5: Three Short

“Ugh…”

The officer collapsed to his knees, both hands covering his face in agony.

“Are you okay? Officer!!”

Tom rushed over and crouched beside him, worried.
The officer’s hands were trembling—uncontrollably.

“Here, let’s get you to the bench!”

Tom noticed something at the officer’s feet—another thin, white straw.

“Another one…? But I thought this whole area had already been cleaned…?”

After helping the officer to the bench, Tom picked up the fallen flashlight and swept the beam across the ground, searching for more straws.

“Nothing else… Maybe it was just a coincidence?”

“Ggh—!!”

“W-What’s wrong!?”

Seeing the officer grimace, Tom hurried back and sat beside him.
Even in the puddle at their feet, nothing resembling a straw floated.

“Should I call an ambulance? You really don’t look well!”

“No… it’s fine. Just some sudden dizziness and nausea, but… it’s settling now.”

Once the officer’s shaking seemed to ease, Tom pulled out the two straws he’d found and showed them to him.

“I found these two just now, right here.
There might be more—maybe in the bushes or somewhere nearby!”

“Straws, huh? These are really thin…”

“They’re for drinking milk. I don’t like putting my mouth directly on the bottle.
Well, there’s… other reasons too, I guess…”

“But still, how do you know these belong to you? Straws are everywhere.”

“No, I mean… these might’ve been from Rena. She always kept spares for me,
because I’m forgetful. If she dropped them here, then maybe… maybe if I follow the trail—”

Trying to calm the panicked boy, the officer gently placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder.

“Take it easy, Tom. It’s been a week since the search started. We’ve already gone over this area.
And honestly, someone else might’ve dropped those straws yesterday, or even just this morning.”

“I… yeah, I guess that’s true…”

“Still, why use such a thin straw? Isn’t this more like… a drink stirrer?
You weren’t drinking cocktails, were you?”

“No way! I don’t drink—”

“Hah! Just messing with you.”

The officer chuckled.
“Anyway, you said you found two of them just now?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah… just these two.”

“Hmm, strange. Let’s see—one, two, three…
We’re missing one.”

“Missing…? What do you mean?”

“Well… even with your two, we’re only at fifty-six.
That’s not right, is it?”

“Wha—!?”

Sensing something off, Tom tried to pull away.
But the officer’s hand shot forward, iron-tight on Tom’s shoulder, yanking him back.

“There are fifty-seven kinds of rice balls…
Think she’s holding onto the last one?”

Tom froze.
The officer’s sudden shift in demeanor and the surreal turn of the conversation knocked the breath out of him.

“What…? Why are you… saying that?
Where is this coming from…!?”

Tom’s mind scrambled as fragments of a past conversation with Rena resurfaced.
He didn’t even have time to process whether rice balls and straws were somehow connected.
He was panicking—his breath shallow, thoughts spinning.

“That’s right! I’m going to collect all 57 types!”

The officer echoed Rena’s exact words—mimicking her voice with eerie precision.
He smiled, almost playfully, and stuck one of the straws between his lips.

“Who… are you…?”

Fear closed in on Tom—fear that reminded him of that nightmare from long ago,
the one filled with eyeballs raining from the sky.

And now, it was crawling back again—
slithering into his thoughts, his breath… and deeper still, into his soul.