All content in this novel is for fictional and entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. This story may include emotionally heavy or distressing themes. Reader discretion is advised.
The air feels colder. My pulse slams painfully in my throat.
I take a step forward—then stop.
Don't be stupid.
People disappear behind cars all the time.
People vanish into crowds all the time.
My stomach twists. The blank space in the yearbook. The dream. The girl who shouldn't exist.
My phone buzzes again. I jump.
HIRO:
Mom's home.
She's asking where you are.
Forget the ice cream—just hurry!!
I inhale slowly, forcing my pulse to settle.
I'm just tired it's mothing at all. I just need to get some sleep. That's all.
I grip my bag tighter and head home.
But every few steps—I glance over my shoulder. Just in case.
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By the time I reach our house, the sky is bruised purple and the streetlights hum like tired insects. Each step toward the door feels heavier, like gravity is doing too much today.
Home sweet interrogation chamber.
The door swings open.
Mom stands there immaculate and terrifying.
Her eyes sweep over me in one precise scan.
A security check that would make even the airport staff sweat.
"You're late," she says calmly. "Where were you?"
I blink. "The library. I wanted to do some research on Hakone before we leave. I've never been there until now so...."
"There's no need," she replies smoothly. "I've already prepared everything."
Ah. So this is how I die.
She steps aside.
"Dinner is ready."
"Mhm. I can smell it. Teriyaki chicken?" I smile, a practiced thing meant to disguise the tight knot of nerves beneath it.
The sweet scent of Dad's cooking is almost comforting, and I tell myself to breathe and nothing more.
"Hiroshi told me Takumi came by to return your math notebook."
Right. I left that on my desk.
A blur of brown hair and bad decisions slides into the hallway.
Hiro.
"Well look who's alive," he grins, handing me the notebook.
"Here's your ice cream."
"uhhh....no I never remember asking you for ice cream hahaha" He says with a forced crooked laugh.
"You texted me," I say, holding up my phone.
Mom leans in, squints.
"That is your profile picture, Hiroshi. What do you think about this dear?"
Dad walks in with "you dare to go behind my back even after I told you not to" look, and he's hella pissed. You know there's no escape when he gives you that look. Good luck bro, it's time to prepare your funeral.
Hiroshi freezes.
"Dad, I swear that was a typo!"
"How," I ask sweetly, "do you typo 'ice cream'?"
Silence.
"Well—uh—I meant to write 'ice' and—somehow—cream happened?"
Just stop talking, your embarrassing your self. No ones buying that that lousy excuse.
Mom claps her hand once and says "Alright that's enough, it's time for dinner. Mio go wash up I have something I need to talk to you about. We'll talk after dinner"
I flinch. "What did I do wrong?"
"You're not in trouble. It's nothing serious," she says, already turning and walking into the living room.
Which is exactly what people say when it is. I don't like the words she's using.
I lean closer to Hiro and whisper, "No, seriously—what did I do?"
"Breathe. I don't know," he whispers back.
I sigh. "I'm going to my room."
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I drop my bag and collapse onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. What a day.
As I lay there staring at the ceiling, motionless on my bed, I can't help but wonder was it all a dream?
That girl looked like the one in my dreams.
She also wore the same old fashioned school uniform.
"…I just want to sleep."
"MIO! DINNER!" Hiroshi shouts like a drill sergeant.
"I'm coming! I need to wash my face!"
"JUST HURRY!"
It's better not to think about it to much. It could be that someone was just cosplaying and we just happen to cross paths.
"For today's menu!" Dad announces loudly for no reason, "Teriyaki chicken, perfectly glazed! Fluffy white rice! Miso soup! Homemade tsukemono!"
I don't know why he is yelling.
We can hear you perfectly fine.
Hiroshi pokes the pickles. "Do I have to eat this? I don't like this."
"If you don't," Dad replies flatly, "your risk of developing several diseases increases."
"…Never mind. Thank you."
We eat in silence for a moment.
Halfway through, mom asks:
"Mio. How was school today? Anything happen after I left?"
I shrug. "It was fine, nothing happened. Why?"
Mom tilts her head. "No it's nothing, but you look pale, do you have a cold?"
"No not a cold, I just need some sleep."
She sips her miso soup.
I am not fine at all considering how you showed up and decided everything.
"Remember, we leave for Hakone on Friday morning. I expect you to pack your things tonight."
"Tonight?" I ask, blinking. "It's Monday."
"Yes. And?"
I resist the urge to face-plant into my rice.
Hiroshi tries to escape. "Mom—can I have more rice—"
"You haven't even touched it yet."
"…Later then?"
Mom lets out a big sigh and places her chopsticks down.
"This trip is important. Your grandmother needs you to be there. I will not tolerate any tantrums, that includes you to Hiroshi."
He shrinks like a scolded puppy.
My stomach tightens. I quietly push my food around.
Mom finally adds, softer:
"Mio… don't look so tense. Everything will be fine ok?"
Which is exactly what someone says before things go wrong.
I don't feel like answering so i just nod to get it over with.
Dad stands. "Seconds, anyone?"
She pushes her chair back, "Do we have more eggs?"
"Yes."
"I want more tamagoyaki." Her voice is light.
They disappear into the kitchen, leaving very awkwardly.
Hiroshi waits until both of them are out of earshot before leaning in and whispering,
"So what's the real reason you came late—"
I cut him off with a sharp whisper. "What's it to you?"
He tilts his head. "Hmm. Does the melon bread bag have anything to do with it, traitor?"
His mouth twitches like he's trying not to smile, suddenly more serious than usual.
I kick him under the table. He yelps softly and kicks me back, all offense and no volume.
And for a moment—just a moment—I almost smiled.
------Chapter Ends------