5:58 AM | Renjiro's Room
The alarm clock hadn't yet rung when Renjiro's eyes opened. It wasn't an abrupt awakening, a slow slide from unconsciousness to reality, as always happened since the house had been empty.
First, the sound.
The distant creaking of the old refrigerator downstairs. The hum of the lamppost outside, which never stopped, neither day nor night. The groaning of the floorboards when the wind blew from the east.
Then, the body.
The heavy, pasty tongue in the dry mouth. The bitter taste of sleepless nights. The weight of tense muscles, as if he had fought against something during his sleep. And that annoying little pain behind his left eye that never completely disappeared.
Renjiro raised his right hand, always his right, in front of his face. The scar on his palm formed an irregular line, seven poorly placed stitches in a distant hospital.
— "Six years..." — he murmured to the stained ceiling.
The cell phone on the bedside table lit up.
5:59 AM
"Damn it."
The alarm clock was set for 6:15. Lately, his body seemed to have developed an internal clock that always woke him up ten, fifteen minutes earlier. As if it knew it wasn't worth trying to sleep any longer.
With a groan, Renjiro sat up in bed. His bare feet met the cold floor. His black nightgown, with the faded logo of that band his sister loved, was soaked with sweat on the back.
On the opposite wall, the Crimson Shadows[1] poster was peeling at the corners. On the coat rack behind the door, the school uniform hung there, looking older than him. And on the dresser, framed in tarnished silver...
The photo.
Three faces.
One empty.
Renjiro looked away before the details could solidify in his memory. Instead, he ran his fingers through the white tips of his hair, a nervous habit.
The alarm clock rang at 6:15 sharp.
"I'm already awake, you jerk." he grumbled, flicking the device.
The routine began.
6:17 AM | House Hallway
Renjiro's bare feet sank slightly into the worn tatami mats of the hallway, making the aged wood creak under his weight. The morning sun streamed through the cracks in the shoji doors, drawing golden lines on the dark wooden floor that needed waxing months ago. A cricket chirped outside, insistently, as if it knew summer was ending and wanted to savor every last moment.
"Shit..." he muttered softly, when his little toe hit the corner of the bathroom door. The shock of pain shot through his foot like a wire of electricity.
The hallway smelled of aged wood and had a sweet taste of incense burned weeks ago, when his grandmother had come to visit and insisted on "purifying the atmosphere." On the wall, a photo of his grandfather in military attire watched him with that stern look that had never changed, not even at the funeral, when he should have finally seemed at peace. Renjiro mentally spat on the frame as he passed, imagining the old man turning in his grave at the state of the house.
6:23 AM | Kitchen
The sink faucet dripped in an irregular rhythm...
Plink...
Plink...
Plink...
Like a broken metronome that had forgotten its melody. Renjiro rubbed his eyes with one hand while opening the refrigerator with the other, feeling the cold air hit his bare torso. The inside of the humming appliance was a sad portrait of his life... a half-empty tofu package with a greenish film growing in one corner, remnants of hardened rice in a tupperware container that should have been washed last week, and three eggs rolling alone on the glass shelf, like survivors of a food war.
He picked up an egg and shook it near his ear, listening to the contents sloshing inside.
"Damn it, again..." he said to the egg, as if expecting a response.
The toaster let out a satisfying click when he pressed the button. Two stale loaves of bread, bought at the corner convenience store during an end-of-day sale, fell onto the grill with a dull thud, as if they already knew their fate.
While he waited, he leaned against the counter and observed the photo on top of the refrigerator. He knew every detail of that image like the lines of his own hand. His mother in her light blue yukata, always saying "Renjiro, straighten your posture!" in a reprimanding tone that tried to hide the affection. Ayaka at 12 years old, tongue sticking out, making peace behind her mother's back as she always did when she thought no one was looking. And his father... or rather, his father's shoulder, because the photo was blurry on that side, as if the man never had time to stay still enough for the camera to capture his image.
The smell of burning brought him back to reality with a start.
"Fuck, again?!" He turned to the toaster, where two slices of bread steamed, black as coal, like small charred corpses of failed meals.
He picked up the knife, the one his mother had always said was only for vegetables, and began scraping the charred surface, sending black crumbs flying through the air that settled on the dirty dishes in the sink.
"It's fine like this..." he decided, throwing the remains onto a chipped plate that had belonged to his grandmother, ignoring how the sharp edge scratched his finger.
Last week's sour orange juice, bought when he still had hope of making decent breakfasts, completed the feast. He swallowed it all in three gulps, grimacing as he felt the acidic taste burning his throat.
"Ugh, disgusting..." he said to the empty plate, as if it could feel remorse.
But he ate anyway, because hunger was stronger than disgust, and because wasting food was one of the few sins that still mattered to him.
6:34 AM | Bathroom
The dirty dish lay abandoned in the sink, joining the small tower of unwashed dishes that already threatened to collapse at the slightest touch. Renjiro dragged his feet down the hallway, feeling the rough tatami mat beneath his bare soles. The bathroom was enveloped in thick steam when he entered, the air heavy with the smell of the cheap soap he'd bought at the hundred-yen shop in the station. The sliding door slammed shut with a dry click as he bumped it with his hip, too tired to use his hands.
The mirror ahead was completely fogged by the steam, turning his reflection into a blurry shadow. Renjiro approached, wiping a strip of glass with the palm of his hand. The face that returned his gaze was swollen with sleep, pillow marks still etched on his right cheek and eyes as red as those of an alcoholic at the end of the night. His fingers automatically touched the white tips of his hair[2], pulling them as if expecting them to come loose.
"I look like a resurrected corpse..." he muttered to his reflection, baring his teeth in a forced smile that sounded more like a growl.
His hands unbuttoned his pajama shirt with slow movements, his fingers stumbling over the buttons as if numb with sleep. The fabric fell to the tiled floor with a wet thud, forming a puddle of damp cloth around his feet. Renjiro stepped over it without thinking, leaving wet footprints on the floor as he approached the shower.
