The wide, quiet streets of the wealthy district of the Kamitani household disappeared. The road changed, becoming narrow and crowded with shadows.
Small, old houses stood close together. Black cars were jammed along the sides of the road, their tires biting into the dry dirt. At the corner, a white police car sat in the darkness. Its blue and red lights were turned off, but it felt like a cold eye watching the street.
At the end of the lane stood a two-story house with fading grey paint. A black ribbon hung limp from the gate. This was the Amamiya house. It was a home built on hard work and small meals, and now it was filled with the heavy weight of death.
Inside, the air was sticky with the smell of cheap incense and the heat of too many people.
"I heard the sound," a woman whispered, leaning toward another woman. "It was 3:00 AM. A loud thud, like a heavy bag of wet sand hitting the floor. Then, just silence. No brakes. No screaming."
"My husband saw her before they covered her up," the other replied, her eyes wide. "He said she didn't even look like a girl anymore. Her dress was shredded and red. Her legs... they were twisted behind her like a broken doll's.
The car hit her so hard she was thrown twenty feet into the dirt."
A third woman laughed softly behind her hand. "The whole neighborhood was awake from the noise, yet Mrs. Amamiya was fast asleep. She was probably too tired from working that waitressing job to even notice her daughter was gone."
"It's a curse on this house," the first woman added. "First the father dies ten years ago—falling off a construction site because he was clumsy—and now the daughter dies because she's wandering the streets at night. Without a man to lead them, these Amamiya women are just trouble."
In a dim corner, a boy sat on the floor with his back against the wall. He looked eighteen, with broad shoulders that were now down in defeat. His eyes were red and fixed on a stain on the rug. He looked like he was drowning in the middle of the room.
A girl stepped through the crowd. She was dressed in black, but she looked bored. She held two cans of cold coffee.
"Kuze, stop being so dramatic," she said, sitting beside him. "I asked you an hour ago to go to that new cafe with me. It's so boring in here. Let's go get some real food."
The boy did not move. He didn't even look at her.
"Whatever," the girl snapped, opening her drink.
"I was only trying to be a good friend.
Yesterday was her birthday, and I waited until midnight was over to call her. I told her to come to my house to get her present but she made a stupid choice by walking on foot like a beggar and now everyone is acting like I pushed her into the road."
The boy's head slowly turned. He looked at the girl, and for a second, the room felt ice-cold.
"You are a disgusting human being," he said. His voice was low, but it cut through the room like a blade. "You invited her out at 3:00 AM because you were too lazy to walk to her. You used her. You are nothing but a loud, empty noise in this house. Get out of my sight before I lose my mind."
The girl's face turned a bright, angry red. She stood up, spilling her coffee on the floor.
"How dare you speak to me like that, Kuze Shintaro!" she hissed. "I'm the one who is alive! I'm the one who can actually give you a future. That girl is just a mess of broken bones in a cold morgue now. It was just school love, Kuze. It wasn't real. She's gone, and she's never coming back to hold your hand."
Kuze stood up. He didn't hit her. He just pointed a shaking finger toward the open door.
"Leave," he whispered. "Now."
The girl frowned. She fixed her hair, and marched out into the street.
Kuze slid back down against the wall. His strength left him all at once. He pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms. The house was full of people, but the only person he wanted was the one who was missing.
I should have walked with you,' he thought. The memory of Asuka's smile felt like a bruise on his soul. 'I should have been there to hold your hand. I should have been the one in the dark, not you.'
He did not make a sound, but his shoulders shook with every breath. He wept silently, his tears soaking into his sleeves. He was not just crying for a girl; he was crying for a light that had been blown out too soon. He grieved for the girl who only wanted to be happy on her birthday, but found a cold road instead.
Outside, the blue lights of the police car kept spinning, but for Kuze, the world had gone completely dark.
The back room was a place where the morning sun was not welcome.
The curtain was thin and torn at the edges. It moved weakly in the cool morning air, brushing against the cracked wall like a ghost's hand. Outside, the world was waking up, but inside, a single light bulb hung from the ceiling. It flickered with a tired, buzzing sound, struggling to stay alive against the grey light of dawn.
