dodging the minefield of plushies and toys littered everywhere.He delicately set her up in her bed, wrapping the blanket tightly around her.She fell asleep immediately.Must be boring for her.Rika had been sick for about a week with chickenpox, he’d thought 6 years old was too old to catch it. Turns out it’s not.Ryuya reached into his bag, pulling out the can of strawberry milk he’d bought earlier. He set it on the nightstand before he exited her room.Back in the kitchen, Ryuya sat at the table.For a while, he didn’t move, resting his face in his hands. he rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers, letting the silence settle around him.The weight of the day, the fog, the endless questions, they all pressed back in with quiet insistence.They’re not going to change the meds again right..?He closed his eyes for a beat.Then—he rose—carrying the bowls to the sink. After rinsing them, he carefully made his way to his room, avoiding any noise that might disturb Rika’s sleep.Ryuya quietly closed the door.His bed greeted him, his hands brushing the crumpled bedding as he leaned forward.The day’s heaviness pooled again, an ache that felt both distant and immediate.He exhaled sharply, his gaze drifted toward the box on the nightstand that waited with quiet inevitability.“I’m still here..”
Chapter 6 Whiteroom
Ryuya was walking.A crow called out from somewhere above, its voice cracking through the silence. Ryuya’s gaze flicked upward briefly, but the bird was only a shadow, barely visible before it disappeared.He let out a soft breath.The walk felt endless, ahead, the clinic’s sign loomed faintly.A few more steps.Ryuya pushed the door open.His eyes squinted—white, aggressive lights on ceiling—
The quiet there was always pressing, artificial—
Like some kind of mechanical toy house that only stirred when you opened the door.He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he crossed the lobby.It was like everyone was scared not to breathe too loudly.The reception desk loomed ahead, too bright and too clean.He stood there for a moment before the receptionist appeared from behind the desk,“Good morning, may I have your name?” they asked, not looking up as they tapped at the keyboard in front of them.“Nagase Ryuya”The receptionist typed for a moment longer before glancing up.“Here for your appointment?”He nodded.“Alright, You may go to the waiting room on your left.”“…”The room stretched out before him, a collection of mismatched chairs arranged in uneven rows. Luckily, it was empty.Ryuya slid into one of the chairs near the edge. Facing a clock mounted on the opposite wall.A quick glance became a stare.Watching it felt like watching something die in slow motion.The seconds bled out slowly—each tick of the clock obvious in its intent to kill the silence—or so he thought.How long will it be this time..He wondered absently.Why did clinics look the way they did?What was the point of having all this “white”?Was it to feel reassuring?Non-threatening?The minutes dragged on. The fog outside had followed him in, softening his senses once again.The door to the waiting room creaked open. A nurse stepped halfway in, her clipboard pressed against her side.“Nagase Ryuya?” she called.Ryuya stood up. The nurse gave a small nod as he approached, motioning toward the hallway behind her.“This way.”
The cushioned chair was comfortable.Ryuya's gaze was fixed beyond the desk.At the painting on the wall.Is that a new one ?He wondered. It looked strange to him, abstract with colored shapes that appeared random yet something breathed inside of it.It wasn’t long before the door opened again..Doctor Eita stepped in.His presence filled the space immediately.“Good morning, Ryuya.” he said, his voice deep and steady, carrying a kind of warmth.Ryuya nodded faintly.He closed the door behind him with a soft click, setting the folder he’d been holding onto the desk. He adjusted his glasses before settling into his chair.Doctor Eita was tall, with hair that had gone completely gray but not in a way that made him look old. It lended him an air of experience, like a young but wise grandfather. “How are you ?” he asked.The question lingered for a moment.“I'm okay.” Ryuya answered.“Let’s unpack that, shall we?” his tone was gentle but edged with a kind of skepticism, one that didn’t need to be overt to be felt.He reached for the folder, flipping it open with deliberate care.His gaze scanned the notes inside, his brow furrowing slightly in what might have been concentration—Or satisfaction maybe..“It’s been a few months since we last spoke. How have you been feeling ?”The question lingered in the air, deceptively simple.“Fine I guess?” he said after a beat.“Have you been taking your treatment regularly?”“I have.” Ryuya answered.The doctor’s expression didn’t change, but there was a faint pause before he nodded.He tapped his pen lightly against the folder. His eyes remained steady on Ryuya.“Did you manage to go back to school yet?”“I just got back yesterday,” he said. “I only stayed for the morning though.”The doctor nodded slowly. “How was it?” He asked.“It was okay for the most part.”Ryuya answered truthfully.The air softened.