Splash—
Miko turned on the faucet, letting cold water run over her hands before cupping some to splash on her face.
The water was icy.
Almost stinging against her skin.
The shock helped—just a little—to clear the fog in her mind.
For some reason, she had been out of sorts all day, zoning out repeatedly in class to the point of missing her name being called.
A faint, singsong voice seemed to linger at the edges of her hearing.
But every time she tried to focus on it, the sound would dissolve into ordinary noise—the rustling of papers, distant chatter, the hum of the school's ventilation.
Yet if she ignored it, the singing would grow louder, sharper, until it drowned out everything else, screeching in her ears without end.
Hallucinations?
Or is something wrong with me?
She lifted her head, meeting her own tired eyes in the mirror.
A sigh escaped her.
Behind her, a girl entered the restroom, passing by to use one of the stalls.
Miko paid her no mind, wiping her face dry.
It was break time. The halls buzzed with students, so it was natural for someone to come in. She had only stepped in herself to wash up, hoping to shake off her sluggishness.
Come to think of it… a lot of my classmates have been absent lately.
Now that she felt slightly more alert, the observation surfaced.
Quite a few people seem to be out sick.
There are so many empty seats… almost half the class?
Yet lessons continued uninterrupted, as if the teachers hadn't noticed the dwindling numbers.
Shouldn't the homeroom teacher address this? How can everyone act like nothing's wrong?
Maybe I should report it.
But… which classmates were absent again?
Frowning, Miko turned to leave—
—and froze.
Something was off.
She couldn't recall any of the missing students' names.
They weren't close to me, so it's normal not to remember… right?
But this felt wrong. She should know her entire class.
Who sits next to me again?
…Hana? Yes, Hana-chan.
But why can't I picture her? She's always chattering beside me…
Am I… still dreaming?
Click.
The restroom lights went out.
Miko spun around.
Darkness swallowed the space completely.
Why did the lights fail?
And it's daytime—there are windows! Why can't I see anything?
Uneasy, she backed toward the exit.
[...]
A sound.
From the blackness.
Like… breathing?
Wait—that girl went into a stall earlier.
Miko retreated another step.
She couldn't see into the abyss, but the oppressive dread kept her from approaching.
[...]
A… sob?
Someone crying in there?
Did the lights going out trap her?
Thud—thud—
Something heavy knocked against a stall door.
Thud—thud—
Rhythmic. Unending.
Miko reached the doorway—
—and collided with someone behind her.
"Hey, why're you blocking the entrance?"
A girl's voice. Cheerful.
"S-Sorry, I wasn't looking."
Miko moved to sidestep, but a hand gripped her shoulder.
"What's up? Something happen in there?"
The urge to flee spiked.
"Just the lights went out. It's dark."
As she spoke, her shoulder grew damp.
"Huh? Really? I don't see it."
The girl's tone was light.
Miko's blood ran cold.
Slowly, she looked down.
At the hands on her shoulders.
Skinless. Nails ripped out. Raw muscle glistening.
She looked up.
Into the girl's face.
Where eyes should have been—only gaping holes remained, eyelids stitched to the scalp.
Blood wept ceaselessly down her cheeks.
Yet she smiled.
"Huh? Really? I don't see it?"
—
Miko jerked upright at her desk, gasping.
Cold sweat drenched her.
A dream?
Around her, classmates mingled, oblivious to her distress.
"Heyyy, what's with that face? You look like you saw a ghost!"
An orange-haired girl popped into view—Hana, her best friend.
"N-Nothing…"
Miko forced a smile.
The bell rang.
As students returned to their seats, Miko counted.
This class should have 30. Why are there only… 12?
And why does no one care?
Something was very wrong.
Her fingers clenched her skirt under the desk.
—
The school day ended without further incident.
Beyond the nightmare, the only oddity was the growing chatter about the [Alice Game].
Everyone was obsessed.
Everyone grinned like it was the most thrilling secret.
But to Miko, their smiles seemed to twist—stretching into shapes no human face should make.
I have to do something.
At dusk, watching the sun dip below the horizon, the resolve solidified.
This school was rotting.
She didn't know how to stop it.
But she was the only one who saw.
The only one who knew.
But what can I do?
Who can help me?
The answer came in a whisper—not her own.
[Who can be my friend?]
Not Hana. She wouldn't understand.
Not Mom. She can't fight this.
There's only one person…
The boy who, like her, saw the unseen.
[Then he'll be my friend.]
—
When the final bell rang, Miko bolted.
She didn't wait for Hana.
The streets were eerily empty—no cars, no pedestrians.
As if the world had paused just for her.
She ran faster.
Home.
Past her own door.
To the house next door.
To his doorstep.
Ding-dong.
"Who is it?"
A groggy voice. A yawn.
"I-It's Yotsuya Miko. You… you told me before that you see the same things I do, right? I… I need your help. Can I come in?"
Her voice trembled.
"Oh. Sure."
Takakai, freshly back from his hot spring trip and utterly relaxed, unlocked the door without a second thought.