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The alarm buzzed once, too loud. Ryuya’s hand shot out from beneath the blanket, silencing it in a single, practiced motion. leaving behind a silence so complete it felt heavier than the noise..
He didn’t move for a long moment. His body sank further as his thoughts started to emerge.
Eyes drifted to the nightstand, where a blister pack of pills lay beside an empty glass. He stared at it for a moment, as if expecting it to move.
“...”
Ryuya slowly reached below the nightstand, his hand landed on a water bottle, the plastic creaked loudly. He slowly removed the cap, filling the cup, the sound of water gentle and grounding.
He then reached for the pack on the nightstand, hesitating as heavy thoughts flickered and faded. It would quiet his mind, that much he knew.
Beyond that ? No need to think more than necessary.
He tossed a pill into his mouth, swallowing it along with a sip of water.
The blister pack went back on the nightstand, its edges aligned neatly with the corner.
Ryuya swung his legs over the side of the bed.
His body felt sluggish, heavy, like he was dragging himself out of something deeper than sleep.
The morning was still dark, the city lights beamed softly through the window, landing on the floor in jagged patterns.
Ryuya stared at them for a long moment..
The pill would take hold soon. there was still a gap though.
For now..
A sliver of time before the fog rolled in.
He sat there quietly, contemplating the light, his thoughts, his sensations.
The tide slowly creeped in.
His thoughts softening..
I need to get ready..
Finally, he pushed himself to his feet, the motion sluggish, his joints stiff like they belonged to someone much older.
He slowly walked his way to the door.
The bathroom mirror greeted him with indifferent clarity, his reflection pale and drawn with dark shadows under his eyes.
His hair stuck out at odd angles, flat in some places and defiant in others. It was too long but not in a way that felt deliberate, it’d taken the habit of veiling his left eye, a development he didn’t care nearly enough to interrupt.
He ran the faucet, letting the water rush for a second before cupping it in his hands, he looked at his reflection once more before splashing it onto his face.
Droplets clung to his hair, he stared at himself again, hoping for the face in the mirror to look less tired.
It didn’t.
His hand tightened on the sink.
“I’m still here…” he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper.
He straightened, reaching for the towel in the corner, drying his face clean. Once he was done he moved on.
Toothbrush.
Toothpaste.
Brush.
Rinse.
Spit.
Each step clicked into place like the cogs of a deliberate machine.
Then, he moved back to his room to put on his uniform.
Wrapping the tie was a struggle, it felt unfamiliar now.
But the rest was fine.
He moved on grabbing his hoodie sweater before leaving his room.
The house was still asleep, the only sounds being the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional groan of the pipes. His parents had already left for work—early as usual—and his younger sister’s door remained firmly shut.
The kitchen was cold, the faint smell of last night’s dinner lingering in the air. Ryuya opened the fridge, the light inside too bright, cutting sharply through his morning haze. He closed it reflexively.
An apple caught his eye on the counter, it went into his bag without much thought.
Tactical breakfast.
Ryuya stood in the entryway, slipping into his neatly lined shoes.
A few steps, his fingers brushed the handle, yet something lingered.
He paused, staring beyond the glass.
An irrational pressure.
It wasn’t the school day waiting for him. It wasn’t even the people. He didn’t feel apprehensive, yet his steps faltered—just enough to make him notice.
He let out a slow breath before opening the door, stepping outside.
The shroud curled through the streets, swallowing the edges of buildings and blurring the sharp outlines of the world, the city held its breath..
It was still dark, city lights carried through the haze like wisps, the usual hum of traffic muffled, distant.
Ryuya pulled his hood up, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
He walked through the fog—yet the chill in the air didn't register—everything felt muted.
The streets were empty, save for a few early risers in the distance, their figures ghostly in the fog.
Ryuya paused at the corner, watching them.
Their steps were quick, hurried, and purposeful. They moved like they had somewhere to be. He did not.
He turned his gaze back to the sidewalk ahead.
The world was subdued, but not peaceful.
Cars, distant voices, the clatter of feet on concrete—
City noises all blending into one restless breath, carrying whispers of unspoken expectations.
Further ahead, a glow began to emerge. Weak at first, a soft pulse of light barely cutting through the haze. Ryuya’s eyes followed it, his pace slowing. As he moved closer, the glow sharpened, colors blooming faintly. A vending machine stood there like a solitary beacon, electric reds and blues smearing against the fog.
Ryuya stopped in front of it.
He reached into his pocket pulling out a few coins.
They fell with a sharp clink, breaking the quiet like a single note in an empty hall.