“It’s a big step, getting back. Even if it’s just for a morning.” Doctor Eita’s words came out warm and genuine.“Yeah I know.” Ryuya responded naturally.Doctor Eita wasn’t difficult to talk to—he’d eased his way in over the years. Of all the doctors Ryuya had met, he was probably the best, though that didn’t say much. He straightened slightly, placing the pen down on the folder.“Are you able to study?”“Yeah, I manage.”Doctor Eita nodded again, his hands now loosely folded atop the desk.“How are things at home ?”“The usual.”“Your parents ?”“Still busy with work.”Doctor Eita's gaze lingered on Ryuya for a moment. He nodded thoughtfully. “And your sister? How’s she doing?”“She’s sick, so she stays at home.”“That must be difficult—for her, and for you.” Doctor Eita's tone carried something unreadable, like he was looking for something.“Not really.” Ryuya replied, his voice softer now. “It feels nice to have someone at home.”Dr. Eita’s lips curved slightly.“Has your sleep improved ?”“I think it’s better?” Ryuya's voice rose slightly, making it sound like a question.“That’s good,” Doctor Eita replied, his tone calm and reassuring. “Side effects tend to fade away at this point.”Ryuya’s jaw tightened faintly.Doctor Eita leaned forward, his hands resting on the desk.A beat.“There’s a new one.”The words came out more raw than he expected.“I noticed it yesterday.” Ryuya continued. "It was like a ringing or a tingling in my head”“Like a headache ?” the doctor’s brows knit slightly, his pen tapping softly against the desk.“Kinda, but then it got worse, there was this… gap where I completely spaced out.”The words squeezed at his chest.“What were you doing when it happened?” The doctor asked, leaning closer now.Ryuya hesitated, “Talking to someone ?” he said finally.He took a pause before adding, “I had this weird dream as well..”The doctor’s pen moved in deliberate strokes across the folder.“Tell me about this dream.” The doctor looked at him softly, like he was holding space still.Ryuya exhaled softly.“It was like the world dissolved around me, I was falling and——̴͍͑—I don’t remember..”The doctor nodded, watching him with a steady gaze, one that didn’t ask for anything more..“I assumed it was another side effect.."“…”"It has to be, right?”Dr. Eita leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable."I’m not quite sure," he said, his voice calm, but not entirely certain.“While side effects vary with these types of treatment, this could be a mix of multiple things.” he said gently.“Your mind is still adjusting, and you’re also back to school after a while, so it could be stress-related as well.”Ryuya wasn’t satisfied.The words didn't ease the tension in his chest.Doctor Eita regarded him carefully, his calm gaze steady.“I understand what you’re saying but.. I don’t know..”Ryuya glanced down.“If this continues, we can adjust the dosage or try a different schedule. We’ll explore other options to make sure it stays manageable for you.”Ryuya’s gaze wandered back to the painting on the wall.
The silence stretched between them."…Do you think it could happen again ?” His gaze met doctor Eita’s.“I’m not sure Ryuya—since this just happened—I must say it’s too soon to make an opinion.”Doctor Eita’s eyes carried an apologetic concern.Ryuya's gaze lowered once again, a sense of resignation washing over him.“What I can tell you is that, it’ll become evident with time, it may just be a one time thing, since you were just back to school, and if it were to happen again, we will react accordingly.”Doctor Eita smiled softly, what seemed like an attempt at offering reassurance..“Okay..” Ryuya exhaled.“Is there anything else bothering you ?” The doctor asked thoughtfully. Ryuya exhaled once again but it sounded more like a sigh this time.“I started drawing—a few months ago—after we changed the meds.”He paused.”It’s a bit weird but I would draw what I saw back then.”The doctor regarded him thoughtfully..“It’s not weird at all. Many patients find that a creative outlet can help to process what they’re experiencing.”“Do you still do it now ?”“I don’t know, it doesn’t feel real anymore.”“Hmm...” Dr. Eita leaned back slightly.“Maybe it helped you processing things while you were adjusting.”The words echoed softly.“It’s not uncommon to feel this way,” he said gently.“Maybe your inspiration will change as well as you settle in.”“Maybe,” Ryuya muttered.“Maybe you could try to draw something else—” Dr. Eita suggested, his tone light but encouraging.“Or see how others do it as well ? Schools usually have places for that."Ryuya's eyes dropped to the desk, where he stared absently for a second.Lingering on the idea.“Sure.” he answered.Though the words felt hollow.The doctor glanced at his watch, his expression calm but contemplative.“We’ll keep an eye on things for now,” he continued, reaching for his pen again. “If anything changes, or if it becomes too much, we’ll adjust accordingly.”Ryuya nodded.“For now, we’ll keep the same dosage and keep tabs on the side effects”Doctor Eita scribbled something in the folder before closing it with deliberate care.“Okay.”
