The streets of the town looked different at night. Neon signs buzzed, half-broken lamps flickered, and the alleys whispered secrets no one dared to say out loud.
At the far end of one such alley, Reiji leaned against the wall, cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers. His men stood behind him, shadows tall and restless. One of them handed him the blurry photo.
"Two kids and a girl," the man muttered. "You want us to keep watching?"
Reiji's lips curved into a slow grin. "Not just watch. Find out what makes them so important. The girl especially." He flicked ash to the ground. "If she's what I think she is… things are about to get interesting."
His men exchanged uneasy glances. When Reiji said interesting, it usually meant someone wasn't going home whole.
---
The next morning, Haruya dragged himself through the school gates, yawning so wide his jaw popped.
"Bro," he groaned, clinging dramatically to Kaito's arm, "I stayed up till 3 a.m. watching late-night reruns. My soul is half-dead. Please carry me."
Kaito gave him a sideways look. "No. Walk."
"Cold-hearted demon." Haruya stumbled forward anyway, then perked up suddenly. "Oi, you ever notice how since that girl showed up, our lives turned into some mystery manga?"
Kaito didn't answer. His fingers tapped against the sketchbook in his bag. He hadn't dared to open it since last night. The drawings felt alive now, too alive.
When they stepped into the classroom, the air shifted. Students talked normally, but it all felt muted. At the back, the mysterious girl sat as always, unreadable eyes lifting for just a second — not at the room, not at Haruya. Straight at Kaito.
His chest tightened. He forced himself to look away.
---
After classes ended, Haruya shoved his hands into his pockets. "Let's take the long way home today. I need fresh air."
"Or you're trying to avoid cram homework?" Kaito said dryly.
"Both."
They cut through the quieter streets, the kind where old shops leaned close together and stray cats darted between crates. Haruya kicked at a can, sending it clattering. "Man, this place always feels like we're walking through someone's memory. Don't you think?"
Kaito's gaze swept the alley. His stomach tightened. It wasn't just memory — it felt like he'd seen this before. In his sketches.
"Wait," Kaito muttered, stopping in his tracks. His eyes darted to the side wall. The cracks, the torn poster, the bent lamp — all of it matched the picture he had drawn two nights ago.
Haruya raised an eyebrow. "What's up?"
Before Kaito could explain, footsteps echoed behind them. A group of older boys appeared, uniforms loose, cigarettes dangling from their lips. Their presence shifted the air instantly.
Delinquents.
The tallest one smirked. "Oi, what do we have here? Two little lambs wandering off the main road."
Haruya raised his hands in mock surrender. "Correction—one lamb, one wolf in sheep's clothing. Guess who's who."
Kaito gave him a look. "You're not helping."
The gang closed in, laughter sharp. "Relax. We just wanna talk."
But Kaito felt his heartbeat thud. This was exactly like the sketch. Every detail.
And then, from the mouth of the alley, a soft voice cut through:
"Leave them."
The mysterious girl stepped into view, her silhouette framed by the dim light. The delinquents faltered, as if her presence pressed on them heavier than numbers or strength.
She walked forward slowly, her gaze locked not on the gang — but on Kaito.
"Your drawings," she said quietly, "have already begun to move."
---
The alley fell silent. Even Haruya, usually full of noise, couldn't find a joke.
And Kaito realized — the lines he drew weren't just marks on paper anymore. They were threads, pulling reality tighter, binding him to something he didn't understand.
And somehow, this girl was right in the center of it.
—