Far ahead, in the trees — a shape. A person. No — two shapes.
The red-haired man. A black-haired one beside him. And something else.
Black. Slime-like. Towering. Floating just above the ground.
They were fighting it.
Fighting that thing.
(That’s… that’s not real. That’s not possible. That’s something from an anime. This must be a dream.)
Her breath caught.
Then—
“It’s not a dream,” said a voice from behind her.
She turned sharply—
Aki: “HUH? What the hell—!”
Before she could make sense of it, a sharp dizziness washed over her. Her legs gave out. The ground rushed up to meet her.
Thud.
She collapsed.
A little farther ahead, two figures stood shoulder to shoulder, locked in a violent rhythm against something that didn’t quite belong to this world.
The creature pulsed and twisted, its form ever-shifting — a blob of black slime, twitching with unnatural movements and blinking with far too many eyes.
One of the boys — the red-haired one, grin wide and wild — raised his weapon high. His voice rang out, sharp and eager, slicing through the chaos like a blade.
“
You ugly, slime-smiling, eyeball-blinking freak — today’s your last day breathing!”
The other, calmer in both posture and tone, emerged from the shadows behind him. His coat was still, despite the wind, his gaze level even under pressure.
“Taiga,” he said with an exhausted sigh, “The Chancellor gave clear orders — don’t kill it this time. It’s called a Suraimu, not… whatever nonsense you just shouted.”
But Taiga wasn’t listening. His eyes were locked on the creature, wild with a kind of giddy bloodlust.
“I don’t care what it’s called,” he snapped. “It’s dying today. I’m done playing games.”
The second boy muttered something under his breath, glancing toward the edge of the forest where the crashed car lay half-buried in smoke.
“I can never reason with him…” He exhaled slowly, then added, “Well, looks like our work here is almost done anyway.”
Suddenly, Taiga’s grin stretched wider — a sharp, crooked thing that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Hey, can I taste it a little?” he asked, almost too casually. “Just a nibble. Gotta know what this thing’s made of.”
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The other boy stepped back slightly, face twisted with visible discomfort.
“Yikes,” he said flatly. “You’re seriously messed up.”
The air trembled.
And just like that, the forest vanished.
—
Aki blinked.
She wasn’t lying in the dirt anymore.
Instead: a ceiling above her. White. Too clean. Too quiet. Familiar… but not right.
(Wasn’t I… outside? In the forest? What…?)
Her chest tightened.
(Where am I?)
(Wasn’t I already discharged? Or… maybe I never left.)
She lay still, heart thudding, the faint weight of silence pressing down on her. Eventually, with trembling fingers, she reached out and rang the bell.
The door opened, but instead of a nurse, a stranger in a white coat stepped in. His presence was cold and clinical, eyes already on a clipboard.
“You’re awake. Good,” he said, without much inflection. “We need to run a few tests.”
Aki’s voice was hoarse. “Doctor… is there an emergency?”
“I’m Dr. Nicolas,” he replied. “I’m in charge of your care. Can you tell me what happened?”
She blinked at him, confused. The words didn’t reach her right.
“Huh?”
“You were in a car crash,” he said. “Don’t you remember?”
Her breath caught in her throat. A chill passed through her. *No. No, that was just a dream.* A nightmare.
“It was… real?” she whispered.
He nodded slightly, scribbling something down on his clipboard.
“You must be confused.”
Aki shut her eyes tight. Her fingers curled into the blanket. (No. No, it’s fake. I know it’s fake.)
She began to mumble under her breath, barely aware of the words spilling out. “It’s not real… it’s fake… it can’t be…”
“The crash involved your parents,” Dr. Nicolas continued. “Your mother’s leg is—”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but she heard enough.
“No!” she gasped. “I helped her! I got her out! I did… I did what I could!”
Her voice cracked with panic. Her breath became ragged.
Dr. Nicolas didn’t flinch. He simply pulled something small from his pocket—a matchstick—and held it up.