He stared at the colors as the machine stirred to life.
A can of strawberry milk dropped into the tray with a faint thud.
The neon glow of the machine reflected faintly in the puddles at his feet, rippling slightly with the weight of the light rain.
For a moment, he stood there.
His gaze drifted, he turned, and as he turned, he realized the city was gone. The fog had grown thick, and everything beyond eight meters vanished.
No cars, no voices, just the faint hum of the machine at his side. The stillness wrapped around him, his focus drifting away, and for a moment, the weight he carried felt just a little lighter.
The sound of a car splashing through a puddle reached him. It was very distant yet a reminder that the city existed somewhere beyond this cocoon.
...
He tucked the can into his bag, grabbed the apple and kept walking, taking bites along the walk.
His steps were steady, though slow. He could keep walking forever, as far as the city stretched, and it wouldn’t matter, the school, the walk, the role, he felt no urgency at all yet still cared enough to carry his body on the tracks.
His mind was quiet now, empty. The pills had smoothed out the rough edges a bit more, leaving behind a haze that matched the world around him.
There was a kind of relief in it. The quiet. The numbness. The way the fog seemed to hold him in place, suspended in a moment that didn’t ask for anything. But somewhere, at the edge of his awareness, it was pressing too—faint, like a shadow.
He stopped at the corner, his feet halting just before the curb, throwing the apple core in a bush somewhere.
The streetlight above him blinked red. There was no one around, just the quiet hum of the city.
As he stared at the light, a buzz began to ring in his head, low and distant at first. It wasn’t sharp, but it was unsettling, unfamiliar. Something at the edge between a sound and a sensation.
Ryuya blinked, his focus shifting to the puddles at his feet.. He tried to ground himself, tracing the ripples as they spread and faded, but the buzz lingered, growing just enough to feel impossible to ignore.
The light turned green, breaking his focus. He exhaled, the buzz retreating just slightly, though the tension in his chest remained.
Ryuya stepped forward, his body carrying him across the street. The school gates loomed ahead but his pace didn’t change,
The fog clung to the gates, curling around them like it was trying to pull him back. Ryuya glanced down at his feet as he passed through.
He didn’t look up again until he reached the steps. The buzz of lights seeped out faintly from inside, the kind of sound that filled the silence without breaking it.
He pushed the door open, stepping inside.
For a moment, he stood there, letting sounds settle around him. Footsteps and laughter echoed faintly from farther down the hallway, blending with the shuffle of books and the scrape of locker doors.
The school was coming to life.
Ryuya started walking, his footsteps blending into the sounds of the building. Figures moved in the periphery, heading to their own destinations, each step felt lighter than it might have in complete silence. No one was looking. No one was listening.
He stopped at his locker, pulling it open. The door creaked faintly, a sound that seemed to linger too long. Inside, the books were lined up neatly, their spines flush against one another. His gaze lingered on the books for a moment before he reached in and pulled out the one he needed.
The day would pass, he would sit in class, take notes, and leave when it was over. He didn't mind. There was comfort in knowing how the story went, even if it never seemed to change.
He moved his way to the staircase, the building was leveled on three floors—and as a third-year—his classroom was on the third.
It took some effort but he made it there.
Landed in the hallway, the path was smooth, most people were already in class at this point, only a handful of people lingered in the hallway.
Finally he got there.
The classroom buzzed softly as he entered. The scrape of a chair leg, the shuffle of papers, the murmur of voices—all of it blended into a single indistinct sound where nothing stood out, nothing demanded attention.
Ryuya slid into his seat at the edge of the room, the chair’s hard frame pressed against his spine in an uncomfortable but familiar way.
After a bit, the teacher appeared by the front door, his voice rising from the front of the room, steady and distant, weaving through the other sounds like another layer of static. Ryuya didn’t look up.
The window beside him was fogged with condensation. The mist lingered, softening the edges of everything it touched.
Ryuya’s gaze drifted past the yard, past the empty pathways and the faint outlines of trees. His eyes followed the fog until it dissolved into nothing, a blur that had no beginning and no end.
Snatches of conversation swirled nearby, faint and fleeting:
“…can you believe what she said ?…”
“…I forgot my textbook again…”
“…look at him, he’s completely out of it…”
The words floated by without weight, barely brushing against him before fading back into the blur.
The fog outside seemed to press closer, its edges soft and all consuming.
Ryuya’s eyelids felt heavier,
Time stretched thin,
The sounds ebbed, softer now,
distant..
Until they were nothing at all.
