Kaito woke up in his bed, as usual, but everything felt wrong. The warmth of the morning sun, which had always coaxed him out of slumber, now seemed distant, almost oppressive. The air was thick, heavy—as though it were pressing down on him, suffocating him. His once lively face, full of curiosity and unspoken wonder, was now eerily still. His eyes, usually bright with the spark of life, were cold and distant, like the depth of a forgotten ocean. The energy that had once pulsed around him, vibrant and electric, had disappeared. All that was left was a hollow shell, a form moving through a world that no longer felt like his own.
He sat up slowly, as if his body were operating on autopilot, following a routine it no longer cared about. Each motion felt stiff, as though his limbs had forgotten their purpose.
He reached for his phone on the nightstand, his fingers brushing against the screen with a dull indifference. Pressing the power button, he watched the screen light up.
Date: August 12
Time: 6:00 AM
Kaito stared at the time, blinking in confusion. It was early—far too early for him. He never got up before his mom woke him up for breakfast. Something was off. Deeply off.
Without a word, he locked the screen, the click of his thumb against the phone a sound that seemed to echo too loudly in the stillness. He placed the phone down, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and let his bare feet meet the cold wooden floor. The chill of the wood sent a shiver up his spine, the sensation sharp and jarring in its contrast to the oppressive heat that had settled in his chest.
The sound of his footsteps as he walked toward the bathroom was unnaturally loud in the silence of the house, each step dragging like the weight of his own thoughts. The air in the hallway felt thick, suffocating. It pressed against him, like an invisible hand on his chest.
The bathroom light flickered once, then stabilized, casting a weak, dim glow across the tiles. Kaito picked up his toothbrush, his fingers lingering on the smooth surface, as though it were something alien. He stared into the mirror, and the reflection staring back at him seemed… wrong. The person in the mirror had his face, but it wasn't him. There was something in his eyes—a hollowness, a vacancy, as though his soul had slipped away overnight, leaving only the shell behind.
He continued brushing his teeth, his gaze locked on the mirror, when something moved in the corner of his vision. A flicker. A shadow. He stopped mid-brush, the bristles frozen against his teeth, his heart skipping a beat.
And then he saw her.
She stood behind him, a girl with white hair that shimmered like snow under the moon, cascading in perfect waves down her back. Her eyes were soft but sorrowful, the kind of sorrow that seemed to weigh a thousand lifetimes. Her delicate features, framed by a flawless hime cut, seemed almost unreal, as if she had stepped out of a dream or a memory too distant to grasp. She was impossibly beautiful, but there was something deeply unsettling in the sadness of her gaze.
A faint smile curved her lips, but it was a smile that only deepened the emptiness inside him. It was the kind of smile that didn't comfort—it only made him feel smaller, more insignificant, like something precious had been lost and would never be found again.
Kaito's breath hitched. His hands trembled, the toothbrush slipping from his grasp and falling into the sink with a soft clink. His reflection warped again, distorting and rippling like a reflection in water, but the girl remained. She was still there, her eyes locked onto his, as if waiting for him to understand something he couldn't yet see.
"Who… was that?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, swallowed by the pounding of his heart. "Am I losing it?" His mind raced, but the questions tumbled over one another, chaotic and tangled. Why her? Why now? His thoughts spiraled out of control, too many to catch, too fast to follow.
He rinsed his mouth, but the image of the girl lingered. Her face was imprinted in his mind, haunting him with its quiet beauty and the sorrow it carried. His hands shook as he reached for a towel, the fabric rough against his skin.
A knock at the door broke through the haze of his thoughts.
"Hey, hurry up! I need to get in there!" his mom's voice called, muffled but insistent.
Kaito blinked, his mind still reeling from the vision. He looked at the door, his breath shallow. "I'm almost done," he called back, his voice hoarse, as though it belonged to someone else.
There was a pause, followed by the fading sound of footsteps as his mom retreated to the kitchen.
"What's with him today? Up early? He never gets up this early..." Her voice trailed off, but Kaito didn't care. The words barely registered as his mind remained consumed by the girl and the strange emptiness growing inside him.
He left the bathroom and walked down the hallway, the familiar smells of coffee and freshly toasted bread drifting from the kitchen. But he wasn't hungry. Nothing seemed real anymore, not the smells, not the warmth of the sun filtering through the windows. His entire world felt distant, like he was floating in a dream where nothing truly mattered.
The television was on in the living room, the static of the morning news filling the air. But something was wrong with the broadcast. The usual cheerful hosts and weather updates were replaced by something darker. A grim-faced news anchor spoke in a low, somber tone.
"A mysterious organization continues to terrorize the city. Authorities remain baffled by the sudden spike in killings of innocent civilians." His voice trembled, a hint of fear creeping in. The screen flashed distorted, grainy images of dead bodies, their faces blurred beyond recognition.
Kaito's feet slowed, his heart pounding as the words hit him with a brutal force. The images on the screen were too real, too visceral. He couldn't tear his eyes away, as though something deep inside him was telling him to watch, to listen.
The anchor's voice grew more strained as he continued. "Witnesses report seeing a mysterious figure involved in these killings. One witness describes the man as wearing gloves with a strange symbol on them—glowing, like stars in the night."
Kaito's pulse quickened, a cold shiver running through him. A star?
His gaze was locked on the screen, his body stiff. His breath caught in his throat as the witness's voice crackled through the television.
"His gloves... they were glowing. There was a star symbol on the back of his glove."
Kaito's eyes widened. The air seemed to freeze around him, the words reverberating in his chest like a deep, resonant thud. A star?
The anchor, still incredulous, pressed the witness. "Glowing? Are you sure?"
The witness nodded, his face pale with terror. "Yeah. It was like a star... glowing on his glove."
Kaito's head spun. His mind reeled. The girl. The star. The vision. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out everything else. He knew—he knew—that this was no coincidence.
He took a step closer to the television, the room closing in on him. The anchor asked the witness another question, his voice a mere background hum to Kaito's racing thoughts.
"How many people did you see with these glowing gloves?"
The witness hesitated, then raised four fingers. "Four of them. All with the same symbol."
Kaito's heart stopped. Four. Four people. The same star. The same glowing symbol. His chest tightened, and his hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. He didn't know who they were, or what this was all about, but he could feel it—the pull, the connection. Something was happening, something that tied him to this… these people, the girl, the glowing star.
The fear in his stomach grew, but so did something else—something darker. A call. A pull to find the truth.
Kaito turned away from the television, his legs moving with a heaviness that made every step feel like he was trudging through thick mud. The unease in his chest was unbearable, gnawing at him as he reached the door.
He stepped outside, the chill of the morning air biting against his skin like a harsh reminder that the world was no longer the same. The silence that greeted him was deafening. The streets were empty, the stillness of the city pressing in on him like a suffocating blanket.
Kaito looked around, his breath coming in shallow gasps. There was something wrong—so wrong. The sky, once a warm blue, now felt cold and distant. The world felt… off, like a dream that was falling apart at the edges.
And then, in the distance, he saw something—movement, a shadow. He wasn't sure what it was, but he felt it, deep in his gut. A whisper—an intuition, or perhaps a warning. He wasn't alone.
The world was closing in. Something was coming. And Kaito had no idea what to do about it.