1

Honoka Kanna was a kind middle-aged woman who had known Nagi and his family since he was little. Her flower shop, just a short walk from Nagi's house, was a tranquil place filled with the scent of fresh blooms and the earthy fragrance of rich soil. The shop had a blue-and-white awning that stretched over the entrance, and large glass windows let the sunlight pour in, casting a soft glow over the plants and vases arranged carefully inside. A wooden archway framed the door, draped in climbing ivy, giving it a welcoming, almost magical feel.

Nagi had passed by the shop on his way to school and when Honoka had called out to him for help, he agreed without thinking. It wasn't far out of his way, and besides, it was always nice to be needed.

Now, he found himself walking alongside her, carrying a large, awkward box filled with new vases. His mind wandered as he helped, but it wasn't the vases that caught his attention. As they walked past rows of plants, with their deep green leaves and delicate blossoms, something outside the shop's front window caught Nagi's eye.

A woman walked down the street, holding the hand of a little girl. The girl's small fingers gripped a melting ice cream cone in one hand, while the other held her mother's. The woman seemed to be in a hurry, her purse clutched tightly under her arm. But it was the wallet—something Nagi wasn't expecting to see—that made Nagi stop in his tracks..

It was slipping out of the woman's back pocket, rising slightly with each step she took, as if trying to escape the confines of her pants. He watched, almost hypnotized, as the wallet continued to edge upward, until finally, it slipped out completely and fell to the sidewalk with a soft thud.

Nagi's gaze locked on the wallet, his body frozen for a second. He was aware of the box in his hands, the weight of it, the steady pressure against his fingers. His thoughts raced. Should I say something? Should I go outside?

A sudden burst of adrenaline shot through him, and for a split second, his body tensed, as though preparing to act. But then, a wave of hesitation washed over him. His throat tightened. He had the instinct to shout, to warn the woman, to alert someone. But no words came. They never did.

His lips parted, but the sound never escaped. The thought of standing out, of drawing attention to himself—of breaking the calm—paralyzed him. It wasn't just the wallet or the woman's belongings, it was him. The idea of doing something about it, stepping out of his comfort zone, felt like too much.

His fingers tightened around the box, and he forced his gaze back to the task at hand, but the image of the wallet, slowly inching away, stuck with him. He swallowed hard, pushing the thought aside as he readjusted his grip on the box.

Then Honoka's voice broke through the fog of his thoughts. "Are you doing alright, Toshia?" Her tone was gentle, but there was a slight concern in it.

Nagi startled, his hands trembling slightly as he lowered the box to the ground, hiding the unease he was feeling.

"Yeah… just a bit distracted," he muttered, flashing her a nervous smile as he carefully set the box down on the floor. But his eyes quickly flicked back to the woman outside, where the wallet lay forgotten, abandoned on the street. A sinking feeling spread through him.

He wasn't sure why it mattered so much—he barely knew the woman. But still, he couldn't shake the nagging sense that something wasn't right. "One moment Kanna-san!"

Before he could stop himself, he found his legs moving. The box forgotten, he stepped toward the front door of the shop. His heart beat faster, his feet moving more quickly than he intended, until the door opened with a soft chime above him.

The cool morning air hit his face as he stepped outside, the scent of fresh earth and flowers lingering in his nose. He walked briskly, his head tilted down, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. His shoes hit the pavement with quiet thuds.

As he neared the woman and her daughter, Nagi's hand slid into his pocket, as though he was trying to hide his sudden surge of nervous energy. His fingers brushed against the cool metal of his phone. He could still see the wallet on the ground, lying there as if it were a trap, waiting for him to do something.

And then—just as Nagi was about to pass by—the sound of a footstep. Someone's foot brushed against his own, a near-miss that stopped Nagi dead in his tracks. His gaze snapped to the side.

A man had reached down and picked up the wallet, his movements swift and deliberate. Nagi's heart rate picked up, a mixture of embarrassment and panic flooding his chest. Did I miss my chance? Should I have said something sooner?

But before Nagi could react, the man turned away and continued walking. Nagi's heart raced, his breath shallow. His body felt heavy, like it was being weighed down by the pressure of the moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" the man snapped as Nagi suddenly bumped into him.

"My bad…" Nagi muttered quickly, stepping back with a nervous, almost automatic apology. The man glared at him, dismissing him with a sharp look before huffing and continuing down the street.

Nagi stood there, frozen, his pulse still pounding in his chest. For a second, he couldn't move. But then.. his pulse slowed and his fear silenced itself within his mind. "Nagi took a look up, making sure the man was out of sight.

