Chapter III: The Thing in the Corridor

The Thing in the Corridor

Ren did not immediately speak.

Because if he spoke

, it would become real.

The classroom air felt stale and unmoving. Moonlight stretched across broken desks and scattered notebooks like pale scars. Dust drifted lazily, disturbed only by their breathing.

Sora continued staring at him.

Not accusing. Not pleading.

Just aware.

Aika shifted slightly beside him. “Ren?”

He forced his voice to steady. “There’s… nothing.”

But his eyes drifted back toward the hallway.

It was empty.

Perfectly empty.

Too perfectly empty.

The Subtle Shift

Aika crouched in front of Sora. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “We’ll take you home.”

Sora blinked slowly. “Home…” she repeated, as if testing the word.

Ren’s thoughts raced.

If this was a prank, it was elaborate.

If it wasn’t—

Then how had this child survived alone in an abandoned building?

“How long have you been here?” he asked.

Sora tilted her head slightly. “I was hiding.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She looked toward the hallway. “They didn’t find me.”

Silence settled heavily between them.

Aika extended her hand gently. “Let’s go.”

Sora hesitated, then placed her small hand into Aika’s.

Her skin looked pale in the moonlight. Almost translucent.

Lighting, Ren told himself. Just lighting.

They turned toward the door.

That was when Ren felt it again.

The shift.

Not movement.

Attention.

He glanced down the corridor.

The air near the far end seemed thicker, like heat rising from asphalt.

Except it was cold.

Very cold.

Descent

They began walking toward the staircase. Sora walked between them, holding Aika’s hand. Her grip felt light.

Too light.

The corridor stretched ahead.

Ren counted the classroom doors.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five—

He stopped.

There had not been that many.

He was certain of it.

He glanced back. The far end of the corridor seemed farther away than before.

Stress distorts perception, he told himself. Spatial awareness falters under fear.

The lights flickered suddenly. A faint electrical buzz echoed overhead.

Aika froze.

The crying began again.

But Sora was not crying.

Her face remained calm.

The sound came from somewhere else.

Behind them.

Ren turned sharply.

At the far end of the corridor—

The distortion stood there again.

Clearer now.

A silhouette carved from warped air. Its limbs were too long. Its shoulders angled incorrectly. Its head tilted slowly, as if observing them from a sideways perspective.

It did not rush.

It did not glide.

It simply existed.

Ren’s heartbeat slammed violently in his ears.

“Aika,” he whispered urgently.

She followed his gaze.

For a moment, she saw nothing.

Then her posture stiffened.

She had seen it.

Not clearly.

But enough.

The distortion trembled slightly.

And then—

It was closer.

Not by walking.

Not by moving.

Just closer.

The Psychological Fracture

Ren’s thoughts spiraled.

This isn’t possible.

This isn’t real.

This is hysteria. Mass suggestion. The mind under stress invents shapes in darkness.

But Aika could see it too.

Which meant—

Either it was real.

Or they were both losing control.

The crying intensified. It echoed from classroom doors, from ceilings, from inside Ren’s skull.

He clutched his head briefly.

“Aika, we need to go. Now.”

She nodded.

They moved faster toward the staircase.

The distortion followed.

Not with footsteps.

With presence.

Every time Ren blinked, it shortened the distance.

He felt its gaze pressing against the back of his neck.

Sora remained silent.

Calm.

As if this was familiar.

The Collapse

They reached the top of the stairs.

A loud crack exploded above them.

The ceiling groaned.

Ren looked up just in time to see a heavy wooden beam splinter loose.

It fell.

Directly toward them.

Time fractured.

Ren froze completely. His limbs refused to respond. His thoughts locked in place.

This is how it ends.

The beam descended—

And shattered midair.

Exploded into fragments as if struck by something unseen.

Wood splinters rained harmlessly around them.

Ren stared.

His breathing stopped.

Sora stood still.

Her eyes were no longer frightened. No longer distant.

Focused.

The distortion recoiled slightly at the far end of the corridor.

As if reacting.

As if resisting something.

The Recognition

Ren slowly turned toward Sora.

She looked different now.

Not glowing. Not monstrous.

But steady.

Aware.

She released Aika’s hand.

The crying stopped entirely.

Silence returned.

Complete.

The distortion did not advance. It lingered at the corridor’s edge.

Watching.

Waiting.

“I remember,” Sora said quietly.

Her voice had changed.

It was no longer trembling.

It was clear.

Aika swallowed. “Remember what?”

Sora looked past them toward the classroom they had left.

“I hid here.”

Ren’s stomach dropped.

The distortion tilted its head further.

Almost curious.

“They didn’t find me,” Sora continued softly.

The hallway lights flickered once more—

Then went dark.

Only moonlight remained.

In that dim silver glow, Ren understood something instinctively.

The thing in the corridor was not hunting.

It was not chasing.

It was witnessing.

Something unfinished.

Something bound to this place.

And it had been waiting.

For someone to remember.

The air grew colder.

Sora’s gaze drifted toward the staircase.

“We should leave,” she said calmly.

This time, Ren did not argue.

They descended slowly.

The distortion did not follow.

But Ren felt it watching from above.

Unblinking.

As if memorizing him.

When they stepped through the entrance doors into the night air, the pressure lifted slightly.

But not entirely.

Because some things do not stay behind.

Some things attach themselves—

To the one who looked too long.

At the base of Kuroyama Hill, Takeda Daichi and his friends were still waiting. Their laughter sounded nervous now.

“You actually went up?” Daichi called.

Aika did not respond.

Ren turned once more toward the hill.

The second-floor window reflected moonlight.

For a split second—

He thought he saw a silhouette standing behind the broken glass.

Not Sora.

The other one.

Watching him.