JUNE 16th, 2014.

“Man… called into work on one of our only days off…” A woman with deep violet eyes and medium-length blackish-purple hair tied down in the back, with one long fringe to her left hanging down, complained to her senior while being distracted by the environment around her.

“...I planned to go shopping today. Wearing these suits all the time is a pain.”

“Stop complaining already.” a taller, older, gruff-looking man with short and loose black hair, a deeply scarred face, and a much more intimidating aura to him, began to reply. “You get on my nerves enough as it is, feline.”

“Uh, Yasu? It’s ‘Kat’. Asshole.” she retorts, with rain dropping off of her deformed, chibi–esque skull hair clip over the left side of her forehead, covered by her fringes. She rubs at it before the water falls near her eyes.

“‘Kat’. ‘Kat’ with a ‘C’. ‘Feline’. What’s the difference?” Yasu replies, with a harsh and deep, almost guttural voice. Kat’s, in comparison, is lighter and more soft.

Another noticeable difference is their neckties with their respective worn suits, consisting of a black jacket and white undershirt, though Kat’s jacket is a cropped blazer and she wears her undershirt untucked off the right of her waist, with the collar raised against her neck. Kat’s tie is a deep orange and slightly thinner than Yasu’s, while Yasu’s is a dark purple and thicker than Kat’s.

The two of them bicker while walking on a rooftop, around three stories up from street level. Similar buildings surround them, as they nonchalantly walk or hop between the gaps, from roof to roof.

“Ugh… why did Liam have to send me out with you, again?” Kat says, with a tone of disgust pricked into her words.

“The Administrators think a storm’s brewin’. He didn’t explain more than that.” Yasu replies, taking out a cigarette and a lighter from his suit.

“When isn’t a storm brewing in this city? Pneuma concentration is higher here than anywhere else on Earth, how do you figure that?”

“Nice sarcasm. Buncha civilians reaching their lowest points.”

“Right, right… and then they form a contract, blah, blah…” Kat sarcastically retorts.

“Most of ‘em don’t even realize.”

“Unlucky days ahead for them, huh—” Kat cuts off, interrupted by a dreadful, immensely painful feeling.

It was as if, for the both of them, their lungs were slowly being crushed inside their bodies, like throwing someone’s intestines into the bottom of the ocean. Both of their bodies’ blood ran cold as they searched into the distance, their eyeballs rolling in their sockets looking desperately for the cause. The raindrops around them had ceased to be, if only to them, as they couldn’t see or hear or feel anything. Their nerves wouldn’t stop firing off.
Yet despite the confusion, they felt the exact same thing:

Fear.
Immense fear.
Icy to the touch, it covered their bodies whole.
The immediate realization was that, whatever the pneuma concentration belonged to, they stood no chance against it. For Kat, that was understandable, she had been through a horrible past and endured a lot, but she was still a rookie relative to Yasu. He was infamous for being one of the strongest members in TWR, even being able to push the Administration around at times. However, he was stricken completely still as well. When she noticed this, her fear increased twenty-fold.

What… in the hell is that?! They both thought, simultaneously. That question kept repeating itself inside their minds.

This level of pneuma concentration was unprecedented to both of them, and their bodies had been rigorously trained to sense and manipulate it. Not understanding the circumstances, their brains sent fear responses to the rest of their bodies, locking both of them completely still in frozen terror.

A moment later, the feeling subsided, and both of them dropped to their knees, coughing and heaving heavily.

“What… what the hell…?!” Kat says, barely catching her breath. “Was that the storm they were talking about…?”

“Seems… so.” Yasu states, catching his breath as well, though seemingly more reserved. The essence of a professional.

Pneuma output like that… has to belong to a Rexl— no, even a Numet-class signer.
Yasu thought, considering his options.

He looks over to Kat, checking her over for any prolonged effects.

“We’re going back to HQ. Immediately.” Yasu states, grabbing at her arm and dragging her as he walks forward in the other direction.

“Hey, let go!” Kat protests, as Yasu gives up his grip a few steps in. “What level of danger are we talking about here, anyway? I’ve never—”

“Numet-class.” Yasu replies, cutting her off.

Her eyes widen in absolute terror.

“You’re… joking, right? It must’ve been amplified or something—”

“That wasn’t a joke. We’re leaving.”

As Kat cautiously follows him, reversing the path they had taken to get to where they were, countless thoughts blast through her mind. None of them are good, and most of them involve a worst-case scenario.

