Shura lay on the bed.
Not fully.
Not comfortably.
Just… placed there.
One arm over his chest.
The other near the edge.
Ready.
The ceiling above him was cracked.
Lines running across it—
like maps.
like fractures.
He followed one with his eyes.
The room didn't care.
His gaze shifted.
Table.
Coins.
Dull.
Still there.
He counted without touching.
Again.
Then stopped.
"…Pointless."
The word stayed.
Like everything else here.
His eyes moved again.
Books.
Old.
Left behind.
Not arranged.
Not owned.
Just their.
He sat up.
Slow.
The bed creaked.
He stood.
Walked toward the table.
Each step soft—
but still loud in a place like this.
He picked up one book.
Dust shifted.
Not much.
Someone had touched it…
not long ago.
He opened it.
Pages yellow.
Edges rough.
Text uneven.
Not printed clean.
Copied.
Again and again.
"…Manual?"
No.
Notes.
Fragments.
Shura's eyes sharpened slightly.
"…Someone studied this."
He flipped another page.
More markings.
Corrections.
Someone arguing with the book itself.
"…Not stupid," he whispered.
Then—
he placed it back.
Carefully.
Not his.
Not yet.
He turned.
Looked at the door.
Locked.
Still.
A breath left him.
Slow.
"…Fifteen copp."
A pause.
"…For this."
He sat back down.
This time on the bed's edge.
Time passed.
Or didn't.
Hard to tell here.
Then—
Knock.
Soft.
Shura didn't move.
His eyes shifted.
Door.
Still.
Silence.
Then—
Knock.
Again.
Same rhythm.
Not hesitant.
Not lost.
Shura stood.
Slow.
Token.
Still there.
"…Who?" he asked.
No answer.
He walked to the door.
Paused.
Then—
unlocked it.
Opened just enough.
A boy stood outside.
Same height.
Same age.
Maybe.
They stared at each other.
No greeting.
No surprise.
Just… measuring.
"You're at the wrong one," the boy said.
Flat.
Immediate.
Shura didn't blink.
"…I can say the same."
Silence.
Both their eyes dropped.
Same time.
To the key.
In Shura's hand.
Then to the boy's.
Same cloth strip.
Same iron.
A pause.
Then—
the boy sighed lightly.
"…I think I need to live with a kid."
Shura's expression didn't change.
"…Oh?"
A beat.
"…You're a grown man with three kids, don't you?"
The boy's smile appeared.
Instant.
Not warm.
Just… there.
"You're new," he said.
A step closer.
"Don't you wanna test my punch?"
Shura didn't step back.
Didn't step forward.
"…You'd miss."
A pause.
Then—
a quiet breath.
"…Move," the boy said.
Shura held the door for one second longer.
Then stepped aside.
The boy entered.
No hesitation.
No caution.
Like he already decided this outcome.
The door closed.
Locked again.
They stood there.
Same room.
Same distance.
"…Name?" the boy asked.
Shura shook his head once.
"…No need."
The smile didn't fade.
"…Good."
A pause.
"…Same."
He walked past Shura.
Dropped something on the table.
A notebook.
Worn.
Used.
Important.
His hand stayed on it.
A second too long.
Then left.
Shura noticed.
Didn't comment.
The boy's hand stayed on the notebook.
A second longer.
Then—
"…Don't touch that."
Flat.
No smile in the voice this time.
Just… placed there.
Shura's eyes moved to it.
Then back to the boy.
"…Wasn't planning to."
A pause.
"…Good."
The smile returned.
Like nothing had shifted.
But it had.
A line—
drawn.
Clear.
Shura nodded once.
"…Same applies."
The boy tilted his head.
"…You have something worth not touching?"
A beat.
Shura didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
The silence did it for him.
"…Right," the boy said.
Leaning back slightly.
"…Secrets."
Another pause.
"…We'll get along."
Shura didn't react.