Then his eyes dropped to the ground, and his gaze landed on the wallet the man had just discarded, now lying just inches from his feet. It was dark, shiny leather, its edges worn from use. Nagi's fingers twitched, his curiosity slowly replacing his anxiety.

This time… this time, I can do something about it.

He reached down, slowly at first, almost afraid the moment would slip away like the others before it. His fingers brushed the wallet, picking it up with an odd sense of pride. It felt real now, tangible—his decision to act was real. A smirk found its way onto his face.

He took a deep breath and opened the wallet.

But then his smile faded. His eyes narrowed in confusion. The ID inside didn't belong to the woman he thought it had. It belonged to the man who had picked it up, the same man who had glared at him moments ago.

Nagi froze, his hand trembling as he stared at the man's photo. His stomach dropped as the shock set in. 

At that moment, a loud crash broke the silence—followed by a scream. Nagi's head whipped around, his heart racing. He recognized the voice.

"Kanna-San!"

He dropped the wallet back into his pocket and rushed back inside the shop, his feet barely touching the ground as he hurried toward the sound of the crash.

Inside, Kanna stood over a shattered vase, a pile of dirt spilled onto the floor. The room smelled of crushed flowers and the sharp scent of clay. Nagi skidded to a stop beside her, his hands hovering with uncertainty. "Are you alright, Kanna-San?"

"Oh, clumsy ol' me…" She sighed, a warm, apologetic smile on her face. "It's nothing. It can be replaced."

Nagi chuckled nervously, his tension slowly ebbing as he realized she wasn't hurt. But the panic in his chest wasn't gone.

"I was referring to you," Nagi muttered, half-laughing.

"Well, would you mind helping me clean this up?" Kanna asked gently. Her voice was soft, but there was a kindness in it that made it hard for Nagi to say no.

"Of course…" Nagi mumbled, already distracted. He pulled his phone from his pocket, only to realize just how late he was for school. His silence was soon met as he looked back up.

A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as he looked up to meet Kanna's playful, almost knowing smile.

Time: 9:02 (School Starts 8:45)

Hurried and hasty footsteps trailed down the silent corridors of the school. Nagi's backpack jumped up and down violently, threatening to fall off his shoulder at almost every step, leading him to squeeze the strap of his bag while he sprinted down the hall in search of his classroom. With every step the corridors seemed to get longer and longer until eventually Nagi made it to a staircase. Nagi dashed up the stairs, practically hopping up two steps every time he raised his foot, making his way up to the 3rd floor. After what seemed like hours of running, Nagi finally arrived, and came to a stop. He slowly and ever so slightly raised his head and peeked through the window to get a glance around the classroom, keeping himself unnoticed. Inside, the teacher looked at a book and spoke to half of the classroom, Mainly because only half of the students were listening to his long rant about the lesson they were learning. Some students were sound asleep on their desks while others drew doodles and spun their pencils elegantly between their fingers. Suddenly, Nagi's focus shifts somewhere. Near the front of the class there was an open seat next to a student that didn't seem to be occupied. 

If I can sneak in without him noticing me I should be fine.. I doubt he cared enough to notice if one of his students was missing or not. He thought.

Before opening the door, Nagi took one last glance at the teacher, making sure the coast was clear. Almost as if on cue, the teacher's attention shifted to something behind his desk, completely oblivious to the classroom around him. Seizing the chance, Nagi slid the door open slowly, slipped inside in a crouch, and closed it as quietly as he could. But as he crept toward his desk, the curious stares of his classmates already warned him he was less "sneaky" than he thought. 

Just as he was about to take his seat, a foot shot out from the row beside him. Nagi tripped, stumbling forward and crashing into a girl's desk with a loud thud. As Nagi lifted himself up, turning to see who'd tripped him, he found himself staring up into the smug, unbothered face of a white-haired boy with brown skin and a condescending smirk. The boy's piercing gaze only made him look more annoyingly self-assured.

"The hell's your problem..??" 

The teacher, finally noticing, looked up from his desk with a frown. "Mr. Toshia, care to explain why you're causing a ruckus in my classroom?"

"I– But he…!" Nagi sputtered, pointing at the boy, the unfairness of it all making him trip over his words. He knew he was late, but this guy had no right to play judge, jury, and executioner—especially someone he didn't even know.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" the boy interrupted coolly.

"He tripped me for no reason!" Nagi protested.

