The hospital lights hummed above them. Beck lay in bed, bruised but alive — a miracle, considering the accident.
Kai sat beside him, quiet. Haunted.
"Say it again," Beck said.
Kai looked down. "She was declared dead. Seven years ago. Same name. Same face. Same girl."
Beck laughed, then winced. "Bro… you realize how insane that sounds?"
Kai didn't answer.
Beck sighed and rubbed his face. "Okay. Screw it. Let's say you're right. What now?"
"I think the house I saw her at — the one that disappeared — I think it's connected to everything," Kai said. "I went back. There's nothing there but an empty lot. But there was… a tile. Just one. Like it used to be real."
Beck frowned. "You wanna check it out again?"
Kai nodded. "Yeah. But this time… I want you there."
---
That night, against all logic and reason, they returned.
The lot was silent, forgotten between tall buildings. Wind tugged at the grass. It smelled like ash and dust — and something older.
Kai led Beck to the center. "Here."
He brushed away the dirt again. The tile was still there. Beck knelt beside it, running a finger over the cracked ceramic.
"This looks old as hell…"
Kai stared into the soil. "It's like the house was erased. Like someone ripped it out of time."
Beck straightened. "Then let's dig."
They brought shovels the next day. They didn't care if anyone saw. It had to be done.
After two hours of digging, their blades hit something solid.
Wood.
Rotten.
A staircase.
Beck's face went pale. "Dude. No way."
Kai's voice was a whisper. "It's still here."
The staircase led down into darkness — impossible space beneath a lot that should've been flat. It wasn't a basement. It felt like an old root growing into the earth, long forgotten.
They stared down into the void.
And then — a whisper drifted up:
"Takeda… come back."
Beck dropped his shovel.
Kai took a step back, shaking. "That was her voice."
The air thickened. Cold. Heavy.
Suddenly — a figure rose from the stairs.
Not Saito.
Not human.
A faceless shape, limbs too long, eyes like holes in the world.
It lunged.
As the faceless figure rose from the buried stairs, Kai froze — but Beck gasped behind him.
"Go!" Beck shouted, clutching the shovel for balance, sweat beading on his face. "I'll slow it down!"
"You can't run!" Kai yelled.
"I'll crawl if I have to — just move!"
Kai grabbed Beck's arm, slinging it over his shoulder. The two staggered away together, Beck hobbling, gritting his teeth through the pain, Kai nearly carrying him.
Behind them, the thing hissed — not with breath, but with memory. Like it was peeling back something sacred.
They didn't stop until they reached the streetlights, the normal world.
Only then did Beck collapse, gasping. "Next time, bro… I'm bringing holy water."
Kai didn't laugh.
Because the voice was still echoing in his ears:
"You're too close now."