Faith Bleeds

His name was Haruto Yabe.

He joined The Remaining two weeks ago.

Quiet, introverted. The kind of boy who was always invisible in crowded rooms.

When Miko spoke about the end of the world, Haruto listened.

When Miko said fear was a lie, Haruto believed.

When Miko said they were chosen — the only ones who saw clearly — Haruto felt safe.

But lately...

Haruto had begun to dream of Kana.

Dreams where her face wasn't twisted or broken. She smiled. She spoke to him.

" He lied to you, " she said.

" You still have your own voice. "

During one of the daily gatherings in the old west wing, Miko instructed the group to repeat after him.

Not a chant.

A confession.

“ There is no me. Only the will. ”

They said it once.

Twice.

A third time.

Haruto’s lips moved, but the words caught in his throat.

There is no me...

But he still felt himself inside.

Still heard his own thoughts.

That night, he didn’t sleep.

He watched his ceiling in silence.

Wondering if anyone else in The Remaining felt it too.

The fear.

The hollow.

The quiet sense that something had gone wrong.

The Next Day

He skipped the meeting.

Walked the halls instead.

And that’s when he saw Mr. Ichihara.

Or something that looked like him.

Down the staff corridor — head tilted, body stiff, unmoving.

Haruto called to him.

The figure turned, slowly.

Eyes glazed.

Face too calm.

Then it whispered:

“ You were not meant to see this. ”

Haruto ran.

He didn’t know where.

Only away.

That Night

He returned to the circle.

Miko stood in the center again, reading from Kana’s old notebook.

The words didn’t make sense anymore.

They made shapes in his head. Spirals. Vertigo.

Then Miko stopped and looked directly at him.

“ Haruto. ”

The name was a command.

Everyone turned.

Haruto froze.

“ You’ve been looking elsewhere, ” Miko said gently. “ That’s dangerous. ”

Haruto swallowed. “ I just—needed air. ”

Miko walked toward him.

“ There is no air outside of me. ”

He smiled.

Not warm.

Not angry.

Holy.

And Haruto smiled back.

He had to.

But inside…

The doubt was growing.

And doubt, Miko once said, is a crack.

And cracks break walls.

Miko sat alone in the ritual room after the others had left.

The notebook lay open in front of him.

Kana’s notebook.

His scripture now.

The symbols on the walls no longer looked like spirals to him.

They looked like eyes.

Watching.

Judging.

“ One of them doubts me. ”

He whispered it aloud, as if saying it could exorcise it.

His reflection in the glass cabinet across the room tilted slightly — not in reality, but in perception.

Smiling back at him.

He didn’t remember smiling.

The Voice Returns

He stopped sleeping three days ago.

But dreams still came.

Not like before.

Now they came awake.

In the halls.

In the silence.

Kana’s voice, soft and broken:

“ You're not saving them. You're repeating me. ”

“ You said you were different. ''

“ But your hands are the same. ”

The Gathering

At the next session, Miko stood in the center of the circle again, but his voice was harsher.

Not angry — tainted.

He spoke of betrayal.

Of the need for purity.

Of someone among them who had let the outside back in.

His followers looked at one another.

Nervous.

Tense.

Haruto tried not to breathe.

Then Miko walked the circle.

Slowly.

One step at a time.

“ One of you has forgotten who we are. ”

“ One of you will remind us what truth costs. ”

He stopped behind Haruto.

Said nothing.

Smiled.

Moved on.

Later, Alone

Back in the ritual room, Miko slammed the notebook shut.

The pages had started to change again.

Words shifting.

Some lines gone entirely.

He scratched symbols into the desk with his nails.

Then whispered:

“ You want me to fail. ”

“ You’re still in here. ”

His voice wasn’t to the room.

Not to Kana.

Not even to Haruto.

But to himself.

The part of Miko that remembered being a boy.

The part that still doubted.

And in the glass reflection...

He saw Kana.

Smiling softly.

And then gone.