The water hit his back like a rain of hot needles, making him gasp. He let out a hoarse sigh, tilting his head forward as the heat penetrated the tense muscles of his neck and shoulders, slowly dissolving the knots that had formed there since he began having those dreams. The stream of water ran down his back, carrying away the night's sweat and the oiliness of his unwashed skin. Renjiro closed his eyes, letting the sound of the water hitting the plastic of the bathtub fill his ears, temporarily drowning out his thoughts.
The generic shampoo bottle, bought at the corner convenience store because it was the cheapest, smelled artificially of "alpine flowers", a scent reminiscent of his grandmother's detergents. The thick, bluish mixture barely lathered, leaving his hair rough and dry, but he scrubbed his scalp with his knuckles until it ached, as if he could wash away something more than just grease and grime. The soap, a bar so worn it was thin and slippery, slipped from his hands three times before he could grip it firmly enough to scrub his chest and arms.
When he finally turned to face the jet of water, he let it hit his face directly, his mouth open to catch a few splashes that tasted of metal and chlorine. The water trickled down his eyelashes, getting into his eyes and burning them, but he kept them open, staring at the white tiled wall until his vision blurred. Only when his lungs began to burn did he tilt his head back, gasping for air like a swimmer emerging from great depths.
The old towel, the one that had lost its original color years ago and was now a dirty gray, absorbed the water from his body like a desert absorbs rare rain. Renjiro rubbed his hair vigorously, twisting the white ends between his fingers as if hoping the color would miraculously return. The steam had condensed into droplets that trickled down the mirror, distorting his reflection into a surreal image that could have come from one of his nightmares.
And then, Renjiro went to his room.
6:47 AM | Room
His school uniform hung on the closet door, as impeccably ironed as it had always been in the days when his mother took care of the house. The white shirt had a subtle yellowing under the armpits, but it was still presentable if no one looked too closely. The black pants fit well on his hips, although the crease that should have run down the front stubbornly disappeared after a few hours of wear. The tie, the same one he'd worn since his first year, had a permanent knot that he never undid[3], simply pulling it over his head like a collar every morning.
Renjiro dressed with precise, almost mechanical movements, like a soldier preparing for another day in an endless war. His tie tightened around his neck when he pulled it down, but he no longer noticed the discomfort, just as he no longer noticed the musty smell coming from the closet or the sound of moths gnawing at the wool of his winter coats.
The clock on his cell phone, placed on the dresser next to the family photo, read 6:53 when he finally picked up his backpack, feeling the familiar weight of the unstudied books and half-empty notebooks pulling his shoulder down. His tongue ran over his front teeth, cleaning away a bit of toothpaste that had stuck to the corner of his mouth.
"Another glorious day in student paradise" he said to the mirror, making an exaggerated bow that ended with an obscene gesture.
The reflection didn't reciprocate the joke, simply staring at him with the same blank expression he saw every morning. Renjiro adjusted his backpack on his shoulder and left the room, leaving the door open behind him as he always did. The house breathed silently around him, full of ghosts and dust, but he no longer heard them.
7:02 AM | Front Gate
The early summer morning sun hit Renjiro's eyes as he opened the front door. The warm, humid air immediately enveloped him, laden with the sweet scent of cherry blossoms that had fallen weeks ago, but whose perfume still lingered in the narrow streets of the neighborhood. The asphalt already shimmered with the heat, creating mirages of water where there had only been dry road.
Renjiro blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the light. The residential neighborhood of Yokohama was slowly waking up. A few doors opened, letting children in impeccable uniforms and mothers with sleepy expressions emerge. The distant sound of a vacuum cleaner came from a neighboring house, accompanied by the insistent chirping of sparrows vying for crumbs on the sidewalk.
He kicked a loose stone in his path, watching it bounce and roll until it stopped in a drain. The heat was already felt on the back of his neck, and the first beads of sweat began to form on his forehead as he started walking.
7:11 AM | Meeting with Takumi
The sound of hurried footsteps made Renjiro turn around.
"RENJIRO! WAIT!"
Takumi was running towards him like a runaway train, his backpack banging against his back with every step, his disheveled black hair flying in all directions. His school uniform was already disheveled, his shirt partially untucked, his tie poorly tied.
"Good morning, earthquake" Renjiro grumbled when his friend finally caught up, bent over, panting as if he'd run a marathon.
"Don't... start... with me..." Takumi huffed, resting his hands on his knees. "My younger sister hid my sneakers again. I had to search the whole house!"
Renjiro observed his friend's feet. He was wearing a pair of worn-out gym shoes, clearly too small for him.
"And these?"
"From my father. He probably didn't even notice I stole them." Takumi finally straightened up, wiping the sweat from his brow. "But look, at least I caught you. You know what Reika told me yesterday?"
Renjiro started walking, knowing Takumi would follow, as he always did.
"Tell me while we walk. If you're late again, the principal will make me clean the bathrooms again."
Takumi collapsed beside him like an abandoned puppy, his tongue almost hanging out of his mouth from exhaustion.
"So, we were in the literature club, right? And I told her-"
7:23 AM | Meeting with Reika
The smell of tobacco hit them before they saw her. Reika was leaning against the wall of the convenience store, a lit cigarette between her fingers, her school uniform modified to look less school-like, her skirt shortened, her shirt unbuttoned at the top, her jacket tied around her waist. Her brown hair was tied in a messy ponytail, and her amber eyes narrowed as she saw them approaching.
"Finally!" she said, spitting smoke to the side. "I thought I was going to have to go alone again."
"Good morning to you too, princess." Renjiro replied, snatching the cigarette from her hand and stubbing it out against the wall.
Reika grumbled, but didn't protest. Instead, her eyes scanned Takumi from head to toe.
"What the hell do you have on your feet?"
"Long story..." Takumi sighed.
"As long as your IQ, then." Reika pulled a piece of gum from her bag and began chewing vigorously. "Let's go. If Professor Okubo catches us being late again, this time he'll really kill us."
The three began walking together down the main street, the sun rising higher in the cloudless sky. The heat made the air heavy, and the smell of hot tar mingled with the sweet aroma emanating from the bakery that had just opened.
"You know what I heard?" Takumi began, his eyes gleaming with the pleasure of sharing gossip. "They say there's a new physical education teacher. A former soldier."
"Another one?" Reika grumbled. "How many have they fired this year? Three?"
"Four." Renjiro corrected automatically. "The last one lasted two weeks."
