"Even in a life untouched by the past… the past still knows his name."
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"Miss Tokisaki!" the manager exclaimed, her voice filled with respect. "We were not expecting a visit today! It is a true honor to have you here."
Hori gave a casual, polite nod. She looked completely at home, her posture changing into that of a young heiress. "Hello, I'm just here with some friends. We need a change of clothes—something casual but high quality. We're heading to a private visit."
"Of course, Miss Tokisaki! Anything you require," the manager said, gesturing to the rest of the staff. "Clear the VIP lounge on the third floor immediately! Bring out the latest seasonal collection for the young lady's guests!"
Shiyi leaned closer to Tamiko, whispering, "I feel like we're in a movie." Tamiko nodded, her eyes wide. "Hori really is like a princess, isn't she?"
The manager quickly led them to the private VIP section. Racks of high-end casual clothes were wheeled out instantly. Hori moved through the clothes like a pro, tossing items to each of them without even looking at the price tags.
"Shiyi, take this cream knit sweater and the soft skirt! Tamiko, this light blue dress! Shido, here—a dark hoodie and that leather jacket. And Kashima..." She held up a sleek, dark turtleneck and a tailored charcoal overcoat. "This is you."
Within ten minutes, the group emerged from the changing rooms, looking completely different. Shiyi looked soft and cozy, while Kashima looked like a model for a luxury brand. Shido was already busy checking his reflection, adjusting his new jacket with a grin.
"Looking good, everyone!" Hori said, waving her hand to the staff. "Send our uniforms to our houses. Charge it all to my mother."
The staff bowed in unison. "As you wish, Miss Tokisaki!"
AFTER A WHILE...
_DREAMSCAPE_
The world was made of shadows and ancient stone.
Deep underground, the air was cold and heavy. The only light came from a few golden lamps on the walls. They flickered softly, making the shadows look like they were dancing to a silent song.
In the center of the floor, a large spiral was carved into the rock. It was made of seven circles inside one another. The lines didn't just sit there; they seemed to pulse with a ghostly, silver light.
A small boy stood in the middle. He was only five years old, his body shaking like a leaf in the wind.
Nearby, a woman was on her knees. She was weeping, her voice a soft melody of grief. Beside the boy stood a man with eyes as deep as the ocean. He reached out and placed a gentle, steady hand on the boy's head.
"Be brave, stay in the circle," the man whispered, his voice like the hum of a cello. "Yuna, do not let your tears dim his light. He is the bridge we were promised."
The woman, Yuna, looked up through her tears. "But the price is so heavy! Why must his heart be the one to hold the chains? It is a beautiful curse, but a curse still."."
At the edge of the spiral stood a third figure. He wore holy robes that looked like they were woven from starlight and midnight. He held a book that smelled of old forest air. When he spoke, the words felt like they were floating.
"The stars have moved, and the circles are ready," the holy man chanted. "Let the old blood wake the new. May the heavens grant him the strength to carry what must be carried."
Suddenly, the seven rings on the floor burst into a deep, crimson flame. The boy let out a small, breathless gasp. On the lower left side of his ribs, a sharp heat bloomed. It felt like a golden needle was embroiderying a star onto his skin.
The man held the boy close, shielding him from the wind that had started to howl in the small room. "Hold on, little one. The dawn is coming."
The golden light grew until it swallowed everything—the crying woman, the steady man, and the marked boy—until the basement turned into a sea of white radiance.
Kento's eyes snapped open.
He was in his room. The orange light of the sunset was stretching across his bed like long, golden fingers. He was tangled in his sheets, his skin damp with cold sweat. His heart was knocking against his chest, trying to escape.
He sat up slowly, his fingers trembling as he touched his lower left ribs. The skin was cold, but he could still feel the phantom sting of the 'golden needle' from his dream.
"Who were they?" he whispered. His voice sounded small in the quiet room.
He didn't know the man with the forest eyes. He didn't know the woman who wept for him. To him, they were just strangers from a story he had never read. He had no memory of a basement or a ritual.
