I turned to leave.
Then—
I stopped.
Not because someone called my name.
Because something pulled.
I looked back.
The pool stretched out behind me—long, blue, painfully familiar. The water rippled softly under the lights, reflecting the ceiling in broken fragments. Students moved through it in clean, practiced lines. Arms slicing. Legs kicking. Breath measured.
Normal.
Alive.
A group of younger swimmers laughed near the edge, splashing until a sharp whistle cut through the air. They snapped into formation instantly, grins vanishing, bodies aligning like they'd done it a thousand times before.
Coach Morita's voice echoed.
"Focus."
The word hit harder than it should have.
My chest tightened.
I could feel it.
The water's weight. The cold bite against my skin. The moment before the dive—lungs full, mind empty, the world reduced to a single clean motion.
Just once more.
Just one dive.
Not to compete. Not to win.
Just to disappear under the surface and let the noise fade out again.
My fingers twitched.
For half a second, my body leaned forward.
I could take off the jacket. Step back to the edge. Hear the whistle.
I could dive.
Someone brushed past me—another swimmer heading toward the locker room. He nodded politely, barely sparing me a glance.
He didn't recognize me.
And that hurt more than if he had.
Because it meant the world hadn't noticed my absence.
It hadn't paused. It hadn't waited.
This life was still here.
It just wasn't waiting for me.
The water splashed again—steady, inviting.
My throat tightened.
If I stayed, I wouldn't just be reclaiming something.
I'd be lying.
"Kaien."
Yuna didn't raise her voice.
Just my name.
Not a warning.
Not a command.
A reminder of where I was standing now.
I closed my eyes once.
Then I turned away.
The choice didn't hurt immediately.
That was the worst part.
Pain came later — once my body realized I meant it.
My chest tightened as if something inside me had been sealed shut without anesthesia. Breathing felt shallow, not because I couldn't inhale, but because my lungs refused to expand fully — like they were waiting for a signal that never came.
My hands shook once.
Just once.
I clenched them into fists and kept walking.
I didn't look back again.
Not because it wasn't tempting —
but because I knew if I did, I'd stop.
We left.
The pool doors closed behind us.
Cool night air met my face—dense, grounding, real.
For a moment, I just stood there, listening.
Cars passed.
Water dripped from the roof.
Someone laughed somewhere down the street.
Normal sounds.
Yuna stopped beside me.
"You okay?" she asked, eyes forward.
I nodded once—not confidently. Just enough to keep moving.
We walked.
The pool's lights faded behind us, reflections trembling in shallow puddles on the pavement. Every step away felt like peeling myself off something I'd been gripping with bare hands.
Halfway down the block, Yuna slowed.
Her gaze lifted—sharp.
Then she stopped completely.
"…Hey," she said quietly.
I followed her line of sight.
Across the street.
The convenience store.
Inside—
Toma paced.
Mika slammed her phone down.
Ryo stared at the door.
"It hadn't even been a day."
"He wouldn't just disappear," Mika snapped.
"We checked his house," Toma said.
"The door was open."
"I tried everyone," Mika said.
"No one picked up."
Ryo frowned.
"Something happened," he said.
"Or he left the city. Maybe even the country."
"Stop it," Mika snapped.
"Kaien would never do that."
She slapped Ryo across the cheek.
Hard.
And stormed out.
It was a rhythm I knew.
The three of them stood in the store like a broken triangle, each facing a different direction, none of them quite able to look at the same truth.
Toma kept pacing, hands running through his hair, saying the same things in different words—logic wrapped around panic. If Kaien didn't answer, there had to be a reason. Phones died. People lost chargers. Trains broke down. Accidents happened. It wasn't denial.
It was hope wearing a disguise.
Ryo stayed near the counter, arms crossed too tightly, jaw clenched. He wasn't angry—he was counting. Time, distance, possibilities. He'd always done that when things didn't add up, trying to brute-force reality into something manageable.
And Mika—
Mika refused to stand still.
Her anger bounced from object to object, from person to person, looking for somewhere safe to land. If she could be furious enough, loud enough, then maybe the fear underneath wouldn't surface. Maybe it wouldn't turn into something she couldn't punch.
They were all circling the same question.
None of them were brave enough to say it out loud.
What if he's not coming back?
I stayed where I was.
Watching them rewrite my disappearance into something survivable.
And I let them.
Because if I stepped forward now, I wouldn't just break the story they were telling themselves—
I'd drag them into mine.
Mika's temper.
Ryo's bluntness.
Toma's useless peacekeeping.
A script from a life I didn't belong to anymore.
"Hey—Mika, stop!" Toma called.
Ryo rubbed his cheek.
"See? I told you. She slapped me."
I stood beneath the tree outside.
Watching.
I smiled faintly.
"I thought they hated me," I whispered.
"But they don't."
My hand lifted—halfway into a wave that would never reach them.
I lowered it.
Fist tightening in my pocket.
Yuna glanced at me.
"Why not talk to them?"
I shook my head.
"If I do… they'll be in danger."
If I stayed, I wouldn't just lose them.
I'd mark them.
I can't stay—not because I don't love them,
but because loving them would get them killed.
I sat beneath the tree.
The city moved on.
I didn't.
Where do I go now?
The question didn't echo.
It sank.
Because it wasn't asking about direction.
It was asking about permission.
Where does someone go when the places that shaped him no longer recognize him—and the places that do recognize him are built for killing?
I wasn't lost.
I was displaced.
Like a piece removed from the board but still expected to play.
No answer came.
Only the distant hum of the city—a sound that no longer felt like home.
✦ END OF CHAPTER 38 — WHERE I DIDN'T BELONG ✦