"Well, they say this one is different." Takumi lowered his voice dramatically. "They say he trained special forces."
Reika let out a short laugh.
"And you believe everything you hear in the cafeteria line, don't you, Takumi?" She kicked a rock hard, sending it ricocheting off a lamppost with a satisfying spin. "The last 'special forces trainer' didn't even know how to do a push-up properly."
The warm early summer wind carried with it the scent of the distant river, still water and dried seaweed mixed with the sweet aroma of the yakitori stalls they were already setting up for lunch. Renjiro tugged at his shirt collar, feeling the sweat trickling down his back.
"Whoever it is..." he said, "I just hope they don't make us run across the field like the last idiot. I almost died in that class."
Takumi shook his head, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.
"You almost died climbing the school stairs, Renjiro. That's no good."
Reika chuckled as she adjusted her hair elastic, making her ponytail look even more disheveled.
"What I want to know is if the guy is going to be another one of those old creeps who stare at the girls during swimming lessons."
The three turned the corner, entering the street shaded by old cherry trees that led directly to the school. The sunlight filtering through the leaves created dancing patterns on the ground, like shadows of fish in a giant aquarium.
"Speaking of creeps..." Takumi lowered his voice, discreetly pointing ahead. "Look who's waiting for us."
At the school gate, the student council president, Aiko Watanabe, stood with her arms crossed, her impeccable uniform and perfectly styled hair making a stark contrast to the disheveled trio approaching.
"Oh, shit..." Reika muttered. "What have we done now?"
Renjiro felt a weight forming in his stomach. The last time Watanabe waited for them like this, they ended up cleaning the bathrooms for an entire week.
"Renjiro-kun." Watanabe called in that sweet tone that always preceded disaster. "It's good that you arrived early. We need to talk."
The school bell rang in the background, echoing down the street like a storm warning.
Aiko Watanabe kept her arms crossed, her fingers tapping an impatient melody against the impeccable fabric of her blazer. The morning sun reflected off her thin-rimmed glasses, hiding her eyes in a blinding glare that accidentally made Renjiro think of insects with shiny shells.
Reika didn't waste any time.
"Watanabe, we love staying to listen to your complaints, but we have class at-" she glanced at the imaginary clock on her wrist. "Right now. Sorry, princess."
She grabbed Renjiro by the arm and Takumi by the backpack, dragging them like a grumpy cat dragging its prey. But Watanabe moved with the speed of someone accustomed to dealing with delinquents.
"Yumi Arakawa disappeared."
The words hit like a bucket of ice water. Renjiro felt the muscles in his back tense. Yumi. The blind girl with the strange notebook.
Takumi gasped for air.
"What? But she was here yesterday! I-I helped her carry the books to the calligraphy club!"
Watanabe adjusted her glasses, and for the first time, Renjiro saw something other than perfect disdain on her face. Something that looked like… fear?
"Her sister called the school twenty minutes ago. Yumi didn't come home last night. And now…" She hesitated, her eyes darting to the side. "There's something you need to see."
Reika let out an exasperated sigh, but Renjiro noticed how her fingers tightened around his arm.
"This will make us late for Okubo's class" she grumbled. "And that old man has a heart blacker than the coffee in the machine."
Watanabe ignored the comment, turning with a precise movement.
"Follow me. And don't touch anything."
7:33 AM | Calligraphy Club Room
The hallway of the calligraphy club was strangely silent, the usual sound of brushes against paper replaced by a low hum of worried voices. Watanabe stopped in front of door 2-B, her hand hovering over the doorknob as if expecting it to transform into a snake.
"Get ready." she said, and Renjiro didn't like the tone of that voice at all.
The room was untouched, desks lined up, ink bottles perfectly organized, the sweet smell of washi and sumi paper in the air. But in the center of the room, on Yumi's desk, was an open notebook.
It wasn't her usual calligraphy notebook.
It was the one Renjiro had seen her holding in the courtyard one day...
The pages were completely black, as if someone had spilled ink all over the surface. Except for a single line in the center of the right-hand page, written in a red so bright it seemed to pulse:
"H̴̢̘͓͚̠͙͑́̋̓̐̓̑͆̚ͅE̵͇̝̺̳̰͍͂ ̵̨̨̥͇̰̣̼̱̤̈́̄͐͊̈́̈́͘̕͜F̶̗̟̠́͆̒Ǒ̴̼̳͚̞͎̰̘̥̗̟U̶̡͎͎̰͕͖̣̗͎̻̅N̷̯̱͈͐́́̈́̓̍̄͝D̷̳͓͌̔́̔̌̐́͘͠ͅ ̶̫̉̈͂̀̒̂M̶͎̥͉͚̲̠̯̀̏͌̇́͐͘E̴̻̰̙̦̱͔̾̂̈́̅̐͊̚ͅ"
Takumi took a step back, bumping into a table.
"What the hell...?"
Reika approached like one approaches a wounded animal, her fingers extended but not touching.
"Is that blood?"
Watanabe shook her head, but Renjiro noticed how his hands trembled slightly.
"We tested it. It's ink. But it's not any ink we have here at school."
Renjiro felt something cold run down his spine. The air in the room seemed to have grown heavier, harder to breathe. And then he saw...
On the edge of the notebook, almost imperceptible, a small damp stain formed letters that hadn't been there before:
"R"
"E"
"N"
His name.
Renjiro's heart stopped.
7:35 AM | Calligraphy Club Room
Renjiro felt his stomach churn as his eyes scanned the red letters that spelled out his name. The ink shone strangely, as if it were still fresh.
"What the hell is this?" Renjiro swallowed hard, his voice harsher than he intended. "It looks like some shitty ritual from a horror movie..."
Takumi, pale as washi paper on the shelves, pointed at the notebook with a trembling finger.
"And who is He? What kind of sick joke is this?"
Watanabe crossed her arms, but Renjiro noticed how her fingers tightened against her elbows, as if trying to suppress a tremor.
"It's not a joke." She looked at the three of them, her glasses reflecting the dim light of the room. "Yumi disappeared. And this... this isn't normal."
Reika, always the most pragmatic, leaned across the table, avoiding touching the notebook but examining it with sharp eyes.
