Chapter 17 — “The Phone Call”

Sometimes, truth doesn’t scream.

It whispers — and ruins everything.

---

The school day passes like fog.

Mizuki doesn’t speak to anyone.

Himari tries to pretend that everything is fine — but the silence between them has teeth.

During lunch, she catches glimpses of Mizuki drawing in her notebook, the faint scrape of pencil echoing like a heartbeat. When their eyes meet, Mizuki smiles — small, polite, and terrifyingly empty.

By the end of the day, Himari’s nerves are paper-thin.

She walks home under a gray sky, clutching her phone, wishing she could stop trembling.

---

That evening, the call comes.

Her phone buzzes on the desk.

Unknown number.

The kind of number that feels heavy before you even answer.

She hesitates, then picks up.

> “Hello?”

A woman’s voice, soft and weary:

> “Is this… Akane Himari?”

> “Yes.”

> “I’m sorry to call you like this. I’m Mizuki’s mother.”

The world goes still.

> “Oh— yes, hello, Mrs. Sera.”

There’s a pause, then a quiet sigh that sounds like someone holding in years of exhaustion.

> “I found your number in Mizuki’s phone. You’re her… classmate, aren’t you?”

> “Yes, we’re… close.”

> “I thought so.”

A pause.

The voice trembles.

> “I need to ask you something. Please… stay away from my daughter.”

Himari’s throat tightens.

> “What?”

> “You don’t understand. Mizuki—she’s not well. She’s been… like this before.”

> “Like what?”

A faint rustle, a muffled sob.

> “When she loves someone, she… she breaks. And she takes the other person with her.”

The words feel unreal.

> “That’s not true,” Himari says, her voice sharper than she means it to be. “She’s just—lonely.”

> “No.” The mother’s voice hardens. “You think you can fix her. You can’t. Please, I’m begging you. Step away before she hurts you—or herself.”

Himari grips the phone tighter.

> “She’s getting better,” she lies. “She’s trying.”

> “Trying doesn’t change what she’s done,” the woman whispers.

“You think the girl who used to stay up all night drawing isn’t capable of—”

The line cuts.

Static hums for a second. Then silence.

Himari blinks, staring at her phone.

The call timer still runs.

Then, faintly—

> “Himari.”

The voice is no longer the mother’s.

It’s Mizuki’s.

> “Why are you talking to her?”

Himari’s stomach twists.

> “Mizuki—where are you?”

No answer. Just breathing. Slow. Too close.

> “I heard everything,” Mizuki says softly. “You think I’m broken?”

> “I—no, I was just—”

> “You think I hurt people.”

> “That’s not—”

> “Then why are you scared right now?”

Himari’s mouth goes dry. “Where are you?”

A faint laugh — cracked, trembling, not quite human.

> “Outside.”

Himari stands up. The curtains flutter slightly — and behind them, a shadow moves.

She rushes to the window and yanks them open.

The courtyard below is empty.

Only the wind.

Only the rain.

Her phone buzzes again — a new message from Mizuki.

> Don’t listen to her.

She doesn’t know me like you do.

You said you’d never leave, remember?

Then another.

> If you want me gone, say it now.

Himari types back: Please, let’s talk tomorrow.

The typing bubble flickers for a moment, then disappears.

---

That night, Himari dreams of the sea cliffs again — Reina’s shoes on the rocks, the cold salt wind against her skin.

But this time, someone else stands beside the body.

Mizuki.

Her hands are red.

> “You said I wouldn’t be alone,” she whispers.

“So why are you leaving me?”

When Himari wakes, the sound of rain hasn’t stopped. Her phone buzzes on the nightstand again.

A voicemail.

She presses play.

> “Himari.”

(Soft breathing.)

“You should’ve told me you were scared. I could’ve made it easier.”

(A quiet laugh.)

“Don’t talk to my mother again.”

“You belong to me now.”

The message ends with a click — and a faint splash, like water dripping onto tile.

Himari sits frozen, staring at the phone until dawn.

---

At school, Mizuki acts as if nothing happened.

She greets Himari with a smile, her bandaged cheek pale beneath the fluorescent lights.

> “You didn’t answer my last message,” she says sweetly.

> “I fell asleep,” Himari replies, voice hoarse.

Mizuki leans closer, her breath warm against Himari’s ear.

> “You dream about me?”

Himari flinches. “Mizuki—”

> “It’s okay.” Mizuki smiles wider. “I dream about you too.”

She walks away, humming the same lullaby again.

The one Himari now realizes she must’ve been humming in that voicemail.

---

That night, Mizuki’s mother calls again. Himari doesn’t answer.

She turns off her phone and stares at her reflection in the dark window.

Outside, in the faint light of the courtyard, someone stands under the wisteria tree.

Still. Watching.

When the lightning flashes, Himari sees her face —

Mizuki’s — smiling up at her through the rain.

And then she’s gone.