“Just to clarify, Numet-classes are…” she begins to say, but is interrupted again.

“Typically gods.”

Yasu stays silent for a moment, letting her process that. Kat has a hard time doing so, as anyone would. The raindrops around them blend into her thoughts, not allowing a moment of peace or quiet.

“...Do you know why we say signers shouldn’t know sympathy?” Yasu asks, cutting through the silence between them.

Kat remains silent, obviously not aware. Only staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“Monsters… “ Yasu begins, dropping his tone to that of a deadly warning, “will masquerade as people. You let them into your life, then you’re at their mercy.”

He reaches his hand up to touch his face, as the past haunts the touch of the tips of his fingers, damning him to relive those events if only for a short moment.

“My wife carved that lesson into me.”

Kat doesn’t reply, feeling like there’s nothing she can say, as Yasu begins to walk forward yet again.

“The last time this happened was around four years ago.” he says, putting his hands in his pockets to stop them from shaking, which Kat hadn’t noticed.

“...Here?” she asks.

“No. Outside the Garden.”

“And…” Kat begins to question, swallowing her fear of knowing the answer, “What happened after that?”

Yasu looks down at the ground for a moment, before emotionlessly replying.

“Nothing. And that’s the scariest thing that could happen.”

Kat, unable to say anything once again and frequently looking around her— influenced by paranoia— silently follows Yasu back to their car.


. . . . .


Bustling crowds.

The painfully bright lights from surrounding traffic.

The noises of countless amounts of people talking and living their lives.

Seth slowly opens his eyes, viewing all of it as if seeing it for the first time. It hurt, initially. He wants nothing more than to shield his eyes, though… the fact that he has arms to shield them with again makes him drop to his knees with a feeling of relief.

What… Was all of that…?

A simple question, but one he can’t answer. Something so far removed from reality, that he can’t help but to feel as if he had fallen asleep while standing.

Was I… asleep? Did I fall asleep in the middle of the sidewalk?

Seth checks his time on his watch, just to find…

Wait, the time is…!

After realizing he’s still twenty minutes late to Feno’s meeting, Seth recognizes the street that he opened his eyes on in breakneck speed. It’s only a few blocks away from the subway’s entrance. Speeding down the sidewalk to the subway yet again, losing his breath while doing so, he notices something’s different as soon as he arrives.

The entrance is blocked by police tape and movable stands with rope tied between them.

A young female attendant with brown hair and blue eyes, wearing a blue and white uniform is standing in front of it, directing people away and apologizing as she does so. Seth walks up to her and casually points at his watch.

“Hey, the train was supposed to run at 11:30… Did something happen?”

The attendant holds her hand to her mouth in a formal but shocked expression.

“You didn’t hear, sir? There was a terrible accident earlier…”
Seth’s eyes widen, shocked, as he watches her mouth utter the next words.

They were, of course, innocent words spoken by an innocent woman.

Yet in that moment, Seth felt as if she was out to kill him herself.

“...Some poor man jumped in front of the train before it arrived.”

Upon comprehending her words, Seth’s body falls frozen in terror.
He can’t help but imagine the forensic team cleaning his remains off the side of the subway, his body resembling a stain more than a human. Wincing in pain, he drops down to his knees and holds his stomach, feeling sick and as if he’s going to throw up.

This can’t be real. It can’t be real. I died…? There’s no way that’s possible.
He holds his stomach even tighter, the force he’s pressing with equivalent to how badly he’s attempting to escape from reality.
No way, no way, no way. I must have dementia. Yeah, that’s it. I hallucinated.
He clutches his stomach and leans over into his arms even more, trying to push his fallacy to its absolute limits.
I’ll go see a doctor after Feno’s gig… but I can’t make it today…

Seth begins to run off, as the attendant reaches out her hand.
“Sir?! Are you alright?!”

It’s too late. He’s already run ahead of her, ignoring her question. Seth continues to sluggishly sprint past the crowds, looking forward as if they didn’t exist. It was almost as if he was on a road that led straight ahead, that ended in nothing. No distance gained or lost. No goal or consequence was achieved.  Seth turns into an alley, running down it while desperately throwing himself forward.

C’mon, Feno. You’ll pick up, I know you will…
Coming to a stop, he pulls out his flip phone and begins quickly and sloppily searching for Feno’s contact.

Ckk, ckk, ckk, ckk…
The sound of a button being tapped to scroll down the list echoes in Seth’s mind.