"Look here." She pointed to the bottom right corner of the page. "This isn't just red ink. There are patterns. Tiny symbols."
Renjiro leaned forward to see better. She was right. Among the almost imperceptible black smudges were tiny marks that resembled ancient characters, or perhaps something more sinister.
"They look like... deformed kanji..." he murmured, feeling a shiver run down his spine.
Watanabe took a deep breath.
"The principal wants to keep this a secret. But I... I thought you should know. Especially you, Renjiro."
Renjiro felt the muscles in his back tense.
"Why me?"
Watanabe hesitated, his eyes drifting to the notebook.
"Because Yumi... before she disappeared, she asked about you."
The silence that followed was so dense that Renjiro could almost hear his blood pounding in his ears. Why me? The question echoed in his mind, but no answer came.
Reika, always quick to react, grabbed Renjiro's arm.
"Okay, this already smells fishy. Let's go."
But Watanabe blocked the exit.
"Wait. There's more." She lowered her voice. "Last night, the security guard swore he saw someone in the courtyard. Someone... who shouldn't be here."
Takumi swallowed hard.
"What? Like an intruder?"
Watanabe shook her head.
"No. Someone who shouldn't be here." She paused, as if struggling to find the right words. "He said the figure... had no face."
Renjiro felt a sudden chill spread through his chest. Faceless. Like in some of his nightmares.
Reika let out a dry laugh, but even she couldn't disguise the tremor in her voice.
"Fantastic. Now we have ghosts and disappearances. Someone should tell the principal that school isn't a horror movie."
Renjiro didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the notebook, on the red letters that spelled out his name. He found me.
And now, whoever this "He" was, seemed to be looking for Renjiro too.
7:37 AM | Calligraphy Club Room
Takumi let out a nervous laugh, the sound echoing strangely in the silent room.
"Oh, come on! This has to be a bad joke from the drama club!" He rubbed his hands on his pants, as if trying to clean something invisible. "Akira from the 3rd year is obsessed with that urban horror crap. I bet he's the one who put the notebook here to scare Yumi!"
Reika raised an eyebrow, her fingers drumming on the edge of the table near the damned notebook.
"And her disappearance? Was that staged too?"
"It was... it was a setup!" Takumi insisted, his eyes darting between the three. "She must have gone to visit her grandma or something and forgot to tell us! You know Yumi, she's kind of... absent-minded."
Renjiro didn't answer. His fingers trembled slightly beside the notebook. The red ink of his name seemed to darken when the sunlight hit it for a second.
Watanabe adjusted her glasses, the reflection in the lenses obscuring her gaze.
"The security guard who saw the faceless figure has worked here for fifteen years. He's not the type to make up stories."
"Oh, so what?" Takumi crossed his arms, his chin trembling slightly. "Now we're going to believe in ghosts? Next thing we know, we'll call a priest to exorcise the school!"
The bell rang outside, announcing the start of classes. The normally irritating sound felt almost like a relief in the heavy air of the room.
Reika grabbed her backpack and took a step back.
"Whatever this is, we're not going to solve anything by staring at a cursed notebook like characters in horror movies." She glanced at Renjiro. "Come on. Okubo must already be preparing his speech about how useless our generation is."
But Renjiro didn't move. His eyes were fixed on that message. He found me. And now... Renjiro.
"You're going." He said without looking up. "I... I have to see something."
Takumi pulled him by the arm.
"Oh, no, you're not going to pull the stunt of the dumb protagonist who gets himself into dangerous trouble! If you stay, I stay. If you go, I go. That's how it works."
Watanabe cleared her throat.
"Actually, none of you should stay here. This room will be sealed until the police finish their investigation."
Reika let out a low whistle.
"Oh, so now it's a police matter? How convenient."
Professor Okubo's footsteps echoed in the hallway, accompanied by his usual grumbling about "irresponsible students."
Takumi paled.
"Damn it, it's him! If he catches us here, we're dead!"
Watanabe gestured urgently toward the back door.
"Quick, through the emergency exit!"
The three ran, leaving the notebook open on the table. But even as he fled, Renjiro swore he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a new word forming on the blank page:
"S̴̰͍̤̲̲͚̜̝̋̎̽̾̽͗͝Ơ̷͉̪̩̗͐̌̒͊Ơ̶̢̭̜̰͓̝͖̲̰͒̀̎́̋͂̅̇N̴̡̜͈̝͖̘̜͔̺̈́̎̓̑͊"
7:39 AM | Back Hallway of the School
The emergency door slammed shut behind them, leaving the three of them leaning against the cold wall of the service corridor. The sound of their panting breaths mingled with the distant hum of the ventilation system.
Takumi leaned forward, hands on his knees.
"Well, this just happened." Sweat trickled down his temples. "Can someone explain to me why we're running away like criminals?"
Reika peered around the corner of the corridor, her fingers gripping the strap of her backpack.
"Because Okubo has a special talent for turning absences into psychological torture. And because-" She turned, poking a finger into Renjiro's chest. "Someone here is about to do something stupid."
Renjiro didn't answer. The words in the notebook burned into his retina as if he'd stared at the sun for too long. He found me. Renjiro. Soon.
Part of him wanted to believe Takumi was right, that it was all just a bad joke. But another part, deeper, older, whispered that it was connected to his nightmares. To that skyless city. To the figure in the mask.
"It's not normal." The words came out before he could stop them. "No drama club plays pranks with fake blood and disappearances."
Takumi opened his mouth to protest, but a sound cut through the air before he could speak, a wet dragging sound coming from the end of the dark corridor. Like something heavy being pulled across a cement floor.
Plop.
Plop.
Plop.
The three froze.
Reika was the first to react.
"Rats. They're just rats in the sewer system." But her voice faltered at the end.
The service corridor was almost dark, illuminated only by an emergency light that flickered at irregular intervals. In that strange rhythm, Renjiro saw, or thought he saw, something moving in the darkness ahead. A silhouette too tall to fit in the space.
Plop.
Plop.
CRUNCH.
"Okay, that's enough." Takumi grabbed Renjiro's arm. "Let's get out of here before-"
The emergency light flashed once more.
And He was there.
At the end of the corridor.
Faceless.
Featureless.