"Sir, I was simply trying to notify you of him sneaking into class late. It's just unacceptable," the boy argued, brushing off Nagi's pointing finger with an eye roll.

"Enough!" The teacher sighed. "Toshia, take your seat. We're already behind. And Aoki—you know better."

"Yes, sir," the boy replied smoothly, barely glancing at Nagi as he took his seat.

A few minutes passed in silence as the teacher went on with the lesson, but Nagi couldn't resist a few side glances at Aoki, who was seated across the aisle. Finally, Aoki's annoyed voice broke the tension. "Do you have some kind of staring problem?"

Nagi scoffed, unable to hide a smirk. "I don't think I'm the one with the problem."

"Oh? And what makes you say that?"

"Maybe the fact that my being late concerned you so much you decided to make me crash into a desk?"

Aoki's smirk grew sharper as he side-eyed Nagi. "I was just teaching you a lesson. I mean, seriously—who shows up late on the first day? Laughable."

Nagi snickered. "Am I supposed to care what you think, Mr. Perfect?"

"With a mindset like yours, you probably should, cat eyes."

"Oh, please. What do you know?"

Aoki leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "Clearly a lot more than you."

"Tsk. What's with this guy…?" Nagi muttered to himself, rolling his eyes.

"Today, we'll be going over the Theory of Relativity," the teacher droned. "Please open your textbooks to page 38."

Nagi blinked. Hold on… aren't we in highschool..

After class

Amongst the stream of students spilling out of the classroom, Nagi slipped through, his head tilted slightly downward—a practiced habit to avoid drawing any attention. Just outside, leaned against the wall, stood a familiar figure with stark white hair. It was Aoki. For a moment, their eyes met, but Aoki's presence quickly faded into the background, as brief as a cool breeze on a hot day.

Nagi strolled down the hallway at a leisurely pace, stalling his arrival to the next class. His mind wandered through the events of his morning: Aoki's jabs, the broken vase at Kanna-san's shop, and the wallet he'd unintentionally picked up outside. The wallet, clutched loosely in his pocket, felt like a reminder nudging him toward responsibility. Maybe he'd swing by the police station after school, after grabbing something to eat for him and Kaida at the convenience store nearby.

The corridor swarmed with the familiar noise of laughter and chatter, and somehow, the sounds felt nostalgic to Nagi, like an echo of the past. His hand held one of his backpack straps, while his other rested idly in the pocket of his dark blue trousers. His gaze drifted as he walked, passing the school bulletin boards that announced outdated club events and upcoming ones alike. Fliers hung in a slightly chaotic mix, some torn and worn at the edges, like they'd been part of the scenery for too long.

Groups of students lined the hallway, gossiping and laughing. A few girls glanced his way, their expressions unreadable—maybe awkward, curious, or perhaps charmed by Nagi's calm, almost withdrawn demeanor. He ignored their stares, his focus drifting back to the weight of the wallet in his pocket. He felt strangely responsible for it, as if he had picked up more than someone's lost item—perhaps, in some way, it was now his problem to resolve.

Lost in thought, Nagi almost didn't notice that he had walked directly past his class. For a moment he paused, reminiscent about the few moments he had to himself, drowned out by the loudness of his mind and the school hallways, but only for a moment. He turned back around and took a few steps, finding his way back to the sliding door of the classroom he was not so willing to attend. As Nagi reached for the handle, a steady beckoning voice called out to him. "Yo, I almost didn't recognize ya from behind." Nagi froze, his hand inches from the door. The voice was steady, relaxed—a voice he hadn't heard in ages, yet it struck something familiar, almost like smelling a memory. He turned, his eyes narrowing in confusion, then widening as he locked onto the figure a few paces down the hall.

Standing there was a boy with short brown hair, his shirt casually wrinkled and unbuttoned at the top, hinting at a playful disregard for the uniform's standards. Light brown eyes glistened with humor, and a single piercing in each ear caught the sunlight spilling through the corridor's windows. Nagi's expression shifted from stunned to joyful in an instant, his mouth curling into a wide grin that stretched from cheek to cheek.

"Mokuru!" he exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement.

Nagi spun away from the door, practically trotting down the hall. Mokuru greeted him with an easy, certain smile, his hand already rising for a dab up. Nagi's palm met his with a satisfying clap, the sound echoing through the now mostly empty hallway.

"It's been a while, Nagi!" Mokuru said, his hand falling back to his side.

"What happened? I thought you moved!" Nagi blurted, his usual reserve melted away by the thrill of seeing his friend. His face was alight with happiness, his whole demeanor brighter and more animated than it had been all day.

