Behind the "Peace"

The village was quiet in the early morning light. A soft mist curled between the crooked houses like a breath.

But the silence was deceptive.

As the trio wandered deeper past the main square, they noticed the subtle wrongness of things.

Children with sunken eyes stared from behind curtains that twitched away before contact. A young boy sat on a fencepost, chewing on something that might’ve been cloth. An elderly man muttered to himself, scratching his own arms until they bled.

Asahi slowed. “Something’s off.”

Yume stepped beside him. “This what they’ve trying to hide from you.”

She led them down a narrow back alley lined with rusted fences. There, in the shadow of a collapsed greenhouse, they found a crude infirmary. It was a makeshift tent reeking of sweat and vomit.

Inside were the afflicted.

A girl barely older than Ren clutched her head, whispering things that made no sense. A man screamed into a pillow, his limbs twitching in erratic spasms. Others lay still, eyes open and unseeing.

“These are the ones who showed symptoms.” Yume said. “The villagers hide them here… to protect them. Or to hide their shame. I’m not sure anymore.”

Haruto looked around with darkening eyes. “Why didn’t anyone tell us?”

Yume’s fingers tightened into fists. “They didn’t completely trust you.”

Haruto’s gaze swept over the patients. “And the sickness… It’s caused by the Veil?”

She nodded.

“It’s not physical. It eats the mind first. Confuses it. Breaks the walls between emotion and reason. That’s why the world’s been falling apart. People are quicker to anger, easier to manipulate and desperate to believe whatever they’re told.”

She looked toward the sky.

“The Veil wasn’t just a shield between dimensions. It was a membrane that filtered truth, fear, and reality. Without it, we’re… exposed. Raw.”

Asahi stepped forward. “So the robberies. The riots. The paranoia. It’s not just desperation?”

“It’s contamination,” Yume said. “And it’s spreading.”

Meanwhile, a woman’s gaze locked onto Ren. She immediately recognized him from the previous day. Roughly, she seized Ren’s arms as she pleaded him for a repeat miracle, for her child to be healed. Others joined in, their faces filled with anguish and desperation.

Then, a heart-wrenching cry tore through the room as a woman clutched a small, still form to her chest. Her voice, a broken lullaby, demanded Ren to revive her already departed child. The weight of their collective suffering crashed down on Ren. His face crumped as he became overwhelmed by the impossible pleas of the people, and he broke down.

The sight of his raw grief seemed to pierce through the villagers’ frantic desperation. The woman clutching her dead child faltered in her singing. A hush began to fall over the infirmary as the other villagers witnessed the boy’s distress. A wave of shame and belated understanding washed over their faces as they recognized the weight of their impossible demands on a child.

Just then, Yume called out with a firm voice. Supported by Asahi’s calming presence and Haruto’s silent but protective stance, she broke through the escalating frenzy.

Despite the lingering distrust and clutching hands, the trio pulled Ren out of there and finally managed to escape, breaking free from the suffocating grip of the villagers’ desperate hope and sorrow.

Upon returning back to Yume’s house, a heavy silence settled over everyone. In the meantime, Asahi worked to soothe Ren and calm his tears.

That evening, Yume sat alone of the porch.

She had changed since arriving back. Not healed, but healing. There was color in her face again, a steadiness in her breath.

Asahi sat beside her and offered her a cup of tea.

She took it wordlessly, blowing gently on the surface.

“You don’t need to take it too hard on yourself,” he said, watching her carefully. “You’ve done enough.”

Yume didn’t answer immediately.

“I want to,” she said at last. “I spent so long running from what I did. Hiding. Letting the lies shape everything around me. But Emi… Kurosawa…”

Her eyes were clear now.

“If I keep running, none of this will end. If I go with you, maybe it won’t word. But at least I’ll know I tried.”

Asahi nodded, but before he could speak again, Yume leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For holding on.”

He didn’t reply. The silence was enough to carry the weight of the moment.

By morning, word had spread.

The villagers gathered as the four stood near the gate. Despite their hidden pain, their secret griefs, they had come out in full – mothers, children, elders wrapped in shawls.

From the back of the crowd, a sob could be faintly heard. “please… just, one more time…” a woman cried out. Another voice, filled with anguish, “My son… please…” clinging onto the memory of Ren’s impossible miracle.

But then, a single hesitant clap broke through the despair. It was an old man whose face was etched with lines of hardship. More joined in. And more.

Not for victory.

For courage.

For leaving, when everyone else had stayed.

A few villagers bowed their heads in shame, avoiding the group’s gaze as the weight of their desperate demands finally hit them.

Asahi, Haruto, Ren, and Yume turned to face them all.

Yume’s mother stepped forward. Her eyes were red, her face drawn, but she pulled Yume into a hug one last time.

“We’ll be waiting for you,” she whispered. “So please… stay safe… and find what you need to find…”

Yume nodded silently, a single tear tracing down her cheek.

Then, with a final goodbye, they left behind the stifled cries and the hesitant applause, finally walking out together.

Towards the unknown.

Towards the truth.