Chapter 1 - A Strange Morning
The shrill beep beep beep of the alarm clock tore through the silence of the small bedroom.
Akira's hand shot out from beneath the covers, slamming down on the snooze button with a groan. His brown hair stuck to his forehead, messy from sleep, strands falling just past his ears. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes, and muttered to himself.
"…Another day."
The words sounded heavier than they should. His room was neat, almost too neat, the kind of order that came less from habit and more from emptiness. Posters that once decorated the walls had been taken down months ago, leaving faint squares of brighter paint where they used to be. His desk was bare aside from stacked textbooks and a single lamp.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his body moving like it knew the routine better than he did. Shower. Teeth. Clothes. Bag. Shoes.
Everything about this morning was normal, yet something felt off.
As he buttoned his black school shirt, Akira paused at the mirror. His reflection stared back at him with tired eyes, darker than usual. He leaned closer.
"…What's wrong with me today?"
No answer came, of course. Just silence.
Downstairs, the faint smell of miso soup drifted from the kitchen. His mother had already left for her early shift, but she always prepared breakfast before heading out. Akira sat at the table and ate in silence, his chopsticks moving without enthusiasm. Rice, egg, soup. A perfectly ordinary meal.
And yet, the silence gnawed at him. He couldn't shake the feeling that the day was waiting to… break.
The walk to school was uneventful, neighborhood streets, the chatter of kids running ahead, the occasional bark of a dog. The sky above was a dull blue, thin clouds drifting lazily across.
Akira adjusted the strap of his bag and sighed. It's just in my head. Just another day.
But the feeling persisted, a whisper at the back of his mind that he was missing something important.
Class 2-B was already buzzing with noise when he arrived. Desks scraped against the floor, laughter rang out too loudly, and students shouted across the room as if competing for attention.
Akira slipped into his seat near the window, his usual spot, and let his gaze drift outside. The leaves on the schoolyard trees swayed gently in the breeze. Peaceful. Far more peaceful than inside.
"Oi, Akira!"
He didn't turn. He already knew who it was.
Sure enough, a boy came swaggering down the aisle, Takeshi, the loudest in the class, the one who always had to make himself the center of everything. He thumped his hand on Akira's desk.
"You look dead, man. Rough night?"
Akira gave him a flat look. "…Do you ever shut up?"
Takeshi barked a laugh, already turning to the others. "Hear that? Akira's cranky again. Must've been dreaming about his imaginary girlfriend."
The group around him erupted in laughter.
Akira said nothing. He'd learned long ago that reacting only gave Takeshi more fuel. He turned his gaze back to the window, tuning out the noise.
But the irritation simmered. The classroom felt suffocating, every laugh scratching at the inside of his skull.
If only he'd just shut up… If only he'd just-
The thought came unbidden, sharp and sudden.
-die.
And then it happened.
Takeshi's laugh cut off in a choked gasp. His face twisted in pain as he clutched his chest. For a moment, everyone froze, staring in confusion. Then someone screamed.
"Takeshi!?"
The boy collapsed to the floor, convulsing. Panic rippled through the room. Chairs toppled, voices rose into chaos. A teacher rushed in, shouting for someone to call an ambulance.
Akira sat frozen in his seat, heart hammering. His hands trembled beneath the desk.
No… no way. That's… that's not possible. I didn't… I didn't do anything.
Yet the image burned in his mind: the thought, the wish, the split-second later when Takeshi collapsed.
The sirens came fast. Paramedics burst into the classroom, lifting Takeshi's limp body onto a stretcher. His classmates crowded near the door, some crying, some pale with shock. The air stank of fear.
And through it all, Akira sat motionless, his mind screaming.
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Classes were canceled. Students whispered in tight clusters, eyes darting toward Akira when they thought he wasn't looking.
The principal made an announcement that Takeshi was being rushed to the hospital, that everyone should stay calm, that they would go home early.
Calm? Impossible.
Akira walked home alone, his footsteps echoing in the quiet streets. The world around him looked unchanged, shops open, cars driving by, people laughing at a café. But in his chest, everything had shifted.
He couldn't stop replaying it. The wish. The collapse. The sirens.
It can't be real. Coincidence. Just coincidence. That's all.
But doubt clawed at him.
Back in his room, Akira dropped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts swirled like a storm.
"If it wasn't a coincidence… then what?" he whispered to the empty room.
Silence pressed in.
He sat up suddenly, grabbing the remote. The TV flickered on, filling the room with the glow of a news broadcast.
"…the suspect, Kazuo Minami, is wanted for multiple counts of armed robbery. Police urge citizens to report immediately if they see him. This is his photo and full name."
The image filled the screen: a man in his thirties, sharp-eyed, cruel smile.
Akira's grip on the remote tightened. His heart pounded.
No. Don't even think it.
But the thought came anyway.
Die.
The word echoed in his skull like a curse.
Seconds ticked by. Ten. Twenty. Thirty-five.
The anchor on screen pressed a hand to his earpiece, blinking in shock.
"…We're receiving breaking news. Kazuo Minami has been found dead in his holding cell. Cause of death… currently unknown."
Akira's blood ran cold.
He stared at the screen, wide-eyed, breath caught in his throat.
The world tilted, his mind reeling.
This wasn't coincidence. This wasn't chance.
It was real.
He had killed him, just by wishing it.
"…What… what's happening to me?"
Suddenly-