The morning felt ordinary in a way that made Kai uneasy.
Not because something was wrong—but because nothing was. No pressure behind his eyes, no distant ringing, no static brushing the edges of his thoughts. Just quiet. Clean, almost comforting. He sat on the edge of his bed for a moment longer than usual, waiting for the familiar weight to return.
It didn't.
From the kitchen, Sora's voice echoed through the house, loud and energetic, arguing with herself about breakfast. Their mother scolded her half-heartedly, telling her not to rush, not to spill things, not to drag Kai down with her chaos. Kai tied his shoes, letting the sound of routine settle around him.
They left the house together.
The streets were familiar, the air light. Sora talked nonstop—about school, about something stupid Joro had said the day before, about how unfair teachers were. Kai listened, responding when needed, drifting when he wasn't. At the school gate, Joro was already there, leaning against the railing with his usual lazy posture. Ayko arrived soon after, falling into step beside Kai without announcement.
"You good?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah," Kai replied.
She studied him for a second longer than necessary, then nodded, though the concern didn't fully leave her eyes.
Classes began.
The day unfolded normally. Chalk scraped against the board. Pages flipped. Chairs creaked. Sora got warned for talking. Joro muttered jokes under his breath. Ayko tapped her pen against her notebook when she thought no one noticed.
Across the classroom, by the window, Mira sat alone.
She wasn't part of their circle. She rarely spoke, rarely reacted. But Kai noticed her—not because she demanded attention, but because she didn't. She watched the room like she was observing something fragile. When their eyes met briefly, she looked away first.
The pressure started during third period.
It was faint at first. A dull ache behind Kai's eyes, easy to ignore. He shifted in his seat, rolled his shoulders, breathed slowly. He'd felt this before. It always passed.
Then came the ringing.
Soft. Persistent. Not loud enough to panic—just loud enough to exist. The teacher's voice stretched unnaturally, words overlapping. His heartbeat felt heavy, out of sync.
Joro leaned back and muttered, half-joking, "Man… imagine waking up one day and just forgetting everyone. Sounds peaceful, right?"
A few people laughed.
Kai didn't.
The ringing sharpened. The classroom felt wrong—too distant, too close. Depth lost meaning. His vision blurred at the edges.
Power doesn't protect you.
It asks what you're willing to lose.
The thought settled coldly in his chest.
When the bell rang, Kai stood up.
The world tilted violently.
His knees buckled. His fingers scraped against the desk as his vision fractured completely. Sounds collapsed into noise, noise into nothing. He took one step forward—and his body gave up.
He collapsed.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
When Kai woke up, the silence felt wrong.
Not calm—heavy. A white ceiling spun slowly above him, a fan humming in dull repetition. His head throbbed like something inside it had been shaken loose and forced back incorrectly. He tried to sit up and failed, pain slicing through his skull.
"Kai—don't move," Ayko said quickly.
"You scared us, idiot," Sora added, though her voice trembled.
He blinked, forcing his vision to focus.
They were all there.
Sora stood closest, eyes wide and shining like she'd been holding herself together by force. Ayko hovered beside her, fists clenched at her sides, jaw tight. Joro leaned against the wall, unusually silent, watching him with a sharpness that made Kai uneasy.
Relief flickered through Kai's chest.
Then vanished.
He knew their faces. Instantly. But when he reached for names, for memories, for emotions that should have followed recognition, there was nothing. Just empty space.
"Why…" His throat felt dry. "Why are you all looking at me like that?"
Sora froze. "Kai," she whispered, voice breaking. "It's me."
He stared at her, panic slowly creeping in. He searched harder, digging through his mind like he'd lost something precious and couldn't remember where he'd put it.
Nothing surfaced.
"I'm sorry," he said slowly. "I don't think I know you."
The room shattered.
Sora's breath hitched sharply before she could stop it. Ayko turned away, pressing a hand over her mouth, shoulders trembling despite her effort to stay composed. Joro's expression darkened—not shocked, not confused—just grim, like he'd been bracing for this outcome.
Kai's heart raced. "No—wait. I know you. I know I do. I just… can't remember why."
His gaze drifted, desperate.
That's when he saw her.
Mira stood near the doorway.
She hadn't rushed forward like Sora. She wasn't breaking apart like Ayko. She just stood there, still and silent, watching him with eyes that felt grounding in a way nothing else did.
The moment their eyes met, something clicked.
"There you are," Kai breathed.
Everyone froze.
Mira stiffened slightly. "Me?"
Kai frowned faintly, studying her face like a memory he hadn't fully unpacked yet. "You're… Mira, right?"
Silence crashed down.
Ayko snapped her head toward him. Joro's eyes widened just a fraction. Sora stared between them, disbelief written all over her face.
Mira hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."
Relief flooded Kai's chest, sharp enough to hurt. "I don't know why," he said, voice trembling now, "but I remember you. Not everything. Just you."
No one spoke.
A nurse stepped in quietly, checking monitors, asking questions. Kai answered them easily—his name, the date, where he was. Facts came without resistance.
"And do you know who they are?" the nurse asked gently, gesturing toward the others.
Kai hesitated. His eyes moved from Sora to Ayko to Joro. His chest tightened again.
"No," he said quietly.
Sora turned away, breaking down completely now. Ayko moved to her instinctively, steadying her. Joro ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly.
The nurse spoke about rest, observation, calling family. The words blurred together.
Kai wasn't listening.
He was watching Mira.
"Can you stay?" he asked suddenly.
Everyone froze again.
Mira blinked. "Me?"
"When you're here," Kai said quietly, "it feels quieter."
She hesitated, then stepped closer. "I'll stay."
The others were eventually ushered out. Sora resisted until Ayko pulled her gently away. Joro lingered at the door, eyes locked on Kai.
"This isn't random," Joro said. "I'll explain later."
Then he left.
Silence returned—but it no longer crushed him.
Kai stared at the ceiling, pain dull but constant. He turned his head slightly toward Mira. "Did we ever talk before?"
She shook her head. "Not really."
"Then why do I remember you?"
Mira looked down at her hands. "Maybe," she said softly, "you noticed me before you were supposed to."
Kai let out a weak laugh. The fan continued spinning. Machines hummed. Time moved forward without waiting for him.
Somewhere deep inside, he could feel the absence—the hollow space where people used to be. Memories stolen not by fate, not by an enemy, but by something living inside him.
His power.
Power didn't protect you.
It asked what you were willing to lose.
And Kai was starting to understand something far worse than memory loss.
This wasn't the cost of using his power.
This was the cost of surviving it.