“Focus on this,” he said.
Aki stared at it. Her vision swam. Her hands trembled.
What is that supposed to do? What is this?
She tried to steady her breath. (Think. Stay calm.)
Doctor… when can I go home?” she asked, voice trembling.
He looked up slowly. “Do you remember anything else?” he asked.
“Like what?” she replied sharply. “My injuries? My parents?”
“Yes,” he said, pausing. “And something else.”
She stiffened. “What are you talking about? Are my parents coming to take me?”
“You’ll be discharged tomorrow.”
She didn’t move. Her chest was rising and falling too fast now.
“My parents… are they coming?”
There was a long, awful silence.
“They’re in critical condition,” he said quietly. “Both of them are in a coma.”
Her mind froze. Everything in her twisted.
“You’re joking,” she said, her voice faint. “That’s not true. It can’t be.”
He didn’t answer.
“I don’t believe you!” she shouted suddenly. “Let me see them! I want to see them!”
“You can’t,” he said. “Not right now.”
“But I’m their daughter! I should be with them!”
“They’ve been transferred to another hospital.”
“What?” she cried. “Why? That’s not normal! Doesn't Families stay together!”
He gave her a blank look.
“Which hospital are they in?” she demanded. “Tell me!”
“They’re far. We’ll be transferring you tomorrow.”
She pulled the blanket back, trying to rise, but her muscles ached with resistance.
“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Just let me go. Now.”
“What about the bill?” he asked coolly.
“I’ll pay! Just tell me—how long has it been since the crash?”
“Half a day.”
She froze. “Half… a day? That’s not possible. My wounds…”
Her voice trailed off as she looked down at her body—bandaged, but far too well-healed for mere hours.
Dr. Nicolas’s eyes widened slightly. “Ah—wait. That’s not right. I made a mistake.”
He held up the matchstick again.
“What is that?” Aki demanded, her eyes widening. “Why do you keep showing it to me?”
“The first one didn’t work,” he muttered to himself. “How…?”
Before she could finish speaking, something inside her shifted. Her limbs turned heavy again, her vision dimming.
“Wait—what are you—”
Everything went black before she could finish.
Somewhere behind the fading silence, she thought she heard him murmur:
“Damn it. Bad timing… It activated too early. I have to inform the Chancellor.”
Twelve hours earlier — near the crash site
The thick silence of the forest was interrupted only by the crackle of burning debris and the occasional groan of metal settling into the earth.
Taiga stood on a rock overlooking the wreckage, arms crossed, his expression unreadable beneath the faint flicker of red in his eyes.
“I saw a girl,” he muttered suddenly.
Haku, crouched nearby and busy scanning something with a strange-looking device, looked up sharply. “A girl? Where?”
“Over a kilometer east,” Taiga replied, his voice flat, almost casual. “She was limping… heavily injured. Curly black hair. Looked about our age.”
“You’re telling me now?” Haku stood up, his hands flying to his head in exasperation. “Are you out of your mind, Taiga? What if she ran off? What if she saw something?!”
Taiga rolled his eyes and shrugged. “She didn’t see anything important. And with those injuries? She couldn’t have gone far.”
“That’s not the point!” Haku snapped, pacing now. “We don’t leave witnesses. You know that. The Chancellor gave strict orders—”
“She didn’t see anything,” Taiga repeated, a little sharper this time.
“You don’t know that!” Haku barked, spinning to face him. “What if she saw the Suraimu? Or us? Do you really want to explain that to the Chancellor?”
Taiga’s glare was ice. “You want me to go kill her, then?”
A long silence followed. Haku’s jaw clenched.
“…No,” he muttered eventually. “I’ll take care of it.”
Taiga turned, starting to walk back through the trees. “Your mess now.”
“Taiga,” Haku called out after him. “Next time, say something sooner.”
Taiga didn’t answer. Just raised a hand in a lazy wave, vanishing into the fog.
