The echo of the final ripple still lingered in the air.
Not an auditory sound—more a lingering presence of something that shouldn't have been able to leave any. Behind the ears, a pressure. Beneath the skin, a vibration.
It dissipated gradually, as if not wanting to depart.
Kaito stayed where he was, fingers slack at his hips, but he wasn't calm. His gaze followed the residual sparkle of what had been the breach, even though that was erased now. The individuals around him shifted uncomfortably, their shadows trembling softly in this half-light.
No one spoke.
The silence wasn't tranquility—it was the quiet of something holding its breath.
He sensed the floor—not hard, not water—beneath him press once, in inquiry of his weight. The motion was too small to perceive as movement; it felt more like a recollection of movement glancing off his perception.
It's still here.
The thought wasn't one he thought, but it wasn't foreign, either. It was just so, weighty, without source.
