Rin stepped back into the living room.
What happened to her?
Something was wrong.
Her breathing had changed. Her shoulders had gone rigid, and one hand had tightened around the towel. She hadn't moved. Her eyes had stayed fixed on that corner of the room.
He looked toward the corner.
The whiteboard.
Rin walked over. The board looked exactly as it always had. Dates. Notes. Questions. At the center, the main heading stood out.
3:14 AM.
He looked over the board again.
She hadn't been afraid of the apartment.
She had been reading the board.
Rin turned and went out the door. He didn't bother looking for another umbrella.
Rain hammered against the pavement as Rin stepped into the street.
He didn't run at first. He walked quickly, scanning the road ahead.
A few seconds later, he caught sight of a figure turning at the far end of the street.
“Shigure.”
The rain swallowed his voice.
Rin quickened his pace. By the time he reached the intersection, she was gone.
He stopped beneath the streetlight and looked down both roads.
Nothing. Only rain, headlights, and empty pavement.
Rin stood there for a moment.
Then he turned back toward home.
By the time he reached his apartment, his clothes were damp again.
He entered, closed the door, and looked toward the whiteboard.
3:14 AM.
He stared at it.
He thought about all the things he remembered.
Buildings.
Records.
Memories.
Then he remembered Shigure standing in front of it.
Rin picked up a towel and dried his hair.
He didn't know what to make of it yet.
He would find out first.
The next morning, Rin arrived at school earlier than usual. Shigure's desk was empty.
He checked the geography classroom. She wasn't there.
Between periods, he asked a few teachers whether they had heard from her. No one had.
By the time lunch ended, Rin had stopped asking. He was told that Shigure had taken the day off. He returned to his desk and looked at the empty chair.
Rin checked the staff directory. Shigure's phone number was listed there.
He stared at it for a moment.
Calling her would be easier.
But if she knew what he'd seen on the board, asking over the phone wouldn't tell him much. She could avoid the question. Hang up. Or simply refuse to speak.
He decided not to call.
By late afternoon, Rin had already made his decision. He gave the vice principal a brief explanation, checked the staff directory, and wrote down Shigure's address.
He still had two classes left.
The rest of the afternoon passed without any word from her.
When the final bell rang, the students packed their bags and filtered out into the hallway. Rin began stacking the day's assignments.
He paused.
One desk was still occupied. A boy in the back row was staring at the same page he'd been looking at before class ended.
Rin walked over. “You haven't finished?”
The boy quickly closed the notebook. “Sorry, Sensei.”
Rin looked at him for a moment. “What's wrong?”
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“Nothing.”
Rin waited.
“Tell me,” Rin said quietly. “Did someone say something to you?”
“No.” The boy hesitated, looking down at his desk. “Sensei, can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you ever get tired of teaching?”
Rin looked at him for a moment. “Sometimes.”
“Then why keep doing it?”
Rin pulled out the chair beside him and sat down.
“I got used to it.”
The boy was quiet for a moment.
Rin looked at him. “What's really bothering you?”
The boy hesitated. “My parents want me to take the science track.”
“And you don't?”
“I don't know.”
Rin looked at him. “You don't know what you want?”
“I know what I like. I just don't know if I'm good enough.”
Rin was quiet for a moment.
“That's different.”
The boy looked up. “How?”
“Not knowing what you want is one problem.”
Rin paused.
“Being afraid you won't be good enough is another.”
The boy looked down at his notebook. “I like drawing.”
Rin nodded once. “Then keep drawing.”
The boy looked at him. “Even if I'm not good?”
“Especially then.”
The boy was quiet for a moment. “I'll think about it.”
Rin nodded. “Good.”
The boy packed his bag and stood. “Thank you, Sensei.”
“Go home.”
The boy smiled faintly and left.
Rin remained alone in the quiet classroom for a moment.
Then he picked up his briefcase and left.
He headed toward the edge of Mizuhara, where the concrete streets gradually gave way to the forested slopes of the mountains.
The road narrowed as he climbed, and the houses disappeared behind the trees. A cold wind moved through the branches. Rin pulled his hands into his pockets and kept walking. The path grew quieter as he climbed. Soon, he could no longer hear the traffic from the city below.
Ahead, the trail disappeared between the trees. Rin continued upward.
The wind moved through the trees behind him.
Rin slowed.
He glanced back.
Nothing.
The trail stretched empty between the trees.
After a moment, he continued upward.
Eventually, the outline of a dilapidated shrine emerged through the rustling branches. To his left, a long flight of moss-covered stone steps led upward.
Near the top stood what looked like a weathered stone statue.
He walked on.
Then he stopped.
Looking back, his gaze lingered on the distant figure. Something about the weathered face tugged at his memory.
After a long moment, he turned and started climbing the stairs.
