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Yuki sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. The faint hum of power still buzzed beneath his skin, like the aftershock of something massive barely held back.
He couldn't deny it anymore.
The wind. The visions. The reflection in the mirror—it wasn't imagination. It was real.
And whatever that silver fox was, it was connected to him.
He reached for his phone, still shaken. No new messages. He half-expected another cryptic text from that guy—Ren, or whatever his name was—but nothing came.
Trust no one. Not even me.
Yuki's fingers hovered over the message still on screen.
"Who are you?" he whispered.
A knock at the door broke the silence.
"Yuki?" His aunt's voice filtered through. "You okay in there? Dinner's almost ready."
"Yeah! Just… tired!" he called back, voice shaky.
He waited until her footsteps faded. Then he exhaled slowly and fell back onto his bed, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling.
A part of him wanted to pretend it was just stress. Maybe he was going crazy. Maybe none of it was real.
But the static under his skin… the wind that moved without warning… the eyes in the mirror...
It was real.
It was waking up.
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