Nagi

The International Airport buzzed with energy. The chatter of travelers filled the air, punctuated by the occasional announcement over the PA system. A group of American students stood near the baggage claim, their excitement almost too loud for the space. Cameras hung around their necks, phones gripped tightly in their hands, ready to document every moment of their trip. They were here to see history, though most of them barely understood it.

One of them, a loud, self-absorbed TikToker, grinned as he pulled out his phone. His voice rose above the others.

"Alright, guys," he said, angling the phone for a selfie. "Get ready. We're about to go viral. Watch this."

"What now?" one of the quieter students asked, adjusting the straps of his backpack. He glanced nervously around, his unease evident. "Man, don't embarrass us. We're in another country—anything could happen."

The TikToker didn't even look up. His grin only grew wider. "Relax. I've got a plan. We'll shout 'Hiroshima' in public and see how people react. Asians are so chill—it's gonna be hilarious."

The nervous student frowned. "You're joking, right? That's not funny. People could take offense."

"Offense?" another student piped up, laughing. "Come on, they're too polite for that. But, hey, aren't they, like, cannibals or something?"

A ripple of laughter passed through the group, but the nervous one stepped away, shaking his head. "I'm not a part of this," he muttered under his breath.

The TikToker ignored him, holding his phone up like a trophy. "This trip is gonna make me famous," he said. "We've got free time in the city. Perfect for content."

Later, on a crowded train, the students were spread out, their voices cutting through the quiet hum of the car. The TikToker was at it again, filming everything around him. He stood up suddenly, turned toward a group of Japanese passengers, and shouted, "Hiroshima! Hiroshima! What's up, Japan?"

The atmosphere shifted instantly. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the car. A few older men exchanged stern looks, while others avoided eye contact entirely, their discomfort clear. Finally, one man stood up and approached the TikToker. He spoke in Japanese, his tone firm and commanding. The words were lost on the TikToker, but the meaning was obvious: Stop.

The TikToker let out a nervous laugh but kept recording. Then another man stepped forward, visibly angrier. The tension was thick enough to cut, but before things could escalate, a calm voice broke through the commotion.

"It's okay," a young man said, stepping between them. His dark eyes locked onto the TikToker's. "Don't make trouble."

The locals hesitated, their eyes darting between the young man and the TikToker. Slowly, they backed off. The TikToker smirked, lowering his phone. "See? No big deal," he muttered as he stepped off the train, completely unaware that the young man was following him.

That evening, the TikToker's friends tried to reach him, but his phone went straight to voicemail. Hours passed, and worry began to spread among the group. One by one, the students started to disappear, their laughter replaced by eerie silence.

Across town, in a cramped apartment, Nagi sat at the kitchen table, staring at his hands. His mother's sharp voice cut through the quiet room.

"I quit my job today," Nagi said quietly, barely meeting her eyes. "It just wasn't working out."

His mother scoffed, slamming a cup down on the table. "Again? What are you going to do now, huh? You can't keep a job, and you don't have anything going for you. You're just wasting time."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He pushed back his chair and stood abruptly, grabbing his coat. "I'll figure something out," he mumbled, his voice trembling. Tears threatened to spill, but he blinked them away. "I'll do something with my life. You'll see."

As he turned to leave, his mother sighed. "You have potential, Nagi. It's okay to just be normal, you know."

The streets were quiet as Nagi wandered aimlessly through the city. The cool night air did little to soothe the storm raging in his mind. His mother's words echoed in his head, over and over.

Turning down an alley, he froze. At the far end, he saw a group of people being herded into a building. It was the students from earlier. Leading them was a man with a calm but unsettling presence. Keitaro.

Nagi ducked into the shadows, his heart pounding as he watched Keitaro lock the door behind them. Then, as if sensing the weight of Nagi's stare, Keitaro turned around. Their eyes met, and Nagi's breath hitched.

Inside the building, the students huddled together, their earlier bravado completely gone. Keitaro paced in front of them, his expression cold and unreadable.

"You thought no one would care?" he said, his voice quiet but laced with menace. "You thought there would be no consequences?"

He stopped in front of the TikToker, whose hands were shaking now. "You. You're the ringleader." Keitaro leaned in, his tone dropping even lower. "If I killed all of you right here, who would stop me?"

One of the students broke down, pointing to the TikToker. "It was his idea! I had nothing to do with it!"

The TikToker shot him a furious glare. "You're such a coward," he spat, though his own voice was trembling.

Keitaro straightened, his gaze piercing. "So much courage," he said softly. "What a waste."

Outside the building, Nagi stood frozen, his mind racing. He could go to the police. He should go to the police. But something held him back. Keitaro didn't seem... entirely evil. In some strange way, he felt justified.

Summoning his courage, Nagi walked up to the door and knocked. When it opened, Keitaro stood there, his face unreadable.

"I want to help you," Nagi said, his voice steady despite the fear curling in his stomach.

Keitaro studied him, his eyes narrowing. "You saw what I did?"

Nagi nodded. "Yeah. But... you don't seem like a bad person. I think I get what you're doing. And I want in."

Keitaro's expression softened, just slightly. "If you're with me," he said, "there's no turning back. You put your life on the line."

"I'm ready," Nagi replied.

Two weeks later, missing person posters covered the city. Nagi's face stared back at passersby, but no one had answers. The students were gone, too, their disappearance a mystery.

And the world moved on.