"The cruelest distance is not between people… but between what is felt and what is said."
-----
Shiyi hadn't moved. She stood in the shadows, her eyes fixed on Kento. Slowly, her hand rose to the back of her ear. Her fingers pressed against the skin there, feeling a strange, cool vibration.
A chill ran down her spine. It was a feeling she recognized—a feeling she had hidden for years.
Hori noticed. "Shiyi?" she asked. "Are you okay?"
Shiyi jumped, her hand falling away from her ear. She forced a small, hollow smile. "I… I don't know," she whispered. "I just feel strange. Like the air is vibrating."
The walls felt like they were closing in on Kento. The eyes, the whispers, the warmth on his ribs—it was too much. "Enough!" he shouted.
The room went silent.
"I said enough!" Kento's voice echoed off the ceiling. He pointed a shaking hand at the door. "Everyone out! I'm tired! I don't want to talk about this—just leave me alone!" His chest heaved up and down. His eyes were wide and defensive, like a cornered animal.
Before anyone could speak, the door handle turned.
CLICK.
Mrs. Kamitani stepped inside. She held a tray with tea and sliced fruit. She wore a mother's smile—warm and easy. But the moment she stepped into the room, her smile faltered. She could feel the electricity in the air.
"What's going on?" she asked softly. "I heard shouting."
She set the tray on the table and walked to the bed. Her eyes searched Kento's face. "Oh," she said, her voice dropping. "You're sitting up. Is your fever down, Kento?"
Kento turned his head away, staring at the wall. His jaw was a hard line of bone. He said nothing. The silence was so loud it hurt.
Shido stepped in, waving his hands and forcing a loud, cheerful laugh. "Yep! Fever's totally gone!" he said quickly. "He's just back to being his usual grumpy self. You know how he is, Mom."
Hori nodded fast, her hair swaying. "Yes, Mrs. Kamitani. We'll let you know if he needs anything at all."
Mrs. Kamitani looked at Kento for a long, heavy moment. Her smile stayed, but her eyes were sad and knowing. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she chose to stay silent.
"You should still eat," she said quietly. "Even strong boys need to rest."
Kento didn't move. She sighed, her shoulders dropping, and walked to the door. "Call me if you need me."
The door closed with a soft thud.
The room was silent again. And beneath Kento's shirt, hidden from the world, the seven-ringed spiral pulsed—faint, patient, and finally awake.
Shido leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath, the kind that came after holding something in for too long. He closed his eyes and stretched his arms behind his head, trying to pull the room back into something normal.
"Well," he said, a lazy grin finding its way onto his face, "you really owe me one, Kento."
He opened one eye, then the other. "If I hadn't lied about that fever, Mom would've camped here all night. You should be thanking me. Your brother's a genius when it comes to lying."
He waited for a laugh. A pillow to be thrown. Anything.
Nothing.
The silence pressed against his ears like a heavy weight.
Shido straightened slowly. His smile faded as he finally looked around the room. Hori was standing stiffly near the bed, her arms crossed so tightly her fingers dug into her sleeves. She wasn't smiling. She wasn't even pretending to. Beside her, Shiyi's eyes were sharp, fixed on Shido like blades that had already chosen their target. Tamiko stood a little behind them, clutching the edge of her skirt, her lips pressed together as if she was afraid they might start shaking.
No one laughed.
"What?" Shido asked, his voice falling. "Why are you all looking at me like I just kicked a puppy?"
Kashima stepped forward. The movement was slow. His face had lost its usual cool look. "Kirishima," he said carefully, "do you even understand what you just—"
"OUT!"
The word exploded through the room.
Kento sat on the bed looking very tired. His body was heavy, shoulders dropped forward, no strength, his hair falling over his eyes. His hands were buried in the mattress, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were bone-white.
"Get out," he said again, his voice raw and shaking. "All of you."
Hori's breath caught in her throat. "Kento…"
She moved without thinking, reaching for him. She wanted to pull him into her arms, to block out the fear she could feel rolling off him in waves. She wanted to tell him that the mark didn't matter.
