The Unraveled Mask

Unexplainable Thoughts

The sky was still painted in the soft hues of morning as Ren Takahashi made his way toward school, hands tucked in his pockets, his bag slung over one shoulder. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional bicycle passing by or the distant chatter of students walking in groups. But Ren, as always, walked alone.

His thoughts drifted back to the dream from last night—the warmth of the classroom, the easy conversation, the way her voice carried a softness he hadn’t heard in a long time. Then the shift. The school gate. The distance. The way she looked at someone else—like he had never been there to begin with.

Ren exhaled lightly, shaking off the memory.

The dream didn’t matter.

But the drawing did.

His fingers twitched slightly at the thought of it—the sketch of the cracked mask. He hadn’t planned it, hadn’t even thought about it consciously. His pencil had just moved on its own, as if it already knew what needed to be drawn before he did.

But when he had finished and looked at it properly—something about it had felt… wrong.

Why?

The question lingered, unanswered, as he continued walking.

“Oi, Takahashi!”

Ren turned just as Daiki Hayashi jogged up beside him, grinning as he adjusted the strap of his bag.

“You never wait up, do you?” Daiki huffed, matching Ren’s pace.

Ren simply shrugged. “Didn’t know I was supposed to.”

Daiki snorted. “Cold as ever.”

They walked in easy silence for a while, the quiet hum of the city filling the spaces between words. It wasn’t uncomfortable—Daiki was one of the few people Ren could tolerate for longer than five minutes.

“So,” Daiki said eventually, kicking a loose pebble down the street. “What’s with you lately?”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“You seem… I dunno. More spaced out than usual.”

Ren didn’t respond right away.

Instead, his gaze flickered briefly to the sidewalk ahead.

More spaced out?

Maybe.

But he wasn’t going to admit that.

“I’m fine,” he said simply.

Daiki didn’t push. He never did.

“Alright, alright,” Daiki said, stretching his arms. “If you start seeing ghosts or something, let me know.”

Ren rolled his eyes.

And just like that, the conversation shifted into something meaningless—something normal.

And for now, Ren was fine with that.

⸻

Before Class – Aika’s Anxiety

The classroom was already buzzing with morning chatter when Ren and Daiki stepped in. Students moved about in their usual routines—some going over last-minute homework, others laughing over something trivial.

Daiki made his way to his seat but, before sitting down, casually turned to Aika Tanabe.

“Morning.”

It was a simple greeting.

But Aika?

She froze.

For half a second, she looked like she had forgotten how to function.

Then—“MORNING!”

Her voice came out way too fast, way too loud, and way too forced.

Daiki blinked.

Mayu Sakamoto, sitting beside Aika, stared at her with pure disappointment.

Aika immediately clamped her mouth shut, face heating up as she turned away, grabbing her book like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Daiki just scratched his head, looking genuinely confused.

“…Did I do something?”

Mayu exhaled. “No. She’s just an idiot.”

Daiki shrugged. “Alright then.” And with that, he sat down like nothing happened.

Aika buried her face in her arms.

“I hate everything,” she mumbled.

Rika, watching the entire thing unfold, hid a small smirk behind her hand.

⸻

Lunch Break – The Sketch

Lunch break came as it always did—students leaving for the cafeteria, others staying behind to eat at their desks.

Ren stood up from his seat, stretching slightly before grabbing some coins from his bag.

He was in the mood for something cold.

Without much thought, he left his notebook on his desk and walked out.

Rika wasn’t paying much attention at first.

But then—out of the corner of her eye—her gaze flickered toward his desk.

The notebook was open.

And on the page—

A drawing of a face.

A mask. A disguise.

But the face was cracked.

Split down the middle like broken porcelain. The cracks were fine, detailed—deliberate.

Something about it made her stomach feel… strange.

“Rika?”

She blinked.

Mayu was looking at her, brow raised.

“Nothing,” Rika muttered, tearing her eyes away from the notebook.

She didn’t know why she was still thinking about it.

⸻

Break Time – Aika’s Suffering Continues

“You’re being dramatic,” Mayu said flatly.

Aika groaned, slumping onto her desk. “No, I’m being realistic. My life is over.”

“You just said good morning too loudly.”

Aika pointed a weak finger at Rika. “She saw it.”

Rika smirked. “I did.”

Aika groaned again.

Mayu sighed. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

⸻

During Class – The Glances

Rika wasn’t trying to look at him.

She really wasn’t.

But somehow, her gaze kept drifting.

Ren, sitting beside her, barely moved. His fingers tapped his pencil lightly against the desk, a slow, steady rhythm.

She noticed the way he turned his pages carefully.

The way his eyes lingered for half a second longer before writing.

And yet—he never looked at her.

She wasn’t sure why that annoyed her.

⸻

After School – A Conversation Avoided

The final bell rang.

Ren packed up his belongings as usual—calm, unhurried.

Rika, still seated, glanced at him once before speaking.

“Takahashi.”

Ren paused. “What?”

“You said you’d come up with something for the project today.”

Ren blinked. Then—“I haven’t drawn it yet.”

Rika froze.

Because she knew that was a lie.

She had seen the drawing.

The cracked face.

She almost said something.

Almost.

But instead, she simply nodded.

“…We still have a lot of days left,” she said casually. “Take your time.”

Ren nodded distantly, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

And without another word, he left.

Rika sat there for a moment longer, tapping her fingers against the desk.

She could’ve pressed him about it.

But for some reason… she didn’t.

⸻

The Drawing’s End

The walk home was quiet.

Ren’s thoughts flickered back to the sketch of the cracked mask.

It wasn’t bad.

But it was unsettling.

Even for him.

And that was the problem.

That night, as he sat at his desk, he pulled out the notebook, flipping to that page.

The cracks stared back at him.

Ren exhaled.

Then—without hesitation—he ripped the page apart.

The sound of tearing paper filled the room.

He crumpled the pieces in his hand, tossing them into the trash.

And as he stared at the empty space where the drawing used to be—

For some reason, his chest still felt tight.