244.2

Tomoyo's mind raced through all the possibilities. Power outage? No, the streetlights are still there. Solar eclipse? Wrong time of year, and those didn't turn everything pitch black anyway. Some kind of weather phenomenon she'd never heard of? A thick cloud that covered everything?

But she could see the buildings. Sort of. Their shapes were there, outlined by the glow of windows and streetlights. The traffic lights blinked like usual but the cars them were barely there, just headlights cutting through nothing. It was like looking at a photo negative of the city: light where there should be something, darkness where there should be sky.

Tomoyo turned around, eyes locking onto the eel. It hovered there, jaw working slowly, completely unbothered by the fact that parts of reality seem to be gone.

Tell me what's happening.

The eel stared.

Tell me why the sky is gone.

Nothing.

Tell me something, anything, please-

"Tomo-chan?"

Her mother's voice cut through her spiral. Tomoyo realized she'd been staring at empty air for god knows how long, her mother watching her watch nothing.

"What's wrong? Is it too bright? You want me to close the blinds?"

"I'll-" Tomoyo's voice cracked. She cleared her throat. "I'll close them."

She grabbed the string and yanked. The blinds clattered shut, cutting off the view of the darkness that her mother couldn't see. The room dimmed slightly, fluorescent light now the only source of light.

Tomoyo returned to the chabudai and lowered herself on to the cushion. The ochazuke sat there, steam curling upward. She picked up the bowl and brought it to her lips.

The first sip tasted like hot water and salt.

She tried again. Same thing. The bonito flakes and rice might as well have been cardboard. The thing that had gotten her through every bad day since middle school, now just something she was forcing down her throat.

"Tomo-chan, you're really pale. You've been acting strange, too. Are you feeling sick?"

"It's just my period." A lie. "Started this morning."

"Have you been taking your iron supplements? You know how anemic you get."

Tomoyo nodded, spooning more ochazuke into her mouth without tasting it. This was better. Better her mother think she was just dealing with menstrual problems than worry her with whatever the truth actually was.

"I'll pick up some more iron tablets after work," her mother continued. "And make some pork liver tonight."

"Ok."

The eel drifted closer to her mother, circling her head like it was examining her from different angles. Its jaw worked again, processing something Tomoyo couldn't begin to understand.

Her gaze then drifted past her mother to the kitchen counter. The knife sat there, blade catching the light. Just a standard kitchen knife, nothing special. The kind her mother used to slice veggies for dinner.

Would it work?

Could she just... cut the cord? But what if it hurt? What if cutting it would feel like cutting off her own arm? What if the pain was bad enough to black her out while her mother watched on, helpless and confused?

The eel's eye rotated toward her.

Did it know what she was thinking?

"Tomo-chan?"

She blinked. Her mother was staring at her again.

"Sorry. I mean, what?"

"I asked if you wanted me to call the school."

"No, I'm okay. I should get ready."

Tomoyo pushed herself up from the chabudai and hurried toward her room, the umbilical cord trailing behind her like a grotesque leash. She kept her eyes forward, locked on the doorway, because if she didn't look at it, maybe it wasn't really here. Maybe none of this was happening. Maybe the sky was still there and the eel was just some sleep paralysis hallucination that would disappear the moment she woke up.

She slipped into her room and closed the door. Her school uniform hung on the back of her desk chair where she left it last night. She reached for the light switch on instinct again, then froze.

The room was already lit.

The eel's body pulsed with light, casting everything in shades of white. Shadows pooled in the corners where the light couldn't reach, but she could see her desk and bed.

She'd seen when she woke up earlier. She'd seen, but she hadn't questioned where the light was coming from, probably because her brain had filled in the gaps.

Tomoyo grabbed her uniform and started changing, moving in jerky motions. The skirt first. Then the long sleeves. She had tilt her body at awkward angles to avoid touching the cord.

Suddenly, her phone erupted.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

She snatched the phone off her desk.

Kuroko: u coming?

Kuroko: usual spot

Kuroko: im already here

Kuroko: tomomomomomo

Tomoyo's thumbs flew across the screen.

yeah sorry be there soon

Tomoyo checked the time in the corner of her screen and - blurred, same as before. She let out a sigh and shoved her phone into her bag, grabbing her blazer and pulling it on as she rushed toward the door. Her mother was still in the kitchen, probably washing the dishes.

"I'll see you later, mom!" Tomoyo called out.

"Wait, Tomo-chan, your lunch-"

But the door had already slammed shut.

***

The first thing Tomoyo noticed when she stepped outside was the sky - or rather, the absence of it.

The eel's bioluminescence was the only thing creating any visibility at all, a pathetic little sphere of white light that made her feel like a walking lamppost. Beyond those three meters, darkness ate everything.

Tomoyo gripped the railing and started walking. Without the city to look at, she found herself noticing things about the apartment she'd never paid attention to before, like the cracks running along the balcony wall and the rust growing around the drainage grate.

Their apartment complex was falling apart. Had been falling apart for years, obviously. She just never stopped to look.

When Tomoyo finally reached the ground floor and stepped out onto the sidewalk, the station entrance materialized ahead of her. She first saw the fluorescent lights overhead, then the turnstiles, then the ticket machines.

And finally, Kuroko.

She sat on the bench near the entrance, legs crossed, head tilted back staring at the sky that didn't exist anymore. Her dark hair caught the station lights, choppy layers sticking out at odd angles.

Tomoyo still didn't understand how they ended up friends.

Their personalities matched about as well as oil and water. Kuroko was carefree, while Tomoyo planned everything down to the minute and apologized when she was thirty seconds late. The only thing they had in common was the scholarship. Both of them attending Aikawa Academy on merit instead of money, which made them automatic outsiders.