On the bed, Mrs. Amamiya lay as still as a statue. Her hair was a messy web of black lines across the pillow. She wore a wrinkled black dress, and her eyes were wide open, staring at a dark corner of the ceiling. She looked like she was watching something invisible crawl toward her in the early light.
Mrs. Kamitani stood near the door. Her expensive black clothes were damp with sweat. Her hands shook so hard she had to hide them.
"Yuriko..." she whispered.
No answer.
"Yuriko... please."
Mrs. Kamitani stepped closer, her slippers scraping softly on the wooden floor. She reached out and placed a trembling hand on Mrs. Amamiya's shoulder. She gave her a hard shrug, trying to pull her back to reality.
"Yuriko! Look at me!"
Suddenly, Mrs. Amamiya snapped. She sat up so fast that Mrs. Kamitani jumped back, her heart hammering against her ribs. Mrs. Amamiya looked terrifying. Her face was a pale, flat mask, and her eyes were hollow.
"Why are you making so much noise, Yuna?" Mrs. Amamiya's voice was a dry rattle, like dead leaves blowing over a grave.
Mrs. Kamitani's breath hitched. "Was it... was it a normal accident? Was Asuka's death... just a mistake?"
Mrs. Amamiya began to laugh. It was a sharp sound that filled the small room. Her face was twisted into a smile, but her eyes remained dead and scary. Mrs. Kamitani watched her, her own face white with pure fear.
"A mistake?" Mrs. Amamiya said in a low voice. "No. That girl was a curse! She was careless. She walked through the world like it owed her something. She was a fool, Yuna! A stupid, smiling fool who invited the dark to follow her home. I hope the earth is heavy on her. I hope she's happy now, leaving me here to face the whispers of these strange people!"
"Yuriko, stop! She was your daughter!" Mrs. Kamitani cried, her voice breaking.
"And her father was a liar!" Mrs. Amamiya screamed. Her voice sounded like breaking glass. "He tricked me! He promised me a life, but he gave me a grave! He knew our blood was cursed. He knew the children were marked for the dark! He died and left me here to pay for his secrets. I hate him. I hate the name Amamiya. It is a cage made of bones!"
Mrs. Kamitani broke apart. she fell to her knees, her body collapsing as if her bones had turned to water. She began to sob—a high, thin wail of a wounded bird.
"What about my boys?" Mrs. Kamitani cried, her tears soaking her face. "I love them both... Kento, Shido... they are all I have. Tell me the truth, Yuriko. Is there...?"
Mrs. Amamiya's anger vanished. She leaned down and grabbed Mrs. Kamitani's wrists. Her grip was cold and tight.
"There is a ritual, Yuna," she whispered. Her voice was low, like a secret being told by the wind. "When a child is fifteen to seventeen years, the Priest comes. He does not pray to the light; he speaks to the shadows. He calls out to the things that hide deep inside the skin. It is a trial of the soul. If the Mark fades into the skin during the ritual, the child is granted life. But if the shadow stays... the Mark remains dark and won't go away..."
Mrs. Kamitani looked up, her eyes wide with a new, sharper horror. "And... Asuka?"
The room went completely silent. The bulb above them flickered one last time. The grey morning sun hit the dust in the air, making it look like tiny spirits.
"The Priest prayed until his hands bled," Mrs. Amamiya whispered, a single, heavy tear finally falling. "But Asuka's Mark... it never went away. The dark wanted her. And it took her."
Suddenly, the light bulb burned out with a sharp pop.
Even though it was morning, the room felt like it had been swallowed by a thick, heavy blackness. The only sound left was the terrified sobbing of two mothers—one mourning the daughter she had already lost, and the other trembling for the sons she was now terrified to lose.
The sun was higher now, but it didn't feel warm. Outside the Amamiya house, the air was still and tasted like dust.
Mr. Kamitani stood by the gate, his hands deep in his coat pockets. He was looking at a young police officer who was leaning against the blue-and-red lights of his police car. The officer was tapping a pen against a clipboard.
Tap. Tap. Tap. "I already told you, sir," the officer said, his voice sounding rehearsed. "The body is being held. It's been seven hours since the accident, but we need more tests. It's standard procedure."
