2008, March 29; 3:34 PM
Akira strolled down the street, deep in thought. “Maybe today’s the day… I could finally get a car,” she murmured, excitement bubbling up. “Think that might actually get me a promotion?” She laughed, brushing off the thought. "Yeah, right, Akira. Dream on.”
Her daydream was suddenly interrupted when someone slammed into her, nearly knocking her over.
“Whoa—hey!” she gasped, catching herself.
“SORRY, MA'AM!” a young man in a suit shouted over his shoulder as he sped past her, glancing back only briefly before darting ahead.
“What was that all about?” Akira muttered, still trying to process the scene. But before she could regain her balance, an older man barreled down the street, an unconscious girl slung over his shoulder.
“GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE SHIT!” he bellowed, not even noticing Akira as he raced after the younger man.
Akira just stood there, blinking in disbelief. “What… just happened?”
3 Minutes Earlier.
“Oh yeah?” Aiko taunted, pushing himself up with a defiant grin. “Well, watch this!”
Shiro narrowed his eyes, tense as if trying to predict Aiko’s next move. But before he could react, Aiko took off, sprinting down the street with surprising speed.
“SEE YOU LATER ASSHOLE!” he called back, laughing.
Shiro rolled his eyes, then sighed. Without a word, he grabbed Yasuka, hefting her unconscious form effortlessly onto his back. “You don’t get off that easy, little shit..” he shouted, charging after him.
Aiko dodged his way through pedestrians, barely avoiding a collision with a woman on the sidewalk. “SORRY, MA'AM!” he called out mid-sprint.
Shiro was close behind, his voice booming. "GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT!”
Aiko turned a corner sharply, disappearing into an empty building, the sounds of pursuit echoing behind him. Aiko glanced around the building, his heart still racing from his escape. Suddenly, he felt a strange chill on the back of his neck. Slowly, he turned around and saw Shiro.
“Shiro? What the hell? How’d you find me, man? Aren’t you like, fifty?” Aiko tried to sound annoyed, but his voice shook. Shiro just stood there, silent.
Aiko frowned. “Hey! I know you’re old… but are you deaf or something? Why aren’t you—” He stopped mid-sentence, noticing something strange. Shiro wasn’t quite… Shiro. His face was smooth, empty, like someone had erased his eyes and mouth. The closer he looked, the blurrier Shiro seemed, almost as if he was fading in and out of focus.
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“Look, I don’t know what sick joke this is, but it ain’t working on me!” Aiko’s voice wavered as he took a step back, trying to mask his growing unease.
He spun around, hoping to make a run for it, only to freeze as he spotted someone else standing at the other end of the hall—‘Yasuka.’ She had the same strange, blank face as Shiro, like a distorted memory of his friend.
“Oh… hell no,” Aiko muttered, turning to sprint toward the exit. But when he reached for the door handle, his hand met nothing but wall. The door was gone. So were the windows. He whipped his head around, watching as ‘Shiro’ and ‘Yasuka’ slowly closed in on him.
“SCREW THIS!” Aiko yelled, darting between the two faceless figures, shoving them aside as he bolted deeper into the building. His surroundings began to twist and stretch, like the walls themselves were coming alive, mocking him. The hallways were impossibly long, the staircases winding down farther than they should have, almost as if he’d fallen into some warped nightmare.
As he tore through the corridors, he caught glimpses of ghostly arms reaching out from the walls, clawing at him. Whispers filled the air, his name echoing around him: “Aiko… Aiko…”
He couldn’t take it anymore. “GET AWAY FROM ME, MAN!” he shouted, stumbling down yet another endless staircase. His breaths came out in ragged gasps, each step feeling heavier than the last. A faint sound of footsteps echoed behind him, getting faster and louder. He looked over his shoulder and saw the faceless ‘Shiro’ gliding toward him, closing the gap with inhuman speed.
“Fifty-year-olds can't do this man!” Aiko shouted, trying to run faster, but his legs felt like lead. He glanced forward just in time to see a pipe before—
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2008, March 29; 11:00 PM
[Yeah I got the kid. Nihilia, it aint a big deal, it's just a dumbass kid. I-! Whatever you say, Ma'am.]
…
Aiko’s eyes flew open. He was lying in his own bed, his room bathed in the cool light of the night. His pulse was still racing, his mind struggling to grasp reality. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare.
A voice startled him. “Rough night?”
Aiko jumped, looking up to see Shiro standing at his bedside, arms crossed, an unimpressed look on his face.
“Jeez, don’t sneak up on me like that!” Aiko muttered, trying to hide his relief. “I swear, you’d make a great ghost.”
“Don’t give me ideas,” Shiro replied dryly. “You’re a real idiot for running off, you know that?”
Aiko shrugged. “Yeah, I know. Just… didn’t expect to end up… wherever I ended up.”
Aiko hesitated, swallowing hard. “Hey, Shiro… random question… you ever heard of a manifesto related to, I don’t know, ghosts?”
Shiro paused, his face unreadable, before letting out a small chuckle. “You tell me, kid.” He turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. “Oh, and the girl, Yasuka was it? She’s at Mr. (Ryo) Nakamura’s place. In case you were wondering.”
Aiko rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks…”
Shiro just shook his head as he left, but as he walked out, Aiko caught sight of something unsettling—shadowy hands, drifting behind Shiro, waved him a slow, ghostly goodbye.
Aiko sank back into bed, muttering to himself. “I… That old…”
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