The train shuddered as it curved into the dark tunnel. A tremor ran through the overhead lights, flickering for just a moment—long enough for everyone to pause, lift their heads from their phones, and exchange wary glances.
Everyone except Akai Renji.
His fingers trembled over the text message he had typed five times and deleted six.
> "I forgive you. Come home."
He stared at the cursor blinking at the end of the sentence. It blinked like it had a heartbeat. Like it was mocking him.
Rika wouldn't reply anyway. Not after what he'd said.
Another flicker. This time the lights stayed out longer—three full seconds of darkness. Someone let out a half-laugh, half-sob.
Then a sharp sound. Metal grinding against metal.
The train stopped.
Renji looked up.
The car was dimly lit now—red emergency lights casting long shadows across vacant seats. The passengers were gone. All of them.
He stood quickly.
"Hello?" His voice echoed. "Is this… an evacuation?"
But there was no announcement. No motion. Just the faint hiss of the air system struggling against silence.
And then he saw it.
A figure at the far end of the car. Sitting. Unmoving.
Wearing a mirror for a face.
Its body was made of burnt wood and clock gears, its chest a pane of glass filled with swirling ink. Behind the mirror-mask, the reflection didn't show Renji's face.
It showed Rika. Crying.
Then the mirror cracked.
> "You left her on read for seven days."
"You let your pride swallow her apology."
"And now she's gone."
Renji stumbled back. "What… who are you?"
The figure stood.
The car grew longer somehow, stretching between them. Time bent like rubber. The mirror-faced being walked without moving its legs—each step folding the space beneath it.
> "Do you wish you had chosen differently?"
"Yes!"
> "Do you regret it?"
Renji felt his breath catch. That word struck deeper than it should have. His chest felt tight. His heart—aching, burning.
"Yes," he said again. "I regret it more than anything."
Then, silence.
The being placed a hand over his chest.
Renji felt heat—like molten glass sinking into him, threading through veins, burying itself behind his sternum.
> "A piece of the world will die so you may try again."
And with a shattering crack, the world tore apart.
---
He woke up.
Back on the train.
Bright lights. People everywhere. A salaryman complaining about the noise. A child crying over spilled juice.
Renji gasped for air.
His phone buzzed.
It was the message from Rika.
> "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Can we talk tonight?"
The timestamp was from yesterday.
But something was wrong.
The subway map overhead now read: Line 7 – Aizu District Loop.
There was no Aizu District in Tokyo.
And the girl sitting across from him? She looked like Rika—but her eyes were green.
Rika's eyes were brown.
Renji stared at her. She smiled, confused but warm, and tilted her head.
> "Renji? You okay? We just talked this morning, remember?"
---
End of Chapter One