Chapter 7 Inertia
The school courtyard was quieter than usual.Ryuya slipped through the front gates, his bag hanging loosely from one shoulder.The weight of the morning still pressed at him, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what part of it had sucked more.Maybe all of it.He moved through the main building, making his way through the staircase and hallways, the familiar haze creeping in at the edges of his mind.The classroom door slid open.The room’s air seemed to sway at his entry, nonetheless he moved to his seat near the window, catching glances in the periphery.Afternoon class passed softly, nothing stood out or lingered enough to grab his attention.And now, the bell rang to announce the afternoon break.Ryuya's eyes scouted the room, Emi had already left, an appreciated mercy he thought, yet—he glanced at the notebook resting on his desk. His gaze quickly came back to the window, the familiar fog greeting him, softening his thoughts in a mesh that didn't ask for anything.A pair of footsteps registered—quiet but deliberate.Ryuya didn’t turn though.The steps stopped near him.“Hello?”A voice said, light and unfamiliar.Ryuya glanced at his right, where a girl stood beside him, her hands clasped loosely in front of her. She waved her hand subtly.Ryuya simply stared."You’re Ryuya, right?” She asked, her tone carrying a steady form of enthusiasm, though she remained at a stepping distance from his desk.“Yeah,” he flatly answered.She seemed familiar in a distant way, someone he’d seen at the edges of spaces he didn’t step into. A shorter than average girl with a soft gaze, her hair dressed in two messy pigtails, the kind that didn't take itself too seriously.“Thought so.. I’m not bothering you, am I ?” The girl asked, keeping her smile along with her casual disposition.“No, it’s fine,” She held his gaze..“Won’t be here too long, just wanted to meet you.”Her smile was warm, the way it lingered waiting for his answer—It seemed like he could have stayed completely silent and it wouldn’t have mattered.“I’m Sanae Mizuki. I'm from the art club.”“Ryuya Nagase.” He exchanged, his voice barely raising above the hum of the classroom.Sanae grabbed a chair from an empty desk, sitting accross him.“Thought I’d tell you about this year’s showcase, maybe you already know about it ?”He shook his head."It's an art club thing but technically anyone can enter,”she paused.“So… I thought maybe…"She resumed."…You’d want to submit something ?”Ryuya blinked.The air got still. His eyes flickered, catching curious glances across the room.Eventually, his lips parted.“What do you mean?” He asked, though the wave in his voice wasn't lost on him.She looked into his eyes for a moment.“I saw your drawings and I think they’re very cool.” her expression brightened, you could tell she enjoyed saying that.Ryuya took a second. She continued.“I don’t know what it is, but they... stay with you.. I kept thinking about them.."Then—The confirmation came at once.So she’s showing it around..?Emi had his sketchbook.The uncertainty crashed onto him, while Sanae’s presence was manageable, restless thoughts crept in, mental knots circling around Emi's role in this charade.“Did I say something weird ?’ Her voice pulled him back.Ryuya flinched, realizing how long he'd been silent.“I just hope I’m not being pushy.” Her tone briefly lowered, something resembling concern.“It’s fine.."He exhaled discretly."I’m not really an artist though..” He added.“What do you mean?” Sanae asked.Ryuya took a pause, his gaze sweeping the windows.“...Art’s not really my thing.” He answered truthfully as his eyes came back to her. She paused for a second, her expression perplexed, as though she was piecing together a puzzle.“Really ?” She finally said, her tone conveying something uncertain.Ryuya’s brow raised.She paused before adding “That’s surprising..”"Is it?" Ryuya thought to himself.“I mean, your work, I don’t know—” she said, her voice soft but earnest.“I would’ve guessed you were completely immersed in the craft.”Her eyes lingered on his face, before drifting back to the imaginary lines her hand traced on the desk.Ryuya wasn't sure how to answer that, he watched as Sanae seemed deep in thought, her gaze distant.The silence filled itself with uncertain thoughts once again.“She showed you the sketchbook then?” He dared to ask, yet the question came out softer than he expected—still, it brought her back.Sanae’s expression shifted, her brow raised.“Oh? Yeah she brought it to the club yesterday,” She answered.He nodded.Confirmation upon confirmation, yet still no clarity to be found.“I thought about bringing it, but I figured Emi would." Sanae’s gaze swept the room for a second, "I guess she didn’t?” Her tone stubbornly soft.Ryuya’s gaze dropped for second.The bell rang once more, startling him.Sanae glanced at the door before she stood, setting the chair back delicately.She brushed her hands lightly against her skirt.“Alright, well... I’ll let you be now, it was nice to meet you”She smiled at him before she turned and walked away.The classroom’s hum swelled again, voices and movements rising, weaving, fading and Ryuya stayed where he was, his gaze absent.She seems nice…A second..Another thought..Guess it’s out there now…This truth didn’t pull at him, it didn’t hit a nerve, nothing…He didn't know if he should feel bothered, upset or anything..Does it even matter at this point?The question lingered, quiet but insistent. Ryuya’s gaze landed on Emi’s empty desk, musing absently on what Emi’s motives could be but it didn’t last.His gaze pulled back to the window once more, his mind failing to hold on the thoughts.The fog had thickened yet the outside seemed somber, darker. His eyes swept the room, catching glances, whispers came through, too low to discern yet loud in meaning.His fingers pressed against the desk.Without thinking, he pushed his chair back, the scrape seemed louder than it should have been. A few glances flicked his way again as he moved toward the door.
