The Faceless Missing

On Monday morning, Aika arrived at school with Himeko’s red scarf wrapped around her neck. It gave her a strange sense of safety. Himeko was already waiting, leaning casually against the statue of the school’s founder, wearing her usual serene smile.

"You look beautiful with that scarf," she whispered as she stepped forward, gently adjusting the fabric. Her fingers brushed against Aika’s skin, and Aika shivered despite herself.

During literature class, when Ms. Tanaka began roll call, she skipped directly from Hayashi to Inoue, never saying Himeko’s name, as if no one sat between the two.

"Ma’am," Aika raised her hand. "You forgot Himeko."

The teacher looked up from her list, puzzled. "Himeko ?"

"Yes, Himeko. She’s sitting right here." Aika pointed to the seat beside her, where Himeko continued to write calmly, a small amused smile on her lips.

Ms. Tanaka followed Aika’s gesture, then double-checked her list. "I’m sorry, Aika, but there’s no Himeko in this class."

An awkward silence fell over the room. A few students turned to glance at Aika with curiosity, their eyes sliding past Himeko’s chair without stopping. Aika felt her cheeks flush with heat.

"I... I’m sorry," she mumbled, lowering her hand and sitting back down.

Himeko placed a soothing hand on her arm and whispered softly in her ear, "It’s all right."

The incident unsettled Aika for the rest of the day. During lunch break, she decided to check for herself. She went to the administrative office and asked to see the student roster for her class.

She scanned the list, searching for Himeko’s name. Once. Twice. Three times. Nothing. No mention of any Himeko.

"Is... is this the complete list ?" she asked, her voice pale.

"Of course. All enrolled students are listed here. Are you looking for someone in particular ?"

"No, no, it’s fine. Thank you."

Aika left the office with trembling legs. How was this possible ? She found Himeko waiting by the vending machines, smiling as if nothing were amiss.

"You look worried," Himeko noted, caressing Aika’s cheek. "What’s wrong ?"

"Himeko..." Aika hesitated. "You don’t show up in any of the school records. How is that possible ?"

Himeko let out a crystalline laugh. "Oh, that!" She waved a hand dismissively. "You know how sloppy school administration can be. It’s just a detail. Nothing important, right ?"

"But how do you attend classes if you’re not officially registered ?"

"I have my little secrets. And anyway, no one ever notices me... except you." She winked playfully.

There was something in Himeko’s gaze that discouraged too many questions. A strange, hypnotic depth, as if her eyes were saying: “Just trust me. That’s all that matters.”

That evening, Aika decided to investigate on her own. She went to the municipal library and asked to consult local archives. If Himeko was real, there had to be some trace of her somewhere.

Aika hesitated before opening the first newspaper. Some part of her didn’t want to know the truth, afraid it would confirm the unease blooming inside her.

Her research led her to old editions of the regional newspaper. As she flipped through the pages, she found a section devoted to unsettling news stories. Her heart clenched when she saw a headline from the previous year: “Yamato High School Student Mysteriously Disappears.”

The article described the case of Aoi Nakamura, a seventeen-year-old student who had suddenly stopped showing up for school. Her parents had reported her missing, but no leads had ever emerged. What stood out most was the testimony from her classmates: in the weeks before she vanished, Yuki had constantly talked about a new friend — one only she could see.

Aika kept digging and uncovered several similar stories, spanning multiple years. Always the same pattern: emotionally vulnerable teenage girls who befriended someone no one else could perceive, and who then vanished without a trace.

The most chilling was a more recent article, dated just a few months back: “Gruesome Discovery Near Amusement Park.”
A young girl’s body had been found in the woods surrounding Yume Park. The detail that made Aika go pale was the description: the body had been decapitated, and the head was never found.

Digging deeper, she found that it wasn’t an isolated case. Over the last fifty years — not counting unresolved disappearances — at least a dozen headless bodies had been discovered in the region, all belonging to young women in emotional distress.

That night, Aika had a dream more vivid than any she’d had before. She was inside a haunted train ride. The wagons stretched endlessly into darkness, and the tunnel was lined with shelves displaying perfectly preserved heads. All of them smiled, and all of them whispered in unison:
"I love you, I love you, I love you..."

Some of the faces seemed familiar: the girl from the newspaper article, others she had seen in missing person reports... and her own.

She woke with a violent jolt, drenched in cold sweat, her sheets tangled around her legs like restraints — only to find a silhouette sitting at the foot of her bed. Himeko was there, watching her with an expression both tender and concerned.

Aika sat up abruptly, her heart pounding. "Himeko ? What are you doing here ? How did you get in ?"

"You invited me, don’t you remember ?” Himeko tilted her head with that same serene, knowing smile she always wore — one that made Aika question her own memories.

Aika searched her memory, but everything after the library visit was a blur. She remembered walking home… but after that — nothing. It was as if hours had been erased from her night.

"I... I don’t remember..." she whispered, disoriented.

Himeko stood and moved closer, sitting beside her on the bed. "You’re tired, darling. All these worries, all this searching..." She gently stroked Aika’s hair.

There was something hypnotic in her voice, a softness that dulled fear and dissolved doubt. Aika felt herself drifting again, her suspicion melting beneath Himeko’s tender touch.

Himeko smiled in the dark — and for a split second, her teeth gleamed with an eerie light.
But Aika, already half-asleep, didn’t notice a thing.