The morning started with a chill—not from the air, but from a message.
As I brushed my hair in front of the mirror, my phone buzzed on the desk. A text from Hanabi.
"Nee-san, I had the dream again. I was in that room. The one with no windows. The woman was there. She said I belong to her now. I couldn't move. I think I screamed, but no one heard me."
I stared at the message, my fingers tightening around the phone. Something wasn't right. This was the third time she'd mentioned that woman. And now, she spoke about a place—as if she had truly been there, as if this wasn't just a nightmare but a memory, repressed and now bleeding through in her dreams.
I texted her back immediately, trying to sound calm. "It's okay, Hanabi. I'm here. Maybe it's just stress. I'll come visit soon."
But even as I sent it, I knew my words were hollow. No reassurance could soothe her now, or me. Something had crossed a line—from dreams into reality.
The library was quiet, as usual. My senpai left just after I arrived, tossing a casual wave over their shoulder.
"We're going home now! Take good care of the library, kids!"
"Take care. Good night," I called back, bowing slightly in a reflex of politeness.
Sakura rolled her eyes beside me, hands tight around the book trolley handle.
"They always dump the dirty work on us like we're just background characters in their drama," she muttered.
I smiled faintly and resumed shelving. "At least they leave us alone. I prefer it that way. Besides, the night shift pays better."
Sakura huffed. "Yeah, but we're drowning in returns. Just once, I want them to finish what they started."
"At least the library is peaceful," I said as I shelved a heavy hardcover. "No one here expects anything but silence."
"Except for you being all zen while getting underpaid," Sakura teased. "You must really need the money."
I didn't reply. She wasn't wrong. But it wasn't just about the money—it was about control. Routine. Something solid to stand on in a world that was becoming increasingly unrecognizable.
"Anyway," Sakura said, switching topics, "did you hear about that string of missing students?"
I turned to her, curious. "No. What happened?"
"Apparently, three students disappeared on the same day. Different schools, different cities. Just… vanished. And people are saying it might be a stunt—some kind of viral thing."
"That's not just weird. That's terrifying."
"Exactly. And now people online are sharing all kinds of theories. Some are saying it's a cult. Others think it's a mass hallucination. But the creepiest rumor? They say the kids were all last seen staring off at nothing. Like they saw something no one else could."
My stomach twisted. That detail felt too close to home.
We worked in silence for a while after that. The rhythm of stamping returned books and updating entries helped me stay grounded. But I could feel something stirring beneath the calm—like a vibration no one else could hear.
Later, we ducked out for a quick bowl of ramen. The warmth of the broth and the buzz of the late-night diner gave me a brief illusion of normalcy. But it didn't last.
Back at the library, we prepped for closing. I waited by the main doors while Sakura grabbed her things.
"Sakura, come on! I'm locking up!" I called down the hallway.
No answer.
"Sakura?"
That's when I saw it.
In the far aisle near the stacks—it stood there. The creature. Huge. Twisted. The air around it shimmered like a heat haze, and the rot—God, the smell—hit me like a punch in the gut. Its gaze locked onto me, and I froze.
Then it turned. Slowly. Toward the locker room.
My heart dropped. Sakura.
She appeared moments later, humming softly and adjusting a scarf around her neck.
"You ready?" she asked, smiling as she walked straight toward the thing. Right through it.
"Sakura—wait, don't—!" I reached out.
She passed through it like mist.
But the creature didn't vanish. It clung. Its warped hands reached around her, into her. Whispers echoed, not in the air, but in my mind.
"So sweet. So ripe. So unaware…"
And then—it was gone. Sucked into her like smoke drawn into lungs.
Sakura blinked and turned to me. "You okay? You're pale."
"I—uh—yeah. Just a little dizzy."
She smiled. "Let's get going."
We locked the door and stepped into the quiet night. I watched her walk toward the subway station, and as she disappeared from view, a faint, acrid scent lingered on the air.
She wasn't the same.
I ran all the way to Ayumi's house.
Every shadow felt alive. Every light flickered like a warning. When I got inside, I didn't stop to breathe. I slammed the door, locked it, and rushed to my room.
Ayumi's light was off. She was asleep.
I checked the clock. 10:03 p.m.
My laptop glowed as I pulled it open, fingers trembling. I typed in every keyword I could think of—shadow creature, soul possession, invisible spirit parasite—and one thread caught my attention.
A forum. Obscure. Old. Buried deep.
Dozens of posts from strangers describing the same thing. An unseen being. A haunting smell. A sensation of being watched, followed, touched by something no one else could see.
Some claimed it was an ancient spirit, a collector of souls. Others believed it was the shadow of trauma, preying on the emotionally vulnerable. But nearly everyone agreed on one thing:
Once it touches you, you're not the same.
There were suggestions—charms, rituals, spiritual guides. One post described a protective amulet passed down through generations.
That's when it clicked.
Aoi-chan.
The charm she gave me years ago.
I'd forgotten it in the bottom of my suitcase, the one from when I first moved to Tokyo. A simple braided thread with a tiny crystal in the center, warm to the touch, humming with something… ancient.
She told me it would protect me.
And I had left it behind.
I reached for my phone. Without hesitation, I opened the train booking app and bought a ticket.
I was going back to Hiraizumi.
Back to Aoi.
Back to where this all began.
Because whatever this creature was—whatever it wanted—wasn't just haunting me anymore.
It was spreading.