Present Time - Sazanami University
"Yuki?! W-What are you—how did you—?!" Riku stammered, his voice cracking like a cheap radio on its last battery.
Yuki didn't answer. She just stepped forward—calm, quiet, untouchable.
As she passed by Hana and Tetsuya, they dropped.
Not like they'd been hit.
More like someone had unplugged their controllers mid-game.
Both collapsed to the ground in sync, limbs loose, expressions peaceful—like they'd dozed off in the middle of a boring lecture.
Riku's back hit the wall. "What—what did you do?!"
"I'm helping," Yuki said simply, kneeling beside them.
She didn't sound concerned. Or worried. Just mildly annoyed—like she was cleaning up someone else's mess. Again.
"They'll be safer this way."
Yuki pressed her fingertips to Hana and Tetsuya's foreheads. A silvery shimmer bloomed like moonlight on water.
Riku stared at her, his heart thudding in his chest like it was trying to escape. "Safer? What does that even mean? And why are they unconscious?!"
Yuki didn't look at him right away. Instead, she finished her work with Hana and Tetsuya before standing up and brushing a strand of hair out of her face.
"They won't remember any of this," she said matter-of-factly, as though erasing memories was as simple as deleting files from a computer. "It's better that way."
Riku blinked rapidly, his brain struggling to keep up. "Wait—you ate their memories?!"
Yuki tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable but tinged with something softer—a flicker of guilt or hesitation. "Not 'ate.' That sounds gross." She paused before adding quietly, "I just… took them away."
Riku gawked at her like she'd just announced she was an alien from Mars. "You took their memories?! Who even does that?!"
Yuki finally turned to him fully now, her silver eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made him freeze in place. "Someone who doesn't want them hurt," she said softly.
Her words hung in the air like a weight he couldn't shake off.
Then she turned to Riku.
He flinched. "W-what are you doing now?"
Yuki didn't answer right away. Instead, she slowly raised her hand toward him.
He leaned back. "Wait, wait—do I really need the forehead thing too? I'm awake! I'm fine! Totally conscious! 110%—"
She gently poked his forehead.
Boop.
A ripple of silver danced through the air, and Riku's eyes widened.
"Wha—wait! This feels weird! I think I taste static—!"
Yuki smirked. "You talk too much."
And then—
Everything went dark.
A Place Between
Riku wasn't awake.
But he wasn't exactly asleep, either.
He stood in a hallway that felt wrong, though he couldn't place how. The walls, once white, had aged into faded yellow, peeling at the edges like forgotten paper. The floor creaked under his weight, each step echoing far too loudly in the heavy silence.
The air buzzed faintly—unnatural, like a storm held captive behind the walls. There was a taste to it, sharp and metallic, as if the room had been sealed off for years. Yet, it was too familiar. Too close.
A dim light flickered at the far end of the hall, casting shadows that twisted and stretched like living things. Riku tried to move toward it, but the hallway felt longer than it should. Each step took him further away from the end.
A voice. Soft. Faint. Echoing in the distance.
"Don't come closer."
The words were too familiar, like something he'd heard a hundred times before. But from who? A parent? A teacher? The memory, once sharp, faded quickly, like the voice itself was being smothered by the thickness of the air.
"Who's there?" Riku whispered, the sound of his voice swallowed by the space around him. His throat tightened. The walls pressed in, narrowing the passage.
The light flickered again, and with it, the walls rippled—like water disturbed by a stone. The edges of the hallway bent and shimmered, as though reality itself was struggling to stay intact.
Riku stepped forward, but the floor beneath him gave a sickening groan. Something was wrong.
The hallway shifted. The air thickened. His legs felt heavy, as though each step dragged him further into a place that didn't belong.
Then, a shadow moved at the end of the hall.
At first, it was just a flicker—like the movement of a curtain in the breeze. But then it grew, stretching and bending unnaturally, like something trying to step out from behind the walls. The air grew colder. The shadows lengthened. And yet, the light remained dim, reluctant to reveal what was waiting in the dark.
The voice came again, barely audible, but now tinged with desperation.
"Turn back…"
Riku's breath hitched. He could feel his heart racing, pounding against his chest. His pulse echoed in his ears.
And then, the walls warped even further. The floor split in places, cracks spreading wide as though something massive was trying to claw its way through. The faces of children appeared, flickering like old photos, their eyes wide with fear. Their mouths moved, but no sound came.
The hallway seemed to grow taller, stretching up like a void, too vast to comprehend. Everything around him felt like it was pulling apart.
Riku stumbled back, panic gripping him, but his feet were stuck. The walls closed in on him, the edges blurring into shadows.
Suddenly, the light went out. The darkness swallowed him whole.
Riku woke up with a gasp.