Voices in the Void.

Chapter 20: Voices in the Void.

The room smelled of incense and candle wax, heavy with the weight of centuries-old rituals. The flickering flames cast shadows on the walls, stretching and twisting like silent witnesses.

Ichika and Tatsuya sat cross-legged on the tatami floor, the space between them lined with talismans, ink-drawn circles, and bowls filled with water still as glass.

The séance had begun.

Tatsuya's hands hovered over the symbols, fingers twitching. The old ways had never failed him before. Every name, every presence they had ever sought, had answered.

But tonight-

The silence stretched long, unnatural.

The kind that pressed against the skin, thick and suffocating.

It was wrong.

"What is he?" Ichika murmured, brows furrowed.

The air vibrated, faint and thin. The spirits were there, but something was off. Their usual murmurs-fragmented words, emotions bleeding through the veil-were absent.

Not quiet.

Avoiding.

As if they were refusing to be part of this.

Tatsuya's breath slowed. He had called upon spirits for years, and they always came. Sometimes they screamed. Sometimes they begged. Sometimes they twisted their voices into cryptic riddles, speaking in echoes of their past suffering.

But they never stayed silent.

The candles flickered, their flames bending, stretching unnaturally toward the far wall. The bowls of water trembled, tiny ripples breaking the stillness.

The spirits were here. They just didn't want to speak.

That realization settled in his gut like ice.

Tatsuya reached out, pressing his palm to the ink-drawn circle. His voice was steady, but the room felt smaller when he spoke. "Tell us what you know about Aqua."

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then-

The water in the bowls shuddered, tiny droplets lifting as if something unseen had exhaled over them. The candles burned lower, their flames shrinking into weak, dying embers.

And finally-

A whisper.

Thin. Trembling. Afraid.

"He does not belong."

Ichika stiffened.

Tatsuya's breath left him in a slow exhale.

Not who, not what.

Just-

"He does not belong."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Tatsuya clenched his fists. His skin prickled with something cold, something primal. It was not fear-no, fear was something he understood.

This was dread.

Because he had never heard spirits sound afraid.

He pressed further. "What does that mean?"

The air grew heavier. The ink on the talismans bled outward, staining the tatami floor like spreading veins.

Then-

A sharp crack.

One of the bowls of water split down the middle, shards scattering across the floor. The water inside didn't spill. It just... disappeared.

Evaporated into nothing.

The spirits were leaving.

Not fading.

Not passing on.

Fleeing.

Something in the room had shifted, something watching back.

Ichika inhaled sharply, fingers tightening around the wooden beads wrapped around her wrist. She had called upon spirits of the dead before-those who had met violent ends, those who clung to the world out of vengeance, sorrow, regret.

But even in their agony, they always answered.

And now-

Now they refused.

Tatsuya forced himself to speak. "What the hell is he?"

No answer came.

Because even the dead refused to say.

.

.

.

.

.

The apartment was quiet. The kind of quiet that felt safe.

Akeshi sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the blanket up to Nino's chin.

She had already fallen asleep, exhaustion finally catching up to her. The soft rhythm of her breathing filled the room, steady and warm.

Akeshi shut the door behind him, the soft click cutting through the quiet.

The warmth of Nino's room lingered on his skin-the scent of freshly washed blankets, the slow rise and fall of steady breathing. It was a small moment of normalcy, a fragile pocket of peace.

And he had learned, time and time again, how quickly peace could shatter.

His steps were measured as he crossed the room. Not slow, not rushed. Just steady. His hand ghosted over the edge of the desk, fingers brushing past papers, a half-drunk cup of tea, an old photograph turned face-down.

The glow of the city filtered through the blinds, casting fractured patterns along the walls. Outside, life moved on -cars, voices, the distant hum of a world unaware.

But inside-

Inside, something wasn't right.

He could feel it.

That quiet, crawling sensation along the edge of his senses. The kind that didn't come from paranoia, but from knowing.

Akeshi turned his head, gaze flicking to the mirror on the opposite wall.

It reflected the room perfectly. His desk, his bed, the slight mess of books stacked unevenly. The curtains shifting faintly against the night air.

Him.

Standing still.

Expression blank.

And yet-

The air inside the reflection felt off.

Not wrong.

Just... watching.

His fingers curled, tension threading through his shoulders. The feeling was subtle, lingering at the edges like a whisper behind his ear. It wasn't enough to act on. Not yet.

Akeshi exhaled, pushing the unease aside.

He reached for his phone, dialing a number.

It rang once. Twice.

Then-

A voice on the other end.

Akeshi didn't waste time.

"You have a doppelganger."