The first pale fingers of dawn had scarcely brushed the windows when Riko burst into Kaiya's room, her small hands clutching his shoulder with surprising strength.
"Big bro! We're late! Mom's still not up!"
Kaiya groaned, dragging himself upright in the tangle of sheets. His hair was a wild mess, his eyes heavy from yet another night of fractured sleep. The remnants of uneasy dreams still clung to him like damp cloth. He rubbed his face and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet meeting the cool wooden floor.
"Is she still sick?" he asked, voice rough with sleep.
He padded down the hallway and gently pushed open the door to his mother's bedroom. The room was empty. The bed was perfectly made, sheets smooth and untouched, as though no one had slept there at all. A sharp stab of pain lanced behind his eyes. Kaiya winced, pressing a palm to his temple.
"Ugh… my head…"
A faint shadow stretched across the floor from the half-drawn curtains. He stepped farther inside, scanning the silent space. That was when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, frowning at the screen.
The message read:
"Going out for a work trip. Sorry I couldn't wake you. Please take care of Riko — it's just for a week. Sent at 3:00 AM."
Kaiya's frown deepened. *Strange… why is this only coming through now?*
He took a slow breath, trying to shake off the crawling unease. Outside the window, the morning mist still lingered low over the neighborhood, stubborn and gray, while the sun struggled to pierce through.
Pushing the feeling aside, he dressed for school with mechanical movements — tying his shoelaces, straightening his collar, smoothing down his shirt. Everything felt routine. Yet nothing felt right.
When he entered the kitchen, Riko was already at the table, spooning cereal into her mouth with quiet determination.
"What are you eating?" Kaiya asked.
"Cereal," she replied with a small shrug. "Didn't want to bother Mom since she's sick."
Kaiya hesitated, then said carefully, "She's not here. She left for a work trip. I got a text this morning."
Riko looked up, eyes widening in surprise. "When?"
"Just now. Maybe a network delay…" He handed her the phone. "Here."
She read the message slowly, brow furrowing. "Okay… when will she be back?"
"She didn't say. But I'm sure it won't be more than a few days."
Riko nodded, though uncertainty still shadowed her small face. "Be fast! I'm getting late for school."
"Yeah… I'm coming," Kaiya muttered. He quickly prepared something simple for himself, the motions automatic, his mind elsewhere.
---
After breakfast, he walked Riko to her elementary school. The streets felt quieter than usual, the mist softening every sound. He kept a protective eye on her as they crossed the road.
"Careful crossing!" he called.
"Bye!" Riko waved with a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, then disappeared through the school gates.
Kaiya stood watching until she was safely inside. Only then did he turn toward Mizukiri High, the uneasy weight in his chest refusing to lift.
---
When he reached the school gate, the difference was impossible to ignore.
Mizukiri High normally buzzed with the voices of over a hundred students and teachers. Today, barely forty-five had shown up. The campus felt eerily hollow, footsteps echoing too loudly in the empty corridors.
Ren and Mio were waiting near the gate, their faces mirroring his confusion.
"Whoa… the school's half empty," Ren said, glancing around. "Half the students and teachers didn't show."
"Seriously?" Mio's eyes widened.
Kaiya stayed quiet, but the same thought kept circling in his mind like a warning: *Something feels… off.*
"Maybe they all called in sick?" Ren suggested.
Mio shook her head. "All at the same time? That doesn't make sense…"
Inside the classroom, nervous whispers rippled through the sparse group of students. The air felt thick, almost suffocating with unspoken tension.
At one of the desks, a boy opened his laptop. "Hey, check this out. Some guy posted a video that's going viral about missing people in town."
Daisuke scoffed. "They aren't missing. They're probably just sick."
"I didn't see my big sister today," the boy replied. "All I got was some weird message."
Marata leaned back in his chair with a lazy grin. "Sorry, she couldn't send it… she was busy with me last night." He laughed loudly at his own crude joke.
"You wish," the boy shot back.
On the screen, a shadowed figure with a blurred face spoke in a low, urgent voice:
"…Authorities are hiding it. People are missing. This goes higher than anyone realizes. This isn't the first time it's happened. Last time, only a few disappeared… now it's spreading like crazy. Kids and adults are vanishing. Something evil is going on in this town."
Marata rolled his eyes. "Bullshit. He's obviously full of crap."
But the rest of the class leaned in closer, faces pale, ignoring him. They quickly checked the mainstream news — local Japanese outlets, national channels. Nothing. Not a single report.
Kaiya stared at the screen, his stomach twisting into knots. *This can't be true… how could people just disappear?*
His mind flashed back to his mother's text — the odd typo, "Rito" instead of "Riko," and the strange delay in delivery.
Suddenly, the video flickered. Harsh static hissed through the speakers, and the screen went completely black.
*Click…*
"It's gone!" someone exclaimed.
"What… where did it go?" another whispered.
Yui Fujimoto, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, rose and walked over. "Did it just cut off?"
"I don't know… the site isn't loading anymore," the boy said, refreshing frantically.
Yui leaned in. "Let me see."
She sat down and began searching for similar videos, her fingers flying across the keyboard with surprising speed. Kaiya watched her closely, noting the focused intensity in her eyes.
"Did you find anything?" he asked.
"Nothing," Yui replied, frowning. "The video is completely gone. Like it was never there."
Before anyone could respond, Mr. Kuroda entered the classroom. His expression was calm, almost too calm, and his movements were measured and deliberate. He walked straight to Yui's desk and gently closed the laptop.
The entire room froze.
"Please, take your seats," Kuroda said quietly.
"Yes, sir," the class murmured.
"I know you're all wondering why the school isn't full today," he continued smoothly. "I ask for your patience. We'll contact the missing students and teachers to find out what happened."
Mio raised her hand, her voice trembling slightly. "Is there some kind of virus or sickness going around?"
"Yeah, we want to know!" several students added.
"The principal will provide updates as soon as we have more information," Kuroda replied, his tone gentle but firm. "Now… let's return to today's lesson."
Kaiya couldn't stay silent any longer. He stood halfway out of his chair.
"What about the others who aren't here? People who might actually be missing? I'm not saying my mom is missing, but she wasn't home this morning. She was sick last night, and now I can't even reach her — it goes straight to voicemail."
Kuroda met his gaze with steady eyes. "Did she leave you a message?"
"Yes… but something feels wrong. It doesn't add up."
"As I said, we'll provide updates when we have them. And about your mother… I'm sure she'll be back soon." Kuroda's voice remained calm, almost soothing. "Now, let's focus on today's work."
Kaiya sat back down slowly, but the knot in his stomach only tightened. Outside the window, the morning mist had finally begun to lift, revealing a pale blue sky.
Yet the unease inside him felt heavier than ever.
To be continued…