The streetlights flickered as they walked. Orange pools of light on the pavement. Shadows stretched long between them.
Hana walked beside him. She hummed a tune. Something pop. Something from the radio. She swung her bag. The strap hit her shoulder. Rhythm. Step. Step.
Kaito walked half a step behind. His eyes were not on the path. They were on her. Specifically, on her left shoulder.
There was a shimmer there.
Not a crack. Not a rift. A attachment. Small. Glowing faintly blue. Like static clinging to wool.
It is stuck. Kuro's voice was sharp. Alert. A Drifter. Lost. It thinks she is a beacon.
Kaito did not blink. He kept walking. His hands were in his pockets. His fingers brushed the Ace of Spades.
Why are you so quiet tonight. Hana asked. She looked at him. Her face was lit by a passing car. Soft. Unaware.
Thinking.
About what. Math. Or the festival. Or both.
Both.