Just a strange presence that made the air vibrate like asphalt on an extremely hot day.
Renjiro felt something break inside him. As if a long-locked door had finally given way.
7:41 AM | Service Corridor
Renjiro felt the words explode from his throat before he even realized what he was doing.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!"
The shout echoed off the narrow walls, distorting as if the corridor itself were trying to swallow him.
The faceless figure stopped.
It didn't turn around. It didn't react. It just stopped, like a paused video.
Takumi choked on his own air, his hands trembling like leaves in the wind.
"Renjiro, shut the fuck up! Don't provoke the faceless thing, that's Rule Number One in any-"
A sound cut through him.
Tsk.
Tsk.
Tsk.
Like fingernails tapping on glass.
The silhouette began to turn, but not like a human would. The head spun too much, the neck twisting at impossible angles while the body remained motionless.
Reika took a step back, her fingers digging into Renjiro's arm with enough force to leave marks.
"This isn't happening. This can't be happening." Her voice sounded strange, as if someone were squeezing her throat from the inside.
And then, He began to move.
Not walking. Gliding, as if his feet didn't touch the ground. The air around him distorted, like asphalt melting on an extremely hot day.
Renjiro tried to move, but his legs refused to obey. Something warm began to rise up his spine, spread across his chest, burn the scar on the palm of his hand.
Beside him, Takumi began to breathe too fast.
"I... I feel... someone breathing behind me..." His eyes were glazed, fixed on something only he could see. "But there's no one... there's no one there..."
Reika brought a hand to her neck, her fingers exploring her own skin as if searching for something. "There…there's something moving inside me…" She whispered, her face as pale as paper. "Like I've swallowed a swarm of bees…"
The faceless figure raised a hand. Or at least something resembling a hand, long fingers that stretched too far, joints in the wrong places.
Renjiro felt the scar on his palm burn as if someone were driving a red-hot iron into him. When he looked down, he saw bluish lines spreading beneath his skin, forming patterns that almost made sense.
And then, the figure spoke.
Not with one voice. But with a thousand, overlapping, distorted, like a chorus of screams drowned at the bottom of a well.
"ÄRÄ†Ä RÈñJÌRÖ. §Öñ Ö£ †HÈ ßRÖKÈñ MħK. Ì HÄVÈ £ÌñÄLL¥ £ÖÚñÐ ¥ÖÚ."
Takumi fell to his knees, his hands covering his ears.
"Stop…stop the screams…!"
But there were no screams. At least none that Reika or Renjiro could hear.
The emergency light flashed once more.
When he returned, the figure was closer.
Less than three meters.
Less than two.
Renjiro felt something tear inside him, as if a long-locked door was finally being broken down.
His voice came out hoarse, strangely double, as if another person were speaking to him.
"IF YOU WANT ME, THEN COME HERE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
The scar on his hand opened, but didn't bleed.
It released something.
7:43 AM | Service Corridor
The emergency light flickered one last time.
And then... the corridor was empty.
No faceless figures.
No sound of shuffling footsteps.
Only the distant hum of the ventilation system and the smell of cheap disinfectant.
Renjiro took a step back, his back colliding with the cold wall. His right hand trembled uncontrollably, the scar throbbing as if something inside was trying to escape.
"What... what the hell just happened?" his voice sounded hoarse, as if he had been screaming for hours.
Takumi was still kneeling on the floor, his hands covering his ears. Slowly, he lowered them, his eyes scanning the empty corridor.
"I... I swear I heard... there were voices..." he swallowed hard, touching his forehead as if searching for a fever. "Screams. So many screams."
Reika was leaning against the opposite wall, her fingers still pressing against her own neck. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, her eyes as black as coal.
"It wasn't just in your head..." she murmured. "I felt it. Something inside me. Like... like something was tight in my chest, and now..." she looked at her own hands, "...now it's gone."
Renjiro looked at his own hand. The bluish lines he swore he'd seen under his skin had disappeared. But the scar... the scar looked fresher, as if it had been reopened and healed in a matter of seconds.
"This is crazy shit!" he rubbed his face hard, as if he could erase the last few minutes from his memory. "Faceless figures? Voices? This has to be some kind of... mass hallucination or something."
Takumi laughed, a dry, humorless sound.
"Mass hallucination? That's even more unlikely than ghosts, Renjiro."
Reika pushed himself away from the wall, adjusting her coat with abrupt movements.
"It doesn't matter what it was. What matters is that it happened. And that..." he hesitated, his eyes meeting Renjiro's "...it knew your name."
The silence that followed was heavy as lead. Even the hum of the ventilation seemed to have stopped.
Outside, the school bell rang, announcing the end of the first class. The everyday sound, so normal, so banal, made the situation seem even more surreal.
Takumi stood up, rubbing his pants as if they were dirty.
"Okay. Okay. Let's be logical. Assuming we're not all going crazy..." he looked at Renjiro, "...what does this have to do with you? Why did this thing call you by your name?"
Renjiro opened his mouth to answer, but the words died in his throat. The truth was, he didn't know. But there was a part of him, small and buried deep, that he suspected. It reminded him of nightmares. It reminded him of the mask's figure. It reminded him of his father, that last morning before the accident, whispering something about "doing his duty."
"I don't know" he lied, turning toward the exit. "But if it happens again, this time I'll rip the damn head off that thing, whatever it is."
The three left the service corridor, back to the normal world, to the morning sun, to the students laughing in the hallways as if nothing wrong existed.
But something had changed.
Renjiro could feel it.
As if the real world was now just a thin veil, and beneath it...
Something awaited.
7:46 AM | School Courtyard
The morning sun hit them like a punch as they emerged from the service corridor. The courtyard teemed with students on their way to class, laughter and conversations that sounded absurdly normal after what they had been through. Renjiro clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms until they ached. The scar throbbed, a constant reminder that this hadn't been a dream.
"This makes no sense at all!" he growled, more to himself than to the others. "A faceless figure? Voices? Notebooks writing on their own? What kind of tasteless joke is this?!"
Reika leaned against the nearby wall, her arms crossed. The sun reflected in her amber eyes, giving them a golden glow that, under other circumstances, might even be beautiful. Now, however, it only made her seem like she was holding back her fury by a thread.
