Obinai walks through the vacant city, each step echoing in the eerie silence. The streets feel foreign, each corner more disorienting than the last. His heart races, his breaths coming shallow and fast as he scans for any sign of life.
Where is everyone? What the hell is going on? he thinks, his thoughts spiraling. His eyes dart to the storefronts—dark, abandoned. The windows reflect only him, a solitary figure moving through an empty landscape.
"Hello?" he calls out again, his voice hoarse. It bounces back to him, mocking in its emptiness. He rubs his forehead with trembling fingers, his nails digging into his skin as if the pressure might force his mind to make sense of this.
This isn't real. This can't be real. Snap out of it, Obi, he tells himself, but his legs keep moving, his body propelled forward as if by instinct.
Suddenly, he notices movement at the edge of his vision—a faint flicker, like a shadow darting out of sight. He freezes, his pulse pounding in his ears as his eyes snap toward it. "Who's there?" he demands, his voice breaking.
The whisper comes again, louder, clearer this time. It feels like it's coming from everywhere and nowhere, curling around him like smoke. The language is still foreign, incomprehensible, but its tone is sharp and commanding.
"Stop!" he yells, spinning in place, his fists clenched. The world around him begins to shift, the once-stable buildings now wavering like mirages. The horizon blurs further, colors bleeding into each other in an unnatural haze. He stumbles back, his hand gripping a lamppost for balance.
But when he looks down at his hand, the metal isn't cold. It feels wrong, soft and warm, like flesh. He jerks his hand away with a strangled gasp, staring at the lamppost. It looks the same, but the sensation lingers, crawling up his arm.
"No, no, no," he mutters, his voice trembling as he backs away. "This isn't happening. This isn't—"
His foot catches on something, and he falls hard onto the pavement. The impact jars him, pain shooting through his elbow, but it's not enough to break the growing panic. He scrambles to his feet, his chest heaving as the world around him twists further out of shape.
And then, in a sudden shift, the whispers stop.
...silence...
Obinai stands still, his body rigid, his gaze darting around.
Wait.
The world wavers—not the city around him, but _his_ world. A flicker of something he can't quite place pulls at the edge of his awareness. He blinks, and for the briefest moment, the streets aren't empty. They're bustling, alive with people. He sees a woman walking her dog, a cyclist weaving through traffic, a child tugging at her parent's hand.
And then they're gone again, replaced by the void.
What's real? he wonders, gripping his head with both hands. The whispers return, more than ever this time, rising in pitch and intensity. He squeezes his eyes shut.
But back in reality...
Obinai isn't moving at all.
He stands frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, his body unnaturally stiff. His eyes are rolled back, showing only the whites, and a thin line of drool trails from the corner of his mouth. Passersby slow as they notice him, some glancing at him with confusion, others with mild concern.
A man pauses, his brows knitting together. "You alright, buddy?" he asks cautiously, but Obinai doesn't respond. He's locked in place, his body rigid.
A small crowd begins to form, murmurs of curiosity and worry rippling through the group. A woman pulls out her phone, hovering uncertainly over the emergency dial screen. "Should we call someone?" she asks, glancing at the others.
"He's probably just high," another person mutters dismissively, but their voice lacks conviction.
The city vibrates with subtle tremors, rippling through the ground like whispers of something vast and unseen. People stop in their tracks, glancing at one another with unease. "Did you feel that?" becomes a shared refrain, a ripple of collective curiosity and nervous energy. Obinai, however, remains still, his body rigid and his gaze vacant and unaware.
A soft shudder in the earth beneath Obinai's feet causes his body to stir slightly, his head turning mechanically, like a puppet responding to unseen strings. His steps begin to move him, slowly at first, away from the bustling streets he knows so well. His movements are steady, almost purposeful, though his face remains slack, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused.
Inside his head...
the whispers grow louder, curling around his mind in an indistinct language that tugs at his thoughts like a persistent wind.
