Cheap convenience-store food tasted better than it had any right to.
Plastic tables. Flickering fluorescent lights. Carbonated drinks we definitely shouldn't have touched this close to competition. Mika stole fries from everyone's tray like it was her life's mission, completely ignoring our protests.
"You know what's going to happen tomorrow?" Mika said, pointing a fry at me like an accusation. "You're going to win, and suddenly you'll have thousands of new girl followers."
Toma grinned instantly, leaning back in his chair. "Thousands? Nah. Millions." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Man's going to drown in attention."
"Ew." Mika slapped his arm without mercy. "Pervert."
I laughed, leaning back in my chair.
"Ah, whatever," I said. "Tomorrow's my day. Nationals first… then internationals."
The words came easily.
Too easily.
I believed the world was fair in that simple way. Work hard. Move forward. Tomorrow would be waiting.
That as long as I moved forward, the world would move with me.
Effort is a contract, I thought.
If I give everything, tomorrow has to answer.
Swimming had taught me that belief early.
You didn't need luck. You didn't need miracles.
You needed discipline—repetition so boring it became sacred. You measured your worth in seconds shaved, in muscles burning exactly when they should.
Effort always paid back. Not immediately. Not kindly.
But eventually.
That was the promise I lived by.
The pool never lied.
I didn't know yet that the world outside it did.
I leaned back further, staring at the convenience store ceiling. One of the lights flickered faintly, buzzing out of sync with the others.
"After that," I continued, a lazy grin spreading across my face, "it's just me, a gold medal, and a life so smooth it almost scares me."
Mika stared at me for a long moment, then clicked her tongue.
"You're way too carefree," she said. "Just like Toma said."
Ryo adjusted his glasses, arms crossed. "You're wasting motion on your push-off," he said calmly. "Fix that, and you won't just win—you'll dominate."
I waved it off. "That's a flashy move, buddy."
I laughed more than I had in weeks.
The tension from the pool had drained out of me, replaced by something lighter. Familiar. Safe.
This is good, I thought.
This is how it's supposed to be.
But the number on the board—
39.58—
kept replaying behind my eyes.
It wasn't a bad time.
But it wasn't right.
Something about it felt unfinished—like I'd moved before the moment was ready for me. Like I'd arrived a fraction too early or too late.
Half a beat.
That was all it took to lose everything.
I told myself I was overthinking.
I wasn't.
Half a beat out of sync.
Toma suddenly leaned forward, phone in hand. "Oi, did you see that viral video on iTube?"
Mika frowned. "What video?"
"Ten million views in a day," he said, excitement sharpening his voice. "The one where a monster and some ghost thing are fighting in the street. People are saying ghosts actually exist."
He shoved the screen toward us.
The numbers were insane.
LIKES: 6.8M
DISLIKES: 120K
COMMENTS: 98K+
"Fake," I said immediately.
"Monsters don't belong in our world."
Toma scrolled. "'This is real.' 'Government hiding monsters.' 'Ghosts exist, wake up.'"
I scoffed. "AI-generated. Edited footage. Lighting's wrong. Shadows don't match."
Ryo nodded in agreement. "Don't believe panic bait or internet scraps."
Mika hesitated, eyes still on the screen. "But… it looks real."
"That's the point," Ryo said. "That's why it spreads."
I took a sip of my drink. The carbonation burned slightly going down.
People want something to fear, I told myself.
Fear made people feel important.
Like they were standing at the edge of history instead of stuck inside routine.
Monsters, ghosts, conspiracies—those stories let people pretend the world was bigger than bills, deadlines, and slow progress.
I didn't want that.
I liked a world that made sense.
A world where cause followed effort.
A world that didn't whisper your name when you weren't listening.
They get bored when life's quiet.
Outside the store, Tokyo moved like it always did. Cars passed. Neon signs flickered. People laughed, argued, checked their phones.
Normal.
For a few hours, life was simple.
Then—
"Kaien…"
My grip tightened around the cup.
The sound was soft.
Close.
Not loud enough to echo.
"…Kaien…"
The air shifted.
Not heavier—
attentive.
Like something leaned in without touching.
A voice.
Low. Calm. Familiar in a way that made my stomach twist.
I looked up sharply. "Did you hear that?"
Toma blinked. "Hear what?"
"A voice," I said slowly. "Someone just said my name."
Mika tilted her head, scanning the store. "There's no one here."
Ryo glanced around, then back at me. "You're imagining things."
But the air felt wrong.
Not cold.
Not warm.
Aware.
Like something brushed past my ear without disturbing the air.
