The night air in Kirisato carried the damp chill of the river and the faint metallic tang from the distant factory stacks. Inside the two-story rental building—its concrete cracked like old skin, plaster peeling in long strips, walls thin enough to hear every cough from the neighboring room—Rei's small bedroom felt smaller still at 3:17 a.m.
He jolted awake on the thin futon, chest heaving, the echo of her voice still ringing inside his skull.
"Will you remember me forever?"
The words weren't loud; they were soft, almost tender, the way she used to say them when her fingers traced his jaw in the dark. But now they sliced. Tears had already escaped before his eyes fully opened—hot, silent tracks sliding into his ears, soaking the worn pillowcase. He pressed the heel of his palm against his sternum as if he could push the ache back inside.
Again this dream… No, my reality… I can't forget it… Even though I don't want to forget… But it's haunting me every day…
His breathing came shallow and ragged. The room smelled of mildew, old tatami, and the faint sourness of unwashed laundry piled in the corner. Moonlight leaked through the single cracked windowpane, striping the floor in pale bars. Somewhere downstairs his mother's sewing machine had finally gone quiet hours ago; his sister's futon in the next room was silent too. Everyone asleep. Everyone except him and the ghost in his head.
I need some fresh air.
He sat up slowly, joints stiff from lying curled too tight. No need to dress—he slept in an old sweatshirt and track pants anyway. Bare feet found the cold floorboards; they creaked under his weight like they might give way. He didn't bother with slippers. The hallway light bulb had burned out weeks ago and no one had replaced it, so he navigated by touch and memory: left past the narrow stairwell, careful not to knock the leaning stack of cardboard boxes filled with bills and eviction warnings.
Down the splintered wooden stairs. Past the landlord's bicycle chained in the entryway. Through the rusted metal door that never quite closed properly.
Outside, the night was thick. Fog had rolled down from the higher slopes, turning streetlamps into soft, smeared halos. The river's roar was constant, low and indifferent. Rei walked without direction, arms wrapped around himself, breath fogging in front of his face. Gravel crunched underfoot. The road curved gently downhill, lined with dark cedar silhouettes and the occasional squat concrete house with shuttered windows.
He didn't hear footsteps at first—only felt the shift in the air, a sudden prickling at the nape of his neck.
Then he saw it.
In the shadow thrown by a crooked utility pole, a figure stood motionless. Black hoodie, hood up, face lost in darkness. Moonlight caught the dull steel edge of the knife in the right hand—kitchen blade, maybe, long and narrow, held low but deliberate.
Rei's heart slammed once, hard, then raced. Adrenaline flooded cold and electric through his veins.
The figure took one slow step forward.
Rei didn't think. Panic erased thought. His body moved before his mind caught up—legs pumping, arms swinging, he spun and bolted in the opposite direction, away from the house, away from the stairs, away from everything familiar.
Gravel sprayed behind him. His lungs burned instantly; he wasn't used to running anymore. The road sloped upward now, forcing his thighs to scream. He risked one glance back.
The shadow was smaller. Fading. Either the figure had stopped, or the fog had swallowed the distance between them—or maybe both. The knife glint was gone.
Rei kept running anyway.
Chest on fire, bare feet stinging from sharp stones, tears mixing with sweat on his cheeks. The dream-voice looped in his head like a broken record.
"Will you remember me forever?"
He didn't stop until the road flattened near an old wooden bridge over a tributary stream. There he doubled over, hands on knees, gasping, vomit rising in his throat but not quite making it out.
The fog pressed closer. No footsteps followed.
Only the river, endless and uncaring, and the slow realization that he had no idea how far he'd come—or how he would get back.
Rei's lungs still burned as he staggered the last few steps onto the old wooden bridge. The structure groaned under his weight—aged timbers warped from years of rain and river spray, railings splintered in places where moss had eaten into the wood. He leaned forward, hands gripping the rough railing for balance, chest rising and falling in harsh bursts.
The shadow with the knife was gone. Completely. No footsteps echoed behind him, no glint of steel in the fog. The mist had thickened, swallowing the road he'd run down, turning the world into a gray cocoon. Only the river below roared on, indifferent, its dark water churning white against rocks.
He straightened slowly, wiping sweat and tears from his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. The cold bit deeper now that adrenaline was fading; goosebumps rose on his arms. He paced a few steps along the bridge's length—back and forth, restless—trying to force his heart to slow. Then he stopped near the center, turned toward the railing again, and stared down at the water.
Moonlight fractured on the surface in silver shards, shifting with every ripple. The sight was hypnotic, almost calming. He rested his forearms on the railing, letting the rough wood dig into his skin, grounding him.
That's when he saw a girl.