Turn here, they seem to urge.
Obinai's legs comply, pivoting him sharply down a side street. The familiar gleam of downtown's polished buildings begins to give way to more neglected surroundings. The tremors come again, more insistent, vibrating through his core.
Outside in his trance...
The streets grow quieter. The crowd of passersby that had surrounded him thins out as he wanders into an unfamiliar part of the city. The polished glass facades and bustling storefronts fade into graffiti-tagged walls, boarded-up windows, and trash-strewn sidewalks.
Another tremor rattles the pavement. Obinai's head tilts slightly, his body adjusting without conscious thought. His steps quicken, guided by the whispers threading through his mind.
Inside his head...
The whispers shift, their words growing clearer but no less alien. He furrows his brow slightly, his lips twitching as if he's on the verge of responding. He doesn't fully understand them, but their pull is undeniable.
"Where…" he mumbles softly, his voice barely audible. "Where are you taking me?"
There's no answer, just another tremor. His gaze snaps upward, and for the first time, he truly looks at it— Nurikabe.
Its shadow looms large, darkening the edges of his vision. The reddish-brown structure stretches impossibly high, its surface rough and ancient, like something pulled from a forgotten time. As his eyes follow its expanse, he realizes it has no visible end, disappearing into the horizon in both directions.
The whispers grow louder, insistent, as if beckoning him closer.
Outside his head...
Obinai's body continues to move with an unsettling rhythm, his shoulders slumped, his arms hanging limply at his sides. His legs carry him forward. The sun, which had been high in the sky, now dips lower, casting long shadows across the crumbling buildings. The golden light softens, giving way to hues of orange and deep purple, as the approaching twilight wraps the city in an ominous glow.
He passes a group of men leaning against a graffiti-covered wall, their weathered faces turning to watch him. One of them, a tall man with a fraying beanie, narrows his eyes and nudges his friend.
"Yo, what's with this kid?" he mutters, his voice low and wary.
The other, stockier and with tattoos snaking up his neck, follows Obinai with a critical gaze. "Looks out of it," he replies, his tone sharp with suspicion. "High, maybe?"
They fall silent as Obinai walks by, his face slack, his gaze unfocused. The faint buzz of his phone vibrates from his pocket, the noise muffled but persistent. The screen lights up briefly, the name "MOM" flashing in bold letters before it goes dark again.
The buzzing continues at intervals, each call going unanswered.
Another tremor ripples through the ground, subtle but undeniable, like the earth itself is pushing him forward. His phone buzzes again, vibrating insistently against his thigh, but his hands remain limp at his sides, oblivious to the calls.
The light continues to fade as the sun dips below the horizon, the city's vibrancy fading with it. Streetlights flicker to life, their cold, artificial glow casting uneven patches of light across the empty streets. The long shadows stretch further, creating a patchwork of light and dark that makes the desolate area feel even more eerie.
Obinai's pace doesn't change, even as the air grows colder. His breath fogs faintly in the dim light, his steps echoing against the cracked pavement. The once-busy streets are now eerily silent, and the looming structures seem to lean closer, their jagged edges outlined against the darkening sky.
Another tremor, sharper this time, jolts his body slightly, redirecting his path without hesitation. The whispers in his mind grow louder, their tone insistent, almost commanding. His eyes, though unseeing, seem to track the growing shadow of Nurikabe in the distance. Its presence looms larger...and darker.
Behind him, the men watching him exchange glances, their unease palpable. "Think we should do something?" one of them mutters.
The other shakes his head, taking a step back and turning to walk away. "Nah...that shit is weird man. Not our problem. Let the kid figure it out. Or not."
Inside his head...
The whispers are deafening now, filling every corner of his mind. He stumbles slightly, his fingers twitching as if trying to grasp something intangible.
"Why?" he murmurs, his voice cracking. "Why me?"
No answer comes, only the steady pull of the whispers and the sight of the wall growing larger with every step.