"…Kaien…"
My skin prickled—not fear exactly, but awareness.
The feeling you get when someone stands too close behind you without touching.
I held my breath.
The sound didn't echo. It didn't fade.
It was cut off.
Like a sentence interrupted mid-word.
Like someone trying to speak through something that didn't quite allow it.
Whatever it was, it wasn't shouting.
It was restrained.
And that made it worse.
My chest tightened.
I stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. My eyes swept the store.
A couple near the counter.
The cashier.
A man checking his phone by the fridge.
No children.
No movement.
Nothing.
I'm not imagining this, I thought.
Toma laughed nervously. "Bro, tomorrow you're gonna hear thousands of people shouting your name."
I forced a laugh, sitting back down.
But my heart didn't settle.
Because the voice hadn't sounded imaginary.
It hadn't sounded distant.
It had sounded like someone calling out while being pulled away.
Like urgency wrapped in restraint.
My phone rang.
The sound cut through the tension like glass shattering.
I flinched.
The screen lit up.
JACKLIN
For the first time all day, her name didn't bring a smile.
It felt like an answer to a question I hadn't asked.
Why now?
Why today?
I stared at the screen for a second too long before standing.
"I—uh, I'll take this," I said.
Mika raised an eyebrow. "Don't get distracted, superstar."
I nodded and stepped outside.
Tokyo greeted me with noise and motion. Neon signs reflected off wet pavement. Trains roared overhead. The city swallowed sound and meaning without caring.
But even here—
The air still felt attentive.
I pressed the phone to my ear.
"Hey," I said.
Jacklin's voice came through warm and steady. Normal.
"Are you busy?" she asked.
"No," I replied. "Just… out."
As I listened to her speak, the tension eased slightly—but not completely.
I ended the call and lowered the phone slowly.
The screen went dark, reflecting my own face back at me—slightly distorted by the cracked corner of the glass. For a second, I didn't recognize myself.
The reflection felt slightly off—not wrong, just misaligned.
Like my face was arriving a moment before the glass caught up.
I stared longer than necessary.
Blinked.
Nothing changed.
And yet the feeling lingered, deep and stubborn, like a thought I couldn't quite finish.
I'd always known who I was.
A swimmer.
A competitor.
Someone whose future was measured in lanes and podiums and times carved into boards.
That certainty had never wavered before.
Not even when I failed.
Now it felt… thin.
Like it could crack if pressed too hard.
Not because anything had changed.
Because something felt like it had.
I glanced back through the glass window at the table.
Toma was mid-sentence, hands animated. Mika leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, listening with a smirk. Ryo sat quietly as always, phone in hand, probably already thinking about tomorrow's race.
I raised my phone slightly and mouthed, call.
Mika immediately narrowed her eyes.
"A date?" she mouthed back exaggeratedly.
I sighed and nodded.
I pushed the door open and stepped back inside just long enough to grab my bag.
"Alright," I said, slinging it over my shoulder. "I'm heading out."
Toma grinned. "Ohhh? Running away before we embarrass you?"
"Nationals tomorrow," I said. "Try not to ruin my reputation before then."
Mika waved dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Go be famous somewhere else."
Ryo glanced up. "Don't stay out late."
"I won't," I replied. "See you guys tomorrow.
I stepped outside.
The night air hit different.
Cooler. Sharper. Like the city had teeth.
My bike waited where I'd left it—a matte-black superbike, low and aggressive, metal still warm beneath my palm. I swung a leg over and twisted the key.
The engine growled to life.
A deep, controlled rumble that vibrated through my legs and spine.
This, I thought, at least, makes sense.
I eased onto the road, throttle responding instantly as the bike surged forward. Streetlights streaked past in rhythmic intervals. Wind tore at my jacket, clearing my head as Tokyo unfolded ahead of me in neon veins and concrete arteries.
The faster I went, the quieter my thoughts became.
A streetlight ahead flickered on a fraction too late—
not broken, just… delayed.
I passed beneath it before it fully brightened.
But the feeling didn't leave.
Even as the engine roared—
even as the city blurred—
I had the unsettling sense that something was moving with me.
Not chasing.
Keeping pace.
And it wasn't in a hurry.
A siren flared behind me—sharp, urgent.
I shifted lanes instinctively.
The police car surged past, lights strobing red and blue—
and the sound came after.
Not an echo.
A delay.
The wail snapped into existence half a second late, sliding through the air where the car had already been.
I frowned, throttle easing without conscious thought.
That… wasn't how sound worked.
✦ End of Chapter 2 — An Uninvited Presence ✦