Mr. Kamitani stepped closer, his shadow falling over the officer's clipboard. "I am a lawyer, son. I know the procedure. This accident happened on the main road near the old district—there is a government morgue two blocks away. Why was she taken across the city to a private facility?"
The officer jumped, his eyes shifting to the ground. "The orders came from the top, sir. She was moved to Nagachika General Hospital."
Mr. Kamitani's forehead wrinkled. 'Nagachika?' That was a place for the elite, not a girl from a fading house like this.
He stepped away and pulled out his phone. He scrolled to a name he hadn't called in a long time: Kaneki Nagachika. Even though Kaneki was a wealthy hospital director, he was a man of grace and respect.
The phone rang. Rrr-ing. Rrr-ing.
"Kamitani?" Kaneki's voice sounded surprised but genuinely warm. "It's rare for you to call me during the day. Is everything alright? Did Kento and Hori get into trouble at school again?"
Mr. Kamitani turned his back to the police officer. He lowered his voice, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the dry dirt on the road.
Mr. Kamitani didn't smile. "I wish it were that simple, Kaneki. I'm calling about a girl who was brought into your hospital about two hours ago. Asuka Amamiya. A hit-and-run victim."
"Amamiya?" Kaneki paused. "Wait a moment... let me check the intake log."
Mr. Kamitani heard the clacking of keys.
"Yes, she was brought in," Kaneki's voice shifted. It lost its warmth and became low, like he was checking over his shoulder. "Is she... someone you know?"
"She is the daughter of my wife's closest friend," Mr. Kamitani replied. He stopped and kicked a small stone. He watched it roll into the shadows under the police car.
"The police are delaying the post mortem report. They say the body is being held for 'special clearance' by your hospital."
On the other end, the sound of papers shifting stopped instantly. The silence was heavy. Mr. Kamitani gripped his phone tighter, his knuckles turning white.
"I wanted to ask why would a girl from a poor family like hers be sent to a private hospital like yours instead of the public morgue?"
Mr. Kamitani looked up at the black ribbon on the gate. It flapped once. Snap. "And if you knew anything about the delay?"
There was a long, cold silence. Mr. Kamitani could hear the sound of a hospital page over the line.
"Kamitani..." Mr. Nagachika's voice became very serious, almost a whisper. "I cannot speak about this over the phone. But since it is you asking..."
He cleared his throat. "Please. Come to my home this evening. My shift ends at six. I have things to show you that I shouldn't even know myself. Do not tell anyone you are coming. Can you do that?"
"I'll be there. Thank you, Kaneki."
CLICK.
Inside the house, the atmosphere was like a heavy fog.
Shido was sitting on the floor in the corner, his back against the cold wall and his black socks pressing against the cold wood. Beside him sat Kuze, whose eyes were still red and swollen.
"Your brother... Kento... he didn't come?" Kuze asked in a low voice.
Shido let out a short, forced breath. "Kento? Nah. He's probably at home staring at a mirror to make sure the tragedy didn't give him a wrinkle. He's too delicate for this stuff."
Shido pulled his collar. The air felt thick, like he was breathing in hot wool. "Is it just me, or did they turn a heater or something up? It's suffocating." He looked at Kuze. "You feel like that? Like the walls are moving in?"
Kuze finally looked at him. He saw the sweat on Shido's forehead and the way his eyes were moving here and there. "Shido? Are you okay? You're shaking."
Kuze reached out his hand to touch Shido's shoulder—to check on him.
As soon as Kuze's fingers brushed his sleeve, the room vanished.
Ten years ago. The smell of rain and wet black suits. A six-year-old Shido sat in a dark hall, his knees pulled tight to his chest. His face was wet with clear tears that wouldn't stop.
A small hand reached out toward him—young Kento, looking clean and worried.
"Shido... are you alright?" Kento had asked.
Young Shido had swung his arm wildly, hitting Kento's hand away. "Don't touch me!" he had screamed, his voice breaking. "You don't understand! Your parents are right there! Mine are no longer in this world! You don't know anything!"
He remembered the whispers of the adults nearby.
"What a difficult child..."
"The Kamitanis are so kind to take him in, and he acts like a monster."