"Renjiro, stop it. Shouting won't solve anything."
"No? Then tell me, oh great sage Reika, what solves it? Because apparently, we're now living in a shitty horror movie, and I should just accept it?!"
Reika pressed her lips together, her fingers drumming on her arm.
"I'm saying we should think before we do stupid things. If we start yelling about monsters and cursed notebooks, they'll lock us up in an asylum before lunch."
Renjiro opened his mouth to reply, but Takumi intervened before the argument escalated.
"HEY! ENOUGH!"
His voice echoed through the courtyard, so loud that several students turned to look. Takumi, normally the most relaxed of the three, was red as a tomato, his hands trembling with adrenaline.
"You two are acting like idiots! Reika, stop pretending this is normal. Renjiro, stop yelling like it's going to help!" He ran his hands through his hair, disheveling it even more. "Something impossible happened. Either we're all crazy, or the world is much more fucked up than we thought. And guess what? Yelling or acting tough isn't going to change that."
The silence that followed was heavy. Renjiro took a deep breath, feeling the anger slowly dissipate, replaced by a sudden weariness. Takumi was right. Of course he was. But accepting that meant accepting that the inexplicable was real.
Reika was the first to speak, her voice lower now.
"So what do you suggest, genius?"
Takumi looked at the two of them, his eyes still a little wilder than usual.
"I suggest we stop pretending this didn't happen. That we figure out what the hell is going on. And that..." He hesitated, swallowing hard. "That we admit that, whatever that thing is, it knew your name, Renjiro. That's no coincidence."
Renjiro looked at the scar on the palm of his hand. His skin was slightly flushed, as if it had been recently irritated.
"I don't know what this means" he finally admitted.
Reika sighed, pushing herself away from the wall.
"Well, no. But there's someone who might know."
They both looked at her.
"Who?" Takumi asked.
"Yumi. Or at least, whatever took her place." Reika adjusted her backpack on her shoulders, her eyes dark. "That notebook didn't just appear out of nowhere. And if there are answers, that's where they are."
Renjiro felt a chill run down his spine. Going back to that room meant facing whatever was happening. But remaining ignorant... that scared him even more.
"Then let's go." he said, straightening up. "But if that faceless thing shows up again, I won't run away."
Reika smiled, a small, humorless gesture.
"Who said I'd leave all the fun to you?"
Takumi looked at the two of them and sighed.
"We're all screwed, aren't we?"
No one answered. But for the first time since they left the hallway, Renjiro felt something akin to determination.
There would be answers.
And he would wrest them from the world, if necessary.
...
...
...
The hallways seemed... wrong.
Too quiet. No footsteps, no teachers yelling, no typical noise of the retards running to the classrooms. No bell ringing. No sign of life.
"Where is everyone?" Takumi murmured, clutching his backpack strap like a shield.
Renjiro looked around, his heart pounding faster. The silence was dense. As if the air were suspended, as if the world were waiting for something.
Reika walked ahead, her eyes attentive to every detail. Her normally confident gait was more tense. Her shoulders rigid. And it wasn't just because of what they had seen.
It was because of what they weren't seeing now.
"There should be students everywhere..." she whispered. "And the bell should have rung again at least five minutes ago."
They reached the door of the calligraphy club room.
Locked.
Darn it.
No seals, no investigation tape, just the door, old wood, with the doorknob cold and immobile as stone.
Renjiro tried to turn it. Nothing. Not a click. As if it had never been opened.
"Locked?" Reika looked around. "But we were here minutes ago. The notebook was on the table."
"Did someone come here after us?" Takumi took a step back. "Or… isn't this the same room?"
"It's the same room, I'm sure of it..." Renjiro said, convinced. The scar on his hand burned. Not intense pain, but a pressure. A reminder.
He pressed his ear against the door.
Nothing.
No voices. No buzzing lights. Not that intense smell of sumi ink that permeated the wood.
"The school is empty…" Reika said, as if admitting something she didn't want to believe. "This isn't normal."
Takumi began pacing in short circles, his eyes wide.
"Is this like… a time lapse? Are we trapped in a space between moments? I've seen this in an anime. First we're alone. Then a giant shadow appears and devours us from the legs until you don't have time to scream."
"Takumi." Renjiro said, in a firm tone. "You're not helping."
His friend fell silent. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, but his leg trembled involuntarily.
Reika approached Renjiro. Her voice was low. Almost just for him.
"You're feeling it, aren't you?" She looked at his hand, at the scar hidden beneath his closed fingers. "The same thing as before. This… weight."
Renjiro glanced sideways at her. Her amber eyes didn't avoid him. Not this time.
"It's… pulling me. As if the room wants me inside."
Reika swallowed hard. She moved closer, so close that Renjiro felt the warmth of her body in the minimal distance between them.
"Then don't go in."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not saying you're weak, Renjiro. But…" she hesitated, then placed her hand on his chest. A gesture that caught him completely off guard. "You carry everything alone. I see it every day. You're a magnet for weird shit, for pain that nobody else wants. And you let it happen. But if you go in there now… I'm afraid you won't come back whole."
Renjiro stood still.
She wasn't provoking him. It wasn't sarcasm. It was raw, uncomfortable, sincere concern. It came from a place of hidden pain, from someone who pretended to always be standing, just like him.
"I'm here." she said, finally. "Even if you don't know what that means yet."
Renjiro opened his mouth, but said nothing. Instead, he looked away, tugging at his collar as if the air had suddenly become thicker.
Takumi cleared his throat, breaking the moment.
"If we're going to die today, at least someone can warn me before you start with the romantic vows? I'm hungry and I want one last onigiri."
Reika turned to him with a death stare. But there was a glint in her eyes. Something vulnerable.
Something she tried to hide, as she always did.
"Idiot." she said weakly.
Renjiro approached the door again. He touched his knuckles to the cold wood.
And then, from the other side... he heard something.
Scratching. Low. Deliberate.
As if someone, or something, was on the other side. Waiting.
"There's someone inside."
Reika and Takumi froze.
The sound stopped.