The walk felt heavier than it needed to be but the rooftop greeted him once again without expectations.Ryuya moved to his spot, lowering himself to the wet ground.For a moment, he closed his eyes, letting his presence blur, blending with the faint patter of rain and the distant hum of the fog-shrouded city.A burst of laughter reached him from somewhere far below…He opened his eyes.Thoughts about the girl he’d just met emerged.The air felt soft around her, it reminded him of Rika in a way he couldn’t quite name.The recollection was cut short though—images of Emi with his sketchbook intruding his mind, cleaving through the peace he’d found for himself.Ryuya exhaled slowly.No way Sanae was the only one, it'd be Emi's style to show it to everyone.“Why does she even care..”This hollow uncertainty slowly filled itself, frustration came in yet it was dull, it carried no bite. Instead letting place to a quiet and exhausted resignation.…The fog curled closer as Ryuya’s gaze shifted toward the horizon. Where the edges of the buildings disappeared, dark clouds revealed themselves just enough to discern.He stared at them.His fingers twitched once or twice,the restlessness stirring, urging him to move.Let’s just go home…
Chapter 8 Cocoon
The door to the rooftop creaked softly as Ryuya stepped back inside, the restless energy refusing to settle. The stairwell was quiet yet hummed with echoes of the floors beyond.He descended slowly as steps and thoughts blurred together.Landing on the third floor, Ryuya paused, his grip on the railing tightening.His gaze floated through the hallway next to him.The thought of going back lingered just enough to make him hesitate, weighing the solace he’d just found into exhausting rounds of hesitations—Letting the day dissolve like the ones before.Or going back.His gaze drifted to the window, staring absently, tracing the slowly spreading patterns of the rain.The choice before him demanded more than he had and for a second, he just wished someone would make it for him.“Ryuya?”The voice broke softly into his thoughts, light but distinct. He turned his head, his gaze catching on a familiar figure approaching from down the hall.The girl from earlier—her expression calm, her steps unhurried, as though her presence here was the most natural thing in the world.She offered him a faint smile as she stopped a few steps away.“I was just heading downstairs,” She said lightly.Ryuya’s hand stilled against the railing, but he didn’t respond immediately. “Were you on the roof ?” she asked, her tone carrying no judgment.“Yeah.”She nodded faintly in return, as though the answer required no further elaboration.“It’s a good spot,” she said, as her gaze drifted to the window.“I get why you’d go there.”Her words settled gently between them, unassuming and easy.Ryuya’s grip eased slightly.“Class is done for me so I was actually heading to the clubroom,” she said, motioning faintly toward the staircase.“I could grab your sketchbook if you want ?”Ryuya exhaled faintly, the sound more of a soft release than a sigh.Sanae’s smile softened.He nodded, his hand letting go of the railing as she turned toward the staircase..