Mokuru laughed. "Guess you could say my parents missed the scenery. We decided to come back."

A comfortable silence fell over them, a pause that only deepened the familiarity between them. Nagi, still beaming, felt the weight of his earlier thoughts lift as Mokuru's presence filled the space around them. Mokuru was a young boy around Nagi's age that he had known as a child. Originally Kouki moved away, not only transferring schools but having distant contact. Nagi hadn't heard from him in a while, that was until just now.

Mokuru continued, nudging Nagi's shoulder lightly, "you still the same old Nagi, keeping quiet and staying out of trouble?"

Nagi chuckled. "You could say that. You haven't changed either, I see," he sarcastically jokes, glancing at Mokuru's slightly askew uniform.

Mokuru grinned. "Guilty. But hey, that's why we're a good team, right? You remember it don't ya?" He asked with a curious smile, holding his hand out hinting at something of familiarity between the two. Nagi returned his smile and lifted his hand. Mokuru kept his smirk as his hand danced with Nagis in a series of motions. "Shake it up.." Mokuru said with a confident grin. "Keep it steady!" Nagi continued as he completed the motions and solidified the final shake. "Just like the old times!" Mokuru laughed.

Nagi's grin lingered as Mokuru laughed, their handshake routine ending with a firm, familiar shake that seemed to echo in their memories as much as in the hallway. 

"So, you're back for good?" Nagi asked, his voice brimming with curiosity and a bit of relief.

"Yeah, seems like it," Mokuru replied, glancing down the hallway and scratching the back of his head. "I wasn't sure what I'd find here, but…" He smiled playfully. Turns out, not much changed. Still got you here and you're still the same Nagi I remember."

Nagi chuckled. "Some things aren't meant to change. Change can be a bit of a drag sometimes don't ya think?"

"Without change i wouldn't have come back would I?" Mokuru said sarcastically. "Well without change you wouldn't have left in the first place." Nagi replied smugly, a look of accomplishment spread across his face. "Oh shut up." Mokuru joked in annoyance and they both broke into easy laughter.

As their laughter faded, the ringing of the bell jolted them both. Mokuru's eyes widened as he quickly pulled out his phone, glancing at the time.

"Ah, crap! I'm late for class already? First day back, and the teacher is already gonna be on my ass!" He slung his bag over his shoulder, bouncing on his toes. "Guess some things really don't change."

Nagi raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh at his friend's sudden panic. "What's the hurry? Thought you were tryna seem all cool for your first day."

"Yeah, well, my mom wouldn't think it's very cool if she found out I was slacking on day one!" Mokuru sighed dramatically, straightening his wrinkled collar as though that might somehow win him a reprieve. "Gotta keep it at least pretend decent—until I make a good impression, at least."

Just then, a teacher appeared at the end of the hallway, eyeing Mokuru and Nagi with a look that clearly indicated suspicion. Mokuru stiffened, looking back at Nagi before straightening up.

"Guess that's my cue," he whispered, giving Nagi a playful salute before turning to face the teacher with an overly earnest smile.

The teacher squinted, raising an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be in class by now?"

Mokuru nodded rapidly, giving a thumbs-up. "Yes, ma'am. On my way! Just, uh, catching up with an old friend. You know—good to reunite before all the educational excellence."

Nagi had to hold back a laugh as the teacher's expression didn't budge an inch.

"I would advise you to practice your educational excellence inside the classroom." She pointed down the hall. Mokuru gave a half-hearted wave to Nagi, slowly backing away.

He cast Nagi one last grin, eyes gleaming with mischief. As Mokuru jogged off, Nagi shook his head, his earlier gloom completely lifted. He couldn't help but chuckle as Mokuru rounded the corner, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush. It was like watching a scene from their childhood, alive and in color once again. 

The teacher's stern gaze then turned on Nagi, snapping him out of his inattention.

"And you, young man?"

Nagi blinked and then jolted as if he had just caught on to what the teacher was implying. 

"He quickly nodded and bowed his head, a bead of sweat rolling down his face as he turned around and slid open the classroom door. Nagi closed the door behind him, a few students curiously watching as he made his way to his seat. 

Settling into his chair, Nagi took a deep breath, zipping open his backpack. He carefully pulled out a notebook and a pencil, placing the notebook on his desk before flipping it open. As he leaned forward, his gaze settled on the chalkboard cluttered with scribbled notes and diagrams—evidence of the teacher's energetic lecture.