And then, as an answer, a word emerged from nowhere, engraved in the wood of the door, slowly, letter by letter, before their eyes:
R̴̪̰̳̣̟̭̟̝͍͖͐̀̿͌̾̎͝ Ē̷̘̣̫͕̼̻̹̏ N̷͚͎͙̖̉͑̎̈́̾̕͝ͅ J̷̨̛̘̳̗̯̈́̀̈́̎͋̇̐͝͝ Í̷͓̫͕͋̏̐̈͊͊̈́̕͜ Ṟ̸̿ O̵͕̝͎̥̓̎͛͂̒̈̈
The silence grew heavier than ever.
And time, for an instant, seemed to stop.
The name "RENJIRO" remained etched into the wood of the door. The letters smoldered, vibrant, as if someone had just carved them with a hot iron.
Renjiro looked at Reika. She kept her fists clenched, her eyes fixed on the letters as if she wanted to erase them by force of will. Beside her, Takumi kept a prudent distance.
"We can still pretend we didn't see anything..." Takumi murmured, his voice tense. "We can go eat ramen and pretend reality isn't cracking around us."
Renjiro took two steps back. He took a deep breath. And without hesitation, he raised his foot and kicked the door hard.
CRACK.
The lock gave way with a metallic snap. The door opened with a slow, heavy, almost... offended creak.
8:03 AM | Calligraphy Club Room
The room was the same, but it wasn't.
The light from outside seemed unable to penetrate. Everything was bathed in a pale, greenish hue, like an old film reel slowly burning out. The windows were open, but the air didn't move. Not a breath of wind.
The notebook was still in the center of the room.
Open.
Quiet.
But the page trembled on its own, as if something were breathing beneath the paper.
Renjiro took two steps. With each step, the floor seemed to give way half a centimeter, as if he were stepping on an old, damp mattress. Around him, the walls were covered in black marks, thin lines, like cracks or roots of dried ink, scattered in patterns that seemed accidentally symmetrical. Like closed eyes.
Reika entered behind him, quieter than usual. But her eyes... her eyes were fixed on the notebook. Or rather, on his name, still written there. Red. Vivid. "It shouldn't be here." she murmured.
"The notebook?" Takumi asked.
"All of this."
Renjiro approached the table. The words had changed.
ₕₑ ᵢₛ WₐₜCₕᵢₙG
ₛₜₐY Wᵢₜₕ ₘₑ
ᵣₑₙⱼᵢᵣₒ
Reika approached and extended her arm, then hesitated, and instead of touching the notebook, she touched Renjiro's arm. She gripped it firmly. A gesture of warning. Or perhaps of protection. Or something else she couldn't even name.
"You won't touch this alone."
He turned his face, meeting her gaze. Her amber eyes were darker, caught between anger and worry. But also… between something else.
"Why do you care so much?" he asked, his voice low.
Reika bit her lower lip. Her hand didn't release his arm.
"Because I've seen people disappear from the inside… little by little. And you… you're sinking, Renjiro. Even before all this." She looked away for a second, then forced herself to look at him again. "And I… I like it when you're around. Even when you're an idiot."
Renjiro was speechless. It caught him off guard. And not even the heavy presence in that room was enough to disguise the sudden heat that rose to his face.
Takumi, behind them, muttered something.
"Seriously… you choose this moment to open your hearts?"
But no one answered.
The notebook turned a page on its own.
On the new page, a poorly drawn image, a cracked mask, hollow eyes, an absent mouth.
And below it:
THE MASK HAS AWAKENED
AND WILL NOT SLEEP AGAIN
Renjiro felt a shiver run down his spine. The scar on the palm of his hand began to burn, as if someone were tattooing it again with a red-hot iron.
And then, the air trembled.
Literally.
As if someone had run their finger across a surface of water. The room vibrated, subtly, undulating. The contours of the walls seemed to distort. The ink on the walls dripped slowly, but... upwards.
Takumi stumbled backward, eyes wide.
"This isn't normal. THIS ISN'T NORMAL."
Reika gripped Renjiro tighter.
"Get out of there. Now. Right now."
But he didn't move.
Because before him, on the page of the notebook, a new word was forming, drop by drop, written in pulsating red:
Ǹ̴̝̞̫́̋̄̊̓̿͂̋Ơ̴̯̬͚̹̪͚̱͇̽̍̌̋̑͗̐̊̚ͅW̶̨̧͙͉͎͍͕̯̓ ̶̢͓̬̈́̾̉͝Y̵̫̬̰͉͓̜͔̑͛̆̀O̸̮̝͍͍̤̼͖͚̦͕̊͒Ű̵̢̨̲̲͎͚͛̏̾̃̿͐ͅ ̸̡͖̹̟̪͈́̿̎̈͐͑̕͜ͅŚ̸͈̠̮̖̦̕E̴̱͙͙̳̭̍͛̈́̍͌E̶̬̹̟̦̥̜̜͙͎͌̃́̀͘͝
And in that instant, Renjiro saw.
For a second.
A room identical to that one, but shrouded in mist, shadows hanging from the ceiling like faceless bodies. Broken masks scattered on the floor. And in the center, a throne made of ink and thorns.
And upon it... something that wore his face.
But with hollow eyes.
Renjiro staggered back, breathing heavily.
Reika held him, supporting his weight with her body.
"Hey... hey! Come back to me. You're with me. Look at me."
He blinked, once, twice. His eyes refocused. Still with dilated pupils.
"I think I just saw myself... dead?"
Silence.
Takumi approached, his voice more restrained.
"Let's go. Now. Before this book decides to draw us all hanging."
Reika pulled Renjiro by the hand. Not by the sleeve, not by the arm, by the hand. Their fingers intertwined, tightly gripped.
And Renjiro couldn't resist.
As they left the room, without saying anything more, he looked one last time at the notebook.
On the last visible page, written like a torn whisper:
THE EYE IS OPEN
SOON
The door closed behind them with a soft click. Alone.
And from inside... the faint sound of pages turning.
The hallway was empty. Silent.
Renjiro turned to Reika, still processing what he had just seen, but before he could open his mouth...
DING-DONG.
The sound of the school bell echoed through the hallways. Loud. Clear.
A second later...
Doors opened.
Students came out of the classrooms, talking, laughing, as if everything were absolutely normal. Teachers scolding the retarded ones. Someone ran past them, backpack bouncing on their back.
The school… was back.
