Shoba POV

"..."

"We..."

'Huh...'

"Wait."

'What the hell? Who's there'

"Wake...Wake..."

'I don't understand you- who is there!'

"Wake up...They're coming...Wake up Shoba!"

My eyes snapped open, and I gasped for air, abruptly awakened to a familiar scene. My breaths were rapid and slightly labored, and my skin clung to my lightweight vest, drenched in sweat.

'What kind of nightmare was that?' I wondered, a hint of distress lingering as I struggled to recall the last time I had experienced such a restless sleep.

The fog in my mind gradually lifted. Curious about the time, I shifted my tired gaze around the bedroom with a slight sense of confusion still lingering. I never fully closed my blinds all the way when I slept, and so a speck of moonlight to creep inside during the night, casting a faint glow amidst the partial darkness into my room. 

The digital clock on the tallest wall stood directly in front of me. Squinting my eyes and furrowing my brows, I tried to make sense of the blurry shapes within the dimness. 

"3:00 am, huh? Sigh... Might as well get something to drink,"

I found myself talking to myself more often these days, which was oddly reminiscent of when my mom used to tell me I had an imaginary friend when I was little. Thinking about how I communicated with myself quite vocally these days, I realized it wasn't so difficult to imagine.

Climbing out of bed, I stretched my arms and let out a loud yawn. As my bare feet touched the floor, a soft creak echoed against the floorboards. I glanced down, realizing I was barefoot.

'Where have my slippers gone?' I questioned, suspecting that Ringo's mischievous antics were likely at play here.

I detested walking around the house without something protecting the soles of my feet. The simple mission of fetching water had now transformed into a side-quest to find my missing slippers. Ringo was the prime suspect, though a lingering thought suggested I might have left them somewhere around the house.

For now, it was easier to blame Ringo.

After leaving my bedroom, I found myself in the familiar narrow hallway adorned with numerous family pictures hung by Mom over the years. Purposefully measuring my steps, I took this time to carefully drift back into memory lane, a freckle of warmth birthed within me whilst I inspected the baby portraits of both Ringo and me, a light chuckle escaping my parched mouth as I came across an ancient photo of myself covered in ice cream. I was perhaps only 1 year old. It's still amusing to think how small we both used to be. 

Ringo, in particular, was undeniably one of the cutest babies, though getting me to admit that out load these days would never happen.

Continuing my careful stride along the hardwood floor, I could hear faint whirring noises from the air conditioner. Cold air enveloped me as I reached the end of the hall, prompting the thought that someone might have left the windows open overnight—it was unusually chilly.

'Or maybe the air conditioner is broken. Sigh... just another task to add to my lengthy to-do list.'

These days, the thoughts of my father lingered a lot. Not only was he the handyman of the house, but he also possessed profound knowledge about everything. When he was around, I rarely needed to overthink day-to-day problems. I did miss him a lot, but I try not to dwell on it too much. Mom doesn't like discussing him almost at all whenever he's away on one of his lengthy work adventures; her mood subtly sours when we bring him up. 

And so both Ringo and I usually steer clear of that topic.

'Dad... I hope you're safe, wherever you may be.' I say in my heart before continuing down the hallway

Entering the dining room, I noticed the drapes were pulled aside, inviting the outdoor moonlight to bathe the apartment. I felt strangely drawn to the scene—the cool tones formed inside by the moon's pale glow, and misshapen shadows cast by the furniture. I always found myself mesmerized by twilight skies for some strange reason, a reminder of the complexities of our world I guess— the galaxies, uncharted nebulas, and distant twinkling stars. In a world filled with gigantic chaos, one can't help but feel so tiny, as though all my problems pale in comparison to the bigger world out there. 

'Ah, but where's that water I needed?  The main objective resurfaced soon enough

The thought of that refreshingly cold water flowing down my throat makes my mouth water in anticipation. 'I really should invest in a sizable water bottle to keep by my bed for moments like these,' I remind myself. It's a nightly ritual and each time I vow to set a reminder on my phone, which I never get around to quite doing.