Sanae walked with softness, each step seemed to deliberately linger just enough, a steady and calming rhythm..The faint murmur of voices grew louder as they approached the second floor. The air felt more alive there, with a quiet energy that made the walls feel less distant.The art club was just ahead, Sanae glanced back. “Here we are,” she said simply, stepping ahead to nudge the door open.The room stretched wide.Rows of easels, some bearing canvases in various stages of becoming, others holding blank potential. A few students were there, filling the air with the faint sounds of creation. One at a desk, another at an easel.Ryuya lingered at the threshold, Sanae glanced back at him.“Come on,” she said lightly.She moved inside, her posture easy. Ryuya followed, a pace away.“I think your sketchbook’s in the cabinet,” Sanae said, motioning toward the back of the room. His gaze flicked briefly to the canvas next to him—a landscape with muted colors.“It’s mine, It’s not finished though—” Sanae said over her shoulder as she walked toward the cabinet. “But you can tell, right? What it’s supposed to be?”“A mountain ?”“Yeah.” she replied, glancing back with a faint smile.The faint hum of the room settled around him. Brushes whispered against canvases, the muted scrape of pencils filling the space.The rain outside tapped softly against the windows, shaping the room into this isolated cocoon.Sanae opened the cabinet with a soft creak. Ryuya didn't move.After a moment, she straightened, her brow furrowing slightly.“Hmm.. That’s strange,” she murmured, glancing back at him.Ryuya's gaze shifted back to her, she was stepping toward him.“I swear it was there yesterday. Someone must’ve moved it.” Her eyes scanned the room. His expression didn’t shift.“It’s fine,” he muttered, looking away.Sanae turned fully toward him, her expression softening.“It’s probably just been misplaced. I’ll check with Emi later—”Ryuya didn’t answer.“You’re welcome to wait here, she's bound to turn up soon.”A beat.The thought lodged itself in his chest, his eyes swept the room—before he finally nodded, the motion heavier than it should have been.They both moved back, Sanae grabbed a nearby stool, setting it up next to hers before she sat in front of her canvas. Ryuya hesitated but moved toward it, lowering himself with quiet indifference.“So.. Is it what you expected ?” She asked.“It’s quiet.”“Yeah it is," Sanae said casually as she slowly reached forward."The showcase's coming up so a lot of us have to focus right now,”She grabbed a brush from the easel tray. The palette lay on the table beside her, a chaotic mix of greens and browns spreading out like a tiny abstract painting of its own.“Some prefer to work at home—" She dipped her brush. "Some others would rather just hang around, the ones that are here now are mostly those who like the calm.”Something pulled in his head, the weight of uncertainty, he exhaled quietly, nodding along.“Hope this isn’t too much for you.” Sanae said, a hint of concern in her voice.“It’s fine,” he said as the sensation loosened. “Just tired.”“You didn’t sleep much?” Sanae’s brush paused mid-stroke, her gaze flicked toward him briefly before returning to the canvas.“I guess.” he answered flatly.Sanae nodded faintly—her gaze lingered on her canvas—his drifted back to the window, noticing the rain’s patter growing slightly louder.The silence stretched—his attention dissolving in the quiet.“It must be boring for you..”Ryuya's focus snapped back in a blink.He glanced at Sanae—she was staring at her painting with an unreadable expression, completely detached from the warmth she displayed earlier.
That look—he wasn’t sure if it was meant for him or the painting in front of her, but it felt familiar, the kind of weight he recognized in himself.“Paintings like mine—"Sanae sighed softly."Don’t really strike me as the thing that’d inspire someone like you.”A faint smile appeared at the edge of her words, though it carried something else, something heavy.He stayed silent for a moment, not sure how to respond or if he should respond at all.Instead, he looked at the streaks of green blending together on her canvas. It was true, in a sense—her painting didn’t stir anything in him. But then again—he’d never paid attention to someone else’s work before, he’d only seen Rika draw, and the comparison felt unfair.His gaze came back to her, she appeared different, her expression withdrawn. Sanae glanced at him briefly before letting out a resigned sigh.“I don’t really know what inspires me,” he said, surprising even himself.Sanae's gaze shifted to him, staring at him with a perplexed expression.“..I’m not used to seeing art.” he followed shortly.“How come?” Her gaze lingered on his face awkwardly, her eyes dissecting him, or so he thought.Ryuya took a second to gather himself.“I never really cared, I guess?” He answered tentatively.“Ever been to a gallery before?” She asked.Ryuya shook his head.“So how did you start drawing? Was it something you’ve always done or..?” Sanae insisted.“It’s more of a recent thing.” He answered dispassionately, shoving his hands into his pockets..Sanae’s expression was unreadable—like nothing he said made any sense. He’d answered her truthfully but with each answer, he felt the distance grow wider.“How recent..?” She asked softly.“A few months?” He replied hesitantly.“It’s because of my sister.” He added, his tone clipped.Sanae figdeted with her brush.“Is she a famous artist or something?” she asked.“She’s six.” he answered quickly, letting out an exhale before following “She'd just make me draw with her… I guess at some point I started to do it on my own.”Sanae's expression seemed to soften, her earlier smile resurfacing though he wasn’t sure why.“That’s sweet,” she said softly.Ryuya shrugged yet he could feel the earlier tension dissipating. Also, it seemed Sanae got her motivation back, as she brought her brush to the canvas once again.The door slid open—Cutting through the room’s rhythm—Footsteps followed—deliberate and sharp..Ryuya didn’t need to look to feel the shift in the air.
