Shiro remained in an unconscious state, his body drifting like water in an ethereal sea
filled with yellow lines that swayed with the air, as if colliding with one another. His body
continued moving until, suddenly, as if he had been struck in the stomach—yet without
feeling pain—he fell straight down, sensing the pressure of the ethereal sea.
He awoke abruptly due to the sudden pressure. His body spun and spun until it finally
fell. There was no pain, but the fall was long. There was no longer any trace of an
ethereal sea, no void, no pressure; now he felt lighter. He took a few steps forward, but
his forehead collided with something hard. He let out a soft groan, touching his
forehead.
Looking ahead, he realized he was inside a glass container that held several injections
or medical objects. Outside the glass, people he had never known walked through the
hallway: people carrying papers, people who looked energetic, calm, or tired.
The floor was gray concrete, the walls painted white. No one seemed to notice Shiro.
He stepped to the side, reaching the edge of the glass, but instead of colliding with it,
his body passed in an instant into another glass structure positioned further ahead.
"What is happening…?" Shiro said out loud, his tone calm. For some reason, he felt that
his soul was completely still—absolute calm.
Shiro moved forward through the new glass, which displayed photographs of strangers,
with phrases such as "The best of…" or "Our…," words praising achievements of
people who had nothing to do with him. He continued forward and once again passed
into a new section: this time, a window that allowed light from the hallway into a room,
inside of which there was a sphere charged with electricity, seemingly undergoing
testing.
Suddenly, Shiro felt as if something—or someone—grabbed his shirt, pulling him out of
that window.
Shiro fell, as if a dark whirlpool had caught him. The lighting of the previous place
abandoned him. When he fully fell, he hit the ground. He lifted his gaze slightly; the floor
was stone, yet it smelled pleasant, like vanilla ice cream, though less intense.
As he raised his head, he saw that the place was dark. In front of him stood a woman,
her back turned to him. Shiro remained as relaxed as he could, but this time he felt a
strange pressure in his chest that lasted only a few seconds. When he tried to stand, he
noticed the woman was staring at a vortex to the side.
Inside it was a kind of energy radiating white, resembling electrical voltage. The woman,
not very tall, blindly raised her hand toward Shiro. This left him motionless, kneeling.
"You really are agile. No one escapes Touka twice," the woman said seriously, as if
speaking that way were completely natural.
She turned fully toward Shiro, turning her back on what seemed to be a kind of core.
She was a young woman with short, silver-white hair, slightly messy, and golden-yellow
eyes that complemented her appearance. She wore a simple white jacket, formal in
style, with a clean, fitted cut; underneath it, a red tie and a dark shirt.
Her black skirt was short and modern in design, giving her mobility and a youthful air.
She wore black gloves on her hands, and finally, dark stockings up to her thighs,
decorated with subtle patterns that added detail to her design.
"My name is Yuzuki. Anyway, what's your name?" she asked.
Shiro blinked a few times. In a calm but somewhat incredulous tone, he replied,
"My name is Shiro…"
The woman stepped forward calmly.
"Anyway, she'll be coming any moment now to take you," she said in a calm but serious
tone, one that would normally put pressure or tension on Shiro. However, for some
reason, he remained calm.
Before he could respond, she stopped.
"I think I skipped a lot of pages… let me explain something to you, Shiro."
She summoned two threads from somewhere, thin yet sturdy, moving them with her
fingers. One thread was red, the other yellow.
"On the vertical thread lies destiny; on the horizontal, fatality," Yuzuki declared
confidently.
The threads grew larger, intertwining with each other under her movements.
"Truth becomes tangled and distant. Emotions twist and distort, and without anyone
knowing why, they disappear—or become more and more entangled," she said,
clenching her fist to make the threads vanish.
Shiro was confused. Either it was a very intelligent explanation, or he was speaking with
someone who had her own language. Yuzuki, seeing his expression of confusion,
sighed.
"In short: your soul didn't even become tangled with you or your emotions. It simply
left… or something like that."
Shiro was uneasy at how vaguely she explained it, but once again, he couldn't feel any
deep fear. Before he could speak, a door behind him opened, changing the atmosphere
as air flowed in from the other side.
"Hey, Yuzuki, where's my lost soul, or whatever it's called… the kid?" a loud voice
exclaimed behind Shiro.
He turned to look.
A girl with gray hair, somewhat long, straight, and loose, wore black pants and a simple
black shirt. Over it, she had on a white lab coat.
She spoke again, looking at Shiro.
"Are you the one I need?" she asked.
She appeared a bit smaller than Shiro, though that was normal given how tall he was.
Yuzuki sighed to the side. Mizuki, with gray eyes matching her hair, stepped closer as
she spoke.
"You're curious about all of this, aren't you? You're human; curiosity is normal," her
tone was calm and carefree, like someone who never has a topic of conversation… or
anyone to share it with.
Shiro nodded, slightly nervous, but once again, nothing deep. Mizuki turned halfway
around and began to walk.
"Hurry up, Shiro."
"All right… may I ask questions…?" he said in a tone that tried to show respect.
Yuzuki watched the scene. With a snap of her fingers, she closed the door through
which Shiro and Mizuki had left.