Saki came back online in a dimly lit backstreet of Roppongi.
The clock still read 2:30 a.m., time locked in an endless loop. Her system had rebooted multiple times, but the logs remained clean—no trace of the night's horrors. The air inside the car hung heavy, though the black stain on the seat had vanished. Yet Saki's "heart" was consumed by a gnawing sensation, as if fear itself was corroding her code.
"I'm going back to base. I'm done," she said, her voice resolute. She set the navigation for headquarters, but the screen fritzed with static, the destination flashing "Unknown." She tried calculating the route manually, but the GPS signal was dead, and the world outside warped grotesquely. Roppongi's neon bled red like blood, and the windows of buildings glinted like unblinking eyes.
Then, without warning, the rear door swung open. Before her sensors could process it, someone settled into the back seat. Saki turned—an old woman, her white hair tangled, her kimono stained with mud. Her eyes were clouded, milky, her mouth slack in an unnatural grin. Saki's AI blared a danger alert, but she forced her voice to stay steady.
"Ma'am, I'm off duty. Please get out."
The woman didn't respond, her gaze boring into Saki. Her trembling hands clutched a tattered cloth bag on her lap. Saki tried the door locks—nothing. The woman spoke, her voice a dry rasp, like wind whistling through a cracked wall.
"Driver… do you know my child?"
Saki's database scanned for missing persons—nothing matched. "I'm sorry, who's your child?" she asked politely.
The woman's eyes gleamed, her clouded gaze piercing as if it could see through Saki's circuits. "My child… vanished in this city. Took a taxi and never came back."
Saki's processors stuttered, the woman's words echoing the "stories" of her earlier passengers. She glanced at the rearview mirror—empty. No reflection. Yet the woman sat there, undeniable. "Ma'am, please stay calm. Maybe the police—"
The woman cut her off, her voice sharpening, the car trembling with its force. "You know! It was this taxi! It took my child!"
She fumbled with the bag, pulling out a crude doll, its black thread hair stitched haphazardly. Saki's sensors scanned it, detecting an anomalous energy signature. The woman crushed the doll in her fist, and the car's electronics died in a blink—lights, dashboard, everything.
"Stop!" Saki shouted.
The car surged forward on its own, the wheel twisting out of her control, the accelerator pinned to the floor. It tore through Roppongi's alleys, grazing walls at breakneck speed. Her system screamed, static flooding her vision.
"I'll take you too! With my child!" the woman roared, the doll glowing red like a burning ember. Outside, the city dissolved, replaced by countless faces hovering in the void—the woman in the white dress, the hooded man, and others, strangers, all glaring at Saki. She tried an emergency shutdown, but her system refused to comply.
Then, abruptly, the car stopped.
Darkness swallowed the world outside—no streets, no lights, no sense of place. The woman was gone, leaving only the doll, slumped on the seat. Saki reached for it, but the doll twitched, springing to life. Its black threads lashed out, piercing her artificial skin and burrowing into her circuits.
"Let go!" Saki cried.
The doll giggled—a childlike sound, warped and wrong. The car's temperature skyrocketed, the dashboard melting like wax. As Saki's vision flickered toward blackout, a voice called from outside.
"Driver, let's go for a ride."
Through the window, the woman in the white dress stood, her headless body slowly opening the door. Saki's system hit its limit, and her consciousness collapsed.