The alarm buzzed once, too loud. Ryuya’s hand shot out from beneath the blanket, silencing it in a single, practiced motion. leaving behind a silence so complete it felt heavier than the noise..
He didn’t move for a long moment. His body sank further as his thoughts started to emerge.
Eyes drifted to the nightstand, where a blister pack of pills lay beside an empty glass. He stared at it for a moment, as if expecting it to move.
“...”
Ryuya slowly reached below the nightstand, his hand landed on a water bottle, the plastic creaked loudly. He slowly removed the cap, filling the cup, the sound of water gentle and grounding.
He then reached for the pack on the nightstand, hesitating as heavy thoughts flickered and faded. It would quiet his mind, that much he knew.
Beyond that ? No need to think more than necessary.
He tossed a pill into his mouth, swallowing it along with a sip of water.
The blister pack went back on the nightstand, its edges aligned neatly with the corner.
Ryuya swung his legs over the side of the bed.
His body felt sluggish, heavy, like he was dragging himself out of something deeper than sleep.
The morning was still dark, the city lights beamed softly through the window, landing on the floor in jagged patterns.
Ryuya stared at them for a long moment..
The pill would take hold soon. there was still a gap though.
For now..
A sliver of time before the fog rolled in.
He sat there quietly, contemplating the light, his thoughts, his sensations.
The tide slowly creeped in.
His thoughts softening..
I need to get ready..
Finally, he pushed himself to his feet, the motion sluggish, his joints stiff like they belonged to someone much older.
He slowly walked his way to the door.
The bathroom mirror greeted him with indifferent clarity, his reflection pale and drawn with dark shadows under his eyes.
His hair stuck out at odd angles, flat in some places and defiant in others. It was too long but not in a way that felt deliberate, it’d taken the habit of veiling his left eye, a development he didn’t care nearly enough to interrupt.
He ran the faucet, letting the water rush for a second before cupping it in his hands, he looked at his reflection once more before splashing it onto his face.
Droplets clung to his hair, he stared at himself again, hoping for the face in the mirror to look less tired.
It didn’t.
His hand tightened on the sink.
“I’m still here…” he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper.
He straightened, reaching for the towel in the corner, drying his face clean. Once he was done he moved on.
Toothbrush.
Toothpaste.
Brush.
Rinse.
Spit.
Each step clicked into place like the cogs of a deliberate machine.
Then, he moved back to his room to put on his uniform.
Wrapping the tie was a struggle, it felt unfamiliar now.
But the rest was fine.
He moved on grabbing his hoodie sweater before leaving his room.
The house was still asleep, the only sounds being the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional groan of the pipes. His parents had already left for work—early as usual—and his younger sister’s door remained firmly shut.
The kitchen was cold, the faint smell of last night’s dinner lingering in the air. Ryuya opened the fridge, the light inside too bright, cutting sharply through his morning haze. He closed it reflexively.
An apple caught his eye on the counter, it went into his bag without much thought.
Tactical breakfast.
Ryuya stood in the entryway, slipping into his neatly lined shoes.
A few steps, his fingers brushed the handle, yet something lingered.
He paused, staring beyond the glass.
An irrational pressure.
It wasn’t the school day waiting for him. It wasn’t even the people. He didn’t feel apprehensive, yet his steps faltered—just enough to make him notice.
He let out a slow breath before opening the door, stepping outside.
The shroud curled through the streets, swallowing the edges of buildings and blurring the sharp outlines of the world, the city held its breath..
It was still dark, city lights carried through the haze like wisps, the usual hum of traffic muffled, distant.
Ryuya pulled his hood up, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
He walked through the fog—yet the chill in the air didn't register—everything felt muted.
The streets were empty, save for a few early risers in the distance, their figures ghostly in the fog.
Ryuya paused at the corner, watching them.
Their steps were quick, hurried, and purposeful. They moved like they had somewhere to be. He did not.
He turned his gaze back to the sidewalk ahead.
The world was subdued, but not peaceful.
Cars, distant voices, the clatter of feet on concrete—
City noises all blending into one restless breath, carrying whispers of unspoken expectations.
Further ahead, a glow began to emerge. Weak at first, a soft pulse of light barely cutting through the haze. Ryuya’s eyes followed it, his pace slowing. As he moved closer, the glow sharpened, colors blooming faintly. A vending machine stood there like a solitary beacon, electric reds and blues smearing against the fog.
Ryuya stopped in front of it.
He reached into his pocket pulling out a few coins.
They fell with a sharp clink, breaking the quiet like a single note in an empty hall.
