The morning started the same way it always did.
Sort of.
Aiko sat at the kitchen table, watching steam rise off a cup of instant miso. The taste didn't matter. It was just something warm to fill the quiet.
Her uniform blazer was wrinkled again. She hadn't ironed it the night before. She hadn't done much of anything the night before. After dinner, she'd just… drifted. She thought she'd sleep better now that Kaito was home.
She hadn't.
The apartment felt unfamiliar in places she didn't expect. Like the hallway between their rooms. Like the silence that sat across from her at breakfast.
Kaito's door was closed.
He hadn't come out yet.
She thought about knocking. Then didn't.
By the time she reached the station, the street was already filling up.
School kids in matching blazers walked in uneven lines, some still eating bread rolls, some half-asleep. The usual cat slept under the vending machine. A rift-warning drone hummed lazily as it passed overhead, scanning for anomalies with blinking green lights.
Aiko stepped onto the train and tucked herself into the corner seat, just behind the rear door. She put in her earbuds. Didn't press play.
Across from her, a second-year girl named Ayane spotted her and waved as the train pulled out.
"You back?"
Aiko blinked. "Huh?"
"You weren't at school all week," Ayane said, squeezing in beside her. "We thought you were sick or something."
Aiko hesitated. "Yeah… something like that."
Ayane frowned. "Hey, is your brother okay? I heard something weird—"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Ayane blinked, then backed off with a shrug. "Okay. Sorry."
She meant well. That was the problem.
Homeroom was already buzzing when they walked in. The heater ticked behind the window blinds, trying and failing to take the edge off the autumn chill.
At the front of the room, their homeroom teacher—Uchida-sensei—was talking to the class rep about missing forms. He didn't even glance up when Aiko entered.
She liked him for that.
"Yo," said a voice behind her. "Thought you dropped out."
It was Kaoru. Tall, deadpan, always half-asleep. His tie was loose, and he'd drawn something inappropriate in the margins of his math notebook again.
Aiko slid into her seat beside him and muttered, "Weren't you suspended?"
"Just three days," he said. "New record."
Behind them, someone else leaned in.
"Hey, Aiko," whispered Mari from the next row. "Did you see the Exit 3 footage?"
"What footage?"
"The one going around on LineChat. That boy who came out of a rift. It's been all over the local tags."
Aiko's hands froze above her desk.
Mari tilted her head. "He kind of looked like your brother, you know?"
Aiko didn't answer. The heater clicked again.
During lunch break, she sat outside on the steps behind the science building.
It was too cold to be comfortable, but no one came back here. That was the point.
She stared at her phone for a long time before finally pulling up the video.
There it was: grainy station footage, shaky phone camera. A body slumped on concrete. Steam curling upward. A shimmer like light off glass.
And then: Kaito—dirty, dazed, eyes vacant.
She'd already seen it. Dozens of times. What caught her now was the timestamp.
6:42 a.m., just minutes before she woke up that day.
Her stomach churned.
A shadow passed over her. She looked up.
Kaoru stood there, holding two canned coffees.
He didn't say anything. Just offered one to her.
She took it.
He sat beside her and popped the tab on his own. "Mari's an idiot," he said finally. "She didn't mean anything by it."
Aiko nodded.
They drank in silence for a minute.
"Is he really okay?" Kaoru asked, not looking at her.
Aiko didn't know how to answer that.
"He came back different," she said finally.
At the end of the school day, Uchida-sensei called out names for group assignments.
"Next week's culture presentation," he announced, "will be team-based. Three or four per group. Topics are open, but must include a local theme. Dungeon security, historical responses, civilian preparedness, that sort of thing."
Aiko barely heard him until her name was called.
"Aiko, Mari, and Kaoru. You're Group 4."
Kaoru blinked.
Mari perked up immediately. "We can do rift migration patterns near residential areas! I've been following the emergence logs since last year!"
Kaoru groaned. "Can't we do something with less math?"
Aiko didn't say anything.
Uchida looked up from his clipboard. "Aiko?"
She nodded. "That's fine."
She didn't go straight home.
Instead, she stopped by the corner shop, bought milk, and spent five full minutes staring at the instant curry shelf without picking anything up.
When she finally walked in the door, the apartment was quiet.
Lights off.
Shoes neatly lined up at the door.
Kaito was sitting on the floor in the living room, back against the couch, staring at the blank TV screen.
"You're home late," he said.
"I went to the store."
She stepped out of her shoes, hung her bag on the hook by the fridge.
Kaito didn't move.
"I watched something today," he said.
She froze. "What do you mean?"
"On your mom's tablet."
"Our mom," she corrected automatically.
He didn't respond.
"I watched a birthday video," he said. "I was there. I laughed a lot. I looked… real."
Aiko moved slowly toward the couch.
"You were real," she said.
He looked at her.
"No," he said. "I was happy."
Later that night, Aiko stood on the balcony brushing her teeth, staring out over the buildings like she always did.
The city wasn't loud. Just restless.
Windows glowed. Drones floated. Somewhere far off, a siren echoed.
She caught her reflection in the glass door—barefoot, sleepy-eyed, hoodie over her pajamas.
Then something shifted behind her.
She turned.
Kaito stood just inside, watching her.
"You can't sleep?" she asked.
He shook his head.
She offered her toothbrush. "Wanna borrow mine?"
He smiled—just a flicker.
Then turned and walked away.