But it was Mika who'd actually brought them together. Mika who'd dragged Tomoyo over to Kuroko's desk during orientation and announced they were all going to be friends now. And somehow, they remained friends.

Kuroko's head snapped forward, red eyes locking onto Tomoyo. She uncrossed her legs and stood in one fluid motion, shoving her hands into her blazer pockets.

"Sorry I'm late," Tomoyo said, already halfway through a bow.

Kuroko waved it off and headed for the turnstiles, Tomoyo beside her. Bodies crowded the station, pressed shoulder to shoulder in the morning rush. The air hung heavy with coffee and the mugginess of too many people sharing the same air.

They slid their passes over the readers and wove through the crowd toward the far end of the platform, were fewer people gathered near the broken vending machines.

"You look terrible," Kuroko finally said.

Tomoyo opened her mouth, apology already forming when-

"Sorry." Kuroko cut her off. "I know how you must feel. Raika missing and the murders."

Raika…

"Anyone worried for their friend would naturally connect the dots. Have you heard from her yet?"

"No, nothing since Monday."

"Mm."

Kuroko's attention had already drifted. She crouched down next to the broken vending machine, peering at the coin return slot.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking."

"For what?"

"Change." Kuroko stuck her finger into the slot, wiggling it around.

The overhead speakers announced the next train's arrival in two minutes. Kuroko straightened up, holding a hundred yen coin between two fingers with a satisfied look on her face, and brushed the dust off her skirt.

"Hey, Tomo-chan" Kuroko said, turning away from the vending machine. "About that rule I made the other day."

Tomoyo knew exactly which rule.

It had been Tuesday afternoon, in the library after school. Tomoyo had been mid-sentence about how Raika hadn't responded to her text for the fiftieth (or was it sixtieth?) time when Kuroko had finally snapped, told her to stop, said they weren't allowed to mention Raika anymore.

"I feel bad about it now. Like I cursed it or something."

The overhead speakers announced one minute until the train's arrival.

Kuroko shoved her hand into her blazer pocket and pulled something out. A High-Chew wrapper, the purple packaging catching the bioluminescent lights. She held it out between two fingers.

"Here."

Tomoyo stared at the candy. "What's this for?"

"You." Kuroko pushed it closer. "Take it."

High-Chews were Kuroko's thing. She kept them stashed everywhere: her desk, her locker, her bag. Ate them when she was stressed, which was often, though she'd never admit it. Tomoyo had watched her go through an entire pack during midterms last semester. Actually, now that she thought about it, they were the only thing she'd ever actually seen Kuroko eat.

"Are you sure?" Tomoyo reached for the candy slowly, giving Kuroko time to change her mind.

"I need to apologize somehow." Kuroko dropped the candy into Tomoyo's palm and shrugged. "Plus, looks like you need it."

Tomoyo unwrapped it, the synthetic grape smell hitting her nose. The eel drifted closer, watching as she popped the High-Chew into her mouth.

She hated grape. Always had. The flavor didn't even taste like actual grapes, tasting more like cough syrup than anything. But she kept chewing anyway, because Kuroko had given it to her, and she'd feel bad spitting it out right then and there.

The train pulled in with a metallic screech. As soon as the doors opened, Kuroko slipped through the gap. Tomoyo followed, apologizing to every shoulder she bumped.

They ended up squashed near the middle of the car, Kuroko gripping the overhead rail while Tomoyo wedged herself between a woman in a business suit and college student with headphones.

Around her, phones lit up faces in the dim car. The woman to her left scrolled through news articles, headlines about the Adachi Ward murders in bold text. The college student to her right was texting, and Tomoyo caught fragments over her shoulder: did you hear and they found another one and my cousin lives two blocks from.

Meanwhile, the eel was drifting away from Tomoyo. It paused near the businesswoman, jaw working slowly. Then it moved to the college student, circling her head twice before drifting toward an elderly man clutching a briefcase.

What are you doing?

The eel didn't respond. Just kept moving, examining passenger after passenger.

Are you looking for someone?

Three people dead in Adachi, and this thing attached to her back was examining passengers like it was window shopping for meat.

Tomoyo swallowed the High-Chew finally. It went down in a sticky lump that sat heavy in her throat.

***

The train lurched to a stop. Kuroko grabbed Tomoyo's sleeve and tugged, pulling her through the crowd before the doors could trap them for another stop.

The walk to school came in fragments: sidewalk, then vending machines, then the convenience store where she and Raika used to buy nikuman on cold mornings. Everything materialized in her bubble before dissolving back into darkness.

Tomoyo heard Mika before she saw her.

"Kuro-chan! Tomo-chan!"

She stood near the gates with Kenji. Mika waved with her whole arm, so enthusiatically so that it drew stares from passing students.

"We've got like twenty minutes before homeroom. You know what that means?"

Kenji rubbed the back of his neck. "We could actually get to class early for once?"

"Wrong! It's crime scene investigation time! We could totally check it out and make it back before the bell."

Kuroko's hand shot out, jabbing Mika in the stomach with two fingers.

"Ow! What the-?!"

"Read the room," Kuroko said flatly.

Mika's grin faltered. Her gaze slid to Tomoyo, then away, realization dawning across her face. "Oh. Sorry Tomo-chan. I wasn't thinking about..."

But Tomoyo wasn't listening anymore.

Her head had turned on its own, eyes searching through the darkness. Two blocks. The crime scene was two blocks from here. If she walked in that direction, would she see proof that Raika wasn't-

Her phone buzzed.

The vibration cut through everything else: Mika's apology, Kenji's cough, Kuroko's silence. Tomoyo fumbled for her bag, fingers clumsy as she yanked out her phone.

The screen lit up with a single notification.

Raika: Come to the aquarium. Now.