Chapter 9 Burst
“Didn’t think I’d see you here.” Emi said with the kind of casualness that felt out of place.Ryuya only glanced at her.“I figured you’d gone back home or something,” She added, though her tone lacked its usual edge, landing somewhere between observation and uncertainty.“That was the plan.” He answered quietly.Emi stepped further into the room, her bag slung over one shoulder.Sanae glanced up from her painting, her brow furrowing slightly.She got up from the stool.“Ryuya was here to get his sketchbook.” She said as she stepped towards Emi.Emi’s gaze seemed to sharpen, just enough for Ryuya to notice.“Didn’t we put it in the cabinet yesterday?” Sanae asked.“Did we?” Emi retorted dismissively.Sanae’s brow knit faintly.“I could’ve sworn it was there when I left yesterday.”Ryuya carefully looked at Emi, in class she had this confident aura, the kind that lets you know how important she feels—yet here, something was different, unnamable.“Maybe it got moved,” Emi said quickly as she turned toward Ryuya, that same sharpness lingering before it faded into an unreadable expression.“I’ll check with the others later,” Sanae said before she shifted toward the easel again.Emi’s gaze lingered on him for a moment. They stared at each other a second too long.Finally—she stepped further into the room, exchanging greetings with the other students on the way.The room’s energy steadied, Sanae sat beside him again, her gaze flicking toward him briefly, her eyes full of apology.“I’m sorry,” Sanae said softly, her tone quiet enough not to disturb the room’s hum. His spine straightened, just barely, like her words rippled in him.“I’ll make sure to find it, I promise.” She added again.“It’s not a big deal.” He said, his tone light. Sanae's gaze lingered on him for a beat.“You’re welcome to stay—maybe it’ll pop up—or someone will?” she said thoughtfully, the words hanging in the air, deliberate but light.Ryuya didn’t protest.Across the room, he’d notice Emi shifting in her seat, her presence a sharp contrast to the subdued atmosphere. Her gaze occasionally flicked toward him as if checking if he was still there.Sanae straightened slightly, turning toward him with a faint smile.“Let me— I mean.." Her words tripped,"I could show you around if you want?” she offered timidly.Ryuya glanced around the room before nodding. As he rose, a few glances were shot at him, but none lingered for long.Sanae led the way, guiding him toward the other easels at the edge of the room. She gestured toward a large canvas propped against the wall.“This is Kai’s submission.” A landscape, precise and intricate. Ryuya’s gaze lingered on the painting briefly, but he moved on without commitment.They passed another easel, this one holding a partially finished still life. Muted tones of fruits and ceramics pasted on a dark background.“This one’s from Hana—” Sanae said simply. “But it’s just practice.”His gaze shifted to the next painting propped against the wall.“This is Nao’s,” Sanae offered. “She’s new to abstraction but she’s trying to improve.”Ryuya’s gaze sharpened. A swirl of colors on a smaller canvas.His eyes swept the piece, the strokes felt awkward, the shapes abstract but not in a familiar way—as though they’d been carefully placed to give the impression of chaos.He lingered, unsure if the discomfort came from the piece or his inability to make sense of it. Sanae seemed to notice, as her gaze flicked toward him briefly.Finally, they stopped near the windows, where a canvas leaned carefully against the sill.The painting was immediately different—clean, deliberate, and polished in a way that set it apart from everything else in the room.“And this one is Emi’s.” Sanae said, her tone steady yet Ryuya could have guessed as much—A portrait of a young girl, her features rendered with almost photographic precision—an amalgam of flawless precision. From the subtle texture of her skin to the light catching in her eyes.The backdrop, a tangle of flowers, just as meticulously painted, each petal and shadow carefully rendered.For a moment, he simply stared, his expression unreadable.“It’s great, right?” Sanae said, her voice carrying an easy warmth.Ryuya didn’t answer. His gaze lingered on the painting, his thoughts muddled. The painting stared at him, whispering demands, expectations, the more his gaze lingered, the more pressure built up in his skull.Sanae glanced at him, her expression softening. “You don’t think so?” she asked lightly, her tone more curious than accusatory.Ryuya shook his head faintly, but the gesture was more about clearing his head than answering her question.“I don’t know.” he murmured finally.Sanae looked at him, her eyes conveying something heavier, unspoken, like she was waiting for him to say something more.His gaze sharpened, searching for the right words. “Does it feel wrong somehow?” She asked. For some reason, the question felt like a challenge. Ryuya glanced at her for a moment, a subtle intensity carried in her eyes as she looked at him.“I don’t know—It looks how I’d expect it to look.”Across the room, Emi’s head lifted, her gaze flicking toward them. She didn’t say anything, but her attention was unmistakable.Sanae didn’t seem to notice the shift, or maybe she didn’t care. She seemed deep in thoughts after he spoke.“Like you’d expect it to look.. hmm..” she echoed.Ryuya blinked, his gaze returned to the painting. Something strange pulled him in, filling him with a nagging feeling he couldn’t place.The faintest sound of footsteps broke the moment.