" He has no gratitude."
But Shido didn't want gratitude. He didn't want Kento's hand. He just wanted his parents to wake up.
"GET OFF ME!" The shout echoed through the Amamiya living room. Shido had swung his arm, slamming Kuze's hand away just like he had done to Kento ten years ago.
The room went dead silent.
The rhythmic sounds of teacups stopped. The women who were whispering in the corner froze, their eyes wide. Every head in the living room turned toward the corner where Shido sat.
"My goodness," a woman whispered, her voice carrying across the quiet room. "Is that the Kamitani boy? What a temper... even at a funeral."
"He's always been strange," another replied, shielding her mouth with her hand. "No respect for the dead. Look at him, he's acting like a wild animal."
Tamiko dropped the stack of napkins she was holding. Her face went pale. She didn't look at the gossiping women; she only looked at Shido. She saw the way his chest was heaving and the way his eyes looked hollow, like he wasn't really in the room anymore.
'Shido...' she thought, her heart aching. She took a step toward him, but her feet felt heavy. She knew that look—it was the look of a person drowning in a memory.
Shiyi was standing by the kitchen door, clutching a tray. Her knuckles were white. She felt a surge of anger at the women's whispers, but she was also frustrated with Shido.
"He's making a scene again," Shiyi muttered, her voice trembling slightly. She wanted to yell at him to get up, to be strong, to stop giving these people a reason to talk. But when she saw the sweat dripping down from his forehead, her anger turned into a cold, uncomfortable feeling in her stomach.
Kuze remained frozen, his hand still hanging in the air where Shido had struck it. "Shido?" he asked, his voice low. "I was just... I was just checking on you."
Shido blinked. The memory of the rain and the mud from ten years ago began to dissolve. He saw the shocked faces of the neighbors. He saw Tamiko's worried eyes. He saw the 'Lively Spirit' mask lying in pieces on the floor.
"I... I'm sorry," Shido whispered, his voice cracking. He rubbed his face hard, his fingers trembling. "I'm not well. It's the incense. It's just the smell."
He stood up, his black socks sliding slightly on the polished wood. He didn't look at anyone. He just kept his head down, trying to find a way to breathe as he marched toward the hallway, desperate to escape the eyes of the living.
He didn't look back. He marched toward the door, his heart hammering with frustration.
Shiyi watched him go from the kitchen doorway, her hand tightening on a tray until her knuckles turned white. Her face was a mask of cold discipline. "Why is he acting like such a brat?" she muttered, her voice sharp with frustration.
She started to step out, ready to call him back, but Tamiko was already there. Tamiko caught Shiyi's wrist, her touch light but firm.
"Shiyi, stop," Tamiko said softly. Her eyes were filled with a deep, observant sadness. "He's had enough"
"Enough?" Shiyi's voice was a sharp whisper. She pointed toward the women whispering in the corner. "Did you hear them? They called him a 'wild animal.' They're laughing at him! And he's just going to walk away and let them think they're right?"
"He lost his parents when he was a child," Tamiko reminded her, her voice steady despite the noise of the room.
"Coming here... the smell of the incense, the sounds of people crying... it's dragging him back to the day he became an orphan. I feel it too, Shiyi. My parents are gone, Shiyi...and to people like us, this room doesn't feel like a house. It feels like a graveyard."
Shiyi snapped her head away, her eyes annoyed. "That's just an excuse. We all have problems. My parents left me and my brother behind—they didn't even care enough to stay! You don't see me crying on the floor. You guys are just weak. You need to learn to bear things instead of making a scene."
Shiyi turned and walked into the kitchen, leaving Tamiko standing alone in the silence.
---
✦ 🔮 A GLIMPSE INTO THE NEXT CHAPTER 🔮 ✦
"What awaits beyond this page...?" 🌙
(灬･◡･灬)♡
"Reincarnation? Spirits? The idea that... maybe we aren't just one life? That there's something else?"
"Your dog is wasting my time."
-----
🌙 The stars may fade, and memories may sleep...
But the Spiral continues to turn.
Until we meet again beneath the same forgotten sky.
(^o^)
— SakuraShinomiya