Itoshi slowly opened his eyes, a low groan escaping his throat as a sharp pain throbbed through his body. It pulsed behind his temples, down his spine, into his limbs like a dull aftershock.
Light crept into his vision in thin, pale streaks. It stung.
He squinted, lifting a hand halfway before letting it drop weakly to his side. The air felt cool. Soft. Not like the battlefield.
As his eyes adjusted, a pale face drifted into focus—
Just inches from his.
A white-haired woman hovered above him, strands of silver cascading down like silk threads brushing his cheek. Her expression was calm. Unbothered. Watching.
"Yo,"
she said casually.
Startled, Itoshi jolted upright on pure instinct—
—and slammed his forehead straight into hers with a loud, solid thunk that echoed through the open air.
The impact rang through his skull.
"Ow, ow, ow..."
He groaned, clutching his head in both hands as he folded forward, eyes squeezed shut. Tiny sparks burst behind his eyelids.
"What the hell—"
Meanwhile, the white-haired woman barely moved. She leaned back slightly, steadying herself with one palm against the grass. No irritation. No anger. Just quiet observation.
Her expression didn't change.
Calm.
Almost amused.
As if she'd watched this exact reaction unfold more than once before.
Itoshi stayed hunched for a few seconds, breathing through the pain. The grass beneath his palms felt cool and slightly damp. A breeze brushed across his neck, carrying the faint scent of earth.
When the throbbing dulled to something manageable, he slowly straightened, blinking through the haze.
The world around him came into focus.
An endless grassy field.
Soft wind bending the blades in slow waves.
Above them, a wide sky washed in pale blue, thin clouds drifting lazily as if time itself had slowed.
He turned back to her, still disoriented.
"Ehh... what happened to me?" he asked, voice rough, still dazed.
She tilted her head slightly, white hair shifting with the motion.
"You passed out on top of the station."
Itoshi blinked once.
Twice.
Fragments began sliding back into place. Rain. Pressure. Roger's voice. The splitting ache in his chest.
He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grimace.
"Oh right... we had a bet that I lost."
The white-haired woman giggled softly. The sound was light, almost musical, carried away by the breeze.
Her eyes glinted with quiet amusement.
"Oh... such nostalgia," she murmured, almost to herself.
The word lingered.
Itoshi gave her a curious look, brushing grass from his sleeve as he sat up straighter. He tried to compose himself, though confusion still clung to him like fog.
"So... What's next?.. Miss white-haired woman?"
She smiled faintly.
But her eyes weren't focused on him anymore.
They were distant.
As if watching something far beyond the horizon.
The wind slowed.
The grass quieted.
When she spoke, her voice carried a subtle weight, like something echoing from a deeper place.
"Ahh...
A man with a passion for history shall cross your path—
A heart not whole,
Half human, half machine.
No gift adorns him, no spark of magic or flame,
Yet he shall rise—
And perform beyond his frame."
The words settled into the open air.
The sky seemed wider somehow.
Itoshi stared at her.
His brows slowly pulled together.
"Ehh?.."
He leaned forward slightly, searching her face for a hint of explanation.
Nothing.
She only smiled back at him, serene as ever.
Completely satisfied with his confusion.
He stared.
Blank.
Then something clicked.
His eyes widened slightly.
"Oh!"
He snapped his fingers.
"What's your name? It' feels kinda rude calling you white-haired woman.."
For the first time—
She hesitated.
Her eyes widened just a fraction. The smallest crack in her composure.
"Ah... right,"
She murmured, a touch of surprise slipping into her tone.
"My name..."
She fell quiet.
Her gaze drifted downward, toward the grass between them. Her fingers absently traced along a blade, bending it without tearing it free.
A thought passed behind her eyes.
"Sukai-san.. Will it be alright?"
The breeze brushed past again, lifting a few strands of her hair across her cheek.
She inhaled slowly.
Deep. Steady.
Then she closed her eyes briefly—
Like sealing something away.
When she opened them again, her voice was soft.
But certain.
"You can call me Miz."
The name settled between them gently.
Itoshi's eyes lit up instantly. A grin spread across his face as if the pain from earlier had never existed.
"Hoh! Miz-sama!"
He declared dramatically, giving her an exaggerated, respectful nod.
