Kuro's Pov
I got to the office before sunrise. The city outside was still asleep, fog sitting like a lazy ghost on top of traffic lights and silent cars. I walked through the quiet hallway, badge in hand, my steps echoing too loudly for comfort.
Another day. Another crime. Another headache.
As I pushed open the precinct doors, the usual smell of stale coffee and printer ink hit me. My desk was still a mess from last night—files, crime scene photos, scribbled notes, and a half-eaten pastry I swore I threw away. The ghost of that damn donut was back, too.
"Morning, Asen," said Officer Yamato from behind his desk, eyes glued to the monitor.
"Morning," I muttered. I dropped into my chair and stared at the board in front of me. Three murders. No suspects. But I had something better—memories from the dead.
Too bad they didn't always make sense.
The silence didn't last long. Mina walked in, chipper as ever, holding a box of pastries and a coffee cup almost the size of her face.
"You all look like corpses. Here, sugar. You need it," she said, placing the box on the table like a peace offering.
"Mina," I said, rubbing my temple. "Why are you this cheerful? It's six in the morning."
"It's my first week, senpai. I have to make a good impression," she grinned.
The team chuckled. Even Yamato cracked a half-smile. Detective Kudo, our senior, leaned back in his chair and gave her a nod. "At least someone here remembers what coffee is for."
Work began like usual—case reviews, field reports, more questions than answers. We'd had another strange death the night before: a girl found in her apartment, eyes wide, mouth open, no wounds. Just… dead. Her body was frozen, like she'd seen something horrible.
I closed my eyes.
And I saw it again.
Her last memory: a shadow crawling out of her mirror, whispering something in a voice made of nails and hunger.
Dead souls don't always scream. Sometimes, they whisper.
I opened my eyes and tried to stay present. But the whispers kept coming—faint voices, like people trying to talk through water.
"Help me."
"She took my eyes."
"I'm cold."
Over and over again. I shook my head, stood, and walked toward the bathroom. Cold water on my face. Breathe. In. Out.
When I looked up, an old woman's reflection was standing behind me.
"You're the one," she said.
I turned around. No one was there.
God, I needed a break.
Back at my desk, I grabbed my coat. "I'm stepping out," I told Mina.
She blinked. "Everything okay?"
"Ghosts won't shut up," I mumbled.
"What?"
"Nothing."
I pushed open the front doors of the precinct—and nearly walked right into her.
Sayaka.
She was standing there, arms folded, coat tight around her. She looked cold. And pissed.
"Hey," I said, confused. "What are you doing here?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Kuro. Do you know what today is?"
I blinked. My heart dropped.
Shit.
Our date.
I checked the time. 11:03 a.m. We were supposed to meet at the garden café at ten.
"Sayaka, I—"
"You forgot again," she said, voice low.
I opened my mouth, then shut it. She had that look—the tired one, the one that said she'd already rehearsed this argument a hundred times in her head.
"I had work. There was a case—"
"There's always a case. There's always some dead person you have to chase, or a voice in your head, or some weird dream that keeps you up."
She wasn't shouting. That's what made it worse.
"I'm trying, Sayaka. I really am."
She laughed bitterly. "Trying? Kuro, I waited for an hour. In heels. You know I hate heels."
I looked at her face closely. She had bags under her eyes. Her lips were trembling slightly, but not from the cold.
"You talk to yourself. You zone out in the middle of conversations. Last week you called me 'Yamato' during dinner."
I winced. I remembered that. Sort of.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"You say that every time. But nothing changes."
There was a pause. The kind of silence that feels like a goodbye before it happens.
"I'm not asking for much," she said. "Just… to matter. To be in your life. Not on the sidelines. Not like some stranger who has to book an appointment to talk to her boyfriend."
"I don't know how to fix this," I whispered.
"Then maybe we're just not fixable."
The door behind me opened. Mina and Yamato stepped out, laughing, holding coffee cups.
Sayaka's eyes locked on them, then drifted back to me.
"I think you like living in this chaos. I think you need it more than you need me."
I swallowed hard. "Sayaka—"
She shook her head.
"I think we should break up."
I blinked. My mouth was dry. She stood there, eyes red but dry, like all her tears had already been spent long ago.
"You don't mean that," I said, voice hoarse.
"I do," she replied. "I just didn't want to. Not until now."
She turned and walked away. I didn't stop her.
Mina looked over, confused. "Everything okay?"
I didn't answer.
The ghosts were quiet for once.