“Talking about me behind my back?” Emi said lightly—her expression betraying a sharp curiosity, though the edge in her voice wasn’t lost on him.Sanae glanced at him, unfazed by Emi’s arrival.“Just admiring your work,” she replied easily, stepping aside to give Emi space by the window.“Ryuya was giving me his impression.” She added.Emi’s gaze shifted to him, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to extract something unspoken.“Anything I should know?” She asked, her tone carefully neutral.“Not really.” Ryuya said, his voice low, deliberate.Emi’s expression flickered with something unreadable before she looked back at the painting. Her posture straightened subtly, almost as if she were bracing herself.“Come on, you don’t have to sugarcoat it—” she said, her tone measured but tight, yet the tension around the words didn't lie.“Tell me what’s missing,” she pressed.“I didn’t say it was missing anything,” Ryuya replied quickly, his gaze flicking toward her. Emi’s brow lifted, skepticism creeping into her expression.“I think it’s interesting—” Sanae interjected, her tone soft.“It’s got this… energy. Like it’s really focused and impressive but it feels heavy.” She glanced at Ryuya, her expression neutral but curious. “That’s what you meant, right?”Ryuya's shoulders moved on their own, his gaze attentive to Emi.Emi’s brow furrowed slightly. “Huh.. So you guys are saying that it’s so good that it’s bad?”Are we? Ryuya thought, his eyebrows knitting slightly, Sanae glanced back at him before she put her hand on her chin.“I guess we are..?” Sanae said tentatively with a playful smile.Emi scoffed, crossing her arms.“It has to be the dumbest thing I’ve heard today.”Sanae laughed and the room stilled a bit, the tension getting quieter. Emi smiled too, moving away from the painting and leaning against one of the empty desks, her arms still crossed below her chest.“Maybe I should make another then..” She said. It seemed to have caught Sanae off, her expressing oozing with a kind of perplexity that felt out of place. “Where’s that coming from?” Sanae asked simply.Emi shrugged but something in her posture wavered.“I’ve got nothing to do now that this one’s done.” Emi's word came out even, too neat.“It must be boring for you,” Sanae murmured.Emi smirked faintly, shifting her gaze to Ryuya.“What do you think, ghost? Should I make a new one?”Ryuya brow knit reflexively—he didn't respond, his mind too caught up on the nickname and its implications. Emi didn’t push.Sanae sat on the desk next to her. “Well, at least you have a backup if you don’t finish in time.” She said—Ryuya was the only one standing now.“That’s true,” Emi said, her voice softening. “I think I’d make it at home this time, though.” She quickly added.Emi's gaze averted them.“What’s wrong with making it here?” Sanae asked with light curiosity.“Nothing,” Emi said quickly. “Just think I’d need to be alone for this one.” Her words hung briefly in the air before she added, “Anyway, I think I’m gonna head out.”Sanae nodded lightly. “Okay, I think I’ll stay a bit longer." She gazed at him. "What about you ?”He shrugged, “I don’t mind,” he answered. unbothered by the prospect.Emi straightened, pulling the keys from her pocket and handing them to Sanae. “You can handle locking up.” Her gaze lingered briefly on the room before she turned toward the door.The faint sound of her footsteps echoed as she left, the air in the room feeling lighter in her absence.
Chapter 10 Grey
The groan of the pipes woke her up,Rika blinked slowly.She wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, or what she was doing before falling asleep on the couch, but the blanket felt warm and heavy around her, a soft weight she didn’t want to leave.She sank a little deeper into the couch. Her head felt fuzzy, like the inside of a peach, she thought.“Good morning..” she whispered to noone. It wasn’t morning, but that’s what she always said to her plushies.Bunny—the bunny—sat beside her, ears flopped over his eyes like he was still sleepy too.She noticed Dino had fallen to the floor, his green tail peeking out from under the coffee table like he was hiding.Rika wriggled free from the blanket and leaned over to pick him up.“You fell off,” she murmured, patting his head gently. She placed him back beside Bunny, their noses barely touching, like they were whispering secrets.She yawned.Her legs stretched long across the couch as she wiggled her toes.Her stomach made a soft sound—maybe hungry, maybe just bored.She turned Bunny to face her.
“Do you think Ryu’s coming back soon?”Bunny didn’t answer.She nodded anyway, hugging him close.“Maybe soon.”
The soft creak of the front door—Rika pulled the blanket up to her nose, hiding half a second before peeking out. Ryuya stepped inside quietly, glancing in her direction.He didn't say anything.Then, he bent down to align his shoes in the corner.She wiggled out of the blanket, holding Bunny tightly.Ryuya calmly moved to the kitchen, Rika trailed behind him.He stopped in front of the fridge, the quiet stretching softly.“What’s for dinner?” Rika asked.“It’s too soon for that,” he replied, opening the fridge.The clink of glass echoed faintly.
“Oh...”
“…"
"What’s for snack time?”Ryuya didn’t laugh, but something in his shoulders moved like he wanted to. He glanced at her and reached into the fridge, grabbing a bottle of milk. “You can have hot cocoa,” he said finally.She smiled.