She blinked at him.
"Ehh... why sama?"
Miz asked, tilting her head with curious amusement.
Itoshi scratched his cheek, suddenly sheepish again.
"Well..."
He began, glancing at the sky for a second before looking back at her.
"I want to treat you as someone above me... because of all the times you've helped me."
Her smile softened.
Then sharpened slightly as she leaned closer, her face just a little nearer than before.
"Ahh... even if I only exist in your imagination?" she teased.
The question hung there.
Like a leaf suspended mid-fall.
Itoshi didn't laugh.
He didn't flinch.
He just looked at her.
Really looked at her.
At the way the wind moved her hair.
At the way her shadow fell across the grass.
At the warmth in her eyes.
Then he replied quietly—
"Are you now?"
For a second, silence.
Then Miz burst into laughter.
Clear. Carefree. Bright against the open sky.
She flopped backward into the grass, arms folding behind her head, hair fanning out like spilled light.
"Of course not! I'm very much real!"
Itoshi smiled faintly, lowering himself onto his elbows, eyes drifting upward to the endless blue.
"Ah... I figured."
Her laughter faded into a soft hum as she turned her head toward him. This time, her smile carried something gentler.
Something knowing.
"Anyways..."
She said quietly,
"You'll be coming back now. What truly happened—you shall find out."
The air shifted.
The warmth of the grass beneath him began to thin.
The sky above seemed to ripple.
Itoshi blinked.
The edges of his vision blurred, colors bleeding softly into one another. The sound of the wind dulled, replaced by a distant, hollow ringing—like the world being heard from underwater.
He pushed himself upright slightly, but his hands passed through blades of grass that were no longer fully there.
Everything was slipping.
Fading.
Just before the last of her figure dissolved into pale light, he saw her lips move one final time.
He couldn't hear it.
He wasn't sure what she said.
But somehow—
He felt it mattered.
The field vanished.
Itoshi snapped back to reality.
His eyes flew open.
Fluorescent light burned overhead. The sterile scent of disinfectant filled his lungs. Sheets twisted around his body as he bolted upright in the clinic bed, heart pounding violently against his ribs.
His breath came fast.
Sharp.
Real.
"MIZ-SAMA!"
Itoshi shouted, his voice cracking with urgency as it tore through the clinic room.
The sharp cry sliced through the sterile air.
Kara and Jayu, who had been resting quietly beside his bed, jolted upright at once. Jayu nearly slipped off her chair. Kara's hand flew to her chest.
Around them, the soft hum of medical equipment faltered under the weight of sudden attention. Nurses paused mid-step. Curtains rustled. A few patients lifted their heads from pillows. Whispers began. Eyes turned.
All of them locked onto Itoshi—sitting rigid in his bed, fingers digging into the mattress, knuckles pale. His chest rose and fell quickly. Sweat clung to his hairline.
He blinked. White walls. Fluorescent lights. The faint antiseptic sting in his nose.
Not a field.
Not open sky.
Not Miz.
"Ah... I'm at a clinic,"
He muttered, grounding himself as his pulse slowly eased.
From the side, Jayu's voice rang out, panicked and high.
"Itoshi-nii!!"
Kara exhaled deeply, tension draining from her shoulders. A soft smile replaced her worry.
"Thank God... you're fine."
Itoshi turned toward her, still catching his breath.
"Ah... Kara... the white-haired woman came again,"
He said quietly, eyes unfocused for a second, like he was still half there.
Kara raised an eyebrow, folding her arms.
"Eh? She's been bugging you for a while in your dreams, huh?"
Itoshi shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips.
"I wouldn't say bugging... she's actually helped us a lot already. Also... her name is Miz."
"Her name is Miz-san, you say?"
Kara repeated thoughtfully, tapping her chin.
"Yeah... ring any bells?"
Itoshi asked, leaning forward slightly, hopeful.
"Nope."
Kara shrugged.
"Not a single one."
Before he could press further, a lazy voice drifted across the room.
"A person only appearing in your dreams, you say?"
Kirashi lounged in a nearby chair, one leg crossed over the other. His arms rested comfortably behind his head, posture loose despite the bandage wrapped around his shoulder. A smirk curved his lips.
"I call that schizophrenia."
Silence.
