Morning arrived like nothing had ever happened.
Itsuki woke up in his bed, sunlight brushing the curtains with a softness that felt undeserved. Birds outside. Distant traffic. The ordinary world doing what it always did.
His body ached.
Not the sharp pain of injury—the dull, lingering weight of something remembered without permission.
He sat up slowly and looked around his room.
Everything was where it should be.
No candle.No shadows breathing in the corners.No smile carved into darkness.
For a moment, relief tried to settle in his chest.
A dream, his mind offered.A bad one.
But dreams didn't leave bruises in your thoughts.
At school, time moved wrong.
Laughter sounded delayed, like it reached him a second too late. Conversations slipped past him without sticking. Haruto joked about something stupid—something loud—and everyone laughed. Itsuki smiled when he was supposed to. He nodded when spoken to.
Noa glanced at him once. Then twice.
"You look tired," she said quietly.
"I'm fine."
The lie came too easily.
The day dragged itself forward, heavy and slow, every minute stretching like it didn't want to end. Itsuki kept checking the clock without realizing he was doing it.
12:13 PM2:41 PM4:58 PM
Each number tightened something inside him.
By the time he got home, the sky had begun to darken—not suddenly, not dramatically—just enough to remind him that time never forgets.
He sat on his bed.
The room felt smaller now.Closer.
The clock on his wall ticked, steady and patient.
6:58 PM.
Itsuki's throat went dry.
6:59 PM.
His hands curled into fists. He didn't move. Didn't breathe right.
The second hand crept forward.
7:00 PM.
The air changed.
Not visibly.Not loudly.
Just enough that the silence gained weight.
Itsuki didn't turn around.
He didn't need to.
He knew.
Because some things don't announce their return.They simply arrive, after a long time away—right when you start believing they never existed at all.
And in the corner of the room, where the light refused to settle,something smiled.