"Right now? Isn't it like four o'clock?" Kaguya asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
"The plane leaves in two hours, so we have to hurry," I replied, waving the two airplane tickets dramatically in front of her.
As I prepared to leave, a thought struck me—Miss Ahiko would panic if she woke up to find me gone without a word. It wasn't like me to just vanish. I decided to leave a note.
Hunched over my desk in the dim moonlight, I scribbled a hurried explanation. The words didn't flow easily, but after several moments, I sealed the envelope with a deep sigh.
"Are you done?" Kaguya's voice rang from the window, sharp and impatient. "The clock's ticking, and you're the one who said we'd be late."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," I grumbled, grabbing my bag.
I left the letter in a spot Miss Ahiko would notice and climbed out of the window, landing softly on the ground. As I approached the gate, I paused and glanced back at the orphanage. A strange heaviness settled over me—a gut feeling that I might never see this place again.
"Hey! Stop daydreaming!" Kaguya's smack on the back of my neck jolted me from my thoughts.
I bit back a retort and called for a taxi instead. Her irritation wasn't worth fueling further.
The ride to the airport was a long forty-five minutes of silence. I stared out the window, my thoughts swirling. My life was on the brink of a dramatic change. It had already shifted the moment I summoned Kaguya, but this—leaving the country—felt like the point of no return.
Kaguya, on the other hand, had her face glued to the window, wide-eyed with wonder as she took in the city's glittering lights. I couldn't blame her. The city at night had a certain charm, its streets bathed in the warm glow of streetlights, the buildings standing tall like silent sentinels.
When we finally arrived, I grabbed my luggage from the taxi's trunk, paid the driver, and headed inside the airport. My breath hitched. The sheer size of the terminal and the hustle of travelers bustling about left me momentarily stunned. But the sight of the clock snapped me back to reality. We only had thirty minutes until departure.
After passing through the security check, I handed our tickets to the attendant. He scanned them quickly, then pointed us toward the air bridge.
"Thanks," I said, tugging my bag along.
We followed his directions and boarded the plane. To my surprise, the flight attendant guided us past the main cabin and into a section separated by a sleek door. My eyes widened as I took in the luxurious seats—spacious, plush, and far too comfortable to be economy class.
"Looks like having that god around has its perks," I muttered under my breath, sinking into the soft leather seat.
The flight was set to last over fourteen hours, and Kaguya had already claimed the window seat. Her fascination with the view was evident; her nose pressed against the glass, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She resembled a child seeing snow for the first time.
I smirked but kept quiet. The lift-off intrigued me too. It was my first time flying, but I kept my curiosity in check, sneaking occasional peeks from the corner of my eye. When the plane stabilized, I reclined my seat and closed my eyes, hoping to catch some sleep.
Of course, Kaguya couldn't resist peppering me with questions about the plane, the clouds, and even the food menu. I pretended to be asleep, though I could feel her gaze burning into me. Fifteen minutes passed, maybe more, before she finally gave up.
I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of a street.
The air was heavy with heat, the sky tinged with an ominous red glow. Ash drifted lazily down like snowflakes, and the acrid stench of smoke clawed at my nostrils. I turned toward the source of the chaos. Flames licked the sky behind a row of houses, and faint screams punctuated the blaring of a distant alarm.
The street I stood on was eerily silent, lifeless. I started walking, the road stretching only forward. There was no path behind me, just an infinite void.
Something about this place felt wrong—deeply wrong. My gut churned, but I couldn't pinpoint why. The further I walked, the clearer the sounds became: murmurs, the shrill blast of a horn, and frantic cries.
When I reached the commotion, I froze. A van had flipped over, its body crumpled like a discarded toy. Smoke billowed from the wreckage, and a crowd had gathered around it. Pushing through the throng, I noticed something unsettling—the moment I brushed against someone, they fell silent, their eyes locking onto me with unnatural intensity.
As I broke free from the crowd, the scene before me made my stomach drop. A girl lay pinned beneath the van, her body grotesquely mangled. Blood pooled beneath her, flowing in jagged streams along the uneven asphalt.
Her face was obscured, blurred as if seen through frosted glass. Driven by some morbid curiosity, I stepped closer. Before I could kneel, someone shoved me from behind, and I fell to my hands and knees. My face was now inches from hers.
The haze lifted, and my breath caught. It was Sagiri.
Her face was a grotesque mask of shattered glass and blood. One eye was a vivid crimson, blood matting her hair to her face.
"Val... please help me," she whimpered, tears streaming down her ruined face. "I... I can't feel my legs."
I couldn't move. My body refused to respond. The weight of guilt and horror pinned me in place. Sagiri's voice trembled.
"Val? You won't help me? I think... I think I'm dying."
Tears blurred my vision. I wanted to help her, but deep down, I knew the truth. Sagiri was dead. And it was my fault.
"I hate this freaking dream," I muttered, forcing myself to stand.
"Val? What are you doing?" her voice cracked, desperate.
"Shut up!" I yelled, my voice shaking. "I know this is a dream, so just stop. Stop trying to make me believe I can save you."
Her tone shifted instantly. Gone was the fear, replaced by a chilling mockery. "Oh, but are you sure it's a dream, my dear Val?"
Her words sent a shiver down my spine. I turned back to face her, only to see her arm stretch unnaturally fast, her burnt and rotting hand grabbing my face. The stench was unbearable.
"Well, well, well. Still think it's a dream?" she sneered, her voice dripping with malice.
For the first time, doubt crept in. This had never happened before.
"Y-yeah," I stammered. "I'm sure."
"How sad," she whispered before throwing me backward. I skidded across the asphalt, gasping for breath.
Sagiri crawled out from beneath the van, her movements jerky and unnatural. Half of her body remained crushed, her entrails dragging behind her in a slick trail of blood. She twisted her neck with a sickening crack, her head turning 180 degrees to glare at me.
I knew what was coming. She charged, her hands propelling her forward like some grotesque predator. I raised my arms instinctively, bracing for impact—but all I felt was a faint scratch.
I jolted awake, my arms raised defensively. My chest heaved as I gasped for air, my heart pounding like a war drum.
I was back on the plane. The hum of the engines was a welcome relief. Kaguya had fallen asleep, her head resting lightly on my shoulder.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly arrive at our destination," the intercom announced.
"Fucking dream," I muttered, rubbing my eyes. But as I looked down at my right hand, dread coiled in my stomach. A faint stain of blood marked my sleeve.
"Was it really a dream?" I whispered.