Chapter 4: The Storm

*Miya’s POV*

I nearly crashed into him at the door.

Kiro didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. His hand gripped the knob like it was the only thing keeping him upright, his jaw rigid, his eyes fixed somewhere far away. He wouldn’t look at me.

“Kiro—wait,” I whispered, reaching out. My fingers almost brushed his sleeve.

But he stepped past me, cold rain slashing through the gap before the door slammed shut behind him. The sound echoed in my chest louder than the thunder outside, a hollow, splintering crack that felt like it split me open.

For a heartbeat I stood there frozen, hand still half-raised.

“…Brother…”

Something inside me twisted, a voice I couldn’t silence: It’s because of me.

I stumbled into Father’s room. The dim lamp burned low, casting everything in amber. The old man stirred as the door creaked open, his blanket sliding slightly from his shoulder. He blinked at me groggily, his features creased with exhaustion.

“Miya? …What’s the matter, child?”

I rushed to his side, my hands trembling as I adjusted the blanket back over him. “Father, are you okay? Do you need water? Medicine?” My words tumbled out too fast.

He frowned, studying my face through the dim light. “I’m fine. But you… why do you look like the storm’s chasing you?”

I bit my lip, my chest tightening. “…It’s my fault, isn’t it? Kiro walked out because of me. If I wasn’t such a burden, he wouldn’t—”

“Stop.” Father’s voice, though tired, carried weight. His weathered palm closed around my hand, warm but fragile. “That boy is stubborn, yes, but he’d carry the world itself if it meant keeping you safe. Don’t mistake his struggles for regret.”

But I couldn’t believe him. Not fully. My throat burned. “Then why does it feel like everything’s breaking? Why does it feel like I’m breaking him?”

His silence was answer enough. His eyes slid away toward the rain-beaten window, the faint tremor in his fingers betraying a fear he wouldn’t speak aloud.

I wiped my eyes quickly before the tears could spill. “I have to find him.”

“Miya—”

But I was already gone.

The moment I opened the door, the storm swallowed me whole.

The rain struck the umbrella in rapid fire, each droplet a hammering drum. T-t-t-t-tk tk tk tk. The rhythm was deafening, almost frantic, like the sky itself was in panic. I clutched my phone in one hand, my umbrella in the other, and stumbled down the flooded street.

The air was sharp with petrichor and ozone, stinging my lungs with every breath. The gutters gurgled like open throats; streams of brown water swirled around my ankles, tugging at my shoes. Every step felt like I was wading deeper into something endless.

“Where is he… where is he…” The words fell from my lips like a prayer, drowned instantly by the downpour.

I dialed his number, pressing the phone tight to my ear. The line clicked, then the dull, endless tone of ringing buzzed in the speaker. No answer. I called again. And again. My thumb was mechanical, desperate, trembling with every press.

Please, Brother, pick up…

My mind flitted to the playground. The old swings creaking in the wind. The slide we used to race on. The place we’d run to when the world was too heavy. He must have gone there. He had to.

Another crack of thunder split the night, so loud it rattled my ribs. I flinched, the umbrella wobbling in my grasp. Rain cascaded harder, a living wall battering me from every angle. The handle was slick under my fingers; my knuckles ached from holding on.

Lightning lit the world in a flash of white, and for an instant the street looked like a photograph—empty, skeletal, drowned.

“Kiro…” I murmured, tasting salt and rain on my lips. “Please be okay…”

That’s when I heard it.

A sound beneath the storm. Deep, straining, like rope pulled to its breaking point.

Grooooaaan.

I froze mid-step, heart slamming in my chest. The noise came again—longer, louder. A tearing, wrenching cry of wood and earth, like the earth itself was shuddering.

The umbrella trembled violently as I turned my head, scanning the hill that loomed beside the road.

“W-what was that…”

Another moan. Another shudder.

The massive tree at the crest leaned unnaturally, its roots snapping wetly from the soil. I saw them, thick and pale, tearing like veins. The ground around it bulged and slid, water pouring down in rivulets.

“No…” My voice was barely air.

I tilted my head upward.

And saw the mountain falling.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t merciful. The earth collapsed in an avalanche of mud, stones, and broken roots, roaring louder than the thunder. A wave of soil surged down the slope like a monster opening its jaws.

“KIRO—!” I screamed, but the wind ripped the name from my mouth.

The landslide hit me.

The force tore the umbrella from my grip, ripped the air from my lungs. My legs vanished instantly beneath the onslaught, cold wet earth climbing hungrily up my body. I screamed again, but dirt flooded my mouth, choking the sound to nothing.

The weight was crushing. Relentless. My arms flailed instinctively, one pinned against my chest, the other—by some miracle—still holding my phone aloft. Its dim screen flickered through the sheets of rain, Kiro’s name glowing faintly as the call continued to ring.

I tried to suck in air. My lungs filled with mud and water. The soil pressed into my nostrils, my throat, gagging me. My chest spasmed violently, ribs straining as panic consumed me.

I’m alive—I’m still alive—I have to get out—I can’t—

The cold seeped into my skin like icy knives. My clothes clung heavy and sodden, each breath a war against the mud pressing tighter, tighter. My fingers clawed at nothing, nails snapping against stones, but everything slid away.

The silence inside the soil was worse than the noise outside. It muffled the world until all I could hear was my own heartbeat, wild and frantic.

This is my fault. This is my fault. If I hadn’t chased him…

My vision blurred, blackness creeping in at the corners like ink spilling into water. My ears filled with a dull roaring. The taste of grit coated my tongue, thick and metallic.

Through the weight, through the blur, my arm remained outstretched, the phone still in my grasp. The faint ring tone buzzed on. A small, useless cry for help swallowed by the storm.

My chest convulsed one last time, desperate for air that didn’t exist. My fingers twitched, slippery and numb.

Brother… I’m sorry…

The blackness claimed me.