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Raika died.

Raika died and I couldn't do anything.

Tomoyo's eyes went to the pelican eel. The creature was drifting through her bedroom, completely unbothered by the fact that it had just... That Raika had just...

Her hands shot out and grabbed the cord. It squirmed between her fingers as she pulled. She'd rip the whole thing off her spine if she had to, whatever it took to make this thing hurt the way Raika had hurt.

But dizziness quickly hit her. Her grip on the cord loosened as her hands went numb. Tomoyo tried to grab the cord and tried to pull again, but her fingers wouldn't cooperate. The room spun faster, and she eventually fell onto the floor, gasping.

The eel floated down until it hovered directly in front of her face. Its jaw opened with that awful wet sound again, opening wider and wider until Tomoyo could see straight down its throat.

Don't do that again, it was probably trying to say.

Tomoyo's phone then buzzed against the dresser. She already knew what it was: the group chat discussing the murders and wondering if school would be cancelled again.

She turned her head slowly to look at the eel. The creature had closed its jaw and drifted back up toward the ceiling, resuming its patrol around her room.

You killed them, didn't you? But you're not going to tell me, are you?

The creature didn't even glance in her direction.

A knock rattled against her bedroom door came next, followed by a garbled noise. Tomoyo knew exactly what it was. Her mom's voice, except it wasn't.

Raika. Find Raika.

She clung to that thought instead, pushing her mom's voice into the back of her mind. Somewhere out there, Raika could be dying, and every minute Tomoyo spent on her bed was another minute she wasn't doing anything about it.

The aquarium. Raika had texted her to come there immediately last time, and even if Raika was dead, Tomoyo had to go. She had to see for herself.

Her phone buzzed again. She glanced at the screen.

Kuroko: u coming?

Kuroko: usual spot

Kuroko: im already here

Kuroko: tomomomomomo

Tomoyo's chest tightened. She'd have to transfer trains halfway to get to the aquarium, which means abandoning Kuroko. But Kuroko would understand, wouldn't she? If it was about Raika, Kuroko would understand.

She has to understand.

She typed back quickly: yes. be there soon.

Tomoyo threw off the blanket and grabbed her uniform from where they hung on the chair, yanking them on. The cord dragged behind her as she moved, but she barely noticed it this time, like it was just another piece of her now.

She went to the bathroom directly after. The sink's cold porcelain bit into her palms as she leaned over it and splashed water on her face - once, twice, three times. Her eyes stayed fixed on the drain the entire time - she didn't want to see how much closer she was to dying.

When she stepped back into the hall, she heard that wet, garbled sound again.

Is that you, Tomo-chan?

That's what her mom would be saying. Standing there in the kitchen with the ochazuke she'd made for breakfast, steam rising from the bowl, worried because Tomoyo had been in the bathroom so long.

Are you feeling sick, Tomo-chan?

Tomoyo's hand shot out and grabbed her school bag from where it hung by her bedroom door. She didn't look down the hall, didn't try to see if that darkness was still where her mom's face should've been, and bolted for the front door. The door clicked shut behind her, muffling the horrible sounds that followed her.

What kind of daughter runs from her own mom?

Her mom had woken up early to make breakfast, probably noticed Tomoyo felt down yesterday, wanted to make sure she ate something warm before school, and Tomoyo couldn't even look at her.

Tomoyo's eyes burned. It's not like she could go back, not when her mom's face looked like that.

***

The first thing Tomoyo noticed, beyond the eel's three-meter radius of light, was the sky.

Except it wasn't just gone anymore.

Tomoyo squinted up at where the sky should be, and this time she noticed something different. Cracks that spread across the void like someone had tapped glass just hard enough to crack it. Through the cracks, tiny slivers of light passed through.

When did that happen? Was it like this last time?

Tomoyo rubbed at her eyes. Maybe this was just her exhaustion catching up. The eel had been feeding off her for who knew how long. Maybe her vision was starting to fail along with everything else.

Tomoyo forced herself to look away before picking up her pace.

The station platform eventually came into view, and Tomoyo spotted Kuroko immediately. She was sitting on a bench near the entrance, legs crossed, head tilted back staring at the fractured sky. The sight of her face made Tomoyo's chest loosen with relief.

Kuroko glanced up as Tomoyo approached.

"Whoa. You look like crap."

"I'm fine."

"No, seriously. Did something happen? You're, like, really pale."

Tomoyo opened her mouth to answer, but the words caught in her throat.

A businessman walked past them, perfectly normal except for the space where his face should've been. Then a teenager with headphones passed by. No face, just void. They moved through the crowd like nothing was wrong, brushing past shoulders and elbows like anyone else, and the people with faces didn't even glance in their direction.

"Tomo-chan?" Kuroko's voice came from somewhere far away. "Hey, you're scaring me. What are you looking at?"

Tomoyo couldn't answer. All she could do was stare at the crowd heading into the station, their faces swallowed by the same void that had taken her mom's.