But He jerked away from her touch.
"Not now, Hori," he said sharply. "Please. Don't."
She froze. Her hand stayed in the air for a second, empty and cold, before slowly falling back to her side. The distance between them felt sudden and painful, like a door slamming shut in her face.
Shiyi took a step forward, anger flashing across her face. "What is wrong with you?" she snapped. The strange pressure behind her ear grew again, making her head throb with a dull vibration. "We came here because we were worried about you! We sat in the rain, we brought you things—"
"I didn't ask you to come!" Kento shouted.
He looked up then, and for a moment, they all saw it. Beneath the anger, there was fear—sharp, unguarded, and burning. He looked like a cornered animal that didn't know how to ask for help.
"Can't you see I'm not okay?" he said, his voice breaking. "Just leave me alone!"
The words landed hard, like stones.
Shiyi jumped back as if she'd been hit. Her expression became quiet instantly. Whatever softness had been there a moment ago disappeared, replaced by a cold mask.
"…Fine," she said quietly.
She turned away, grabbing her bag and put her things inside with quick, rough movements. "If that's how you feel, then fine. I'm done. I'm never coming to this house again."
"Ayasaki, wait," Kashima said, reaching out to stop her. "Stop. He's just scared. He doesn't mean it." She pulled her arm free, her eyes flashing with hurt. "He meant every word, Kashima."
"KENTO!"
Shido stood up quicky to his feet. The movement was so sudden that his chair crashed to the floor behind him. The loud bang made everyone jump, but Kento didn't even react.
"What is your problem?" Shido shouted, his voice shaking with frustration. "Why are you taking this out on them? They've done nothing but worry about you!"
Kento didn't look up. He stared at the shadows on his bed. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and frighteningly calm.
"You," Kento said. "You're the reason I'm angry." The room went dead quiet. Even the sound of the rain outside seemed to fade away.
Shido felt the words hit his chest like a physical punch. All the energy left his body.
His face pale as he stared at his brother—the same boy he had spent his whole life protecting.
"Oh," Shido said softly.
He looked down at the floor, his messy blue hair hiding his eyes. When he smiled, it was small and broken. "Okay. I get it."
He nodded once, more to himself than anyone else. "If I'm bothering you that much… I'll stop."
He turned toward the others, his posture bent. "Let's go. He's not himself right now. Leave him alone." Shido walked out of the room first. His footsteps were heavy, and for the first time, he didn't look back.
"Shido, wait!" Hori called out.
He didn't stop. He disappeared into the dark hallway. Shiyi hung her bag over her shoulder with a sharp jerk. "I'm late for my shift anyway," she muttered, trying to sound like she didn't care. "I wasted my time coming here."
She glanced at Tamiko, who was standing still, looking like she wanted to cry. "You coming?"
Tamiko hesitated. She looked at Kento's back one last time, her eyes shining with tears.
"I'm sorry," Tamiko whispered, her voice tiny.
"We didn't mean to be a bother, Kento."
Then she turned and followed Shiyi out.
Kashima remained by the window for a moment, staring at the darkening sky. He looked like a statue. "I'll go too," he said finally. "But I'll come back tomorrow. You can't shut everyone out forever, Kamitani."
He looked at Hori. "If you want I can take you home. The car is waiting."
Hori nodded silently.
Before leaving, she stepped close to the bed. She didn't touch him this time. She didn't try to make him look at her. She just stood in his space, letting him feel she was there.
"Everything will be okay," she whispered. It was a promise she wasn't sure she could keep. "When I come back tomorrow, I want to see the cheerful Kento. Not this stranger."
She paused at the door, her hand on handle. "Bye, Kento."
The door clicked shut.
The room sank into total darkness.
Kento sat alone. The last light of the day was gone from the window, leaving only the cold purple of the night. The quiet felt heavier than the shouting. It felt like the room was filled with lead.
Slowly, Kento pressed his hand against his ribs.
Thump. Thump.
It was warmth. It was a steady, rhythmic pulse beneath his skin. But it was too slow, too deep. It wasn't his heartbeat.
