Chapter 9 — Save Point

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✦ Kun's Dream Breaks

Kun's trembling fingers reached out.

Sai's hand was cold—dead cold—but it held his like it had always belonged there. The moment their fingers touched, the water stopped rising.

The sky cracked in half.

And Kun fell—

Awake.

He gasped with a strangled breath, lungs seizing.

Bright light pierced through the haze. Sheets clung damply to his body. A steady beeping echoed beside him. The air was sharp with the scent of antiseptic and cotton.

And someone was holding him.

"Kun," a voice choked, trembling. "Kun—baby, you're awake—!"

It was his mother. She clutched him to her chest like she might never let go again. Her fingers combed through his sweat-matted hair, her cheek pressed desperately against his forehead.

Kun blinked. Everything felt far away, muffled under water. He tried to speak—but his throat was raw.

"He's awake!" his mother cried toward the door. "Please—he's awake now—!"

Footsteps thundered in. A deeper voice snapped from the hallway.

"Stop it, Aya. You're scaring him."

"You weren't there!" she snapped back. "You didn't see him. He was dying—he was in our house, in his room—he was—"

"Calm down, before the nurses—"

"I'm not crazy!"

Kun's eyes fluttered toward the door. A nurse tried to ease his mother back, but she resisted, cradling him tighter.

Across the sterile white room stood two familiar silhouettes—his grandparents. His grandmother's face was unreadable, clutching her handbag like a shield. His grandfather whispered something firm to her, their eyes flicking toward Kun with quiet concern.

The voices blurred again. Everything blurred.

"…it's not safe in that town," his mother hissed. "I want to go back. I have to go back."

"You think Tokyo's going to fix this? He'll just be forgotten all over again."

"They'll kill him here." Her voice cracked. "He's already breaking apart. Look at him—!"

"Enough." His grandmother's voice was cold. "Don't speak about him like he's not here."

Kun's body screamed under the thin sheets. His hip felt like fire. There was a bandage on his arm. An IV dripped into his veins. His lips were dry, eyes stinging.

Then, fragments returned.

The worms.

The mirror.

The bathroom.

Sai's voice, inside the walls.

The dream, the water.

The hand.

His mother leaned down again, whispering as if afraid Sai would hear her.

"I thought I lost you. I thought he took you…"

Kun coughed. His voice cracked through chapped lips.

"Sai…"

Her face paled.

"No," she said quickly. "Don't—don't say his name. Don't talk about him."

His grandparents exchanged a troubled glance.

"He's not real," his grandmother insisted quietly. "There's no one in that house but shadows."

But Kun turned his head slowly.

And in the upper corner of the white ceiling—

A shadow lingered.

Still.

Unmoving.

Watching.

Sai had not left.

Route Checkpoint

A choice must be made.

The future diverges from this moment.

Would you like them to return to Tokyo?

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　　　　　　　　　　　☐ No