I reached into my pocket and retrieved my smartphone. Thanks to face ID, I quickly bypassed entering my passcode and started scrolling across the touchscreen in search of my notes application.

"Ah, there you are."

My fingers move swiftly as I begin structuring a reminder for tomorrow morning.

"Must... get... water bottle... wait, what the..." I voice abruptly, noticing the touchscreen on my smartphone suddenly distorting. 

Despite repeatedly tapping the screen's edges, all I manage to do is create dark splotchy areas against the surface.

'What kind of…damn it - did I get this wet somehow?' 

I tried performing the factory reset on the phone as my last resort. I've only just gotten this upgrade recently, and now my mind is whirring with possibilities as to what might've caused it to fail. I started to ponder and then began to think deeply, drawing a web of possibilities and fixes in a matter of seconds. My mind spirals into a state of stillness where fixing the phone becomes the most important thing to me.

In a brief moment, those familiar maniacal cogs begin to whirl inside of my mind. My eyes slowly open wide. A crazed, vacant mask appears against my face.

'I...I can see it…'

The placement of each screw, the motherboard, and all those tiny colored veins that form the little intricacies of the phone itself. Whenever I would fall into this state, it was imperative that I forcefully removed my eyes from the obsession after a while, or immediately look for my emergency medication.

I think back to the previous 'falling out,' as Ringo likes to call it. I ended up sitting in front of my microwave for 12 hours straight, disassembling and putting it back together again, by the time Mom found me, my eyes were completely bloodshot, and I was nursing a headache for four days straight.

'Damn it! This isn't the time for this.'

I can feel every fiber within me yearning to switch its entire focus to the problem of my phone. Just when I'm at my wit's end with the cogs whirling within my head.

There's a loud bang from outdoors.

I hear a blood-curdling scream.

And just like that, I break free from that mental hold. 

But I don't waste time basking in my victory. 

'That crash sounded way too close by.' 

So I approach the slackened drapes and peer through the thinner white fabrics layered between myself and the glass glazing. There's not a lot of visibility afforded to me from this height, but I sense commotion among the apartment complexes stirring in the air outside.

A crowd of voices appears not long after that crashing sound, which only fuels my curiosity a little more. I take a questioning look at the grandfather clock standing regally poised against the wall. 

It's incredibly too late to be venturing anywhere at this hour, I remind myself, and yet amid my cognitive dissonance, I'm actively searching for my slippers and my robe.

"Ah, what the heck, what's the worst that can happen?" I decided. With a sense of determination, I quickly got dressed, opting for modest attire given the late hour. Patting my pockets, I confirmed that my keys and phone were secure, despite the latter's less-than-ideal condition—a concern I had to momentarily set aside for now. 

Our apartment, perched on the 5th floor seemed unusually quiet as I tiptoed out, careful not to disturb my family. The stairwell, cold and lined with stone, echoed my steps as I descended. To my surprise, I wasn't alone; several neighbors, also stirred by the disturbance were navigating the stairs.

  "Seems like that noise woke quite a few of us," I thought. 

"Except for Mom and Ringo, who are probably still deep in slumber."

As I neared the ground floor, the murmur of voices grew louder and more distinct. 

Stepping off the final staircase, I was met with a sight that heightened my anxiety: about a third of our complex's residents had gathered in a tight cluster. The air was tense with uncertainty and concern around here.

 "What on earth could have happened at this hour?" I wondered, weaving through the crowd with polite apologies along the way.

After a brief struggle through the sea of bodies, I reached the front of the crowd. The scene before me sent a shiver down my spine. In the middle of the gravel walkway lay a car, brutally torn in half. Only the front portion remained—the engine, front wheels, and the first row of seats. The rear was completely missing, a stark, haunting absence in the quiet of the night. Amongst the murmurs and long-winded chatters. What I eventually came to see inside of the car, left my insides disjointed.