He had finally gotten what he wanted. He had his silence. But as the shadows stretched across the walls like long, dark fingers, loneliness wrapped around him tighter than any chain.
The night became cool, but the air felt thick, like a storm was coming that no one could see.
At Tamiko's house, warm yellow lights glowed through the kitchen windows. The smell of steamed rice and vegetables filled the air, heavy and comforting. Tamiko stood near the counter in her night clothes — loose pajamas with a soft panda pattern and an oversized shirt. Her hair was tied back into a single ponytail, neat but a little messy at the edges.
She carefully lifted a woven basket filled with rice balls, holding it with both hands as if it were something fragile.
"Careful, dear," her grandmother said, pointing with her chin. "Put it near the back shelf. Not too close to the wall."
"Yes, Grandma," Tamiko replied softly.
She walked slowly, her slippers making faint sounds against the floor, and placed the basket exactly where her grandmother told her to. When she turned back, her grandmother was watching her with a proud smile. Old hands reached out and patted Tamiko's shoulders, firm but loving.
"You're a good girl," her grandmother said. ""You care for this old woman too much. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Tamiko smiled, her eyes curving gently. "I like helping," she said. Her grandmother chuckled. "Have you eaten anything?"
Tamiko forced a small, sweet smile. "Yes, Grandma. Don't worry about me."
"Good. Then go to sleep soon," her grandmother insisted, smiling back. "You have to wake up early for school tomorrow."
"I'll go right after I finish this last basket," Tamiko promised.
But as her grandmother turned away, Tamiko's smile vanished. She picked up a wooden tray, but her hands felt heavy. Her mind went back to Kento's room—to the way he had screamed, and the way his skin had glowed with that cold, silver light.
She walked toward the open window. The moon was high and pale, looking like a blind eye watching the world. A sudden gust of cold air rushed into the kitchen, catching her hair and blowing it across her face.
Tamiko shivered. She looked at the moon and squeezed her eyes shut, whispering a silent prayer that everything would just go back to being normal.
Across the city, in a room that felt like a different world, the air was freezing.
An air conditioner hummed steadily, filling the large, modern bedroom with a mechanical chill. Hori lay in her bed, tucked deeply under a thick, expensive blanket. She wore a silk nightgown, her breathing slow and peaceful as she slept. A thin sliver of moonlight leaned across the floor, reaching for her face.
Suddenly, the light vanished..
A tall figure stood by the window. He moved without a sound, reaching out to pull the heavy curtains closed, cutting off the world outside. He wore a long, white medical coat over his clothes, his posture stiff and formal.
This was Dr. Kaneki Nagachika. He didn't move; he simply stood in the dark, watching his daughter sleep with eyes that were deep and full of a strange, heavy sadness.
"I am worried about her, Kaneki."
A woman's voice came from the shadows near the door. Mrs. Nagachika—known to the world as the famous Mari Tokisaki—stepped forward. She was elegant even in the dim light, her features sharp and beautiful, but her face was tight with a hidden fear.
The doctor did not turn around. He kept his gaze on Hori. "We have to keep an eye on her," he said, his voice a low whisper. "We cannot let the same thing happen to Hori. We must prevent it, no matter what."
His wife stood beside him, her hand trembling slightly as she looked at her daughter. She didn't ask what 'it' was. She only nodded slowly, her silence confirming that they were both guarding a secret that was starting to wake up.
In a much smaller, crowded apartment, the heat of the city felt trapped.
A ceiling fan spun overhead and making a rhythmic click-click-click sound. Shiyi sat on the floor, wearing an oversized T-shirt and shorts.
She was sweating, her hair messy and tied up in a quick bun. Her bangs stuck to her forehead as she moved, carefully checking the books in her younger brother's backpack.
"Kaito," she called out, her voice tired. "Did you finish your math homework?"
Kaito, sitting at a small desk messy with papers, shook his head. "There are a few problems I don't understand, Sis. They're too hard."
Shiyi let out a soft sigh and wiped the sweat from her brow. She stood up. "It's okay. Show me what's wrong."
