The Glitch
Kairo stared at the book, intrigued.
These days, most writers worked online, but Kenji—his father—always preferred paper.
He used to say that paper had a soul, and that his pen could reach people's hearts better than any digital device.
The manuscript was old, unmarked.
Just like the books Kenji used to read—simple, faceless, anonymous.
Kairo opened the first page.
"Saito Corporation… That's the company I always see around," he thought, flipping through it.
"Why was my father researching them?"
A photo fell out from between the pages.
It showed his father as a young man, standing beside someone in a sleek black suit.
Impeccable. Elegant.
His expression was unreadable—an enigmatic smile and sharp, hawk-like eyes.
"And this guy...?" Kairo muttered.
He looked closer. The man in the photo had slicked-back raven-black hair and a proud, unsettling gaze.
Kairo had never seen him before, but something about the picture gave him chills.
Then—
a voice.
A whisper, faint and barely audible, crept into the room like smoke.
"Liar..."
The word stabbed at Kairo's chest. He stumbled backward, heart racing.
And there—standing just outside the window, floating as if there were solid ground beneath his feet—was the masked figure.
Frozen with fear, Kairo couldn't move.
The man passed through the wall like a ghost, approaching slowly.
Kairo tried to speak, to scream, but no sound came.
His breath shortened. His body trembled.
The figure reached out.
One long finger tapped Kairo on the forehead.
Everything went black.
Then—
RING.
His phone rang, yanking him back into reality.
Gasping, he grabbed it.
A message from Aenna.
AENNA: "Oi, sleepyhead! If you don't get your butt here, we're heading to school without you!"
Kairo's eyes widened.
He looked at the time.
"Shit, I'm late again!"
He grabbed the book and the photo, slung on his backpack, and dashed to the door.
Before leaving, he glanced back.
The house was... too quiet.
He shut the door behind him, slipped on his earbuds, and jogged toward the subway.
Behind him, inside the empty house…
a faint trail of black smoke slithered through the hall.
8:15 AM – Nakano District
Kairo stepped out onto the street, earbuds in, backpack hanging off one shoulder.
The Nakano district was as peaceful as ever.
There was something village-like about it—despite being part of Tokyo's sprawl.
Same faces. Same greetings.
Same smell of fresh bread wafting from the bakery at the corner.
Everyone knew everyone.
And everyone knew Kairo was always late.
"Hey, Kairo! Don't miss the train again!"
Mrs. Mizaki called from her balcony.
"That's the goal, Mrs. Mizaki!" Kairo shouted back, running like a bullet with a grin on his face.
Mid-sprint, he accidentally bumped into Mr. Ukitake, nearly knocking a grocery bag from his arms.
"Watch it, kid!" the old man growled.
"Sorry, Mr. Ukitake!" Kairo yelled, not slowing down in the slightest.
He hit the station steps and launched himself downward.
"KAIRO!"
The voice came from behind the gate.
It was Mr. Kiba, the station attendant.
"How many times do I have to tell you—don't run on the stairs!"
"Sorry, sorry! But the train doesn't wait for the late ones!" Kairo laughed, zipping through the turnstile.
Kiba groaned, rubbing his temples.
"Damn kid…"
Kairo just made it into the train as the doors hissed shut behind him.
The car was heavy with the smell of instant coffee and the silence of half-asleep commuters.
He removed one earbud to catch the next station announcement.
"Next stop... Ha— Ha— Ha— Ha—"
The voice looped. Then cut out.
Kairo glanced around.
No one reacted.
Everyone was glued to their phones, unmoving.
Everyone.
Except one.
A man sat at the far end of the car.
Black hoodie. Head lowered. Seemed asleep.
But every time the train entered a tunnel and the lights dimmed…
He opened his eyes.
They were completely white.
And he shut them the moment the light returned.
The train screeched to a stop.
Doors slid open.
Kairo stepped off at Hanabira Station, alone on a platform that felt… wrong.
Too quiet.
He looked up.
A massive digital billboard hovered above the escalators.
A sleek Saito Corporation ad pulsed across a curved LED screen, clean and vibrant.
"Saito Corporation.
Innovating Memory. Shaping Destiny."
A robotic female voice repeated the tagline in the background like a lullaby.
Then… it glitched.
The screen stuttered.
One frame repeated.
Then two.
Then three.
The letters began to rearrange themselves slowly, like they were being rewritten.
"S—haping… D—estiny…
Innova—ting… For—get—Me—"
The screen twisted.
The logo distorted into something screaming—something with a face.
And just as quickly…
it reset.
"Saito Corporation. Innovating Memory. Shaping Destiny."
Like nothing had happened.
Kairo blinked, throat dry.
He turned around.
No one had noticed.
Only him.
Always him.
"Okay… this Saito thing is officially freaking me out."
He pulled the photo from his jacket pocket and stared at it again.
"Dad… what the hell are you hiding from me?"
Suddenly—
A sharp pain pierced his head, stronger than before.
He reached for his forehead—exactly where the masked figure had touched him.
It burned. Like hot iron.
The crowd around him slowed.
Time itself seemed to lag.
And in the middle of the platform—
The masked figure was back.
It raised its hand, pointing directly at Kairo.
And whispered:
"I see you."
The burning flared.
Kairo dropped to his knees, groaning in pain.
Then—
A hand on his shoulder.
"Hey… are you okay?"
A woman's voice.
He looked up.
The figure was gone.