Chapter 30: The Storm Before the Silence

It started on a quiet afternoon.

Not during a fight, not during a dramatic moment—

just after school, under the shade of the ginkgo trees lining the courtyard.

Ren and Yuki had slipped away from the crowd to talk.

It was supposed to be small. Simple.

An apology for their earlier argument about the Miyazuma Shrine.

But nothing about their lives was simple anymore.

---

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Yuki said, crossing her arms. “I’m saying you can’t avoid talking about it.”

“I’m not avoiding it,” Ren replied. “I just—”

“You’re scared.”

His jaw tightened.

Not angry. Just exposed.

Yuki sighed and looked away. “Ren… the shrine, the chime… the flashes. Something is happening again.”

“I know.” His voice was quiet. “But rushing into panic won’t help anyone.”

“It’s not panic. It’s—”

She stopped.

A breeze brushed past them.

Except it wasn’t a breeze.

It was colder. Sharper.

A ripple in the air.

Ren frowned. “Did you feel—”

The ground shivered.

Not an earthquake.

Something else.

Like the world hiccuped.

Static crackled at the edge of their hearing.

A high, chiming ring slid through the air, soft but unmistakable.

Yuki’s eyes widened.

“Ren… the chime.”

--

Light burst behind her.

Not sunlight.

Something white, blinding, almost liquid.

It spread like a wave.

Yuki turned, confused—

and her outline flickered.

“Ren?”

Her voice was thin, muffled.

His blood ran cold.

“Yuki—don’t move.”

She reached for him.

Static crawled up her arm.

“Ren—wait—”

And then—

The world cracked like glass.

A sharp flash of light swallowed her whole.

The trees bent inward as if sucked into a vortex.

Ren lunged forward.

“YUKI!”

But his fingers passed through empty air.

The light vanished.

So did she.

--

The courtyard was still.

Too still.

No birds.

No voices.

No wind.

Yuki was gone.

Not walked away.

Not teleported somewhere he could chase.

Gone.

Ren staggered back, chest tight.

“Yuki… YUKI!”

He ran across the courtyard.

Behind the gym.

Toward the gates.

Calling her name over and over, voice breaking.

Students stared, confused but not frightened—

as if they hadn’t seen the flash.

As if something erased their memory.

He grabbed the nearest boy by the shoulders.

“Did you see a girl—Yuki Harada—right here just now?”

The boy blinked. “Huh? I didn’t see anyone.”

Ren’s hands fell away.

This wasn’t normal.

This wasn’t random.

The timeline had taken her.

---

“Ren!”

Haru sprinted across the field, Mina right behind him.

The moment they saw his face, their expressions changed.

“What happened?” Mina asked, breathless.

“She’s gone,” Ren said. “She disappeared.”

Haru stepped closer. “Ren… slow down. What do you mean by disappeared?”

“There was a flash,” Ren said, shaking. “Something like the shrine’s light. The chime happened again. And then—she wasn’t—”

His voice cracked.

He covered his eyes with one shaking hand.

Haru didn’t joke.

Didn’t tease.

Didn’t breathe too loudly.

He placed a hand on Ren’s shoulder. “We’ll find her.”

Mina’s gaze swept the courtyard.

The air still felt wrong.

“Something’s off,” she whispered. “Look.”

Ren followed her eyes.

The benches under the trees were shifted a few centimeters.

The path stones looked misaligned.

A paper lantern near the old storage shed was turned upside-down.

Small things.

But wrong.

Time didn’t usually break loudly.

It cracked at the edges.

Ren’s pulse hammered.

--

They searched the campus first.

Behind buildings.

Inside the gym storage.

The club rooms.

Every hallway.

Ren kept calling her name, voice hoarse, each time expecting her to answer like she always did.

Haru checked the track field.

Mina checked the art room.

Nothing.

When they regrouped in the courtyard, Mina’s face was pale.

“Ren… I don’t think she’s anywhere in town.”

“Don’t say that,” he snapped.

She didn’t flinch.

“Something swallowed her. You felt it too, didn’t you?”

He clenched his fists.

The truth was choking him.

---

As they stood under the ginkgo trees, the light around them shifted again.

Just a flicker.

Barely noticeable.

But enough.

The branches blurred for a split second, then snapped back into focus.

Haru stared. “This place isn’t stable.”

Ren exhaled slowly.

The shrine.

The chime.

The flashes.

Pieces were falling into place.

But the shape of the truth was terrifying.

--

They were about to head home when Ren noticed something on the ground near the trees.

A folded paper.

Almost hidden under a fallen leaf.

He crouched and picked it up.

It wasn’t paper from their school.

It was older.

Thicker.

Handmade.

He unfolded it.

Inside was a single line, written in careful brush strokes:

“You cannot hold onto someone the timeline has claimed.”

Ren’s breath caught.

Mina touched his arm. “What… what does that mean?”

Haru swallowed hard. “Ren… is this about why you and Yuki came back?”

Ren didn’t answer.

Because at that moment—

a soft whisper slid past his ear.

Not human.

Not wind.

“Find what was broken… or she will fade.”

Ren froze.

The courtyard held its breath again.

Haru stepped back. “Ren—did you hear that?”

Ren closed his fist around the note, knuckles white.

He finally understood.

This wasn’t an accident.

This wasn’t random.

This wasn’t punishment for their fight.

This was the beginning of the truth.

The truth behind the time slip.

The truth behind their return.

Yuki wasn’t just missing.

She was being pulled deeper into the reason they were sent back.

And Ren had no choice—

He had to follow.

Even if it meant breaking time itself.