As she walked toward him, she felt that strange, cold pulse behind her ear again. It was faint, like a tiny insect trapped under her skin, but it made her stomach ache.
She looked at her brother's innocent face and tried to focus on the numbers on the page.
_DREAMSCAPE_
The sky was a dark wound that never healed.
In this lost world of Aterna, a woman knelt upon a floor of shattered glass. Her hair was silver, glowing like a dead star in the deep night. She covered her face with her hands and wept.
"Uuuh... aaaa... why... why?" she wailed. Her crying was not a human sound—it was a high-pitched scream. "It hurts... it all hurts... hihihi... hahahaha!" The weeping turned into a sudden, shivering laugh that tore the air apart. Heavy chains of ancient iron were locked around her arms, pulling her down into the Black Obelisk.
Suddenly, a warrior ran across the broken ground. He held a sword that shined with a cold, divine light.
"THE CYCLE ENDS!" he shouted. His voice was like the crashing of mountains. "BLOOD FOR THE HEAVENS! DEATH FOR THE WITCH!"
He charged, his blade high and ready to kill. The silver-haired woman did not move. She kept her eyes closed as if she were praying to a silent god. But the moment the sword touched her shadow, the crying stopped.
Silence fell over the Aeterna.
She opened her eyes—hollow holes of endless night. She lifted her head and smiled a wide, wicked smile. Black liquid, thick as ink and cold as ice, poured from her eyes and mouth. The warrior froze, his heart stopping in his chest.
In a heartbeat, the air turned red.
The warrior's own sword turned around in mid-air and pierced itself through his chest. "GAK... UGH... NO..." A choking sound came from his throat as blood filled his lungs. "It... cannot... be..." He fell to the ground with a heavy thud, his warm blood steaming on the cold glass.
Across the horizon, a sea of fire and steel broke out. A great army of thousands fought monsters that looked like walking nightmares. The monsters let out ear-piercing shrieks.
"SREEEE! RAAAAAARGH!" They tore through the lines of men.
"HOLD THE LINE!" a warrior screamed before a shadow swallowed him. "FOR THE DAWN! DON'T LET THEM—AAARGH!" The air was filled with the sound of bones snapping and the desperate prayers of men being eaten alive. "GODS SAVE US! MERCY! MERCY!"
The silver-haired woman stood up. The chains around her arms turned into black mist. She looked at the slaughter, her voice echoing like a cold wind through the ruins of time.
"The stars are falling," she said. "The blood of the weak shall feed the new dawn. None shall escape the night."
Then, the world of Aeterna broke into a thousand pieces of glass.
SNAP.
Shido sat up in his bed so fast he almost fell out. He was panting heavily, his breath coming in short, shaky gasps. "Hah... hah... hah..."
The room was dark, but the curtains were open. A pale moonlight fell across his face, making his messy blue hair look silver. His blue eyes were wide with terror. He looked like he was still seeing the blood and the silver-haired woman.
He was drenched in sweat. His thin white T-shirt was stuck to his back. The sheets were tangled around his legs like the chains from his nightmare and his heart was beating like a drum inside his chest.
'Again,' he thought, wiping his forehead with a shaking hand. 'That same nightmare. That same woman.'
He sat there in the quiet room, trying to forget the smell of blood but the woman's wicked smile was still clear in his mind.
'What is happening to me?'
He got out of bed, his legs feeling weak and shaky. He walked to the window and pushed it open with a rough hand. The cold night air hit his face, but he didn't move. He stared at the quiet street outside.
"Damn it!" Shido shouted, his voice low and angry. "That crazy silver-haired bitch... why won't she stay out of my head?"
-----
✦ 🔮 A GLIMPSE INTO THE NEXT CHAPTER 🔮 ✦
"What awaits beyond this page...?" 🌙
(灬･◡･灬)♡
"But right now, even stuffed toys are scaring the life out of me."
"Do you know who I am?!"
----
🌙 The stars may fade, and memories may sleep...
But the Spiral continues to turn.
Until we meet again beneath the same forgotten sky.
(o_O)
— SakuraShinomiya