Volume 2 – Chapter 30: Tension in the Air

The weight of the air inside the house seemed stifling. Every breath felt heavy with unspoken fears, uncried tears, unasked questions. The past few days had been a blur of preparations, solidifying wedding details, speaking with family, pretending, if only for a moment, that the world outside wasn’t unraveling.

But tonight was off somehow.

Kaito watched out the window at the silent street. There was a clear patch of sky, a deep, inky black that stretched over the city, and distant stars that twinkled feebly. It all seemed serene — too serene. His own reflection in the glass as much agitated. His shoulders tightened, lunched his jaw, turned his fingers over and over at his sides. He hadn’t been able to shake that sense, that gnawing feeling in his gut, that a horrible something was always lurking just out of view on the horizon.

Behind him, Rika sprawled on the couch, her fingers running lazily through her hair. She had barely spoken all night, and when she spoke, her voice seemed so far away, as if her mind was far far away. The soft drone of conversation in the next room — where their families were — sounded almost far away from this place, from this moment.

Kaito finally turned to her. "You feel it too, don’t you?"

She shook her head as if coming out of a fog, then let out a breath, her fingers still entangled in the dark strands. "Yeah. It’s too quiet."

The house was supposed to be a safe place. Their families were here. The wedding was close. There was no immediate danger, no distant sirens wailing, no screams echoing in the streets. One of which, of course, is the whole problem. They had spent months surviving in a world that never really felt safe, and now this strange calm before the storm was on their nerves.

Kaito moved away from the window and lowered himself next to her, the couch creaking slightly under his weight. "It’s normal," he murmured. “Be as weird as you want after everything we’ve been through!”

She looked at him then, dark eyes darting across his angles. And there was a rawness in her gaze, a fragility that she rarely permitted to see the light of day. “What if something occurs before the wedding? What if…"

“We’ll handle it,” Kaito said in an even voice, even as his heart raced. He took her hand, his soft against hers until he laced their fingers together, giving a gentle squeeze. “We’re going to take whatever comes at us together.”

Rika nodded, but there remained a hint of doubt in her features.

A solid silence settled between them, extending itself into the space, in the empty half puffs of their breaths. Outside, the rest of the world was frozen in place; inside, the air vibrated with unspoken terror.

A gust of wind pounded against the window and Rika flinched slightly. He felt her grasp tighten on his fingers.

“It’s just the wind,” he said to her.

She exhaled softly. "I know. I just — I don’t like when I feel that way.”

Kaito understood. They had been trained to stop every few minutes, every new sound, every new shadow, every new rupture in the fragile monotony of their lives. They had long gotten used to a life of uncertainty, of always looking over their shoulders. “Now, even the absence of immediate fear itself seemed like a warning.

He glanced toward the hallway, where their families were. He listened to the low murmur of voices — his father and Rika’s father discussing something, his mother chiming in every so often. They sounded normal. Like any other parents preparing for their children’s wedding. He was envious of that feeling of ordinary life, even being aware that it couldn’t last.

Rika moved up next to him, one of her hands coming up to rub at her temple. “I’m feeling tired, but I don’t know if I can sleep.’

"Then don’t," Kaito said. "We’ll just… sit here. At least for a while."

She looked up at him, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "And do what? Stare at the walls?"

"Maybe." He smirked faintly. "Or we could keep talking. You know, like common people do before they get married.”

Rika snorted. “There is no such thing as normal in this situation.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, shrugging, “might as well pretend for a little bit.”

For a few minutes, they did. They said — about the wedding, about the tiny things they hadn’t had time to enjoy. The last-minute way her dress was adjusted. The late flowers. How his mother had insisted on injecting the ceremony with some traditions, though neither of them paid much attention to traditions.

It was small talk, meaningless in the overall design, but it anchored them.

But there was the tension, nonetheless.

Then Rika rested her head on his shoulder, breathing warm air on his sleeve. “You truly believe it’s going to be O.K. with us?”

Not because he was uncertain but because the truth was complex.

I think we’re going to weather whatever happens,” he finally told me. "That’s all we can do."

Her fingers each curled a bit on his arm. “That’s not really an answer.

"It’s the best one I’ve got."

She sighed but didn’t argue.

The night stretched on, and, sometime in the middle of it, Rika’s breathing evened, her body sliding down and coming to rest against his. Kaito stayed up a little later, listening to the silence, waiting for something — he didn’t even know what.

He slept for a bit, because when he opened his eyes again, the sky beyond the window was showing the first signs of dawn, darker bands of blue giving way to lighter bursts of color. Rika remained curled against him, her face serene in slumber.

He allowed himself for a moment to think that maybe — just maybe — everything would be OK.

At least that this moment, this fragile peace, would last.

But deep down he knew better.

The air no longer felt less charged. If anything, it had grown heavier.