175

Ringo stood on his rock, beak open, staring at Tomoyo. Just stared, with that black eye locked onto her face like she'd done something unforgivable.

Tomoyo pressed closer to the glass. The other penguins waddled about their business, but Ringo remained frozen in that position.

"What's wrong?"

Ringo didn't move. His black eyes fixed on her, unblinking.

Tomoyo stepped back from the glass. Today was strange. Strange in that the day started with waking up to find a pelican eel attached to her spine by an umbilical cord, continued with discovering the sky had vanished, and somehow got worse when her phone lighting up with news of three murders in Adachi Ward.

Even Kuroko had been off. At the station, she'd crouched in front of a vending machine and scraped her fingers against the change slot, muttering about lucky numbers being wrong. When nothing appeared, she slammed her palm against the metal hard enough that an elderly man turned to stare.

Tomoyo shook her head, forcing the thoughts away.

Raika had texted her to come here. That's all that mattered. Raika had been silent for three days, and now she'd reached out. Tomoyo needed to find her. She needed to see her face, hear her voice, and not-

Not what?

Ringo hopped off his rock and waddled toward the back of the exhibit, disappearing behind a fake boulder. The other penguins paid him no attention.

Tomoyo exhaled and stood, brushing off her skirt. Everything about today was strange, but standing here dwelling on a penguin's behavior wouldn't help her find Raika.

She moved through the aquarium, past the spotted eel tank and the sea turtle exhibit. The eel drifted behind her, its bioluminescent glow casting shadows across the walls. A few visitors glanced her way, but their eyes slide past without noticing the creature.

The moon jellyfish tank appeared ahead, its soft blue light spilling into the corridor. Tomoyo approached and pressed her palm against the cool glass. Inside, dozens of translucent bodies pulsed through the water, their movements hypnotic.

A girl stood on the other side of the tank. Silver hair fell past her shoulders and onto white clothes that looked too clean. 

Tomoyo blinked. The girl looked like she'd stepped out of the tank itself. Then Tomoyo's gaze dropped to the girl's hands. Unlike her clothes, blood covered them: fresh and dark, dripping onto the floor in slow drops.

Tomoyo stepped back. The girl's head tilted, light blue eyes locked onto Tomoyo's face.

Tomoyo stumbled backward now, her feet catching on nothing. The eel's cord pulled taut as she turned and walked quickly toward the exit corridor.

Footsteps echoed behind her.

Tomoyo glanced over her shoulder. The girl was following, her bloodied hands hanging loose at her sides.

Tomoyo ran faster now, but the footsteps behind her only quickened.

Why is she chasing me? I didn't do anything… did I?

She spotted a door tucked away in the corner, marked with faded kanji. Storage. She wrenched it open and threw herself inside, slamming it shut behind her. She pressed her back against the door, chest heaving, and fumbled for the lock. Her fingers found it and twisted.

Click.

Silence.

Then, slowly, Tomoyo looked around. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with cleaning supplies and equipment she couldn't identify in the eel's dim light.

She'd been in a room like this before.

Tomoyo had been seven and looking for her mother. The sun had been setting through the hospital windows, painting everything orange, and her mother's shift should've ended an hour ago. Tomoyo wandered the corridor until voices echoed from an office with its door cracked open.

Her mother's voice, strained and thin. Another voice, deeper and angrier. A man's voice that Tomoyo had heard before at home when she was very little, back when she still believed strangers didn't come inside unless they were family.

She crept closer. Through the gap in the door, she saw her mother's back. Across from her stood a man in an expensive suit. His face hung on plaques throughout the hospital: the director. Tomoyo had seen him around sometimes, always yelling, always making her mother's hands shake.

The man thrust a slip of paper toward her mother. Usually that made the yelling stop. Her mother would take it, folded it carefully, and tucked it away. But this time her mother shook her head and the yelling got louder.

Tomoyo's feet carried her backward. She found a storage closet and crawled inside, curling up between mop buckets and boxes of cleaning supplies. She pressed her hands over her ears and willed the world to go quiet.

The door opened eventually, but it wasn't her mother. Raika stood there instead, backlit by hallway lights, her bandaged arms hung at her sides.

"Your mom's looking for you, you know. She's freaking out."

Tomoyo pressed herself further into the corner. The ammonia smell burned her nose but it was better than going back out there.

"Come on, there's a vending machine downstairs with those weird sodas you like."

Tomoyo shook her head.

"I'll buy you one! Two, even. We can sit by the courtyard and watch the pigeons."

"No."

Raika shifted her weight. The bandages on her arms rustled with the movement. "Your mom's gonna be really mad if you don't come out."

"I don't care."

"Your dad will be mad too."

"I don't have one."

The words came out automatically, the same way her mother had taught her to say them when teachers asked at parent-teacher conferences, when other kids talked about their families.

Raika went quiet. She looked at the ceiling tiles like they might have answers written across them before looking back at Tomoyo.

"Okay," Raika said finally. "I'm your family now."

Tomoyo blinked.

"That's right! I'm the dad. You're the mom. So you have to come out because I said so!"

A laugh bubbled up Tomoyo's throat before she could stop it.

"Hey, I'm trying my best here!"

"Who are our children then?"

"Hmmm… the penguins from Sky Tree Aquarium, of course!"

Another laugh burst out, louder this time. Tomoyo wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and found them wet.

Raika crouched down and held out her bandaged hand. Tomoyo stared at the white gauze wrapped around Raika's palm and the way her fingers stayed steady even though the rest of her looked ready to fall apart.

Tomoyo reached for Raika's hand from her memories, but her knuckles struck cold metal instead.

The storage room door.

She blinked. The hospital closet dissolved. Chemical bottles and mop buckets came back into focus under the eel's light.

Tomoyo pressed her forehead against the door and closed her eyes. It would be fine. Raika would burst through any second now. She'd done it before, found Tomoyo hiding in that hospital closet and dragged her back into the light. She'd do it again. She had to.

Then came the sound of metal fragments scattering across the floor, like breaking glass. Tomoyo's heart jumped into her throat.

Raika.

The door swung open.

Silver hair, white clothes, and light blue eyes that reflected nothing.

Not Raika.

A spear floated beside the girl, its surface white like bone with blood dripping from its tip onto the floor.

Tomoyo's vision blurred as something hot rolled down her cheek. Of course it wasn't Raika. The old Raika would've reached through the darkness and pulled her out, but that Raika had died six years ago in a hospital bed. The Raika who existed now was cold and distant and had been ignoring her messages for three days straight.

Of course she wouldn't come.

The spear shot forward. Tomoyo saw it coming but didn't move, didn't do anything except watch as white drove through her skull.