Lag

I woke up in a bathtub.

Not in my bed. Not on a couch. Not even inside my apartment.

Just a porcelain bathtub in the middle of a bathroom that wasn't mine. The tiles were avocado green. The mirror had a long vertical crack through the middle, like it had been punched by bad news.

I blinked.

The water was cold.

My clothes were soaked.

I sat up too fast and smacked my head on the wall.

Ow.

The last thing I remembered was running with Nao.

The rift.

The sky with teeth.

Now I was here. Alone. And everything felt… wrong.

Not horror-movie wrong. Almost-right wrong. Like I was inside a copy of reality that someone printed with a cheap scanner and didn't line up perfectly.

The light switch buzzed when I touched it.

The toilet paper had barcodes on it.

The faucet ran in reverse.

Where am I?

I stumbled out into the hallway. Dust. Old carpet. A faint smell of burnt lemons.

As I walked past a mirror, I caught my reflection and froze.

My shirt said "PROPERTY OF AI-CHAN" in neon pink letters. I don't own a shirt like that. I don't even know anyone named Ai-chan.

I checked my phone — no signal — and the date said August 12th.

But… yesterday it was July 20th.

That's when the buzzing started again — deep in my bones, like a bad subwoofer in my spine.

I pressed a hand against the wall. It felt like static.

Reality was lagging.

I ran again — this time to escape whatever glitch was chewing through my brain.

And like before, the moment I started moving, the world snapped back into shape.

Grass went green again. Signs stopped flickering. My clothes changed back to what I remembered wearing: black hoodie, old sneakers, and the blue wristband Airi gave me three years ago — the one with our names carved into it.

I skidded to a stop under a pedestrian overpass and collapsed onto a bench. My breath fogged in the hot summer air.

Something was wrong with me.

Not just the world.

I heard footsteps. Soft ones. Barefoot.

Nao emerged from the shadows carrying a plastic bag of rice crackers and bandages. His usual scowl was replaced by something softer.

"You jumped again," he said.

I nodded.

"How long was I out?"

"Three days. This time."

My stomach dropped. "This time?"

He tossed me the snacks.

"Sometimes when you run too close to a full rift, it bends your personal timeline. Like skipping ahead in a movie — or rewinding to scenes you've never watched."

"So that wasn't a dream?" I whispered.

"The bathtub?" He grinned. "Nope. Found you singing an anime theme song to a rubber duck."

I buried my face in my hands.

"I'm losing it."

"You're adapting," Nao said, sitting beside me. "But fast shifts come with a cost. The more you run, the more reality forgets where to put you."

"…So what now?"

He looked up at the cracked sky, voice distant.

"Now we train.

Because the next rift won't be content with chasing us."

"Next time… it's coming for you."