Makoto entered, closing the door behind him.
The sound was soft, almost swallowed by the silence.
And yet, the silence was louder than anything else.
He placed his bag against the wall.
Didn't take off his coat.
He stepped forward slowly.
Ri was the same.
Same posture.
Same coldness.
Same rigidity.
He sat a meter away.
Glanced at her face.
She didn't look up.
"My mom sent me."
"She said you were alone… and that maybe you needed someone to stay with you for a while."
No reply.
"I'm Makoto… you're Ri, right?"
"How old are you?"
Silence.
Then a faint whisper:
"Less than a hundred."
Her voice was flat.
Like it meant nothing.
Her lips barely moved.
Makoto blinked.
Narrowed his eyes.
"...What?"
She didn't answer.
Eyes fixed on the plate before her.
A semicircle of nuts.
From smallest to largest, lined with obsessive precision.
Like a puzzle that refused chaos.
Beside her right hand…
an unopened chocolate milkshake.
Makoto moved to the window.
Saw it again.
The bird.
Gray, still.
Wings spread.
As if the wind had set it there and left.
Clearly dead.
He turned to her.
Voice tight with disbelief:
"What… why is there a dead bird in the apartment?"
She said, calm as ever:
– "It's sleeping."
– "But—"
– "Sleeping."
No head raise.
No glance.
The word cut off in his mouth.
He sat back slowly.
Away from her.
Watched her hands.
Small. Cold. Precise.
Moving deliberately as she arranged the nuts.
He wanted to say something.
Laugh. Ask. Show he didn't understand.
But he couldn't.
How do you speak to someone who doesn't answer with words?
"Ri… do you eat anything else?"
No reply.
"Have you been alone all this time?"
Silence.
"Do you like animals?"
Longer silence.
Then, barely audible, soft as a whisper:
"Sometimes."
Makoto turned to the bird again.
Then back to her eyes.
She stared at the nuts.
As if they were the only world that existed.
And for the first time, he felt it.
What he was seeing…
Wasn't a girl.
Nor a child.
It was something else...