As if nothing had happened.
"What…?" Takumi murmured, spinning in place, eyes wide. "Now there's sound, there are people… there's fucking reality again?!"
Renjiro stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the crowd filling the hallway.
"They were all... gone seconds ago..." he murmured as if talking to himself. "That... that room... the notebook..."
Reika pushed herself against the wall, trying not to collide with the other students.
And then they looked back.
To the Calligraphy Club room.
The door was intact.
No cracks. No engraved letters. No strange energy vibrating in the air.
Nothing.
As if it had never been opened. As if there had never been any distortion.
As if it had all been a dream.
"No... no, it can't be." Renjiro staggered to the door. "It wasn't like that. I saw it! I went in! I touched that damn thing!"
He banged his fist on the door, but it didn't even creak.
"What the hell was that?!" he shouted, ignoring the stares of two students who passed by.
Reika pulled him by the arm, her face more serious than ever.
"Renjiro, stop. You're drawing attention."
"So what?!" he turned to her, his eyes wide. "You saw it, Reika. You were there. Takumi too. The room was… wrong. Reality was wrong!"
"I know." she said. Her voice was dry. Firm. "But look around you. If we start shouting about ghosts and possessed notebooks, we'll end up in a psychiatric ward by the end of the day."
"She's right..." Takumi murmured, pulling his hood up to hide his face. "If anyone asks me what happened, I'll say I fell asleep in the library. I'm not even going to explain that I saw a room bleeding ink."
Renjiro remained silent.
His breathing was rapid. His scar throbbed. He felt out of place. It was as if the world around him was fake, a poorly staged stage.
But everyone else acted as if nothing had happened.
"So what do we do?" he asked, in a low voice. Almost begging for some logic. "Do we pretend none of this happened? That we didn't see… this?"
Reika looked into his eyes.
"No. Pretend, no. But we're not going to talk about it here either."
She looked around, then approached the two, whispering:
"Let's go to my house. Now."
"Now, now?" Takumi raised an eyebrow. "But we're in the middle of classes. The principal will-"
"The principal can shove the schedules up his ass! You saw the same thing I did!" She pulled at the strap of her backpack, already turning her back. "It's not safe to talk about it here. School swallowed us whole and then spat us back out. There are things that don't make sense, and if there's any chance of us understanding them, it's far from here."
Renjiro hesitated for only a second.
But her gaze was unbreakable.
"Okay. Let's go."
Takumi grumbled softly, but followed behind.
The three walked away down the hallway, blending in with the students, as if they were just another group of students tired of enduring school. But the world, for them, had changed.
And now there were questions that the normal world couldn't answer.
8:14 AM | School Exit Gate
The heat outside seemed even more unreal than before.
The sky was clear, the sound of cicadas filled the air, and the city continued its banal routine. Cars, bicycles, life going on as if the terror of minutes ago was a poorly digested dream.
But the three knew it wasn't.
As they walked down the street towards Reika's house, the silence between them wasn't awkward.
It was heavy.
Like the calm before the storm.
8:22 AM | Street towards Reika's house
The three walked in silence, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the heat of the asphalt. Renjiro walked with his hands in his pockets, his gaze lost on the ground. Takumi chewed on his fingernail, his eyes scanning the corners as if expecting the faceless figure to reappear at any moment.
Reika walked ahead, but suddenly stopped.
He turned and leaned against a stone wall, letting out a long sigh.
"Okay. We need to talk."
The two boys stopped too.
She looked at one, then the other. Her posture was firm, but the tension in her shoulders was noticeable.
"This was a huge mess. We all know it. I saw what you saw. The room changing. The notebook writing itself. Renjiro's name. The ink... alive."
She ran a hand over her face, as if trying to cleanse the weight of the last few hours. "But listen. We need to calm down."
Renjiro frowned.
"Calm down?! After that thing looked at me with eyes that didn't even exist?!"
"Yes. Calm down." Reika took a step forward, now closer to him. "Because if we start freaking out, if we lose our heads, we're going to end up doing stupid things. And when people start noticing that we're acting strangely, that we're talking about things that don't make sense… it's only going to get worse. I know this has been said before, but I just wanted to make it VERY clear."
She looked at Takumi, who swallowed hard.
"We're going to end up in trouble. We might attract the wrong attention. We might say things we shouldn't even be thinking, much less spread them."
"What if it's like a curse?" Takumi murmured. "If we talk and… I don't know, awaken this more?"
Reika pointed at him, almost satisfied.
"Exactly. We don't know what we're dealing with. This isn't just fear, it's instinct. The world didn't go back to normal just because the school looks the same on the outside."
She paused. Took a deep breath. Her voice softened slightly as she looked at Renjiro again.
"I know you're on the verge of exploding. I see it. But if you fall now, everything collapses."
Renjiro looked away. His fingers were clenched, trembling slightly.
Reika continued:
"So, as fucked up as this is… stay calm. One step at a time. First, let's go to my house. We'll eat something. We'll breathe. Then we'll talk. We'll think."
"And what if there's no explanation?" Renjiro asked, his voice low.
"Then we'll make one up." Reika shrugged. "But we'll do it with a cool head. Not screaming in the middle of the street like crazy people."
Takumi let out a nervous laugh. "Damn… who would have thought Reika would be the voice of reason?"
Reika crossed her arms.
"Someone has to be, since you two are a cocktail of trauma and anxiety with legs."
Renjiro let out a smile, small, but genuine.
And for the first time since they left school, the air felt a little less suffocating.
"Okay..." he said. "Let's go to your house."
Reika nodded and turned her back.
But even as she walked away, she couldn't stop thinking about what she had said.
Stay calm.
Stay in control.
But deep down… she felt that this was only the beginning.
And that the next time something came up, not all the calm in the world would be enough.
(Continues in the second part of this chapter, check it out!)
[1] Crimson Shadows is a Canadian melodic death/power metal band formed in Toronto in February 2006. They fuse epic power metal riffs and melodies with harsh death metal vocals, focusing on fantasy-war themes. Let this also be a recommendation for everyone to try and listen to their songs, really!
[2] Renjiro has piebaldism.
[3] Renjiro never knew how to tie a tie, so he simply stuck to the knot his mother once did.