Kaito Rizumi sat quietly at the kitchen table, pushing his cereal around with his spoon. The soft hum of the refrigerator and the clinking of dishes being washed filled the silence in the room. His mother moved around the kitchen, lost in her thoughts, barely acknowledging him. She didn't look up when he spoke.
"Are you ready for school?" she asked, her voice distant.
Kaito's gaze flicked to his mother. She had been distant lately, her eyes tired and her movements robotic. It had been this way for months, ever since his father passed. He couldn't remember the last time they had shared a real conversation.
Sawako looked at him briefly as she set a plate of toast in front of him. She gave him a smile, but Kaito couldn't shake the feeling that it didn't quite reach her eyes. It was the kind of smile that seemed more like a reflex than an expression of genuine warmth. Her eyes were hollow, like she was somewhere far away, and for a moment, Kaito wondered if she was even aware of her own smile.
"Yeah," Kaito mumbled, not really sure if he was ready for anything. He shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth but hardly tasted it. His thoughts were elsewhere.
He could still hear his father's laugh in his memory, echoing faintly through the past. Those mornings, the way his dad would sit across from him, teasing him about his messy hair, the way they'd laugh together. But those moments seemed so far away now, like a dream he couldn't quite hold onto. His father's absence left a hollow space in the house, one that neither he nor his mother knew how to fill.
Sawako set a plate of toast in front of him, but her eyes never met his. "Eat something," she said, her voice devoid of warmth.
Kaito didn't respond. He picked up a slice of toast and took a bite, chewing absently. He felt more alone than ever.
"I'll be going," he said after a while, pushing his chair back and grabbing his bag.
His mother muttered, "Have a good day," her voice trailing off, as if she was speaking to herself more than to him.
Kaito didn't look back as he left the house.
At school, Kaito felt the absence of Renji, his best friend, more than anything. It had been a few days since he'd seen him around, and Kaito couldn't help but feel uneasy. They'd become close during their first year of middle school. Renji had been friendly, outgoing, and always there when Kaito needed him. Over the months, they'd spent nearly every moment together—lunch breaks, study sessions, and walks home. Kaito never thought he'd find someone like Renji, who understood him without saying much.
But lately, Renji had been distant. Not answering his messages. Avoiding Kaito in the hallways. It was unlike him.
Where's he been? Kaito wondered, looking around for his friend. Did something happen?
Renji had always been the outgoing one, the one who kept everyone together. He wasn't the kind of person to just disappear without a word. And yet... Kaito couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
By the end of the school day, Kaito's worry had only grown. I'll talk to him tomorrow, he told himself. But his chest tightened with unease as he made his way to the train station.
The train ride home was usually a time for him to unwind, but today, the weight of Renji's absence made the journey feel longer. Kaito found himself glancing at the empty seat next to him, imagining Renji sitting there, cracking a joke, as usual. The quiet felt louder than ever. He hadn't even realized how much he missed his friend's presence until now.
Renji's absence was gnawing at him, the uncertainty settling deep in his chest. Why hasn't he answered me? Kaito thought, his mind racing. Did something happen to him?
As the train slowed to a stop, Kaito got up, ready to step off at his usual stop. But as he moved toward the door, he felt a sudden, inexplicable chill. He stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding as a presence, cold and oppressive, washed over him.
Before he could react, a hand pressed against his mouth from behind, pulling him into a tight grip. Panic surged through him. His body froze, his limbs heavy as though a weight had been placed on him.
Kaito struggled, but the hand was unyielding, cutting off his breath. His heart thudded against his chest. What's going on?
He tried to scream, but the hand over his mouth silenced him. The world around him began to blur, the edges of his vision darkening. A voice whispered in his ear, soft and malicious, "You should have stayed away."
I can't breathe. Kaito's chest constricted, the air growing thinner with each passing second. The world seemed to tilt. His body, once full of life, was growing weaker, and his vision dimmed. The cold grip held him tight, suffocating, until—
Darkness.
Kaito's consciousness drifted in a void, unmoored, like a leaf caught in the wind. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. His body was gone, but his soul was still there, trapped in an endless silence.
What happened? Kaito thought, his mind reaching out for something, anything to cling to. His thoughts were foggy, his senses dulled. He reached for the memory of his friend, Renji, but everything felt distant. His memories felt like they were slipping through his fingers, just out of reach.
Renji... Kaito tried to call out, but no sound came. His voice was lost, drowned by the stillness.
He wanted to move, to escape this endless darkness, but his body didn't respond. He was trapped.
Where am I?
A sharp pain cut through the void, a realization too terrible to comprehend. I'm dead.
He wanted to cry out, to scream, but nothing came. There was nothing but silence, nothing but the cold emptiness surrounding him. He wanted to reach out for Renji, for something—anything—but his body was gone, his soul trapped in the quiet nothingness.
And then, as if to punctuate his isolation, a new thought surfaced, quiet and haunting.
I'll never see him again.