Chapter 28 — The Threshold of Miyazuma Shrine

The trip to Miyazuma Shrine was supposed to be simple. A day off. A walk up the stone steps. A chance for Haru and Mina to stop blushing every five minutes while Yuki and Ren teased them from behind.

But the moment they reached the top, the air felt off.

Not cold. Not warm. Just… wrong.

The shrine stood quiet under the tall cedars, its old wooden frame wrapped in layers of timeworn ropes and paper charms. The wind didn’t move them. Even the birds stayed silent.

Yuki felt it first. A twitch in her chest. A memory she didn’t remember having, like someone whispering a name she once loved.

Ren felt it too. His hand brushed hers as if by instinct. He wasn’t the type to show it, but his jaw tightened. Something had shifted in the world, and he could sense the ripple inside him.

Haru and Mina didn’t notice. They were too busy avoiding eye contact after the accidental kiss from last night.

Keiko Aoki, Ren’s mother, stood near the entrance. She’d insisted on coming, saying the kids needed to “see the truth with their own eyes.” She looked older here, like the shrine pulled years from her face instead of adding them.

“This place belongs to the God of Time,” she said softly. “People believe their wishes reach him fastest here. But the truth is harsher. When time bends…” She touched one of the ancient ropes. “People bend with it.”

Mina swallowed. “What do you mean ‘bend’?”

“Changes in the timeline don’t stay limited to events,” Keiko said. “They shape memories, relationships, even emotions. A small shift can rewrite who you are without you realizing.”

Yuki’s heart sank. “Is that why it feels like something is missing?”

Keiko nodded. “The timeline you stand on isn’t the only one that ever existed.”

For a second, the world seemed to pulse. The forest dimmed around them as if dusk had fallen all at once. A faint bell rang from somewhere deep inside the shrine, even though no one had touched it.

Ren stepped closer to Yuki. “Stay behind me.”

Then they heard it.

A crack. Like glass breaking underwater.

Glitch.

A figure flickered near the offering hall, its body glitching like a corrupted image. Not fully human. Not fully machine. Its outline snapped in and out of reality, as if time itself kept rejecting its existence.

Haru grabbed Mina’s wrist. “Don’t move.”

The Glitch tilted its head, scanning them with static-filled eyes. The pull around it was unbearable—like it wasn’t breaking the timeline, but being broken by it.

Keiko whispered, “He’s not supposed to exist anymore. Something—or someone—is rewriting the path.”

Yuki felt the tremor in her bones. Images flashed behind her eyelids: a burning sky, a hand reaching for hers, Ren calling her name in a world she didn’t remember.

Mina gasped. “Haru… when we—when we kissed… did something change?”

The Glitch took one step forward, and the ground shook.

Not from weight.

From time.

The air warped. Yuki grabbed Ren’s arm to steady herself. Haru tightened his hold on Mina.

Keiko spoke over the hum of distortion. “Listen to me. From here on, everything you do will affect more than the present. If you want to save your own future—and hers”—she glanced at Yuki—“you’ll have to confront what’s been erased.”

The shrine bell rang again.

The Glitch raised its hand.

Time fractured like a mirror.

And the next arc began.