The morning sunlight pierced through the curtains like thin, golden blades — too bright, too gentle for the chaos that churned inside Toshio's heart. His breath came in ragged waves as he jolted awake, the memory of the shrine still burning behind his eyelids. The whispers, the photograph, the letter — all of it tangled in his mind like a half-remembered nightmare.
For a moment, he thought it was all just a dream.
Then he saw the faint red shimmer on his wrist.
He froze. Slowly, he pushed back his sleeve.
A crescent moon symbol — the same one from the wax seals — glowed faintly beneath his skin, pulsing with a heartbeat of its own. The glow dimmed, then brightened, in rhythm with his breath.
"What… the hell?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
His fingers brushed over it — warm, alive. It didn't hurt, but each pulse sent a shiver crawling up his arm. It was as if something inside the mark was breathing with him.
"Toshio?"
He turned sharply. Yumi stood by the door, her hair disheveled from sleep, worry etched into her eyes. She must've stayed on the couch after the long night at the shrine.
He tried to hide his wrist, but she saw it anyway.
"Oh my god," she gasped, stepping closer. "Is that—?"
"I don't know," Toshio muttered, his pulse quickening. "It was there when I woke up."
She reached for his hand, but the moment her fingers touched his skin, the mark flared to life — bright crimson light bursting from the crescent like fire. Yumi yelped and stumbled back.
"Toshio!"
"I'm fine!" he said quickly, though his own hand was shaking violently. The light dimmed again, fading to a faint glow, leaving behind a faint trace of warmth. "It reacts to touch…"
Yumi stared at him in shock. "That's the same symbol from the letters."
He nodded slowly. "From Hana."
"Do you think… she marked you?"
The idea hung between them, heavy and terrifying. Toshio swallowed hard. "If she did, it wasn't by choice. She's trying to warn me."
Yumi pressed a hand to her chest. "Warn you about what?"
Before he could answer, the lights flickered.
Once. Twice.
Then the whole apartment went dark.
Toshio turned toward the window. The city outside — once alive with traffic and neon — was completely still. No sound. No movement. Even the wind seemed to stop.
Yumi whispered, "Why does it feel like the whole world just… paused?"
Then, faintly, from somewhere outside — a soft chime. Like wind bells.
Toshio's gaze darted to the balcony. He stepped forward and opened the door, heart pounding. The air outside shimmered faintly, like a heat haze. And in the middle of it — something was forming.
A figure.
It wasn't Hana.
The woman was tall, draped in black silk that fluttered as though underwater. Her eyes glowed a deep, mournful blue, and her voice, when she spoke, was both beautiful and chilling.
"You shouldn't have opened the letter."
Yumi gasped behind him. Toshio's fingers tightened around the balcony rail. "Who are you? Where's Hana?"
The woman tilted her head. "She's in between — caught where light cannot touch."
"In between?" he repeated. "What does that mean?"
The woman raised her hand, and the air around Toshio's wrist flared. The crescent mark glowed brighter, burning with a crimson hue. Pain shot through him — sharp and deep, like his veins were set ablaze.
"Stop!" Yumi screamed, rushing forward, but Toshio waved her back.
"I can take it—" he hissed through clenched teeth. The glow spread up his arm, lines of red light crawling across his skin like veins of molten gold.
The woman's voice softened. "You were chosen, Toshio Shinji. You carry her tether now. Through you, she breathes."
"What are you talking about?!" he shouted.
The woman smiled faintly — and for an instant, her face shifted. Her features blurred into Hana's — same lips, same eyes, but empty, hollow.
Then the vision broke apart.
The woman dissolved into black feathers that scattered into the air, leaving behind only the faint toll of distant bells.
Yumi rushed to Toshio's side. "Toshio, your arm—!"
The mark was fading now, its glow receding back into his wrist. He fell to his knees, gasping. Sweat beaded his forehead, his breath ragged.
"She said… I'm her tether," he whispered. "What does that mean, Yumi?"
Yumi shook her head helplessly. "I don't know… but I think whatever happened to Hana — it's not over."
Later that afternoon, Toshio sat at his desk, staring at the letter again. He traced the words with his thumb, remembering her handwriting, the slight curve in every letter.
"You once said you'd walk through any storm for me."
His eyes burned.
He opened his notebook and began writing down every clue — the photo, the shrine, the mark, the mysterious woman. He connected them with lines, circling the crescent moon symbol over and over again.
Every answer only led to more questions.
"Toshio." Yumi's voice was soft now, careful. "You can't keep chasing ghosts. Maybe… maybe she's gone."
He turned to her slowly, his expression distant. "No. She's still out there. I can feel her."
Yumi bit her lip. "And if she's not the same Hana anymore?"
Toshio hesitated — then whispered, "Then I'll find a way to bring her back."
Yumi looked at him for a long time, eyes filled with something between pity and fear. "You're going to destroy yourself."
"Then I'll destroy myself loving her."
That night, he couldn't sleep again. The mark on his wrist pulsed softly in the dark, each glow accompanied by a faint sound — like a whisper he couldn't quite make out.
He sat up in bed. "Hana?"
The light grew brighter.
He stood and walked to the mirror. His reflection stared back, pale and hollow-eyed. But in the reflection — behind him — he saw her.
Hana.
She stood just over his shoulder, her hair falling in damp strands, eyes filled with sorrow.
"Hana…" he breathed, turning — but she wasn't there.
Her reflection was.
"Don't forget me," she whispered, her lips moving only in the mirror.
Toshio stumbled back, heart racing. "What— what are you—"
The mirror cracked.
Once. Twice.
Then shattered.
Shards exploded across the room, scattering like silver rain. He shielded his face and fell back against the wall. When he opened his eyes again, one piece of glass lay beside him — small and unbroken.
Inside it, reflected in impossible clarity, Hana smiled faintly.
"Find me… before they do."
Then the shard dimmed, turning opaque.
Toshio's breath came in shudders. His hand trembled as he picked up the glass piece. The crescent mark on his wrist pulsed again — and this time, it burned with golden light.
He knew what it meant.
Another message. Another lead.
He slipped the shard into his jacket pocket, grabbed his keys, and left his apartment once more. The night air was cold, but his resolve was steady.
He would follow every sign, every shadow, every whisper until he reached her.
Even if it killed him.
The wind howled as Toshio disappeared into the city streets, the faint glow of his wrist cutting through the darkness like a promise. Above him, the moon hung low — the same crescent shape, burning faintly red as though watching him.
And somewhere, far beyond the city lights, a girl whispered his name from the other side of the veil.