The car's doors were nowhere to be seen, which laid bare the grim scene inside. In the passenger seat, I could see a figure slumped over in a way that suggested a tragic end. The sight of his unmoving body was deeply unsettling, blood trailed out of his two eyes, his nostrils and his mouth, stirring a sense of horror within me. I felt a wave of nausea, torn between the urge to flee and the primal reaction to vomit. Yet, surprisingly, I found myself rooted to the spot, my mind blank in the face of such an unexpected horror.

It took a moment, but I eventually broke free from the grip of my shock-induced trance. Wiping my sweaty palms against my trousers, I tried to make sense of the chaotic theories circulating among the bystanders.

"It's just like the old man said. We heard a loud bang, and then this…" someone murmured.

"It doesn't make any sense," another voice added.

"No evidence of a crash, nothing..."

"It's like it just fell from the sky."

"You don't think it's…aliens?" someone hesitantly suggested.

"What a ridiculous thing to say. Show some respect," another retorted sharply.

"I didn't mean to be disrespectful. But how else do you explain this?"

"He's not entirely wrong. Can anyone else make sense of this?"

"Yeah, but...aliens? Really?"

Amidst this discussion, my attention drifted to a peculiar detail against a nearby stone wall. There was a strange, pale spiral pattern etched into the surface, almost compelling me to approach. It consisted of 8 rings converging towards a central point. Driven by curiosity, I reached out, my fingers lightly grazing the dusty surface. As I had anticipated, a fine, crystalline dust coated the tips of my fingers.

"This feels like chalk," I realized, examining the strange substance on my fingers. Its oddity briefly captured my attention, but soon, the escalating commotion behind me drew my focus back.

An argument had erupted among the crowd. Amidst this, I noticed two elderly women approaching the remains of the car. They solemnly made the sign of the cross and bowed their heads in quiet prayer, a stark contrast to the surrounding tension around them.

Feeling the atmosphere grow more charged, I decided to distance myself. I walked past the small wreckage and the haunting image of the lifeless body, those bloodshot, vacant eyes still etched in my memory sent shivers through my body

 I should be safe at home, not out here, potentially entangled in a bizarre tragedy, maybe even a crime scene.

"Ringo will never let me live this down," I thought wryly. I could already imagine her recounting this night to everyone, embellishing the story of how I snuck out and stumbled into a mystery that dragged our family's name into the headlines.

Several hundred steps later, the voices behind me faded into a distant murmur. I had simply followed my instincts out here, without a clear purpose. 

Strangely, I suddenly became acutely aware of the biting cold. Dressed only in a thin shirt and pajama bottoms, I shivered as the chilly wind whipped around me.

A sound, reminiscent of a small owl's hoot, broke the stillness, prompting me to look skyward. There was nothing but the usual stars and the moon, hanging cold and distant in the night sky above me. Yet, for some reason, I found myself fixated on the moon itself, an inexplicable sense of dread creeping up against my spine. I couldn't pinpoint why, but tonight, the sight of the moon filled me with an unshakeable sense of foreboding.

Suddenly, a series of panicked screams shattered the night's eerie calm, jolting me from my thoughts.

"AHHHHH!"

"HEY, WHAT IS THAT?!"

"AHHHH! WHAT'S HAPPENING?!"

These alarmed cries from behind me snapped my focus back to the present. I squinted into the darkness, my breath catching in my throat as I witnessed something utterly inexplicable. There, amidst the chaos, was what appeared to be a shimmering distortion in the air itself. Having spent countless hours immersed in fantasy and horror games, I was no stranger to the concept of what that thing was.

Yet, this was reality, not a game.

 The sight left me grappling with a mix of disbelief and awe. 

What on earth was unfolding before my very eyes?

And why...'w-was a portal appearing within Tokyo?'