Itoshi blinked once.
His brain took a second to catch up.
Then—
"W-what did you say!? Are you saying I have a disorder?!"
He shouted, anger flashing in his eyes as he leaned forward, fists clenching.
Kirashi threw his head back and laughed loudly.
"Hahaha!"
The laugh echoed off the tile floor.
Before Itoshi could swing his legs off the bed and lunge at him, Jayu jumped between them, arms spread wide like a tiny shield.
"No! Don't fight, friends! That's bad!"
She declared, eyes squeezed shut as if summoning peace through sheer willpower.
Itoshi's jaw tightened. His shoulders trembled with restrained irritation.
Kirashi only smirked wider.
After a few tense seconds, Itoshi flopped back against his pillow with an annoyed huff. He raised two fingers to his eyes and then pointed them at Kirashi dramatically.
"Aaaanyways... Kara, what happened to me?"
Kara sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Ah... apparently the heat made you pass out. That's what they said. Though, it's a bit odd..."
Itoshi frowned.
"Eh, what?"
He pushed himself up slightly on his elbows.
"How can I pass out when I'm a fla—"
Jayu immediately slapped both hands over his mouth.
"Shhhh... the secret, Itoshi-ni..." she whispered urgently, eyes darting around the room.
A nurse nearby glanced over suspiciously.
Itoshi gently pulled her hands away.
"Ah, sorry," he muttered sheepishly.
Then his expression hardened slightly.
"That's just... not possible."
A flicker of frustration passed through his eyes.
"I know, right?"
Kara nodded.
"It doesn't add up."
Kirashi leaned forward slightly, smirk returning.
"Maybe your flam—"
Jayu lunged again, clamping both hands over his mouth before he could finish.
Kirashi's words came out muffled and distorted.
"E musbeaeb mwekabening—"
"At this point, Jayu-chan's basically a live censor button,"
Kara muttered, pulling a strange face—half amused, half exhausted.
Jayu shrugged without removing her hands, but her expression grew serious.
Kara's smile faded.
"Something must've attacked you there... but what? And why?"
The playful tone in the room dissolved. The hum of machines filled the silence.
The four of them exchanged glances.
Who—or what—had managed to strike Itoshi without anyone noticing?
His secret was layered. Protected. Hidden carefully.
Yet something had reached him.
For now, all they had were fragments and a growing unease that the truth was circling just beyond their grasp.
Meanwhile, in another wing of the clinic—
Hoshi slept peacefully, her breathing steady, almost too calm compared to the chaos elsewhere.
The curtain around her bed swayed faintly as air from the vent brushed through.
Slowly, her eyes fluttered open.
Her vision blurred, ceiling lights stretching into streaks before snapping into focus.
"What the hell...? Wh-what happened?" she muttered, voice dry.
Then— Memory slammed into her.
The alley.
The presence.
The suffocating pressure behind her back.
Her body jerked upright. The bedsheets tangled around her waist as her chest heaved violently.
A nearby nurse rushed to her side.
"Ma'am! Are you okay?!"
But Hoshi wasn't listening.
"How the hell... did he find me there?"
Her heart pounded in her ears.
"Did he follow me...? But how... how did I not sense him at all..."
Her hands trembled. Cold sweat gathered at her temples.
The nurse gently grabbed her shoulders.
"Ma'am, breathe. You're safe—"
Hoshi blinked. Looked at the nurse And froze. Her pupils shrank. For a split second— The nurse's face wasn't the nurse's.
A shadow flickered over it.
Without warning, Hoshi let out a piercing scream.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The nurse stumbled back, nearly knocking over a tray.
The scream echoed down the ward, sharp and primal.
Curtains shook. Patients stirred. Footsteps began rushing.
Down the hall, Kara and the others stiffened.
All they saw next was Hoshi bursting out from behind the curtain, face pale, eyes wide with raw fear as she ran down the corridor.
"What the heck is happening with the patients here..."
One nurse muttered, rubbing her forehead.
"Guess the heat really is getting to people's nerves, huh?" Another sighed wearily.
Kara's brows furrowed.
"Heat...?"
The word lingered.
A small, unsettling feeling began to settle in her chest.
Because something about that explanation—
Didn't feel right.
~~~To be Continued~~~