But he didn't disagree.
The lamp flickered again.
Softer this time.
Like it was tired too.
The boy's gaze drifted.
Table.
Coins.
Book.
Back to Shura.
"…You read?"
"…Enough."
"…That wasn't a yes."
"…Wasn't a no."
A small breath left the boy.
Almost a laugh.
"…Annoying."
Shura shrugged.
"…Useful."
Silence stretched.
Not sharp.
Just… there.
Then—
The boy tapped the notebook once.
Light.
"…This isn't for you."
"…I heard you."
"…People hear things," the boy said.
"…They still touch."
Shura's gaze sharpened—just slightly.
"…Then they lose fingers."
A pause.
The boy's smile widened.
Real this time.
Just a little.
"…Good."
Another beat.
"…We understand each other."
Shura looked away first.
Not submission.
Just… done.
He moved back to the wall.
Same spot.
Same angle.
The boy watched him for a second.
Then lay back again.
One arm under his head.
The other resting—
closer to the notebook now.
Not obvious.
But deliberate.
"…Next day," the boy said.
Sitting on the bed.
Not asking.
Just taking half.
"We separate territory."
A pause.
"You don't bother me."
Another.
"I don't bother you."
Shura leaned against the wall.
Arms crossed.
"…And tonight?"
The boy leaned back slightly.
Still smiling.
".Tolerate."
Silence.
Shura exhaled lightly.
"…Fair."
He moved.
Not to the bed.
Floor.
Back against the wall.
Angle where he could see everything.
Door.
Window.
Boy.
The lamp flickered.
Then steadied.
The boy lay down.
Sideways.
Facing away.
Not fully.
Never fully.
The notebook stayed on the table.
Between them.
Like a line.
Time passed.
Slow.
Heavy.
"…You always smile?" Shura asked.
A pause.
Then—
"…You always talk this much?"
Shura didn't answer.
"…Habit," the boy added.
After a moment.
"…Lying?" Shura asked.
The smile didn't change.
"…Living."
Silence again.
Footsteps outside.
Someone walking past.
Slow.
Then stopping.
Near the door.
Both of them noticed.
Neither moved.
The handle didn't turn.
Steps moved on.
Breath—
released.
Quiet.
"…This place is bad," Shura said.
"…You chose it," the boy replied.
"…So did you."
A pause.
"…I chose fast," the boy said.
"…You chose wrong."
Shura almost smiled.
Almost.
The room settled again.
Neither slept.
Eyes closed—
but not resting.
Shura's hand stayed near his coat.
Near the token.
The boy's hand—
rested near nothing.
Or maybe something hidden.
Hard to tell.
Two breaths.
Out of sync.
The ceiling above them—
"…First night," Shura whispered.
But the silence had changed.
Not empty anymore.
Not safe either.
Just…
shared.
A breath—
slow.
Then quieter.
Inside.
"…Why does it feel…"
The thought didn't finish.
Didn't want to.
But it stayed.
Pressing.
"…Like I'm not moving forward."
His eyes opened.
Slightly.
Dark ceiling.
Same cracks.
Same lines.
"…Like something already decided it."
A pause.
Fragments rose.
Not memories—
placements.
That girl.
Too sudden.
Mr. Saku.
Too convenient.
Near the hospital.
Too close.
Now—
this boy.
Same room.
Same key.
Same timing.
Shura's fingers shifted.
Barely.
"…Coincidence?"
The word felt thin.
Unsteady.
"…Or…"
He stopped.
Didn't finish it.
Didn't give it shape.
Silence answered nothing.
But it listened.
"…Am I being chased…"
A breath.
"…or led."
The room didn't change.
The boy didn't move.
But something—
tightened.
Inside.
Shura's eyes closed again.
Not for rest.
For distance.
"…Doesn't matter."
Flat.
Final.
"…I'll break it either way."
The cracks above—
still there.
Still spreading.
Uncertain.