"Yuna..." he said the name softly. It felt like a word from a forgotten song. "Is that a name? Or just a sound from the dream?"
He rubbed his eyes, trying to make the vision go away. He was Kento—the boy who feared nothing and followed every rule. He didn't believe in starlight robes or ancient marks. He had a fever, and his mind was simply wandering into a fairy tale.
Downstairs the car stopped in front of a house that felt very different from Kashima's cold mansion. It was a cozy, well-kept home with a small garden. The rain was still falling, making the roof tiles look shiny and dark.
The group stepped out of the car. Shido led the way, walking straight to the front door with a confident grin. He grabbed the handle and gave it a hard push, expecting it to swing open like it always did.
Thud.
The door didn't move.
"Huh?" Shido blinked, pushing again. "It's stuck."
Hori rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "It's not stuck, Shido. It's locked."
"Maybe Kento is sleeping inside and locked it so he wouldn't be disturbed," Shiyi suggested, tilting her head.
Kashima turned back toward the car. He raised a hand, signaling to his driver. "Driver, go ahead and park. But don't park right in front of the house—find a spot further down the street."
The driver nodded. "Yes, Young Master."
Tamiko looked down at her watch. "It's already five o'clock. We should hurry before it gets too dark."
Shido didn't wait. He started banging on the door with his fist. "Kento! Hey, open up! Your savior is here with gifts! Stop hiding, you big baby!" He kept banging, making enough noise to wake the whole neighborhood.
Suddenly, the door swung open with a quick whoosh.
"Listen, Kento, you really need to—" Shido started to yell, but his voice died in his throat.
The person standing at the door wasn't Kento. It was a woman with a kind face and a sharp, knowing look in her eyes. She was wearing a simple apron.
"Mom?" Shido squeaked, his eyes going wide. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the office?"
Mrs. Kamitani smiled at the group, her eyes moving over each of them. "Hello, everyone. Come in, come in! Don't just stand there in the rain."
As they filed into the warm hallway, they were all holding something—the fruit basket, the notes, and the bags from Kagachi.
"I came home early," Mrs. Kamitani explained, looking at Shido. "Who else was going to take care of Kento while he's sick? If I left it to you, he'd probably be eating old pizza for breakfast." She then turned to the others with a warm smile. "And what did you all bring? You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble."
Hori smiled back. "We were worried about him, so we wanted to bring a few things to help him feel better."
"Is that so?" Mrs. Kamitani's eyes narrowed playfully. "Well, I need to do an inspection first. I can't have you giving him anything unhealthy while he has a stomach ache."
A moment later, a loud smack echoed throug
h the hallway.
"Ow! Mom! Stop!" Shido cried out as Mrs. Kamitani chased him around the living room, hitting him with a rolled-up magazine.
"Instant ramen?!" she scolded. "You brought spicy ramen for a boy with a stomach ache? Are you trying to kill your brother?"
The girls burst into laughter, watching Shido try to dodge his mother's attacks. Kashima let out a long sigh, shaking his head. "I told you, Kirishima. I specifically warned you not to bring that."
After things calmed down, the group headed upstairs. The hallway was quiet. Hori stepped forward and gave a soft knock on Kento's door.
"Kento?" Shiyi called out gently. "Can we come in?"
Shido pushed past them, not waiting for an answer. "Make way! Give the sick man some air!"
"Give him some privacy, Kirishima!" Kashima muttered, but it was too late. Shido had already pushed the door open.
Inside, the room was dim. Kento was sitting up in bed, propped up by a few pillows. He had a wet white towel draped over his forehead, and he looked a bit pale. He looked at them with wide, surprised eyes—the memory of his dream still fresh in his mind.
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SNEAK PEEK LINES 💬
"Sorry, Hori. I guess I'm just a good actor."
"Rib pain and stomach pain are very different. One is bone, the other is not."
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— With love, one forehead poke away from collapse,
Sakura Shinomiya 💫