She stood on the far side of the bridge, half in shadow, half bathed in the pale wash of moonlight filtering through the fog. She hadn't been there a moment ago—or if she had, he hadn't noticed. Tallish, slim, dark hair loose and slightly damp, clinging to her shoulders. She wore tiny denim shorts that barely covered the tops of her thighs, the fabric frayed at the edges; her legs gleamed pale and slick, as if the mist had settled on her skin like dew, catching the light in soft highlights. Above, a cropped top—thin, almost sheer white cotton—clung to her torso, ending just below her ribs. The neckline dipped low, and the fabric stretched tight across her chest.
Rei's gaze dropped involuntarily. She was leaning forward slightly, elbows on the opposite railing, mirroring his posture. The angle made her breasts press together and spill forward, the thin material doing nothing to hide the clear outline of her nipples hardening in the cold night air. The moonlight turned her skin luminous, almost ethereal, every curve and shadow accentuated.
His breath caught—sharp, audible in the quiet.
She turned her head slowly. Dark eyes met his across the span of the bridge. No flinch. No widening in surprise. No gasp or quick cover-up. Her expression stayed calm—almost blank, yet strangely knowing. Lips slightly parted, as if she'd been waiting. No fear, no embarrassment, no hurry to adjust her clothes or step back into shadow.
Rei's mind blanked for a second. He'd never seen this girl in Kirisato before. Not at the factory gates, not in the narrow village streets, not among the clusters of women who sometimes eyed him with calculation or cruelty. She was a stranger—completely out of place in this cursed pocket of mountains and rivers, yet she stood there like she belonged to the night itself.
His throat worked. No words came. Only the river's endless rush filled the silence between them.
She reached into the tiny pocket of her denim shorts and pulled out a half-crumpled pack of cigarettes—cheap local brand, the kind sold at the roadside vending machines near the factory gates. She tapped one out with practiced ease, the paper tube catching the light.
"Want some cigar?" she asked, voice low and casual, holding it out toward him between two fingers.
Her nails were short, unpainted, chipped in places.
Rei shook his head once, automatic. "No… I don't smoke."
She shrugged—small lift of one shoulder—then brought the cigarette to her lips. A soft click of the lighter; the tiny flame flared orange against the dark, illuminating her face for a split second: sharp cheekbones, eyes shadowed but steady. She inhaled deeply, the ember glowing bright red as she pulled smoke into her lungs. When she exhaled, the white cloud drifted sideways, mingling with the fog rolling off the river.
She leaned one hip against the railing, studying him through the haze she'd just created.
"What are you doing here at the middle of the night?"
Rei blinked. The question landed oddly—he'd been thinking the exact same thing about her, but hearing it directed at him felt exposing, like she'd read the thought straight off his face. His mouth opened, closed. Words felt heavy, useless.
"Don't know why I'm here," he said finally, voice rough from crying earlier and the cold air scraping his throat. "Or what I have to… or what I will do."
She took another slow drag, the cherry flaring again. Smoke curled from her nostrils like dragon breath. For a long moment she just watched the river, the way the water caught moonlight and threw it back broken.
"You're just like me," she said quietly, almost to herself. "I also don't know what I have to do. Or will do."
She flicked ash over the side of the bridge; it vanished into the dark water below without a sound. Then her gaze slid back to him—direct, unblinking.
"Since both of us are trying to find answers… do you want to try something?"
Rei's mind felt sluggish, wrapped in cotton. The dream-voice still echoed faintly at the edges (Will you remember me forever?), mixing with the earlier panic, the knife shadow, the endless numbness that had settled in his bones months—years?—ago. Thinking hurt. Deciding hurt more.
"Try what?" he managed. Flat. Empty.
She smiled then—not wide, not warm, just a small curve of lips around the cigarette. She crushed the butt under her sandal, grinding it into the weathered plank until no ember remained.
"Come with me," she said. "I'll show you."
She turned without waiting for an answer, stepping off the bridge toward the narrow dirt path that branched away from the main road, disappearing into the cedar trees on the far bank. Her shorts rode up slightly with each step, legs gleaming as they caught stray moonlight filtering through branches.
Rei stared after her.
His thoughts refused to sharpen. No alarm bells, no questions about who she was, where she lived, why she was out here alone with a cigarette and an invitation that felt like nothing and everything at once. Depression had dulled the edges of caution long ago; fear had burned out; curiosity was just another thing he didn't have energy for.
He moved.
One foot in front of the other, mechanical, like a marionette with cut strings still somehow walking. Bare soles pressed against cold, damp earth and pine needles. He followed her into the trees without a word, without looking back at the bridge or the road that led home.
The fog closed around them both. The river's roar faded to a distant murmur. Branches brushed his arms, cold and wet. She walked ahead, silhouette slim and sure, never glancing back to check if he was still there.
He wasn't sure he was.
He just kept going—like a human doll being pulled by invisible thread—into the dark, not knowing her name, not knowing where they were headed, not knowing if any of it mattered anymore.