Feno…! I can’t let him of all people down…! Come on… COME ON…!

Seth reaches the end of his contact list, all to no avail.

Where…? Where are you?!

He searches again, but the result stays the same.

There’s only a single contact missing from the list.

One that he’s seen so many times, he knows the position by heart.

Regardless, he searched the entire list, trying to run away from the possibility that had entered his mind after he failed to find it the first time.

It was missing.

Feno’s contact was nowhere to be found.

His number… I know it, I know it…
Seth begins quickly, painfully typing in the numbers before tapping the call button.

Ckk-ckk-ckk, ckk-ckk-ckk…
Ckk-ckk-ckk-ckk.

As Seth almost hits himself in the face by bringing the phone up to his ear so quickly, it rings, piercing through his dread but also exemplifying it.

What if he doesn’t answer…? What if…?

The ringing only enhances the worry in his mind as it cascades against the sound of rain hitting the ground and pouring from the gutters around him. The air smells clean, and yet he can’t notice it at all.
It’s as if, as long as this phone rings, he doesn’t even exist here.
There’s nothing to confirm that he does.
No one to say that he doesn’t.

Unfortunately, he isn’t given much more time to brace himself for the answer, as the automated message replies emotionlessly to his internal pleas.

“We’re sorry, but the number you called is currently out of service. Please try—”

The worst-case scenario had reared its ugly head.

If there was nothing to confirm that he exists, and no one to confirm that he doesn’t:

As cruel as this world was, it confirmed that he shouldn’t.

Seth quickly shuts the phone as if it were spreading a living cancer to his brain by keeping it open, holding it close to his heart as his heavy breathing matches the rate of his pounding heartbeat. His eyes are open, as he can’t force himself to close them. They’re cold, forced to live with a horrible truth that he could never have imagined.

Worse than that, however…
There’s no escape he could possibly achieve at this point.

Again…
Seth falls to his knees, with his head hung over the phone, still clutching it as he loses control of his emotions.

Again… I’m all alone… again…

His body offers zero resistance to gravity as he runs out of energy, slumping over and pressing his hands against the wet, dirty concrete. He stares downward with empty, scared eyes as the rain pours around him, drowning out the pain from the realization. There are too many unanswered questions at once, he can’t filter through them all.

It was too much.

Too much for one person to process.

So, he didn’t.
Failing to maintain his composure, the rain washes it all away momentarily. He slowly struggles to stand up, not expressing a shred of emotion, as he begins to sluggishly and emptily walk in the direction of his apartment.


. . . . .

...That’s great.

Against the backdrop of worn-down walls and the poorly lit hallway that belongs to the inside of his apartment complex, an eviction notice is haphazardly taped onto Seth’s front door.

Three days' notice, huh. Shithead.

Pressing his thumb against a silver metal key clip on his back right belt loop, he detaches it from his jeans, selecting the key and pushing it into the very worn-out door lock.

Kc-kk…
Kc-kk…

As per usual, the lock won’t turn all the way. Seth pushes the key in further, slamming his palm against the end, and turns it again.

Kchnk.
The door unlocks, and he pushes it open with a hefty shove.

Seth steps into the doorway of his musty, poorly maintained apartment, before slamming the wooden door shut against the frame. It’s misaligned, which causes it to stop just before it closes all the way. Seth responds by slamming the side of his fist against it, and it finally shuts closed. This show of force only knocks dust loose, spreading itself throughout the air around him as the stench of what are most likely dead rats enters his nostrils like knives. The apartment is nothing less than a disaster, only bearing the essentials. Any other shelves or stands or decor are warped, broken, cracked, and dusty… things that nobody else would ever want to own.

Home sweet home, I guess.

Seth barely manages to walk forward as the gravity of the situation at hand is weighing both his mind and body down. Somehow getting to his bed, he collapses onto it, not even bothering to move the ripped-up sheet he uses as a blanket.

Responsibility… Turning back the clock… Is that really something I want to do…?

He turns over on the bed, weakly raising his arm toward the ceiling and extending his hand up as if to try and touch stars he can’t see.

All of this… Everything I’ve done…

Seth attempts to close his eyes, but every time he does, the moment of his death flashes in his eyes like a ghost haunting him.

What did I… agree to…?

Maybe I… would’ve been better off dead.

While trying as hard as he could to forget it all and rest, he barely slept that night.


The next day, he received a gift.

What was kept inside it would set the route of his life in stone.

An irreversible, undeniable truth.