Nagi's expression tightened with a hint of newfound resolve. Alright, he thought. Focus.

For a moment, he managed it, his pencil poised and ready. But as the teacher's voice droned on, his eyelids grew heavy, his resolve wavering. The page before him blurred, the lines of text merging into a hazy web.

A few moments later, his pencil slipped from his fingers, and his head gently drooped forward, resting against the open notebook.

Nagi had fallen asleep.

The rest of Nagi's school day went by in the usual blur. Teachers lectured and students muttered and scribbled notes, occasional laughter breaking through the cracks. Nagi stayed mostly in the background, drifting through each class and keeping his head down. Nothing stood out; it was just another day, ticking by in the familiar rhythm of the school routine.

Finally, the last bell rang, releasing the students in a flurry of excitement and relief. Nagi packed his things, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he joined the stream of classmates flowing out of the building.

Outside, the late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over the school grounds. Everything seemed to soften under the light. The school walls, usually a drab gray, took on a gentler hue, and the trees lining the walkway were illuminated in shades of amber and green. The air held that rare, calm warmth that hinted at the day drawing to a close.

Clusters of students lingered near the gates, chatting and laughing in small groups. Some waved goodbye to friends, while others called out plans for the weekend. The sounds of conversation and laughter mingled with the gentle rustling of leaves, creating a scene that felt timeless, almost serene.

Nagi stepped away from the crowd, letting himself drift apart as he began his walk home. The peaceful atmosphere washed over him, but he couldn't fully relax. His mind drifted back to the morning—to the Man's wallet that now sat in his pocket. I'll return it, He thought, the outline of the wallet pressing lightly against the inner lining of his pants pocket.

Nagi walked along the sidewalk, thinking about how relieved the man would feel to get his wallet back, just as well as how upset he would be that he lost such an item of importance in the first place. As he strolled, the sky continued its transition into dusk. The deep blue above was tinged with faint wisps of gold and pink that clung stubbornly to the horizon, giving the whole scene an almost dreamlike haze. Street Lights flickered on one by one, casting warm pools of light on the pavement as the day gave way to evening. Then, Nagi's eyes caught something strange up ahead. Just above eye level, barely noticeable against the darkening sky, was… a tiny crack. It was like a hairline fracture, just floating in midair, as though someone had taken a piece of glass and shattered a minuscule section of it. He squinted, rubbing his eyes in case he'd somehow smudged his vision.

When he looked again, the crack was still there. He tilted his head, staring with growing confusion. "Is that… a fairy or something?" he muttered half amused. "Maybe I'm overdue for an eye exam." 

But the crack didn't vanish. If anything, it seemed to pulse, expanding ever so slightly. Nagi blinked, his playful sarcasm fading as a chill crawled up his spine. He took a cautious step closer, his heart rate quickening. Suddenly the crack splintered outward, widening, twisting in the air as though reality itself were peeling open. An unnatural, low hum filled the air, vibrating in his bones, sending an unsettling tremor through the street. Shadows from nearby streetlights bent in strange ways, elongating as they were being sucked toward the tear. The air grew cold, each breath leaving Nagi's lungs like a wintery mist. Just as he began to take a shaky step backward, a dark, massive shape appeared behind the tear. His pulse thundered in his ears as he watched, rooted to the spot. With a sickening lurch, a twisted grotesque hand, fingers too long and clawed-slid out from the rift, Latching onto the edges as if pulling itself forward. The skin on the hand-though it was dark and shifted between shadowy shades of gray and an inky black-had an eerie transparent glow and seemed to flicker, caught between this world and another. Nagi at a loss for words couldn't manage to say a single thing as droplets of cold sweat slid down his face. The monstrous hand gripped the sides of the tear, its claws sinking into the edges with a sickening creak. First it held for a moment, flexing, as if testing its grip on reality itself. Then began to pull, widening the tear with an agonizing slowness that sent a paralysis not only through Nagi's body, but through his soul. The crack continued to grow, ominous otherworldly sounds filling the atmosphere around him, yet all Nagi could do was watch, unable to tear his gaze away from the distorted reality that appeared before him. Suddenly Nagi's eyes widened even further and his skin became pale. His stomach filled with a sickening dread. Even though Nagi stood there with a chilling uncertainty there was one thing he was certain of. As Nagi stared directly into the twisted reality that bared its claws, he came to a nauseating realization. Unlike all the other normal realities that he had looked into up until that point, for the first time- this one was staring back.

End of chapter