The 25th Hour

Kazu blinked trying to shake off the haze clinging to his mind. Rain splattered his face. Each drop hung midair-fragile like glass.

The street around him was still frozen but not in a simple way. Neon reflections spilled like someone dropped cracked highlighters in puddles. The city had no hum. Not even the rumble of trains. Just silence.

He dragged himself up. His heart wanted both freedom and violence. Dramatic much? His shoes made no sound on the slick asphalt. The red umbrella— where is it? He turned.

The umbrella. There. Open. Just lying in a puddle like it paid rent.

Something felt off.

Deep off. Like milk mentally expired.

“Where… am I?” Kazu muttered. His voice cracked. It was his own voice, yet too loud and echoing off buildings that should have been bustling but now seemed to be abandoned.

He stepped forward. Slow. Careful. Kinda stupid, but he did. Taking in the city’s strangeness. Shops and cafés were open, lights glowing, but utterly empty. Tables were set neatly, cups left mid-sip, vending machines stocked, yet nobody stirred. A flicker of movement caught his eye: a pigeon frozen mid-hop— wings extended eyes wide. Even the raindrops hanging above its beak glimmered unnaturally, like frozen diamonds.

Kazu swallowed hard. “This isn’t real... right? Like, Come on.”

His brain went 100 tab mode. None loaded properly.

Why me though? Why only me? And seriously... Where is everyone?

And that red umbrella figure… where did they go?

He wandered aimlessly. Passing alleys, shuttered shops, and familiar corners that now seemed alien. The streets stretched differently—subtly warped. Buildings were doing geometry crimes. Neon signs picked violence in the color palette. Even though he knew these paths— the city felt as though it were rearranging itself beneath his feet.

After a while, the panic began to ease, that replaced by a strange sense of curiosity.

If there was truly no one here… then what could he do? Or What couldn’t he do?

He chuckled nervously.

“Alright… if this is a dream, I might as well enjoy it.” haha I'm the boss here for today, It's Kazu time. He laughed too loud.

Kazu grinned faintly and darted into a convenience store. The door creaked echoing in still air. Then, He ran his fingers over the snacks, plucking out his favorite chocolate bar. With a careful, theatrical bow to no one, he unwrapped it and took a bite.

The sweetness hit DIFFERENT. Like... Incredibly good.

He savored it, biting slowly, like it was his first meal after the apocalypse.

“Man,” he mumbled between the chews, “if this is the end of the world, at least I’ve got a good chocolate.” yummy.

He laughed too loud. Way too loud.

If chaos had a subscription plan, he'd accidentally bought premium.

Anyway.

He still kept walking— opening a soda can, shaking it just to hear the fizz, though the sound faded halfway. Even sound behaved differently here.

Outside, the streets called.

He ran barefoot into puddles, water splashing around him in impossible arcs as if gravity had softened. He twirled in circles, dancing, arms stretched wide, laughing loudly into the empty streets.

“Ha! Nobody can stop me!” he shouted, voice ringing against silent walls.

His brain suggested a backflip. He declined it respectfully.

He kicked at a paper bag, hearing the rustle echo endlessly.

He crouched and listening to the stillness, feeling like a little kid alone in a giant playground. He jumped onto a car hood sat cross-legged, and started humming nonsense tunes to himself. He pulled out another snack from his pocket, tossing wrappers into the air just to watch them float instead of fall.

“Physics said nope and left the chat.” He whispered, half-laughing, half in awe.

A cat statue outside a restaurant caught his attention—the waving one, its paw mid-swing.

“Yo, you stuck too?” Kazu said, crouching in front of it. “Hang in there, buddy.”

He saluted to the statue, then laughed at his own ridiculousness. But laughter had a strange echo here—it didn’t bounce off the walls, it just hung in the air, stretched too long, fading too slow. He frowned slightly. “Weird acoustics, huh…”

The karaoke bar up ahead caught his eye. Its neon sign flickered— empty rooms glowing. Impulsively, he pushed open the door. The microphone stand was set perfectly like waiting for him to sing, lights still on, songs queued up. Smiling, he grabbed a mic and belted out his favorite tune, voice cracking halfway through. He laughed mid-line, switching songs, dancing like an idiot in between tables.

At one point, he dropped onto his knees dramatically—pretending to perform to an imaginary crowd.

“Thank you, thank you, everyone’s too stunned to clap!” he said, bowing to the empty room.

For a moment, the world outside—the strange suspended rain, the eerie silence, the unexplainable emptiness—faded. It was just him and the rhythm of something familiar. He twirled, jumped on the small stage, and sang until his throat ached.

When he finally flopped down onto the couch, panting, a small smile crept across his lips.

“I’ve officially gone crazy,” he whispered to himself, chuckling.

He lay there for a while, eyes on the ceiling. The fluorescent light buzzed softly—then stopped. Just stopped mid-buzz, like someone had hit pause on sound itself.

He sat up, staring. “…Did I imagine that?”

He walked to the door again, pushing it open. The world outside was darker than before, like the streetlights had dimmed.

Maybe time was still moving, just differently. He turned to a corner and paused. There was a billboard above a store—a giant smiling model holding a soda can.

He could’ve sworn that her eyes had been looking to the left before.

Now they stared straight at him.

Kazu froze. “...Right. Definitely not creepy.”

