Volume 3 – Chapter 10: Something Is Slipping

[August 12 - 49 Days Left]

There went Daichi.

The quiet one, always so rational and methodical. A man of logic, charts, timelines, straight sentences. He was the logical one even during the tempestuous first days when everyone heard broadcasts informing them of the oncoming meteor, during those few hours when cities were crashing in pandemonium; here was the one identifying evacuation plans, coordinating food storage, and calculating fallback points.

But August 12th was a different day. He walked into the kitchen wearing mismatched footwear: one red shoe and one slipper. His hair was wet, and no one had seen him shower. In his hand was a spoon—held like a knife.

Kaito had been pouring tea, which had been thick in the silence. Rika and Haruto were sitting at the table. All were still, and nothing was said for a while. All parties were just looking on.

"I found the center," Daichi announced.

Rika frowned. "What do you mean?"

He looked down at the spoon in his hand and lightly tapped it against his forehead. Once. Twice.

"It's not where we thought it was. It's not in the heavens. It's under our feet. Inside us. The impact has already happened."

Slowly, Haruto stood. "Daichi… you may want to sit down."

But Daichi did not move. His eyes were glassy-wide, as though looking through some inner screen instead of with his own.

"There is no future to save," he breathed. "Just the present to remember. Just the now to bury."

Then, quite abruptly, he dropped the spoon and began to laugh—softly at first, then more vigorously, as if something wild had been unleashed within him, echoing all through the house.

Kaito stepped forward and placed a gentle hand upon his shoulder. "Daichi. Look at me."

Daichi turned, and for a moment, something passed through—recognition, fear, and then shame—before he fell.

He would sleep for two days.

---

They thought it an isolated event: Breakdown. Overwork. Sleep deprivation. A doctor came and said it could have been a panic seizure. But deep down, none of them really felt that way.

Because it was more than just Daichi.

On the 13th, a group of neighbors showed up to sing in front of a small shrine together. A song that nobody recognized. No melody, no language. Just rhythmical sounds repeating over and over until some of them would collapse from exhaustion.

The 14th saw someone spray-paint across the library doors in huge black letters the following words:

"The sky is not where it used to be."

The 15th was quiet.

Too quiet.

No birds. No cars. No wind.

Kaito couldn't stop shaking. For what reason, he didn't know.

It was night when Rika came up with the question none of them wanted to ask.

“What if the meteor isn’t what kills us?”

Kaito raised his head from his notebook. “Then what does?”

She hesitated. Her voice went down to a whisper. “Whatever’s already started.”

The silence returned. The awful silence that pumped louder heartbeats into the unsteady atmosphere, almost like it too feared what to say. 

Aya called them the next morning. Weak and distant, her speech sounded unglued.

“I think something’s wrong with the school. The students... they don’t blink as often. They talk about things that don’t make sense. A few of them drew the same spiral symbol on their desks. Different classes. No one told them to.”

Rika took the phone. “Aya. Leave the school. Right now.”

“I can’t," Aya whispered. "They don’t let me.”

And the line went dead.

Terror welled in Kaito's chest.

Everything was going to go awry.

And there was no noise. Just silence.

It was a conducive silence until now. Now, it was a suffocating one; it imprisoned the air, pinning it down. 

---

That night, Kaito dreamt of the crack again.

But this time it was not just glowing.

It was pulsating.

And from within something gigantic was stirring.