By the time he reached the top, Rin stopped for a moment, breathing hard. The shrine opened into a wide, desolate courtyard. To the right stood the main temple, its wooden doors sealed tight. To the left, a stone balustrade and a few weathered benches overlooked the valley. Heavy, bruised clouds completely blocked the sun. It wasn't raining, but the mountain gale howled like something wild.
Sitting on the edge of the shrine pavement, looking out over the precipice, was Shigure.
Rin paused.
Before he could even open his mouth, her voice cut through the howling air.
“You shouldn't have come,” she said. She didn't turn around. She just kept looking down into the abyss of the valley.
Taking another step forward, Rin raised his voice. “Yesterday, before you left my apartment... you saw the whiteboard, didn't you?”
She didn't answer.
“You recognized something on it.”
Shigure spun to face him. A sudden gust whipped her hair across her face, but her eyes were sharp, cold, and entirely defensive. She stood up.
“Why did you follow me?” she demanded.
Rin held his ground. “The school gave me your address. I needed to find you.”
“Liar.” She stepped closer. “You’ve been watching me. Since when? Since I transferred here?”
Rin blinked. “I haven't been watching you. “Then how do you know that time?” she cut him off. She took another step, forcing Rin to give ground toward the edge of the stairs. Her voice dropped into a dangerous, quiet hiss that barely carried over the wind. “Who told you to write that on the board?”
“Nobody told me.”
“Who sent you?” she pressed. Her eyes darted over his shoulder, scanning the tree line as if she expected other people to step out of the shadows. “Did you bring anyone else?”
“I'm alone,” Rin said, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “I'm not working for anyone.”
“Then what did you see, Takeda?” she demanded, stepping so close he could see the slight tremor in her jaw. “How much do you actually know?”
Rin hesitated.
He looked closely at her. Her breathing was shallow. Her hands were clenched tightly at her sides.
Rin recognized the expression.
Rin lowered his hands. He didn't move toward her.
“Nobody sent me,” Rin said quietly. “I came because I thought you knew something.”
He paused.
“I thought I was the only one.”
Shigure stared at him, her breathing still uneven.
Rin took a slow breath.
“When I was seventeen,” Rin said, his voice quiet against the storm, “a building disappeared. A pharmacy, right across from my apartment.”
Shigure went still.
“When the lights came back, it was gone,” he continued. “Nobody else remembered it. My parents. My best friend. The city records. Everything had changed.”
He paused.
“I was the only one who remembered.”
Shigure watched him for several seconds before giving a short, bitter laugh.
“No.”
Rin blinked. “What?”
“No,” she repeated. “Anyone could make up a story about a missing building. How do I know you're not lying?”
Rin opened his mouth, then stopped.
He had no proof.
“You don't,” he said quietly.
Shigure took a small step back. “Do you know what happened at 3:00 AM?”
“Yes.”
Shigure studied him.
“What did you hear?”
Rin hesitated. “A metallic sound.”
Shigure's expression didn't change.
“A metallic sound could be a blown transformer,” she said, her voice cold. “If you were actually awake, tell me what happened next.”
Rin didn't have to think.
“Everything stopped.”
Shigure's eyes remained fixed on him. “What do you mean?”
“The city went completely silent. No cars. No dogs. No alarms.”
He paused.
“I looked at my watch.”
Shigure said nothing.
“It was 3:14.”
A beat.
“Then the hands stopped.”
Her expression changed slightly.
Rin noticed.
“The watch was still showing 3:14,” he continued.
Shigure stared at him.
“And everything else stopped with it.”
The wind moved across the stone courtyard.
Shigure didn't speak.
She didn't look away.
Her hands slowly loosened at her sides.
“I'm so tired of trying to explain this to people.”
He looked away.
“Ever since that incident, it’s been the same exact thing.” He was quiet for a moment.
“'Are you okay, Rin?'”
His voice tightened.
“'What are you talking about?'”
He looked back at her.
“'Maybe you should take your son to a doctor.'”
He paused.
“'Is he going insane? Is it even safe to sit next to him?'”
Shigure's expression softened slightly.
Rin looked down. “Some parents wanted me removed from the school. They thought I was influencing their children.”
He looked toward the valley.
“They called me crazy. Some even wanted their kids transferred.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“For years, I told myself I didn't care what they thought.”
He looked toward the valley.
“I did.”
He turned back to her.
“I want to know why this happened.”
He paused.
“I spent ten years trying to leave it alone.”
His eyes stayed on hers.
“I can't anymore.”
Shigure was silent for a long time. She looked at him, then out toward the valley.
“I believe you,” she said.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“That doesn't mean I trust you.”
“I know,” Rin said quietly. “You don't have to.”
Shigure looked down at her hands.
“I spent years thinking I was the only one too,” she said. “I thought I'd imagined parts of it.”
“You didn't.”
Shigure let out a slow, quiet breath.
“So it wasn't just me.”
Rin said nothing.
“I lost something too.”
Rin turned toward her. “What?”
She hesitated.
“Someone, actually.”
She looked back at him.
“I have a sister.”