The west stairwell was darker than usual when Hayato and Aiko arrived. The flickering light above cast long, broken shadows across the steps, as though the building itself had forgotten how to breathe.
The two boys who had barged into their classroom earlier were gone. Their laughter no longer echoed. The corridor lay in silence—an unnatural silence that pressed against Hayato's chest like a weight.
He hesitated at the landing, his hand trembling just above the railing. "Aiko… maybe we should—"
But she shook her head. "We have to know."
Her voice was soft, but steady.
And so they stepped down together.
The air grew heavier with each step. Their breathing sounded too loud, too sharp, as if they were intruding on something alive.
Then it came.
"…Hayato…"
The whisper rose, curling up from the shadows below.
"…Aiko…"
Hayato's hand twitched toward hers, but stopped just short.
Then—new words.
"…Don't… leave… me…"
The lights above buzzed, flickered—and went out.
Darkness swallowed the stairwell.
Aiko gasped, clutching at Hayato's sleeve. He held still, straining to hear. His heart hammered so loudly it threatened to drown the silence.
Then—footsteps.Not theirs.Slow, dragging, rising from below.
Hayato forced his voice through the lump in his throat. "Who's there?"
No answer. Only the steps.
And then, close—too close—another whisper:
"…Why… did you abandon me…?"
The air turned icy. The words felt like fingers brushing the back of his neck.
Aiko's grip tightened. "Hayato… let's go."
But something inside him wouldn't let him run. This wasn't just rumor, wasn't just a ghost story passed in class. This voice was speaking to them.
Summoning every shred of courage, Hayato shouted into the dark. "We're not leaving! Tell us—who are you?"
The stairwell shuddered. For one awful moment, Hayato thought the entire structure might collapse.
Then—silence.
Complete silence.
Even the air felt dead.
Aiko trembled beside him, her face pale in the faint glow of her phone's screen. But when she looked at him, her eyes held something fierce.
"You heard it too," she whispered. "We're not imagining this."
He nodded, throat dry. "No. It's real."
And in that silence—closer than a breath—came the faintest sound. Not from the shadows this time. From Aiko.
"Hayato," she murmured. "I'm scared. But… I'm glad you're here."
The words pierced him deeper than the whispers ever could.
His mouth went dry. The confession pressed at his lips again. If he didn't say it now, he might never get another chance.
"Aiko, I—"
But then the silence shattered.
A scream—distant, echoing through the stairwell—cut him off. One of the boys.
The voice below had found someone else.