Outside his head...
Obinai's body halts in front of a rusted metal fence, the jagged edges of its warped bars pointing skyward like skeletal fingers. A crooked sign hangs loosely from the top rail, its once-bright letters now faded and peeling, spelling out a stark warning: DO NOT ENTER.
His head tilts slightly, the motion unnatural and jerky, as if controlled by a marionette. His unfocused gaze lingers on the barrier, his lips parting wordlessly. His hands twitch at his sides, his fingers curling and uncurling.
Subtly, the ground beneath him shudders with another tremor. This one is more forceful, rattling his teeth and sending a jolt through his body.
With an almost mechanical motion, Obinai steps forward. His foot crosses the threshold of the fence, but he doesn't stop. The rusted metal doesn't catch or impede him; instead, his body passes through it seamlessly, like a shadow slipping over the ground.
The effect is surreal. To anyone watching, the moment would appear impossible. The metal bars shimmer faintly as his form intersects with them, rippling like water disturbed by a pebble. His body moves through the barrier without resistance, the aged rust flaking into the air.
As his torso crosses the fence, his movements grow slower, almost as though the air on the other side resists him. His breath, though shallow and uneven, fogs faintly in the space between the bars, the temperature dropping noticeably. His outstretched hand vanishes into the metal as if absorbed, his fingers trailing ghostly impressions before disappearing completely.
When his entire body emerges on the other side, the fence stills, the faint ripple fading as quickly as it had come. Obinai stops momentarily, his body rigid, the whispers in his mind easing into a low murmur as if satisfied.
The atmosphere around him feels oppressive, the air thick and heavy like a dense fog settling over his skin.
Inside his head…
His eyes darting around even more as his heartbeat continues to quicken, Nurikabe looms closer. Its shadow stretches impossibly wide, swallowing the fragmented city line as he gets closer in faint darkness. The whispers just....continue to press against the edges of his sanity.
"Why…" he murmurs, his voice cracking.
He stumbles around a corner, and there it is. Nurikabe stands before him, vast and unguarded, its rough, weathered surface framed starkly against the pale twilight sky. There's no security, no barrier—nothing but the endless stretch of the wall just beyond the city line. It feels out of place, a forbidden secret laid bare.
He stops abruptly, his chest heaving, his fingers twitching at his sides. A frantic pulse builds in his mind, each beat syncing with the maddening whispers. "Mom…" he mutters, the words hesitant and shaky. "She said… never to venture here. Even Dad, as goofy as he is, told me not to go. Said I might never…" His voice trails off, his teeth clenching as his thoughts race. Might never be found.
The whispers spike, sharp and invasive, like claws scraping against his thoughts. He grimaces, pressing his hands against his head. "But there's no one here," he says aloud, his voice trembling. "No gates, no security… nothing." His head snaps up, glaring at the wall as if demanding answers. "So why the fuck are these voices getting louder?"
The oppressive silence that follows feels like a response, one that tightens his chest. His fists curl at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. With a hiss of frustration, he mutters, "Dammit," and forces his legs to move, his pace quickening to a fast walk. His heart pounds as he steps past the faint marker of the city line, the air thickening with every step that brings him closer to Nurikabe.
Outside his head…
Obinai stands frozen in the desolate landscape, his expression blank but his body taut with unseen tension. His steps falter briefly, then carry him forward with the same unnatural rhythm.
Finally...he comes face to face with the wall, the towering monolith stretching endlessly in every direction. Up close, it's even more intimidating, its surface rough and jagged, marred by cracks and the weight of untold years. Dark streaks stain the stone, remnants of rain and decay, giving it an almost organic quality.
Obinai's hand twitches at his side, his fingers curling and uncurling as if struggling against invisible threads. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his arm lifts. His hand reaches out, trembling, toward the wall's cold, unyielding surface.
Then...his palm and fingers touch it...
Nurikabe