He stared at the colors as the machine stirred to life.
A can of strawberry milk dropped into the tray with a faint thud.
The neon glow of the machine reflected faintly in the puddles at his feet, rippling slightly with the weight of the light rain.
For a moment, he stood there.
His gaze drifted, he turned, and as he turned, he realized the city was gone. The fog had grown thick, and everything beyond eight meters vanished.
No cars, no voices, just the faint hum of the machine at his side. The stillness wrapped around him, his focus drifting away, and for a moment, the weight he carried felt just a little lighter.
The sound of a car splashing through a puddle reached him. It was very distant yet a reminder that the city existed somewhere beyond this cocoon.
...
He tucked the can into his bag, grabbed the apple and kept walking, taking bites along the walk.
His steps were steady, though slow. He could keep walking forever, as far as the city stretched, and it wouldn’t matter, the school, the walk, the role, he felt no urgency at all yet still cared enough to carry his body on the tracks.
His mind was quiet now, empty. The pills had smoothed out the rough edges a bit more, leaving behind a haze that matched the world around him.
There was a kind of relief in it. The quiet. The numbness. The way the fog seemed to hold him in place, suspended in a moment that didn’t ask for anything. But somewhere, at the edge of his awareness, it was pressing too—faint, like a shadow.
He stopped at the corner, his feet halting just before the curb, throwing the apple core in a bush somewhere.
The streetlight above him blinked red. There was no one around, just the quiet hum of the city.
As he stared at the light, a buzz began to ring in his head, low and distant at first. It wasn’t sharp, but it was unsettling, unfamiliar. Something at the edge between a sound and a sensation.
Ryuya blinked, his focus shifting to the puddles at his feet.. He tried to ground himself, tracing the ripples as they spread and faded, but the buzz lingered, growing just enough to feel impossible to ignore.
The light turned green, breaking his focus. He exhaled, the buzz retreating just slightly, though the tension in his chest remained.
Ryuya stepped forward, his body carrying him across the street. The school gates loomed ahead but his pace didn’t change,
The fog clung to the gates, curling around them like it was trying to pull him back. Ryuya glanced down at his feet as he passed through.
He didn’t look up again until he reached the steps. The buzz of lights seeped out faintly from inside, the kind of sound that filled the silence without breaking it.
He pushed the door open, stepping inside.
For a moment, he stood there, letting sounds settle around him. Footsteps and laughter echoed faintly from farther down the hallway, blending with the shuffle of books and the scrape of locker doors.
The school was coming to life.
Ryuya started walking, his footsteps blending into the sounds of the building. Figures moved in the periphery, heading to their own destinations, each step felt lighter than it might have in complete silence. No one was looking. No one was listening.
He stopped at his locker, pulling it open. The door creaked faintly, a sound that seemed to linger too long. Inside, the books were lined up neatly, their spines flush against one another. His gaze lingered on the books for a moment before he reached in and pulled out the one he needed.
The day would pass, he would sit in class, take notes, and leave when it was over. He didn't mind. There was comfort in knowing how the story went, even if it never seemed to change.
He moved his way to the staircase, the building was leveled on three floors—and as a third-year—his classroom was on the third.
It took some effort but he made it there.
Landed in the hallway, the path was smooth, most people were already in class at this point, only a handful of people lingered in the hallway.
Finally he got there.
The classroom buzzed softly as he entered. The scrape of a chair leg, the shuffle of papers, the murmur of voices—all of it blended into a single indistinct sound where nothing stood out, nothing demanded attention.
Ryuya slid into his seat at the edge of the room, the chair’s hard frame pressed against his spine in an uncomfortable but familiar way.
After a bit, the teacher appeared by the front door, his voice rising from the front of the room, steady and distant, weaving through the other sounds like another layer of static. Ryuya didn’t look up.
The window beside him was fogged with condensation. The mist lingered, softening the edges of everything it touched.
Ryuya’s gaze drifted past the yard, past the empty pathways and the faint outlines of trees. His eyes followed the fog until it dissolved into nothing, a blur that had no beginning and no end.
Snatches of conversation swirled nearby, faint and fleeting:
“…can you believe what she said ?…”
“…I forgot my textbook again…”
“…look at him, he’s completely out of it…”
The words floated by without weight, barely brushing against him before fading back into the blur.
The fog outside seemed to press closer, its edges soft and all consuming.
Ryuya’s eyelids felt heavier,
Time stretched thin,
The sounds ebbed, softer now,
distant..
Until they were nothing at all.
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