The mug of cocoa sat on the coffee table.The steam curled in slow, quiet spirals, like little ghosts vanishing into nothing. Rika watched them like they were alive, pulling Bunny close again.She glanced at her brother.“You’ okay?” she asked, almost like a whisper.He glanced back.“Yeah,” he said, as he straightened, already halfway to his bedroom. Her eyes lingered as his figure dissapeared into the hallway.Then, she curled up again, tucking herself under the blanket until it reached her eyes. For a moment she didn't move, didn't say anything, her head empty.She glanced at the mug cooling down on the table.“…Maybe he needs hot cocoa too,” she whispered into the softness.But even as she said it, she already knew he wouldn’t want any either..
Chapter 11 Varnish
Emi’s room glowed dimly, lit only by the amber pool of her desk lamp, the light clinging to the surface of scattered pencils and crushed pages littered everywhere.Ryuya’s sketchbook lay open under it.The pages caught the light at an angle—black strokes darkened even further, their contrast harsh and almost wet.She exhaled and steadied her hands.Her fingers hovered at the edge of the paper, tracing one jagged contour like it might twitch under her touch, like veins pulsing beneath the surface.This one..Her eyes narrowed, scanning the tangle of crooked lines.She’d always known how to read shapes, untangle convoluted structures. But this wasn’t a structure.The shapes pulled her in, winding into something deeper and wild.Something’s here..The thought flickered through her mind, unbidden, uncomfortable. She brushed it away, flipping the page with a quick snap.More lines—jagged, thick, erratic, lines.They cut and curved with the kind of certainty that felt out of place, something she should’ve scoffed at, like all these other pretentious abstract pieces she’d seen in the past.Truthfully, she’d preferred it was the case.lines and lines and lines and lines—She grabbed her pencil again from the corner of the desk and laid it ready above her own sketchbook. For a moment, nothing moved.Her hand hovered over the page, hesitant. Her gaze pulled toward the leftovers of scraped pages that came before this one.Then—she pressed her pencil to the surface, glancing rapidly between the two pages—hers and his.Sharp movement followed, skillful, but the shape fought back, twisting out of control.She started again.I need to trace it in one motion..But again, her hand wouldn’t move the right way. She tore off the page and crushed it into a ball—it joined the others in the bin but her gaze lingered as if the paper might say something back.Is it the ninth..?A realization that came with its own kind of exasperation.. She grabbed her pencil, facing another empty page.Another motion.Another sigh.Another ball.The moment stretched long, too long. She looked at her page—then his—then hers again.Silence.An urge traveled her spine—driving her away from the desk in one forceful push—letting the chair roll back until it stopped.The room was stubbornly quiet, a silence that should have made everything easier. Her gaze lifted absently as her body sank in the chair, her stare stuck to the darkened ceiling.Can’t do this after all..?The thought lingered rippling softly through her mind.She shut her eyes, refusing to answer.For a minute she sat there, a soft blur spreading at the edge of her vision, sensing her focus dissolve.The light flickered.She blinked, her eyes ached slightly. She brought her fingers to them, rubbing them softly, anchoring the moment back to what it was.A quick breath escaped her before she forced herself upright.The chair creaked loudly in the quiet.She slowly rolled forward to the desk.Her gaze immediatly pulled back to Ryuya’s pages. Feeling the shadows stretching around her like before, like the page breathed close to her ear.Another time, she rubbed her eyes before settling her focus. She readied her pencil.Okay…She started again.Her eyes followed the shape, unraveling the maze of spirals, her gaze tracing it like a stream leading to nowhere. She copied the shapes with slow, meticulous movements, following them without urgency.She traced a spiral slowly but she had started it two millimeters off.A stare.A flare.The page was torn before she even knew she was reaching for it, her body leaned forward, her face hiding within her hands.Just fucking give up already..She rubbed her temples—her gaze drifted toward the desk lamp—staring into its glow long enough that the pattern carved into her eyes.She blinked—the spots burned in her sight even after she looked away. A sharp exhale breached the quiet.What a joke..She couldn’t tell what the thought was aimed at.Herself? Him? The book?All of it?Her fingers ran along the edges of it, flipping through the pages slowly. For a while, she just observed them in silence. Time stretching thin, dissolving into a steady rhythm, only flipping and never lingering.Finally, only a blank page remained.She stared at it for a beat, the silence seemingly quieter.It stretched for a minute, at least it seemed so.Slowly her fingers stirred, bringing the pages together, closing the book. She pushed it into the shadows beyond the glow of the desk lamp. There it simply stared, resting on its back cover. Hers stayed open.She didn't move yet, letting the shapes settle in her mind.Then—
“…Okay.”
The word slipped out in a whisper.She adjusted herself, picking up her pencil once more.
“..Let’s try again..”
© 2026 Djinn — Varnish