He forced a chuckle and turned away quickly, rubbing his arms. The air felt thicker now, heavier with something unseen. He passed his favorite café. The door swung slightly on its hinge, though no wind blew. He glanced inside—cups left mid-sip, chairs still warm from imagined patrons.

He ran a finger along a puddle on the counter; the water didn’t ripple as he touched it.

Rules here packed their bags and left. No notice, nothing.

Something scrawled faintly on the glass caught his attention. It wasn’t there before.

Three crooked letters traced in condensation:

> RUN.

He blinked twice. Why twice? No idea. “What the hell…?”

He wiped the glass—but the letters didn’t smudge. They seemed to carved beneath the surface, glowing faintly under the café lights.

“Yeah... Totally fine. Super fine. He muttered. Backing away— trying to keep his voice light. “Just some ghostly Yelp review, that’s all.”

He tried to laugh, but it came out thin.

As he walked away, the reflection on the glass lingered behind him for just a moment longer than it should have.

Like it was watching him to leave.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked faster. A flicker at the edge of his vision—something red. The umbrella?

He turned sharply.

At the end of the street, a figure stood, faint and translucent, holding that same red umbrella. Too far to see the face.

“Hey!” Kazu shouted, heart leaping. “Wait—!”

He sprinted toward it, slipping on the slick ground, but the figure didn’t move.

The closer he got, the blurrier it became—until it simply wasn’t there anymore.

The puddle rippled once. Then still. Kazu’s breath hitched. He looked around. The silence felt heavier than before—like the world was holding its breath.

He found himself at a park. The swings swayed slightly, not frozen like everything else. Just a faint motion, back and forth.

Kazu stood there, watching. “So… some things do move. Great. Totally normal.”

He sat on a swing and pushed himself. It didn’t creak—it was silent. No friction, no air resistance. Just… motion.

For a brief, beautiful moment, he felt free. The wind—or what should’ve been wind—brushed past him like static.

He closed his eyes. “If this is a dream… maybe I don’t wanna wake up.”

Then, a soft tick.

He opened his eyes.

The playground clock above the gate—stuck at exactly 3:59 AM.

He frowned. “3:59 AM? That’s… weird.”

He checked his phone. The same—3:59 AM. No signal, no service.

But the seconds didn’t change. Time said pause and didn't elaborate. When he lifted his gaze again, he could swear the swing next to him was now moving too.

Empty—but moving.

Kazu froze, staring at it. “...Okay. Nope. Not fun anymore.”

He stood, stepping back slowly, heart thudding again. From somewhere far behind, a faint gurgling hiss rolled through the street. He spun, scanning the shadows.

The noise came again—closer.

From a narrow alley, a figure emerged: humanoid, distorted, skin stretched unnaturally, eyes dark and void-like, teeth sharp and glinting.

...Yeah. Monster. Wonderful. Totally what he ordered today.

Instinct screamed. He bolted.

Shoes splashed in suspended puddles, droplets parting around him like sparks. Every step echoed against silent walls.

The city was his playground a moment ago now twisted into a labyrinth of fear.

Yet—he laughed. A nervous, wild laugh, halfway between thrill and madness.

“This is insane!” he shouted between gasps. “What even are you?!”

A sharp clawed swipe caught his forearm. Pain flared; he stumbled, sliding across wet asphalt. Blood seeped through his sleeve.

He looked at it and winced—but still grinned.

“You actually get hurt… okay, okay, not a dream then!”

He scrambled upright, pressing his hand to the wound, and sprinted.

But even through fear, exhilaration surged. The city around him blurred into colors, rain suspended, streets bending. It was chaos, complete chaos—and apparently he was alive in it.

He ducked through narrow alleys, vaulted over a bike rack, slid beneath a half-frozen shutter. The creature yelled in protagonist trauma language. He laughed breathlessly.

“I refuse to die to aggressive gelatin!”

Then, from behind—three more Monsters emerged, cutting off escape routes. Their eyes glowed faintly, their claws scraping the asphalt, their presence warping the air.

Kazu backed up, panting, hand still bleeding.

A nervous smile tugged at his lips. “Oh come on, I didn’t even get to finish karaoke round two!”

He regretted every life choice except the karaoke.

They lunged. He dodged narrowly—darting between them, laughter echoing even as his heartbeat thundered. Every dodge, every slip—it felt like balancing on the edge of death and adrenaline.

The thrill almost felt… good.

He was terrified. He was also alive. Unsure which one was worse.

As he ran, memories flickered—to his college, his friends, that one afternoon in the courtyard:

> “Sometimes I wish there was a 25th hour,” someone had said.

“One extra hour to fix everything… or maybe to just disappear.”

The words reverberated in his mind, unnervingly clear.

25th Hour… The idea he had dismissed now clawed at him like truth.

Honestly? He wasn't sure who was telling this story anymore. Him? The city? Some unpaid narrator in the sky? Unclear. Unimportant. Probably all of the above. Anyway— moving on.

The monsters closed in. His chest heaved, vision blurring, laughter dying into trembling breaths.

“I… I hope this is all just a scary dream…” His voice cracked.

Then it happened.

Time snapped. Suspended droplets scattered, neon lights fractured, shadows twisted violently.

The Monsters lunged—but the world around him shifted first, violently, like reality itself being pulled apart.

The city tilted. Stretched and twisted, dragging Kazu with it.

Heart pounding, limbs trembling, and he was hurled into the unknown rhythm of the 25th Hour—

alone, bleeding, terrified, smiling… and utterly unprepared.